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pigeonp0st · 4 years ago

Note

Hi I love your fics!❤️

Can I request a WandaxReader where Wanda is still new to the Avengers and so people are still pretty afraid and a little hostile towards her but Reader(a trainee or whatever) is one of the few people who aren’t scared of Wanda and the two end up getting close. Idk if that’s too much or not 😅🤷🏽

Wanda Maximoff x Reader #1

Words: 1,561

Warnings: Food, burn

Notes:

Thank you <3 and thanks for my first Wanda ask! I hope you enjoy. Sorry for all spelling/grammar mistakes ;)

(Imma head to bed now...if I can anyways. I’m super hyper for some reason)

———

There’s a new girl walking around the tower when you come back from your mission. You have to ask Tony to explain everything to you so you can understand why.

Apparently she was their enemy...and then their partner, and now a new avenger. You’re happy to have someone else on the team but everyone else seems...skeptical of her.

They get silent when she walks into a room. They don’t make much of an effort to talk to her, and they’re just all around...petty.

The new girl doesn’t seem to mind though. She just sits still and looks like she’d rather be anywhere else with her eyes darting around the room.

—-

Steve confronts you the day after you try to talk to Wanda during dinner. He warns you that she’s dangerous, and that he doesn’t trust her yet. He says not to become too close to her. The rest of the Avengers agree with him.

You just stare at them in mild disbelief. “Steve,” you tell him, incredibly disappointed in him, and the rest of the avengers, “she has lost everything. She looks lonely and depressed most of the time...how could you—how could you find evil in that?”

Him and the rest of the avengers don’t try and stop you from talking to her after that.

—-

“Train with me, Wanda.”

Wanda looks up from the book she’s been studying with narrowed eyes. “What?”

You grin at her cheekily and hold out a hand, “I wanna kick your ass. You can use your powers.”

Her eyebrow quirks then, surprised and apprehensive, and rightfully so. No one else even considers training with her. “I knew everyone here disliked me but I didn’t think they’d want to…’kick my ass’”

Your eyes widen comically. “I—what—no, no, no, I don’t want to—it’s an expression Wanda I swear, god, of course I don’t want to—I mean I do, but like in a friendly way—”

This, this moment right here is the first time you see her smile. It’s the first time you stop and notice how beautiful Wanda is. It’s the first time making someone else’s smile fills you with such a great sense of accomplishment.

It leaves you unexplainably breathless for a moment.

“I was kidding,” Wanda informs you, taking a hold of your hand and shaking it to seal the deal. It’s the first time you two touch. “I’m going to be the one kicking your ass, Y/N.”

She knows your name. Wanda knows your name. “I’d like to see you try.”

———

Wanda does end up kicking your ass, but she does it gently...if that’s possible. You challenge her again and again after that, only to end up losing each time.

Wanda keeps accepting, even though she looks more and more hesitant each time you ask, like she thinks that maybe this time will be the moment you realize she isn’t worth it. That she’s a monster.

You don’t. You don’t get bitter like she imagined either. You just get up each time with playfulness and a tiny bit of awe and fight again, but you never look at her with fear.

To Wanda, this moment means more than you will ever know. To Wanda, this is the moment she realizes that she wants to keep spending time with you, and that maybe this place won’t be that bad. Maybe she doesn’t have to be miserable any more.

To you, this is where you decide to keep surprising Wanda. Each time you get up again, each time you laugh, every compliment you give to her powers, she lights up just that bit more. You want to be someone Wanda can enjoy.

——

It’s about the fifteenth ass kicking that you decide, breathlessly, that you two try to fight without Wanda using her powers.

Wanda agrees cockily, which is why it’s such a surprise when you manage to knock her flat after the first five seconds.

You laugh loudly at her pout, so hard that your body shakes with it, but you manage to get out, between fits of laughter; “why the fuck were you so confident?”

Wanda rolls her eyes at you and kicks your feet out from under you but you couldn’t care less. You’re too busy laughing, and she joins in after a moment.

When the two of you calm down you turn your head to look at her. Her cheeks are flushed from laughing, and her hair is messy on the ground, but to you; she has never looked more beautiful. She has never looked so happy.

“I’ll train you,” you promise her, offering a smile that’s gentler than you intended.

Wanda nods, suddenly sheepish. “And i’ll train you.”

You remind her softly that you can’t use powers like her, but she smirks at you deviously like she’s already very much aware.

“I was not talking about your fighting skills,” Wanda huffs. “I tried one of the cookies you made the other day...and let’s just say they were not very good.”

The glare you send her way isn’t like the ones the avengers have been giving her—it’s completely playful. “I doubt that you’re baking skills are much better.”

“You will see.”

—-

Wanda is awful at baking you learn. The lesson she tried to give you ended with the kitchen almost burned down and the entire avenger squad rushing into the smoke filled kitchen.

What they come to see is Wanda, covered in flour, glaring at black bundles of ash that were meant to be cookies, and you doubled over in laughter in no less of a state of messiness.

Wanda swats at the back of your head, not noticing the avengers, and you try to hug her consoling despite your laughter.

Thus, the avengers realize with no small amount of amusement, that maybe Wanda can be trusted.

No villain can look that upset over burnt cookies, and no villain can look at someone with that amount of softness.

—-

The avengers warm up to Wanda quickly once they actually start talking to her, but she always clearly prefers to spend her training with you, and she never stops your baking session, even despite how awfully they always go.

You’ve also developed... feelings... for Wanda. It must be obvious to the rest of the avengers but it doesn’t seem to be as obvious to Wanda herself.

At least, you don’t think it is. You don’t think she likes you like that anyways...

Well, not until about your tenth baking lesson with her.

—

She’s grinning at you with the amount of joy you’ve finally become accustomed to seeing on her, and holding out (with her adorable mittens) the first set of non-burnt cookies that you two have ever made.

She looks so accomplished and so smug that you can’t help it. You kiss her. Right there in the compounds kitchen, with flour all around, and sugar in your hairs.

You kiss her and she kisses you back, tasting like your favorite dinner, and hot chocolate on a winter day. Kissing her is like coming home after a long day out, kissing her is like coming up for air after being underwater for much too long, kissing her is like—

“Ow!” You yell, pulling away abruptly and looking down at the red burn mark on your hand.

Wanda stands there blinking for a couple of moments, first at your lips, then at your burn mark, and then at the still hot ban still in her grasp.

When she’s able to snap out of her daze she sets the pan down and hugs you, with your burned hand between your bodies. “Sorry,” Wanda whispers.

“It wasn’t your fault.” It wasn’t. You were just too overwhelmed kissing her to remember the pan she was holding. Speaking of… “would you like—to you know...do that again sometime?”

Wanda releases you from her hug to give you an amused smile. “I’ll do you one better,” she says, cupping your cheek. “Be my girlfriend?”

You certainly weren’t expecting that. “Shouldn’t we at least go on a date first?”

Wanda tilts her head, confused and hesitant. “Haven’t we gone on ten now?”

You gape at her, bewildered. “I—um...I didn’t know...you know what, never mind. Let’s just...you’re my girlfriend now. Okay?”

This was not how you were expecting your day to go, but you're not even close to disappointed because Wanda gives you a beaming smile and nods her head repeatedly before drawing you back in for another kiss.

She pulls away after a moment. “I know they weren’t dates, but they might as well have been now, right?”

You wonder if everything you say to each other is going to be a question, and whether or not she’s doing this on purpose.

“Right.”

“Cool.”

“Cool,” you agree, rolling your eyes playfully. “Wanna treat my hand for me now that this is all settled, and since you're the one who burned me?”

“You said that wasn’t my fault!” Wanda huffs.

“Yes, well now that I want something from you it is.”

“Ah, I see. That’s how it works.”

“Yep.”

“Cool.”

You flick her gently between the brows with your non-injured hand. “Stop it.”

Wanda smirks. “Or what, you’ll fight me about it? Do you think it’ll be your first win?”

“Dickhead.”

“Very professional, Y/N. Very professional.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #marvel x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x you #marvel x female reader #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #marcel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #wanda imagine #wanda maximoff imagine #imagine #female reader #fem reader

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illyaana · 3 years ago

Text

Squiggles - Oikawa Tooru

Thanks to @pocky-writes for this collab! It was so fun to do~ Check out all the other writers involved in the collab here ヾ(•ω•`)o

Tags: Oikawa's POV, Angst, Minor Fluff, Cursing, Kissing, SFW, Manga Spoiler (Oikawa and Iwaizumi's future jobs)

Synopsis: You entered Oikawa's life - and it hasn't been the same ever since. (If I give anymore, it'll be spoilers TwT) (I also named Oikawa's sis Miho-)

Word Count: 4334

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Liked my writing? Do you want a drabble specifically made for you about your love life with a character of your choosing? Check out my 50 followers event over here!

All stories are basically a squiggly line - it has ups and downs with multiple loops in random spots. Some parts might be thicker or shorter than others, but all points of the story make up a giant, huge squiggly line that either brings you joy or sadness. I wanted my story to be as thick and long as possible - to outshine all the other squiggles the world has to offer. It was going to be the best squiggle ever until you came along and made it loopier and uneven.

I remember the first day you came into our class so vividly.

I had rushed to the school to copy Iwa-chan’s homework. The Kitagawa Daiichi blazer I wore was soaked in sweat thanks to me running a few blocks in several minutes. Of course, Iwa was in the classroom, waiting for school to start. He had rolled up his sleeves and was reading the literature component assigned to us - the very book I never touched ever since volleyball practices began.

“You are of a different breed, Oikawa,” Iwa-chan mumbled as he passed his book to me, “This is the last time you’re doing this.”

No, it isn’t.

“Yes, sir.”

I pulled out my book and began to move at top speed, hoping I would finish before class began.

That’s when you opened the door, breaking my concentration.

You were glowing. The school blazer seemed so big on you - as if someone with a bigger physique gave it to you - but you look so precious in it. You had a jump in your step, a wide smile plastered on your face. Your hair looked so soft even from a mile away. You seemed so at peace with everything - even when you entered a new school.

You carried yourself with such confidence it scared me.

I loved being the confident one, the hot one, the cheerful one - yet you stole those roles from me the second you walked into the school campus.

I didn’t know what I felt; was it inferiority or was it just pure admiration? Maybe a combination of both?

All of this… It was so new to me.

I was always surrounded by those who were eager for my approval - to be part of my posse and be connected to me in some way, but I just wanted to be around you. It was the first time I ever took an interest in anyone excluding my volleyball team.

It’s weird, isn’t it? The feeling of warmth rushing through your skin, but your throat just feels tight - it doesn’t want you to say anything you would regret, so it tries to hold you back. Your palms sweat and become clammy, goosebumps rise on your skin - it is so freeing yet restricting.

I wanted to come and welcome you to the school - maybe take you around the school grounds, show off a bit at the gym, find out who you are as a person - if I got lucky, even get your phone number.

“ ‘kawa, are they new? I feel like I’ve never seen them before…” Iwaizumi asked, pulling on my rolled-up sleeve.

Of course, this had to happen, didn’t it?

Iwaizumi tried to cover his red face with his arms, but he was failing miserably. His forehead began to sweat, a trail of water dripping down his chin. His chocolate eyes glowed just like your skin - so much so you could see the hazel flecks within them. His whole arm was covered in raised goosebumps, just like mine.

He was attracted to you.

“I think they are,” I replied, hiding my feelings with a smile, “Why Iwa-chan? Oh my god Iwa, you’re blushing!”

Iwaizumi threw a book to my face, earning a groan from me.

“Shut up, Shittykawa,” he says, blushing in a deeper red, “...but yeah, I think I do.”

“Well, if you want them to swoon for you just like how almost all the girls of the school do for me, I can help you. Just with the daily fee of milk bread during recess, I can turn your single ass into a full-fledged bachelor!” I say, trying to lighten up the mood.

“I'll buy you milk bread for lunch, either way,” he mumbled.

“See? It’s basically free, isn’t it? The best part of it all; it comes with a free gift! A box of milk every day so that you can grow taller-” Book number two found its place on my forehead once again.

“You’re such an idiot,” he says midst chuckling, “Thanks for the offer, Tooru. I think I’ll do this by myself, though.”

“Ok, then! Just so you know, the offer is always on the table,” I smirk, teasing the shorter male even more, “Don’t forget the milk.”

“I am never buying you anything ever again.”

Classes went on as usual, but I couldn’t focus at all.

I kept on staring at you from my seat - enjoying every single thing you did. I saw how you’d raise your shoulders in frustration when you couldn’t understand a question, how you’d bite the end of your pencil when you were focusing on the class, how you’d play with your fingers when you were stressed - I was taking mental notes without even realizing it. I loved all the small little huffs you’d make when you’re agitated. Judging by how you were speeding through most of the questions, you seemed to be a smart student.

I kept on playing small scenarios that I would do to get your attention.

Maybe I’d ask you a question and act like I couldn’t understand the whole topic so that you could tutor me, or I should just ask you about your opinions on the essay topic we discussed in class, or I could tease you about that small thing you did in front of the classroom when the teacher wasn’t looking.

But I would never do that to Iwaizumi.

My mind replayed that small scene of him blushing just at the mere glance of you. If he could, he would’ve already gushed about you to me - tell me all the things I already knew just by looking at you. He’d go on and on about how you squinched your nose when you drank that hot drink a bit too early and burnt your tongue.

His squiggle was already slowly moving around you, making a loop fitted for you and you alone - and I will happily watch from the sidelines when you two finally become a thing.

“Welcome back, Tooru!” My sister said from the kitchen, “Give me a minute, I’m helping mom prepare lunch.”

I placed my bag in front of my room and headed to the kitchen.

“Don’t make poison, please!” I tease her, enjoying the annoyed expression on her face.

“Tooru!” Mom sighed, “We’re inviting our new neighbors for dinner today. Go shower and get ready.”

I stuck my tongue out at my sister, earning an anger-filled hum from my mother. I ran to my room and soon headed to the shower to get ready.

Slinging the white towel on my shoulder, I head back to the kitchen area and set the table for the meal.

“Where are they from again?” Miho asked Mom.

“They’re apparently from Tokyo. The father passed away recently, so the mother had to bring the rest of the family to Miyagi to reduce the financial burden. Sad, isn’t it?” she replied.

“We should help them here and there,” Miho started, “We don’t need to give them money, but maybe help them get used to the city?”

I nodded, but I wasn’t present in the conversation ever since Mom mentioned Tokyo.

“Do they have a kid my age?” I ask, hoping that I’m wrong.

“I think there’s one that just transferred to your school?”

Please, don’t be who I think it is.

The doorbell rang, shaking me out of my thoughts.

I slowly headed to the door, gripping the doorknob tightly as I slowly opened the door.

I was right.

“Hello, Oikawa-san! It’s me, Y/N, from your class,” you said, a smile on your face.

“I just wanted to thank you and your family for your generous offer, but we can’t join you for dinner today,” you started, “Mom has to go get some things settled before she can come for dinner. Sorry, again…”

“What about you? Have you eaten anything yet?” My mom asked as she walked towards the door, “If you want, you can eat dinner here and bring some back for your mom.”

“Really?!” Your lips widened, “Thank you so much, aunty!”

You sat right beside me, just like Iwa-chan does when he comes over. I loved seeing you talk so comfortably with my family. I could see my mom’s adoration towards you when you talked about your life back in Tokyo. Your eyes lit up when you talked about your family - even if you were talking about your father.

You didn’t know it yet, but your presence makes my squiggle a little lighter.

“What school are you going to, Y/N?” Mom asked.

“I’m going to Kitagawa Daiichi like Oikawa-san. I am in his class, actually... “ you trail off.

“Do you want me to walk you to school? I don’t mind doing it, but Iwaizumi would be joining us too. Are you okay with that?” I ask, gripping the ends of my shirt.

For the first time in my life, I hated the fact I had to be beside Iwaizumi.

“Thanks, Oikawa-san. It means a lot,” you smiled.

I regret asking you that question.

I had to see Iwaizumi try to flirt with you.

I had to see how you’d occasionally lean your head on my shoulder when we walked to school until Iwaizumi met up with us in the middle of our walk to school.

I had to see Iwaizumi carry your bag - something I wanted to do.

I had to see Iwaizumi make small jokes to you - something I wanted to do.

I had to see you enjoy Iwaizumi’s presence - something I wanted you to only feel for me.

I had to let it happen in front of me, didn’t I?

Books and movies never compare to the real thing; to see the person you love gush over someone you love like a sibling.

But you were closest to me, not Iwa-chan.

You came to me when you had problems, not Iwa-chan.

You stayed over at my place to relax, not Iwa-chan’s.

You watched movies with me, played games with me, told secrets to me - not Iwa-chan.

Your squiggle intertwined with mine more than Iwa-chan’s.

“Tooru,” you said as you played with the rogue strands of my hair as your head laid on my lap, “Do you want to go out on a trip?”

“What? Why?”

“We’re graduating, but we never had a trip together. It’s weird, isn’t it?” You say, slowly getting up.

I pushed your head back on my lap, earning a muffled squeal from you.

“It isn’t, to be honest,” I say, “...but I do like the idea.”

“So, we’re doing it?” you say as you wiggle your feet in excitement.

“Yeap. I’ll ask Iwa-chan if he wants to join,” I say as I grab my phone.

“I was kind of hoping that it would be just the two of us? I haven’t been able to talk to you without anyone intervening for a long time, and there’s a lot I wanna talk about.”

You looked at me, hoping for some reaction, but I couldn’t say anything.

If I was not friends with Iwaizumi, I would’ve said yes almost immediately.

I know I love you - ever since I saw you, I have.

But Iwaizumi deserves someone amazing like you.

I don’t.

“Tell me, then! I don’t think Mom’s coming home anytime soon and Miho is working right now, so there isn’t anyone who’d disturb us now,” I say through gritted teeth.

I felt your disappointment when you sighed and moved to lie down on my bed.

“I guess I’ll tell you another day.”

I felt your squiggle moving away from me - moving on without mine.

Soon, our one-week trip to Tokyo began.

Thanks to months and months of pestering, our parents let us go by ourselves to the city you grew up in.

I could see everything in your eyes, thanks to your stories about this place. The small, quaint shops, the smell of freshly made Taiyaki at the side of the road, the small kids running on the pavement while being chased by angry parents - all of it.

“Oikawa!” you patted my shoulder, “That’s the bakery I talked about last time. You know, the one with amazing cheese tarts? Oh, that’s where my dad gave me my first cup of coffee!”

Iwaizumi chuckled as he focused on the road, admiring your love for the city.

“Why are you laughing, pine cone hair?” You tease Iwaizumi, trying to get more reactions from him.

“Nothing! You sound cute, that’s all,” he said as he focused on the road.

“Oh, really~?” You move closer to Iwaizumi and whisper something in his ear, making him blush instantly.

There it is.

That icky feeling I hate.

Why did it come now? I was with Y/N and Iwaizumi - the people I care about the most.

Go away.

Get out.

I don’t need you.

“Well, I’ll just chaperone Oikawa then, Hajime. Have fun all by yourself in a huge city you don’t know well,” you say, teasing him even more.

Hajime.

They said Hajime - not Iwaizumi.

“Geez, get a room, you two.”

“Sad I’m taking your husband away, Tooru?”

“The fuck, Y/N!” Both Iwa-chan and I scream.

You laugh as you lean back into the backseat.

“What? You both are an old couple,” you begin, “Oikawa is the flamboyant one and Iwaizumi is the man that’s only gay for Oikawa and actually thinks before doing something.”

“Did everyone think I’m gay for Oikawa?” Iwa says under his breath.

“Yeap,” you reply, “Many girls were sad, to be honest. I kept on telling them you’re straight, but they didn’t listen,” you shrug.

“And me?” I ask.

“You were labelled as the hot pansexual, lucky you,” you reply with an eye roll.

“Why did no one tell me…” Iwaizumi said to himself, worried.

“Honey~,” I began teasing the ‘pinecone’.

“Shut the fuck up, Shittykawa.”

“ ‘Shut the fuck up, Shittykawa’ - why don’t you give an actual nice nickname for the brunette over here,” you ask him, playing with the stressed driver.

“No.”

“Do it or I’m calling you pinecone for the rest of your life.”

“No.”

“Do it or I’ll tell them-” I say before getting cut off by Iwaizumi himself.

“Prettykawa.”

“Holy shit, Y/N,” I wiped my fake tears, “He called me pretty! Darling~”

“Oh my god, Oikawa,” you say, laughing as I hug Iwaizumi’s arm.

Our squiggles were intertwined and in a good way - that’s all that mattered.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi looked at me with a serious face, “I think I am going to confess to them tonight.”

Wait, you are?

Please don’t.

Don’t take them away from me.

I need them.

Iwaizumi, please don’t.

“Finally! It’s about time you made your move - I think they like you too, so you have a shot.”

It’s true - I see how they stare at you.

Their eyes are filled with admiration, lips fixed in a soft smile, their hands grazing your cheek - they love you as much as you love them, Iwaizumi.

“Thanks for supporting me, Tooru. It really means a lot to me,” he says as he hugged me, “Thanks for being my best friend.”

I haven’t been a good friend, Iwa.

I fell for the same person.

I want to steal them from you so badly, but I can’t bring myself to hate you.

I want to hate you so bad, but I can’t.

This feeling… I hate it.

“Thanks for being mine, too.” I smiled, but the smile never reached my eyes.

You’re taking them away from me, Iwaizumi.

You could’ve gotten anyone else, but you took them away from me.

I don’t want to feel this - this hatred growing within, yet here I am, cursing you in my head the minute I see you.

“Go! Why are you wasting time?” I say, pushing you towards the door.

I saw the smile you gave me as you ran to her room.

You are such an amazing person, Iwa-chan.

You can care for someone who deeply hates you.

I saw how they were basically draped around you for the next few days. They looked so happy just to be beside you.

Each day, their eyes spoke stories of love for you, Iwa. They used to come over to my place and gush about you every day, like a ritual.

You’re so fucking lucky, Iwaizumi. This isn’t fair.

They’d go on and on about your physique, your personality and the small things you’d do.

Congratulations, they finally paid attention to the things you did for them. I’m happy for you, Iwa.

I am happy for the two of you, truly.

They are truly happy.

I could’ve never done that - never.

I just wish I wasn’t walking towards the gym that day.

I saw your first kiss under that tree - the tree the three of us used to spend under while waiting for practice to start.

I saw how their hands gripped on the back of your head, pressing themselves on you. I saw how you gripped their hips oh so tightly as you showed them your passion towards them. I saw how breathless they looked the minute your lips left theirs. I saw how they grazed your chin whilst staring into your eyes in admiration.

I pictured how it would’ve been if I was in your position.

I would’ve held them tighter, pressed my forehead against theirs so that our noses would brush against each other. They’d play with the ends of my hair, going on and on about how soft each lock was like they usually do. They’d eye my lips as I stared at their soft and supple lips. I’d press the tip of my thumb on their bottom lip, enjoying the view of their parted lips made just for me and me alone. Slowly, I would kiss their cheeks, hoping for some cute reaction from them. From their cheeks, I would drag my lips to their chin, placing soft kisses here and there.

I would then press my lips against theirs, enjoying the soft noises escaping their lips.

But I never will - you’re theirs as they’re yours.

Of all places, why did you have to choose there?

I can’t come back here without thinking about that kiss now.

That icky feeling…

It’s back.

Go away.

Get out of me.

I am happy.

“Damn, Iwaizumi,” Matsun said as he approached the gym, “Y/N’s really in love with them, huh?”

“Shut it, Matsun,” Maki said, looking at me.

Of course, he’d notice.

I am in love with his friend's girlfriend, after all.

“What? He’s telling the truth; they’re so in love with each other they can’t even see that three people saw their first kiss!” I shouted, earning a growl from the black-haired male hugging Y/N.

“Out of all the times, Shittykawa…”

“You better run, he looks feral!” You shouted, laughing.

“You sure he wasn’t feral ever since he initiated that kiss? I saw that hand wandering, Iwaizumi~!” Matsukawa shouted as he ran to the gym.

“Iwaizumi isn’t innocent anymore. You aren’t part of the gang anymore man, stay back,” Hanamaki said, wiping a fake tear whilst gripping his sides, “You’ve grown up too quick, Iwa-senpai.”

“You okay, ‘kawa?” Maki said as he turned to me, rubbing my back.

“I am fine, Maki. Go ahead - go to the gym, I’ll come in a minute,” I gave him a nod as I walked to the toilet.

That day was the first day I cried over someone in school, and hopefully the last.

“Tooru… Tohru…” You mumbled.

“Yes, my name is similar to the main character’s. What about it?” I sigh.

“We should get you a cat. Who knows, you might kiss it and it’ll become a girl?” Iwa chirped.

“That’s a cat version of Princess and the Frog,” I say, annoyed.

“Stupid,” you hit Iwa’s thigh, “Get with the program.”

Iwa groaned as he rubbed his leg, “That was really painful, dumbass.”

“Tohru, he called me dumbass,” you whined.

“I am not Tohru - it’s Tooru.”

“Brown hair, all of the people around them falling in love with them, high pitched voice… that’s you,” Iwa joked.

“Major flaw in your theory - I am not a girl.”

“Alternate universe Tohru then,” you said, enjoying the banter.

“Tohru plays with animals, I play with a volleyball team.”

“How do you know she isn’t in a volleyball team? It was never specified she isn’t part of a volleyball team.”

“It’s never specified that she is part of a volleyball team,” I say, clearly annoyed by this conversation.

“I’m getting you a cat - a ginger one,” Iwa said, grabbing his phone from the side table.

“Don’t get me a cat!”

“Get him a cat, love. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’ll love it,” you said, leaning against Iwaizumi’s chest to see his phone screen.

“Holy shit,” you said, holding back a laugh, “He’s actually looking-”

“Iwaizumi Hajime!” I scream, making both Iwaizumi and you laugh loudly.

“I was looking at a cat meme, stupid.”

I sign out of frustration and look back at the TV screen, avoiding the mischievous couple.

I eyed the way they were sitting on the couch.

You were seated in between Iwaizumi’s legs, their back pressed against his front. Their hands played with Iwaizumi’s left hand, fiddling with his fingers as they stared at the screen in front of them. Iwaizumi wasn’t looking at the screen though - he was staring at his lover who was fully immersed in the scene unfolding in front of them. His right hand grazed their right hand, enjoying the feeling of them comfortable in his arms.

You looked happy, and that’s all that mattered.

The last episode soon finished and you looked to the ceiling, stretching your neck.

“So sad it’s over,” you said, smiling.

“At least it had a good ending. I don’t think I need to remind you how heartbroken you were when we watching Banana Fish’s-”

“Don’t remind me - I’ll cry here and now.”

You got off the couch and walked towards the kitchen to get a drink.

“So,” you plopped on the couch, leaning against Iwa, “What’s the final plan, Mr Tohru?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your life after high school, of course! What’s the plan? I know Hajime is planning to be a trainer, but you never told me what your plan is.”

Hajime.

Again with the Hajime.

Just use Iwaizumi, for fuck’s sake.

“...Tooru?”

I snap out of my thoughts. “Oh.”

“You’ve been out of it recently. You’re okay, right?” You say as you walk to sit beside me.

I chuckle, looking at your concerned face.

“I’m good - just stressed about life, that’s all. I am not so sure as to what’s the next step, but it’s going pro.”

You hug me from the side, placing your head on my shoulder.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you, now? Aren’t you scared that you might make Hajime jealous?” I tease.

“I don’t know - I just feel I need to do this, like a feeling that you might do something rash.”

I felt tears wet the side of my shirt.

My eyes darted to the sight of you, sobbing, gripping on my shirt.

“Don’t you dare forget me, okay?” You say through sniffles, “I sure as hell won’t forget you.”

I cup your face in my hands, wiping off the trailing tears.

“I won’t.”

You made a huge loop on my squiggle, Y/N - I don’t I can ever forget you.

TO: Y/N (2:30 a.m.)

It’s been so many years, Y/N.

You’ve blossomed into the amazing person I knew you’d be.

I saw Iwa-chan recently - after all, he’s training the Japan team.

I actually made it into a team - the Argentinian Volleyball team.

I kept on doubting myself, but you kept on reminding me of how good of a setter I was back in high school.

I know you’re busy being the big person in your industry - congrats on all the awards again, I keep forgetting to contact you.

If you’re down, maybe we can call? I miss your voice.

I sent the message, hoping you’d reply as fast as you used to when we were in high school.

I looked from the hotel window, trying to imagine how the scenery is back home in Miyagi.

The roaring fields, the birds flying in the sky as we walked down that small pathway, that traffic light you’d draw on while waiting for the cars to pass - I remembered it all.

I remembered it all just because you were part of it.

Funny, isn’t it? After so many years, I still think of you.

Not as my friend’s lover, but mine.

I shouldn’t have invited Iwaizumi to that trip.

I should’ve just kept you all to myself - protect you from the world.

I should’ve just kept Iwaizumi out of your life - not let him in at any point.

I should’ve just told him how I feel about you.

I tried so hard to get over you, Y/N.

I met so many other people, hoping they could fill up the hole you left when you left me for him. I had so many sour relationships just because I was comparing them to the rhetorical you that I dated. If the world had given me a second chance, I would be standing beside you - I would work to provide for you the best the world had to offer.

But in the end, your squiggle was meant to grow without mine. I had to accept it and move on, as much as it hurts.

Covid 19: Angst train :)

All reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated!!!

#⎯ pocky's 500 collab #Illyaana | Oikawa Tooru #Illyaana | Aoba Johsai #Illyaana | Third Years #Illyaana | Haikyuu!!#oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa x y/n #angelwalker's virtues #oikawa x you #oikawa toru x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x self insert #haikyuu x reader #hihqnetwork

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scripts4dreamers · 4 years ago

Text

Just One Drink

Part Two, Part Three

AN: Cases at the BAU wear on you after a while Characters: Spencer Reid Pairings: Spencer Reid x reader Spoilers: None Warnings: Mentions of crime and violence

Prompt: “We’re in this together.”

(Do I want to write a part two for this? Maybe. Do I love Spencer Reid and the Criminal Minds bunch in general with all my heart? Most definitely. So feel free to send in requests!)

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

You sighed, collapsing into the chair by your desk and burying your face in your hands. It had been a long week. Three missing kids, one crazed killer and less than 72 hours to get them back alive; just another week for the BAU. You tried to remember that you’d signed up for this, that you loved what you did and the people you did it with, and that you had managed to save the kids in the end, but your tired brain didn’t care. Right then, all you really wanted was a mug of hot chocolate and to curl up on your couch with a good book.

“Hey, you okay?” you heard someone ask.

You lifted your head slightly and noticed Spencer Reid had appeared beside your desk without you noticing. He was leaning against the divider you’d set up and was trying to look casual and failing miserably. Spencer had been a part of the BAU for a lot longer than you had and he was a bit of a legend in the Bureau but, for some reason, he always seemed nervous around you. He was nice, of course, and clever, and you enjoyed spending time with him but it took a lot for him to seem properly at ease whenever you were nearby and, right now, you were too tired to want to play nice with anybody.

Maybe it was because you were new, you reasoned, maybe he just wasn’t good at adapting to changes in the team dynamic. Still, he was obviously trying, so you forced yourself to give him a small smile and nod.

“Yeah, I’m all good, just tired.” you answered.

Spencer nodded, like he understood, and pulled up a chair, “I was the same when I’d just joined, every case took the life right out of me. You’ll get used to it.”

“I hope so,” you sighed, resting your head in your hands again, “because there’s no way I can keep going on like this.”

For a long moment there was just silence, until he cleared his throat and asked, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Your head shot up and you tried to hide the flash of confusion on your face, “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” Spencer laughed nervously, “contrary to popular belief I’m actually a really great listener.”

“And humble too,” you joked.

“Oh exceedingly so,” he joked back, rising out of his seat, “come on, let’s go get a drink and I’ll prove it to you.”

You considered for a moment. On the one hand, you desperately wanted to get out of the office and remember what it felt like to not be miserable, and you’d been secretly crushing on Spencer since your first day at the BAU, on the other…

You shook your head, “I should stay, I’ve got so much paperwork to get done for this case and-”

Spencer rolled his eyes fondly, reaching down and pulling you to your feet, “And it’ll still be there on Monday,” he interrupted, “Come on, Y/N. I’ll help you with whatever you need later.”

Your heart jumped into your throat at the feeling of his fingers wrapped around your wrist, and you felt a lick of heat run up your neck. It was unfair for a skinny white boy who could describe the plot of every star trek episode ever made in detail to be as attractive as Spencer Reid was. You didn’t know if it was the hair, or his cheekbones, or the way he smiled but, whatever it was, you were a sucker for it so you let yourself get pulled up.

“Okay, Reid, but I’m holding you to that. If I’ve forgotten even one important detail that messes this report up-”

“Y/N, I have an eidetic memory. The report will be perfect,” he smiled, letting your wrist drop and scooping up your bag, “let’s go then, I know the perfect place.”

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

The bar Spencer took you to was small and cozy; busy enough that you could blend in to the crowd without being so loud that it became overwhelming. The drinks weren’t cheap, but they were good, and the booth you’d tucked yourselves into was comfortable and out of the way so you could talk freely. Spencer loved it there. He’d been coming to that bar since he’d first joined the BAU and, even though a bar wouldn’t usually be his first choice for a happy place, this one was packed to the brim with happy memories.

Across from him, you were sipping your second whiskey sour in silence, casting nervous glances up at Spencer every few seconds. Something was definitely wrong. It wasn’t just the dark circles under your eyes that worried him, or the way you never really sat still, constantly glancing around the room and over your shoulder, it was everything. Usually you were so...alive at work. You’d joke around with Morgan, swap stories with Prentiss, brazenly flirt with Hotch and Rossi until they’d crack and give you a smile. In every situation you made a point to add value, whether that be by making a poignant connection during a case or just sliding the perfect cup of coffee Spencer’s way without him having to ask for it. But now things were different. It had been happening bit by bit, too slowly for some of the others to notice but, after this last case, it was impossible for Spencer to ignore. You didn’t laugh anymore, or joke or flirt. You still made amazing points, still worked harder than anyone asked you to, but now it seemed like it weighed you down, like every new case chipped just a little bit more of you away. It hurt to watch.

“Y/N, you know it’s okay to struggle with this stuff, right?” Spencer eventually said. He wasn’t exactly the king of knowing what to say but he felt like he owed it to you to try. After all, when he was new he’d had Gideon to help him through it, “You don’t have to be alright right away.”

“You are,” you replied softly, meeting his eye briefly.

Spencer snorted and shook his head, “Me? The recovering drug addict? Yeah, I’m definitely the poster-child for healthy coping mechanisms.”

You chuckled and then looked up, horrified, “I didn’t mean to laugh at the whole addiction thing.”

“I know, Y/N/N,” he smiled, “but you’re allowed to. I was making a joke after all.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” you teased gently, leaning back in your seat.

Your shoulders were untensed now, Spencer noticed, and you were fiddling less and he breathed an inward sigh of relief. You were relaxing.

“Yeah, Morgan says I’ve gotta work on my delivery more,” Spencer said.

“Smart man, Morgan.” you countered.

Spencer smiled, “But seriously, Y/N, if you want to talk-” he lapsed into silence, holding your gaze as he let his offer hand in the air.

You watched Spencer for a moment, that piercing look in your eye that always made him feel unsteady, like you were seeing right through him. You weren’t profiling, he knew that, but you were definitely trying to figure him out. Eventually you sighed, seemingly resigning yourself to your fate, and nodded slowly.

“I just-” you started, “I didn’t know it would feel like this,” you blinked quickly, probably trying to stave off tears, “all the worry just-it just eats away at me and I can’t do anything about it.” You paused, sniffing, before taking a deep breath and continuing, “And it’s never enough, you know? We do everything we can but it’s just never enough and the cases keep coming and coming and all these people keep dying and dying and there’s nothing we can do to stop it. We’re the best people for the job and we still spend 80% of our time playing catch up to these guys,” you shook your head again, “it just messes with my head.”

Spencer felt his heart pinch in his chest, affection rushing through him so fast that he didn’t know what to make of it.

He leaned forward, holding your gaze and said, “Of course it does, we spend most of our day trying to think like some of the most disturbed and dangerous people in the country. Honestly, I’d be more worried if you weren’t struggling with it.” Spencer assured you, “Our job is really really fucking hard, okay? It’s rewarding, but it takes its toll on all of us eventually. What’s important is to remember that you’re not doing this on your own, I’ve got your back-we’ve got your back, the whole team.” He hesitated for a moment, before leaning forward and covering your hand with his own, “We’re in this together, no matter what happens.”

For a long while you just looked at one another, something like gratitude glimmering in your eyes as you squeezed Spencer’s hand. His skin felt warm where it met yours and he softly let his thumb glance along the inside of your wrist.

You were beautiful, Spencer noticed, but not in the way he expected. Objectively speaking you were an attractive person, of course, he’d have to be blind to miss that, but there was something more. Just being pretty generally wasn’t enough to make Spencer’s heart race like it did around you, it wasn’t enough to make him want to reach out and touch, to make Spencer so desperate to spend time with you that he dragged you to a bar he loved on the off chance he’d get you to smile. Just being pretty wasn’t enough to explain why Spencer felt the way he did, it had always been more than that.

You nodded, quickly wiping your cheeks and giving Spencer a small smile as you gently detangled your hand from his. His heart sunk, just a little bit, at the loss of contact, but he made sure to keep his face neutral.

“How are you so good at this, doctor Reid?” you asked.

I’ve been practicing what I wanted to say for nearly two weeks now, Spencer thought.

He shrugged, “It’s just the truth, Y/N, that’s all.”

You nodded and lapsed into what seemed like a thoughtful silence.

“Hey, Reid?” You eventually asked, sounding almost nervous.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Why do you call me Y/N?”

Spencer frowned, suddenly confused, “That’s your name. Is there something wrong with how I say it?”

“No, no you say it perfectly,” you assured him, “it’s just, you don’t call anyone else in the team by their first name. Just me.”

He opened his mouth to say that that was ridiculous, but stopped just before the words left his mouth. You were right.

“Um,” Spencer started, a lick of anxiety flaring up in his stomach, “I don’t-I don’t know, really. Guess I never thought about it. You want another drink?” He took the opportunity to stand up and walk to the bar, returning your empty glasses and ordering two fresh drinks.

He needed a minute to figure out where his head was. He felt unsettled, like maybe something about the way you’d looked at him had struck a nerve. He knew how suspicious he’d sounded just then, like he was hiding something. He knew he had to have a better answer, otherwise you’d just come to your own conclusion and, judging by how good of a profiler you were, you’d probably come to the right one.

Fuck. When he’d invited you out for a drink Spencer had just wanted to make you smile, maybe take a little of the load off your shoulders. He’d never meant to make it so personal, such an obvious declaration of his feelings, but he had. It may have seemed small to call someone by their first name in your line of work, but you both knew different. It signaled intimacy, care, trust. It meant that he felt something for you, something different than what he felt for other members of the team. He had to be smart about this. There were rules against agents fraternizing with other agents, guidelines that had to be followed, boundaries that had to stay in place to preserve the team. Beyond that there was the fact that you were new, he didn’t know you well enough to say for sure how you felt about him, whether there was even a possibility of his feelings being reciprocated, and the fact that he didn’t even really know what his feelings were.

He admired you, he thought you were smart and resourceful, funny, sweet, tough as nails, he liked being around you. He liked you, but that didn’t have to mean anything. He’d liked tons of women in his time, some of them had liked him back, most hadn’t. But the name, the name meant something, it had to.

The bartender handed him the drinks and, reluctantly, Spencer made his way back to the table. You were watching him, somewhere between nervous and expectant, and Reid felt a familiar rush of fondness shoot through him. He collapsed onto the seat across from you, handing you the drink with a small smile.

“Whiskey sour,” he commented, trying to break the tension, “often considered a more masculine drink due to the presence of whiskey and egg-white.”

“Drinks shouldn’t be gendered,” you answered, taking a sip, “and by the way, if there’s egg-white it’s called a Boston sour.”

“Are you from Boston?” He asked.

You shook your head, “Nope.”

“Oh.”

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable exactly, just expectant. Spencer knew instinctively that, if he wanted, he could just avoid the topic completely. You wouldn’t push him. You would leave the bar together, say goodnight, and life would continue on like nothing had happened, but something about that felt inauthentic, like he’d be lying to you somehow, and he respected you too much for that. So he settled on part of the truth

“I call you by your first name because I care about you,” he eventually said, “I-uh-I feel….protective over you, I-” he cleared his throat, “you’re important to me. I didn’t-if it makes you uncomfortable I can call you Y/L/N.”

“No!” you said quickly, “No, I didn’t-it doesn’t make me uncomfortable, I like it. I just-” you looked away, worrying at your lip in a way that made it seem like you were nervous. You took a deep breath and stared down into your drink, “I was worried that it meant you didn’t respect me.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, “What? Y/N that’s ridiculous! You’re one of the best profilers I know.”

You rolled your eyes, “Maybe in other departments, but in the BAU?” You shook your head, “I’m practically an amature.”

“I’m sorry, did you not just solve a case and rescue three kids?” Spencer asked, “Was it someone else who made the connection between De Vos’ childhood arson charge and the kids home the victims were from? ‘Cause if I remember correctly, and I’m pretty sure I do, that was all you.”

You smiled a little, enjoying the praise, but still seemed unsure, “Well none of that would have been helpful if you hadn’t figured out where he was keeping the kids.”

“Yes, it would have,” Spencer promised, leaning forward and covering your hand again, “Y/N, you cracked that case wide open. Without you, those kids would probably be dead.”

“Without you those kids would be dead,” You corrected, nudging his leg under the table and giving him a shy smile.

Spencer felt his heart stutter in his chest and he leaned back, taking his hand off yours but leaving your knees touching under the table.

“Well that just means we’re a good team.” He said, returning your smile.

You laughed and, with that, the tension dissipated. You spent the rest of your time together sharing childhood stories and swapping jokes. You spent twenty minutes just listening to him explain common misconceptions about the story of Tristan and Isolde before he caught himself and, when he laughed and apologized, you just shrugged and smiled, saying that you loved seeing how happy he looked when he talked about it. Spencer nearly swooned at that.

By the end of the night you seemed more like your old self than you had in weeks. Spencer walked you out and waited with you on the street as you called a taxi. It felt different between you now, no awkwardness or strain, just the warm comfort of being with someone you care about. Of course, just under the surface, Spencer could feel the start of something. It was fragile, easy snuffed out if treated poorly, but it was there; potential, the potential for this to be more than a friendship, to be something real, something worth fighting for.

Your taxi arrived before Spencer could figure out how to feel about that. Before he could say anything, you’d pulled him into a warm embrace, leaving him enough time to pull away if he wanted as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he pulled you close, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You smelled wonderful.

“Thank you for today, Spencer,” you said quietly, so that only he could hear, “I-I really needed it.”

Spencer swore he felt his heart actually melt at the softness in your voice, but he pushed through it.

“Anytime, Y/N.”

You pulled away, smiling bigger than he’d seen in ages, and he couldn’t help but smile in return. You clambered into the taxi gracelessly, because you were looking back at him.

“You won’t be saying that when you’re stuck working those reports with me all of next week,” you teased.

Spencer smiled, stepping forward to close the taxi door behind you, “Wanna bet?”

“You’re on.” you agreed fondly.

He watched the car from his position on the sidewalk until it disappeared, trying to calm the frantic pounding of his heart.

“Spencer,” he muttered to himself happily, “she called me Spencer.”

And by god, he’d never liked the way his name sounded more.

#jordsie #jordsie writes #criminal minds #criminal minds headcanons #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer x reader #spencer x you #spencer reid headcanons #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler imagine

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writtenonreceipts · 4 years ago

Note

How about 4. “I shouldn’t be this attracted to an elf” for rowaelin from the Christmas prompt list?

I had way too much fun with this. I wrote it quick and sweet.

Santa and his Helpers

Aelin Galathynius did not hate her job. Quite the opposite in fact. She taught high school English—mostly to the juniors and seniors—and it was one of the most rewarding things to experience. Especially when a proclaimed despiser of Charlotte Bronte turned around by the end of the year having written a full-fledged essay about the merits of understanding Jane Eyre in all its complexity and over-zealous language.

The only thing that made the job even more worth while was the fact that she coached for the girls’ basketball team.

Unfortunately, it was basketball that partially made her life slightly miserable.

It was all thanks to one Rowan Whitethorn, the head coach for the boys’ team. To say that he and Aelin didn’t get along was putting it lightly.

The found every opportunity to fight. When the boys took up too much time in the gym after their week for the early practice time slot or when the boys didn’t clean up enough after themselves.

It got especially worse when Whitethorn, who also worked as a history teacher in the school, attempted to say that there was no literary merit to the fantasy genre.

Aelin was going to stuff an unabridged copy of The Lord of the Rings down his throat and see how he like that.

Things did not improve as the sports season progressed. Especially not when both the boys and girls were forced to have a holiday party together due to over booking at the Sports Center in down town Terrasen.

“It’s his fault,” Aelin grumbled to Lysandra.

Lysandra rolled her eyes and shoved a plate of cookies into Aelin’s hands. The one saving grace with the basketball season was having Lys as her assistant coach and the both of them could complain together about anything and everything.

“Please Aelin,” Lysandra said sipping at her hot chocolate.

While the kids from both teams ran around the sports center choosing to play pick-up games of basketball, climb on a rock wall, or settle on video games—the two manned the treats table. Mostly so Aelin could stuff her face with homemade goods the mothers had all provided.

“He’s an ass, I’m sure he did it on purpose,” Aelin insisted.

“Can we please stop this and have you just admit that you’re kind of attracted to him?” Lysandra asked.

Nearly choking on her cookie, Aelin shot a somewhat terrified look at her best friend. “Excuse me?”

“Well he’s obviously gorgeous,” Lysandra said casually. “Even you can’t deny that. Plus, there’s always been some sort of—”

“If you say sexual tension, I will call Aedion and tell him you’re pregnant,” Aeilin threatened.

Lysandra gasped, one hand going to her belly. “You wouldn’t. I have been planning revealing this thing for a week.”

“The day I say that Rowan Whitethorn is attractive is the day that you know I have lost my mind,” Aelin said.

Making a noise of disbelief, Lysandra left Aelin for a moment while she went to talk to some of the girls from the team.

Aelin shook her head. The brunette had to be having some very, very, strange pregnancy hormones going on to think that Aelin would be attracted to Rowan Whitethorn. He was arrogant. A hard ass. Never knew how to have fun. It didn’t matter that yes; he was basically a god with a very nicely sculpted body. But that didn’t make up for anything else.

Eating another cookie to avoid more than a nod to a few of the parents, Aelin shook her head. Rowan Whitethorn would certainly be the death of her.

“Ho, ho, ho!”

Aelin glanced up to the doors of the lobby as one Fenrys Moonbeam strut in decked out in a full Santa costume. Beard askew and all.

All the boys let out whopping cheers and grabbed their phones.

“What is he doing?” Aelin asked one of the boys that she also had in one of her classes.

The boy, Ryan, grinned. “Coach Whitethorn and Coach Moonbeam lost a bet on how many three-pointers they could sink in a minute. The team got to pick the punishment.”

Aelin watched in slight horror, slight admiration, as Fenrys bounded around the front area exchanging punches and fist bumps with the boys on the basketball team and a few of the girls. Fenrys was the favorite PE teach of the school. Especially given his easy attitude and love of teaching.

“You look great Fenrys,” Aelin said as he approached her.

He grinned. “This thing is itchy as hell, but at least I got this and not what Rowan did.”

Aelin quirked a brow and was about to ask him what he meant when the man in question entered.

Dressed in a green coat and green leggings like something out of the movie Elf, Rowan Whitethorn sulked into the room.

The entirety of the boys’ team whooped and hollered. Rowan waved a hand and shook his head. Surprisingly, Aelin found, he was grinning. Flat out, no shame, grinning.

“Looking great coach!” Ryan shouted.

“I should hope so, Ryan this is your doing,” Rowan called back in response.

The entire thing was so entirely strange to Aelin that she could only stare as Rowan and Fenrys made rounds with the other players and their parents.

“Damn, he really does have a nice ass,” Lysandra said popping up beside Aelin again.

Aelin nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden appearance. She really hoped Lys hadn’t noticed her blatant staring at Rowan, but with the way Lysandra was grinning, Aelin knew she was not going to experience a miracle that night.

“Seriously?” Aelin was about to give her friend a hard time when Rowan came over to the refreshment table, accepting a hot chocolate from Lysandra.

“Nicely done, Rowan,” Lysandra said. She looked him over with appreciation. “Though you really should have found some pointy ears.

“The tights are bad enough,” Rowan said seriously. “I’m gonna make Ryan pay for this.”

Aelin couldn’t help but laugh. The man looked so ridiculous and outside of his comfort zone that she still couldn’t get over the fact that he’d actually dressed up. Rowan shot her a scowl.

They glared at each other with such ferocity that Aelin wondered if one of them would spontaneously combust. Then she decided to make the best of this situation and she broke into a feral grin. Rowan frowned, just slightly.

“Whitehorn, who knew tights were such a good look for you,” she purred, immensely pleased when his cheeks reddened just barely.

“I see you didn’t have any trouble finding an ugly sweater this year, Galathynius,” Rowan replied gesturing to her sweater. It was a mess of tinsel and stitching and cats wearing sweaters themselves while decorating a tree. She loved it.

“I plan on wearing it up until break starts,” she said.

Rowan surprised her once again by smirking—almost laughing with her over the idea. Then Fenrys called him over to have a layup competition with a few of the girls and boys of the different teams.

Aelin didn’t even care if Lysandra saw her staring.

“I shouldn’t be this attracted to an elf,” Aelin finally admitted, much to her chagrin.

Lysandra howled in laughter and nearly fell into Aelin’s arms.

tags: @tottenhamboys20 @morganofthewildfire @aelinchocolatelover @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx @bamchickawowow @ladywitchling @ireallyshouldsleeprn @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

#aelin and rowan #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin au #rowaelin #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin galathynius

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spencers-renaissance · 4 years ago

Text

Even More Beautiful

Summary: the BAU is stuck in Michigan with no case and no way home, so naturally, Spencer and Derek confess their love for one another. Based on the prompt ‘You look even more beautiful covered in snow.’

Tags: Fluff, Love Confessions, Snowball Fights, Insecurity, a little Hurt/Comfort

Pairing: Morgan x Reid

Word Count: 3.5k

Read on AO3

It never fails to amaze Spencer just how cold the United States can be sometimes. Intellectually, of course, he’s aware that a typical Michigan winter drops down to single digits in the Upper Peninsula, but experiencing such a fact is always shockingly different to reading it. He can’t help but be bitter they weren’t called to Arizona or New Mexico so late in November; growing up in Nevada did not prepare him well for the city of Marquette.

Their proximity to Lake Superior doesn’t help either, as he explains to Emily as she loudly laments the snowfall. “It shouldn’t be so damn hard to walk 300 metres, is all I’m saying, Reid,” she groans, dragging her legs. He doesn’t exactly think his explanation for the snow helped all that much, but at least their hotel is finally in sight. “I can run a six minute mile, okay, I should not be finding walking this hard.”

“You should’ve worn your snow boots,” he says lightly and politely doesn’t mention that he’s slowing his pace to match hers -- he doesn’t have a death wish.

His comment still makes Emily pause and look down at his feet. “Wait, you keep those in your go bag?” she asks incredulously.

“Of course,” he says, a little obliviously. Doesn’t everyone? “It’s winter, I don’t want to be caught out. Like you.”

Emily finally regains her composure and keeps walking, chuckling lightly to herself. “I swear, Reid, your preparedness is mildly grating sometimes.”

“I’ve been told,” he smiles, pushing open the door to the lobby, much to Emily’s relief.

They’d been on their way back from the Police Department; Hotch had asked them to tie up the loose ends and pick up the reports since they were the last ones there and he had a call to answer that didn’t look pleasing to him in the slightest, and unfortunately the trek back had been a foul one. As soon as they step into the hotel lobby though, they’re met with a miserable sight. The whole team is either sat on the uncomfortable lobby furniture looking dejected or restlessly pacing while Hotch remains on the phone, talking agitatedly with the person on the other end of the line.

“What’s going on?” Emily asks as they approach the group, ripping off their hats and gloves as the heated lobby begins to warm them up nicely.

“All flights out of Michigan are grounded,” Derek answers, walking over to meet them as he looks both of them over carefully, eyes concerned. “You two alright? You look frozen to the bone.”

“Department was working with bare bones staff so there was no-one free to drive us back and not a cab in sight. We walked through 9 inches of snow while it was still coming down heavy,” Emily answered for both of them, Spencer content to tuck his hands in his pockets and observe as always. “But the flights are grounded? How are we getting home, then?”

“That’s precisely the problem, I think,” Derek answers grimly. “Technically we could still fly home as a government agency, but the jet pilot doesn’t think it’s safe and the brass are advising us to wait a bit. The snow’s predicted to lessen a little over the next few days, apparently, but we’re waiting to hear if Hotch has any more news.”

Everyone else looks thoroughly miserable at the news, but then Spencer supposes that most people have plans and family to get home for. To him, this is a few days with a virtual guarantee of no case surrounded by beautiful scenery. Plus, he gets to be around his favourite people for a little while longer.

“Right,” Emily says, looking a little disappointed at the idea of waiting longer than necessary to get home. “I’m gonna go and check on JJ.” She smiles at Reid, clapping him gently on the shoulder before wandering over to the sofa JJ’s sat on.

“You alright, pretty boy?” Derek asks. “You’re still looking a little on the chilly side.”

“Well, we did trek down the entire street in almost a foot of snow so I’m not sure you can blame me,” he smiles wryly, fiddling his fingers inside his pockets, nervous in the way he so often gets around Derek.

“No, I don’t suppose I can.” He casts a glance Hotch’s way, who doesn’t look any closer to a resolution. “How about we head back up to the room? Garcia rebooked them for tonight anyway and I don’t see much point in waiting around for nothing. Let’s go get you a hot chocolate and warm you back up.”

“I can’t have coffee?” Spencer smiles hopefully, knowing Derek hates how restless he gets after a nighttime espresso.

“Not when you’re sharing a room with me, kid, you know that,” Derek grins, as they make their way to the elevators.

★

They all go out for brunch the next morning, squeezing into the largest booth at the local diner and enjoying some rare, stress-free time together, and by the time they all pour out onto the street it's early afternoon.

“Right, shall we head back to the hotel for a bit, then?” Rossi asks as they pause on the pavement.

“Emily and I were going to head to the highstreet for a bit, actually,” JJ replies, shooting a smile Emily’s way. Spencer only feels sorry for JJ, knowing how much complaining she’s going to hear. He loves Emily to pieces but the woman has a lot to say about a lot of things.

“I’ll head back with you, Dave,” Hotch says unsurprisingly. Spencer expects he’s making a beeline for the phone to ring home and speak to Jack.

“What about you, kid?” Derek asks, turning to look at him with a questioning gaze as the others begin to peel off in the direction of their destinations.

“I don’t know, I’m feeling kind of restless, I’m not sure I want to go back and sit uselessly in the hotel room for hours on end,” he replies, cocking his head and looking back at his friend as his eyes squint against the wintry sun. “I only bought eight books with me.”

“Well Presque Isle Park is a ten minute from here, how about we take a midday walk up there?” Derek suggests, chuckling a little at Spencer’s comment.

“Really?” Spencer asks, a little shocked. “You want to go on an hours long walk through the snow in a random city’s park with me?”

“Course I do, pretty boy,” Derek reassures him. “Plus, the snow’s melted a little and the paths in the park will probably be cleared anyway. Let me call a taxi while you text the others so they know where we’re headed.”

Driving through the beautiful streets of Marquette, Spencer can see the tangible relief the city is experiencing now that the case is wrapped up and there’s no longer a freaky woman hater stalking the citizens. It’s nice hanging around a little after the case and getting to see with his own eyes the effects of their hard work, the good that they can instill in the world as they counterbalance the bad.

“What’s going on in that big head of yours, Spencer?” Derek asks, cutting through his dreamy thoughts.

“Nothing, it’s just,” he paused for a moment trying to explain. “It’s a beautiful town and it’s nice to see that we could preserve it that way, that we didn’t let evil corrupt it.” He lifts his gaze to Derek’s just in time to see his eyes soften, fondness and something else he couldn’t quite discern filling his expression.

Instead of saying anything though, he just shoots him a wistful smile and looks back out the window.

They arrive at the park fairly quickly and Derek pays the driver while Spencer hops out and is immediately captivated by the beauty surrounding him. He nearly jumps when Derek follows closely behind and places a large hand on his shoulder, steering him towards the path. “It’s breathtaking out here, isn’t it?” he asks him, but Spencer’s eyes catch on the vapour that the words produce and, consequently, Derek’s lips. Shaking himself out of it, he nods and quickly agrees before his eyes catch a wooden sign and he rushes over to it.

“It says that there’s a walk that goes around the perimeter of the peninsula the park rests on, we could start walking it and turn around if we need to?” Spencer suggests, calling behind him to where Derek still stood in the middle of the path, fiddling with his gloves.

“Sounds good, pretty boy,” he calls back, finally getting them settled and jogging forward to catch up with him.

They walk in silence for a little while, both taking in the breathtaking sights of the trees and the lake, snow and ice making everything appear even more beautiful. The first people they pass are a young family with two little children who cheerily greet them as they rush past them in a heated game of tag. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like to be raised somewhere as idyllic as this,” Spencer comments a little nostalgically, breaking the silence in a quiet voice 18 minutes and 45 seconds into their leisurely stroll.

“Vegas didn’t give you quite the same views?” Derek smiles sarcastically.

“Somehow, no,” Spencer chuckles back. “But I can’t imagine the South Side of Chicago was much better.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” Derek muses. “Granted we lived on a rundown street in a rundown neighbourhood, but the local park was surprisingly unscathed by any of the nasty business that might have plagued the area, at least to our naive eyes. We weren’t too far from the River, either, which was beautiful through all the seasons.”

“That’s nice,” Spencer says, shooting Derek a genuine smile. “I’m glad you had something like that growing up, you deserved it.”

“So did you, though,” Derek says, a little sadly. “I wish more than anything I could have been there when you were younger.”

Spencer smiles at the ground, trying to hide his blush, not knowing how to say, ‘I wish the same about you’ without feeling awkward. “You’re here now, though,” he settles on, and looks up into Derek’s wide, welcome eyes and tries to convey his gratitude.

“That I am.”

“You know, you guys are the first people who I’ve ever been able to fully be myself around,” Spencer confesses, feeling safe in the cool, clean air with only his best friend close by. “I was thinking about it yesterday; everyone else was excited to get home to their families, and I was just glad I had an extra day or two with mine.”

“Hey, Spencer,” Derek says, tugging gently at his arm to get him to slow to a stop and levelling him with a gaze that sort of punched a whole through his stomach with its power. “You can always be yourself around me, I hope you know that. You’re just as much my family as I am yours, alright?”

Spencer’s certain he’s beet red, but he tries his hardest not to look away. “Thanks Derek,” he says earnestly, finally ducking his head in embarrassment. They start walking again and Spencer can’t resist the urge to dissipate some of the intensity in the air, so he feigns a heavy sigh in jest. “Don’t worry, though. I’m fully aware I’m stuck with you for good.”

Derek fakes a gasp. “Alright, pretty boy, I’d watch your mouth if I was you.” He shoves him sideways gently, and Spencer stumbles a little. Derek barely budges, though, when Spencer shoves him back.

“You’re a great big oaf, you know that right?” Spencer giggles, trying his hardest to get to Derek to stumble the way he did, finally giving up. “Why won’t you move?” he whines.

“Well, pretty boy, it goes a little like this…” Derek catches him off guard and with another push, sends Spencer tumbling into the soft snow bank at the side of the path, freezing in shock as he realises what he just did.

“You are going to regret that, Derek Morgan,” Spencer laughs loudly as he picks himself up, trying to dust a little of the snow off his coat. He watches the relief melt into his best friend’s eyes as he realises he didn’t hurt him but, naturally, he knows he has to take advantage of his momentary weakness so he crouches down and gathers a hastily rolled snowball and chucks it directly at Derek’s chest.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Derek laughs, inching forwards slowly.

“You see how it is?” Spencer teases in retaliation.

“I do, I do see how it is.” Derek grins wickedly. “I see that Spencer Reid is unleashing his inner child and is rather desperate to have a snowball fight.”

“Is that so?” Spencer giggles, amused by Derek’s antics.

Before he can register what’s happening, Derek’s throwing his own hastily thrown snowball his way, hitting him square on his shoulder. He shrieks with glee, running away through the snow, trying to dodge Derek’s snowball assault, eventually managing to take shelter behind a tree. He starts compiling his own fortress of snowballs, but before he can make his third, Derek’s suddenly in front of him, armed with another. Catching him off guard, he stumbles backwards again, this time grabbing onto the sleeve of Derek’s coat for purchase and tugging him down with him into the snow.

Giggling like school children, they lay in the snow for a little while, ignoring the cold seeping through their jackets and into their bones. Eventually, though, Spencer sits up, trying to brush some of the snow away. He’s grumbling quietly about how drenched he is when he’s interrupted by eight words that make every muscle in his body still completely.

“You look even more beautiful covered in snow.”

He is completely frozen. Derek calls him pretty all the time, so surely this shouldn’t be any different, right? He’s definitely overreacting. But there’s a difference between teasing nicknames and directly calling him beautiful, he knows there is. It’s just sort of breaking his heart that it’s everything he’s wanted to hear from Derek for years and he can’t even enjoy it; he can’t trust it.

He knows he’s blushing deeply, and Derek also looks frozen, in shock at the words that just let his mouth, and it’s awkward. It hasn’t ever been awkward between them, tension was a mystery in their relationship -- they’d clicked immediately, getting along like a house on fire -- so why could they no longer meet one another’s eyes?

Quietly, they both get up and come to a silent consensus to turn back the other way. Slowly, the awkwardness eases between them and the silence becomes a little more bearable. The static in Spencer’s mind fades with it and he no longer feels as though his brain is short-circuiting, but that he can think about it clearly. Derek said it for a reason, he’s sure it meant something and he can’t go on without hearing it for certain.

“Did you mean it?” Spencer asks earnestly, voice still a little muted. He’s too shy and uncertain to make eye contact, but he’s proud of himself for being brave enough to ask the question; he deserves to know and he owes himself that.

He manages to hold back the surprised flinch that ripples through his body as he feels Derek’s fingers clasp his upper arm gently, pulling him to a stop. He gently nudges his fingers under Spencer’s chin, lifting his face to look at his own, making sure he registers his deep, genuine gaze. “I did.”

Immediately, Spencer pulls away and looks down at the snowy path beneath his boots. Truthfully he’s struggling to process what’s going on at the moment: surely the man he’s been in love with for the last three years isn’t telling him what he thinks he is?

Derek lifts his chin again, concerned eyes meeting his own. “Hey, you okay, beautiful boy?”

Spencer has never been more confident of the difference between pretty boy and beautiful boy, so he leans in and presses a quick, shy kiss against Derek’s lips before he can stop himself. Suddenly unsure of himself again, though, he moves to pull away but Derek reaches a large palm to his cheek and leans back in, sliding his lips over Spencer’s softly, and Spencer can’t help but part his lips slightly, completely drawn into and consumed by Derek’s kiss.

Eventually, reluctantly, they part with another, soft kiss, leaning their foreheads together. “I’m not sure I can think of a more beautiful place to share a first kiss,” Spencer grins, unable to help himself.

Derek laughs heartily, leaning away from his face and grabbing his hand gently instead. “I think you’re right about that, pretty boy.”

“Hey, I thought I was beautiful boy, now,” Spencer pouts, and Derek leans in, unable to resist kissing away his faux grumpy expression.

“That you are,” he says gently. “My beautiful boy.”

★

When they finally make it back to the hotel, Spencer’s freezing cold and soaked to the skin.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to be warm again,” he grumbles, forcing Derek to wrestle him into a warm bath and bury him under the covers, swathed in one of Derek’s own sweaters. “God, I could get used to seeing you in my clothes,” he groaned as soon as Spencer was warm and tucked in. To be fair, the jumper was big on Derek so it definitely hung off and accentuated Spencer’s smaller frame, which was exactly what he needed at that moment.

“You’re such a typical alpha male,” Spencer giggles. “So possessive. Go and have a shower, silly, then you can come and join me.” He waggles his eyebrows jokingly, and Derek smiles fondly before obeying his orders and warming himself up.

Not long after they’ve climbed into bed, relaxing into each other’s arms in a non-platonic way for the first time ever, Emily knocks on their door inviting them out for a group dinner. Derek kindly turns down the invitation though, explaining how exhausted they are from their earlier trek, and she leaves them be, the rest of the team traipsing back into town. Spencer definitely thinks they have the winning idea when instead they sneakily order from the local Chinese and climb back into bed, spreading the cartons across the sheets in an inviting feast.

Derek props up his tablet up on top of a cushion on his lap and Spencer shows him how to download episodes of the original Doctor Who, and they eat quietly in a haven of domestic bliss, a momentary escape from the stress of their jobs, the pressure of their friends, the responsibilities of life. Derek, in turn, tries to teach Spencer how to properly use chopsticks, an endeavour that he’s failed in far too many times to keep trying.

“I know how to use them in theory,” Spencer protests.

“Well that eidetic memory doesn’t come much in handy here, does it?” Derek teases. “Even your 187 IQ doesn’t stand a chance at teaching you coordination.”

“You’re being mean,” he pouts.

“Aww, I’m sorry, baby,” he smiles, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before finally letting him have the plastic fork he’d been hiding, purposefully ignoring the indicting glare being shot his way.

When their cartons are empty, they lean back even further into the well-cushioned bed. “I’ve been in love with you for three years, you know,” Spencer confesses softly, drawing lines on Derek’s chest which is currently acting as his pillow, despite the abundance behind him.

“Really?” Derek asks, clearly surprised.

“You didn’t know?”

“Of course not,” he replies incredulously. “If I’d known I’d have made a move years ago.”

“We are certifiable idiots.”

“Yes we are.”

“I never said anything because…” Spencer gives himself a moment, trying to find the right words and not humiliate himself. “I never thought you could love anyone like me. I mean despite the obvious, being very much male, I’m a lanky nerd, not like the pretty girls you pick up in bars when we go out.”

“Oh, baby,” Derek sighs, carding a hand through Spencer’s hair before pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. “There’s a reason I’ve called you pretty boy all these years. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met and I’ve been infatuated pretty much since I met you. You are far prettier than any of those girls I’ve met in bars. Far more special. Far more precious. You’re seriously important to me, okay?”

“Okay,” Spencer says, and he can’t hide the pleased note in his voice. He’s blushing, of course he is, but it’s out of pleasure this time, not embarrassment. He feels honoured to be of such importance to Derek, and he can’t help but feel like the luckiest person in the world right now, wrapped up in his strong, gentle arms. A sudden drowsiness seeps into his veins and he feels his limbs getting heavy.

Derek clearly recognises it, and presses another gentle kiss to the top of his head. “Sleep, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up,” he promises. “We have so much to look forward to.”

Spencer finally falls asleep, believing that’s true for the first time in a long time.

#my writing #criminal minds fic #criminal minds writing #spencer reid #derek morgan #moreid #spencer reid x derek morgan #morgan x reid

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romanceismycallingcard · 5 years ago

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50 questions tag!

I got tagged by @bl-crossingtheline! Hello darling! Sorry I’m so late on this. Needed a good block of time and then I just kept forgetting. 😜😂

Questions:

what color is your hairbrush? Aqua/Teal

name a food you never eat: Brussel sprouts. And fish.

are you typically too warm or too cold? Um... in winter I’m just perpetually cold. I prefer to be on the warmer side. But as I’ve gotten older that’s changed a little bit. But I don’t know if I’m like always cold or whatever.

what were you doing 45 minutes ago? lol eating fresh home made sour dough bread with my family.

what’s your favorite candy bar? 100 grand bars

have you ever been to a professional sports game? yes. a hockey game with my family and brothers’ hockey teams.

what’s the last thing you said out loud?: My brother was leaving so I yelled BYEEEEE HAVE A NICE DAY from my room and he said NO~! YOU HAVE A NICE DAY! so then I said FINE IF YOU’RE FORCING ME TO. lol. That was one of our nicer interactions 😂

what’s your favorite ice cream?: anything with caramel or maybe moosetracks. Or just plain vanilla cuz it’s classic, yummy, and underappreciated.

what was the last thing you had to drink? milk

do you like your wallet?: Yes! I do! I found it years ago at a thrift store and it was just perfect for me. It’s black with a pretty metal thing with engraved flowers on it. It zips closed AND there’s a coin pouch inside. And it’s the kind that folds in half rather than the kind that looks like a clutch purse which I’m really glad about because the clutch purse shaped ones seem to almost never be quite the right size - either too big or too small and sometimes the latch breaks so then it just flops open. :P

what’s the last thing you ate? sour dough bread

did you buy any new clothes last weekend? um.... no. But i did this last Friday cuz I had to pick up some things from Walmart and I impulse bought a $10 dress that looked comfy and light weight and casual and I can wear it on days when I don’t want to wear pants. I didn’t have a good dress for days like that before.

what’s the last sporting event you watched? uh...... i don’t. Unless my friend showing me a two minute compilation clip of the danish (i think?) sport of jumping over rivers with a pole counts. or unless watching super junior perform counts.

what is your favorite flavor of popcorn? butter + salt or white cheddar

who’s the last person you sent a text to? real texting it was a mom I babysit for. But more recently than that I was messaging blue (musicdramalove) on tumblr.

ever go camping? my family used to go camping a lot - like at least once a year. But we haven’t for several years now since all my siblings and I are adults now. I think I might’ve gone with friends a couple years ago though. idk.

do you take vitamins? nope. If I get sick, I drink a looooooot of orange juice.

do you go to church every sunday? yeah

do you have a tan? not right now. hopefully I will by the end of summer (if not June)

do you prefer chinese or pizza? chinese (but pizza’s good too)

do you drink soda through a straw? not unless I order it at a restaurant and it’s in a glass. But that’s rare. I usually order water or sometimes a cocktail.

what color socks do you usually wear? I have a set that’s cream, a couple greys, and white, and I have a set that’s cream, grey and light pink.

do you ever drive above the speed limit? heck yeah. Usually I keep it to about 5-10 above. But it also depends on what streets I’m on.

what terrifies you? Failing at working a career job or living a miserable life or being alone forever with no one to take care of me when I’m sick.

look to your left, what do you see? my purse on the floor next to my dresser

what chore do you hate the most? scrubbing my shower/bathtub.

what do you think of when you hear an australian accent? steve the animal guy or liam and chris hemsworth or KJ Apa or Rebel Wilson. Or the other day when I was talking to my nanny kiddos about accents and the girl and I could do decent-ish british accents but absolutely failed at an Aussie accent

what’s your favorite soda? root beer

do you go in fast food places or just hit the drive thru? depends on the day or sometimes the line of cars in the drive thru

what’s your favorite number? 4. idky but I’ve always thought of it as my lucky number. Plus I just like it. It’s even. It’s small. 2 + 2 = 4 and 2 x 2 = 4.

who’s the last person you talked to? my brother when I was yelling bye to him.

favorite cut of beef? yeah i really don’t know or care

last song you listened to? We by Yesung

last book you read? honestly can’t even tell you.

can you say the alphabet backwards? YES I CAN AND I’M VERY PROUD ABOUT THIS

favorite day of the week? mmm..... saturday because I usually see my friends on saturday and also refuse to do homework on saturdays.

how do you like your coffee? with a big scoop of hot chocolate powder and quite a bit of half and half. sometimes I forego the chocolate powder but my preference is to have it.

favorite pair of shoes? oooh..... I love my shoes. I have so many that I like. um... okay I’m gonna say it’s this one pair of brown heels I have. They look kinda like leather, orangey-brown, 4in tall heel, and they’re almost like ankle boots because the material goes to just below my ankle. They look amazing with skinny jeans.

time you normally get up? mm..... somewhere between 8 and 9 I guess if I wake up naturally. But I have to get up at 6:15 for work and 7am on days when I have church bc I’m head of nursery (but church is at 10am and online cuz quarantine)

sunrise or sunsets? hm.... I guess sunset bc it sets behind the mountains and it’s gorgeous.

how many blankets on your bed? rn 1 really light one cuz summer’s basically here.

describe your kitchen plates? white with a red and grey design on them with a red border on the edge

describe your kitchen at the moment? currently a mess bc things are being moved around and sorted and everything is everywhere. Other than that, it’s got a sink, fridge, oven, dishwasher, you know, the uszh.

do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? mm.... right now I guess my go to is a moscato wine. I think that’s my favorite thing right now. You can call me a wimp but hey it’s a step up from Mike’s hard mango punch. I also really like mules.

do you play cards? yes.

what color is your car? silver. and it annoys me bc it looks like every other unimpressionable unremarkable unmemorable car out there :p

can you change a tire? .............................................no.

your favorite state/province/county/etc.? MINE

favorite job you’ve had? my babysitting job for a neighborhood family. I’ve been babysitting them for about 7 years now and I have been with them for two of their kids’ births and I’ve gotten to watch them grow up and develop personalities and learn about life and it has been such a fun experience and blessing to me.

how did you get your biggest scar? okay so I don’t know about biggest, but the one that I’ve probably had the longest and is still clearly visible is one that’s on my foot. It’s about a cm long and is about an inch or so in from the base of my second toe on my right foot. I got it when I was... I think a sophomore in high school when my family visited my bro and sis-in-law out of state for Thanksgiving. I went to grab a bottle of sparkling apple cider out of the fridge but, in the process of grabbing it or moving something aside or something, the bottle of sparkling cider fell out of the fridge onto the tile floor right next to my foot and SHATTERED. I was frozen in shock. Didn’t know what to do. Felt embarrassed and felt bad about the broken bottle and mess. I didn’t even realize until my mom and sis-in-law were cleaning up the floor around me that there was a small shard of glass somewhat embedded in my foot. I don’t remember feeling any pain from it. I think I was probably still in shock. But I still have the scar.

Tagging: I don’t really know and I’m tired so ANYONE WHO WANTS TO 😊

#tag game #50 questions #fun times

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purplesurveys · 5 years ago

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785

When was the last time you changed your opinion on somebody? A few days ago I found out that someone I probably know (but is anonymous) filed a complaint towards another person that I also know for acting indecently towards the complainant. I always knew that person had a...vibe, but I just didn’t know it was going to be the worst vibe possible. I never want to see them ever again because I might actually kick them. When did you last change your opinion on a situation? I haven’t changed my opinions in a while... literally what I can only remember is listening to a few Billie Eilish songs and accepting that she has some okay music lmaoooo, and this was a few months ago. Why did you last visit the doctor? My left eye was acting up so I wanted to have it checked before the lockdown that we all knew was going to happen. What was the last thing that made you feel proud and why? Finishing my thesis. Because duh, I actually did it? Do you like salt? Sure, it makes a lot of food more delicious.

Do you feel uncomfortable when people you hardly know confide in you? Honestly yes. I pride myself on being a good listener, but it doesn’t mean I’m comfortable with listening to everyone. I prefer keeping that opportunity to my close friends. I suppose it’s flattering when people I’m not close to see me as trustworthy, but if I had it my way I wish they went to another person instead. Have you ever regretted what you said in drunken conversation once sober? Sometimes. Is there anything coming up which you're dreading? I’m a little afraid of the period following graduation because it’ll be the first time in 18 years that I’m not in school, and it’ll be such a crazy transition. Let’s hope it doesn’t eat me alive. Anything you're looking forward to? Also the period after graduation, because yay adult life and independence and no more exams and stuff. Idk, lots of mixed feelings about it obviously. Do you ever do tedious tasks just to keep your mind occupied? Yes. It actually really helps and I like having things to do when there’s conflict or tension going on in my personal life. Have you ever lived with somebody with truly repulsive habits? Nah, I don’t think that about my family. Repulsive traits sure, but not habits. Do you tend to say things because they're appropriate not because you mean them? Sometimes, and it’s usually to be polite and/or nice. It costs nothing to tell someone you like someone’s dress or makeup or shirt, and you can even help make their day. What was the last thing to perplex you? Probably some stupid, nonsensical thing Duterte said in one of his addresses. What was the last thing to fascinate you? I rewatched Beyoncé’s Homecoming on Netflix and everything about it fascinated me, as always. I will neverrrr get tired of watching her concerts; she always puts so much love and effort and soul into each show. What was the last thing to annoy you? I don’t feel like getting into it. When did you last work your socks off fruitlessly? A few months ago, in the earlier stages of making our thesis. Andrew and I would often bust our asses into the night, tweaking and researching and editing, and submit our work feeling proud of it only for it to be thrown back at us with a million comments and corrections in bloody red ink. I feel like we got a record number of sermons and unaccepted drafts compared to other students, so it just made me detached from my thesis altogether and in the end I mostly finished it for the sake of finishing it. I’m proud of finishing it of course, but I’m no longer passionate about it like I used to be, and I doubt I’ll ever bring it up in future conversations unless someone asks. When did your hard work last pay off? Today, in the final stages of our thesis. I really wish I loved it more, though. What is a word you hate? Grind makes me uncomfortable lol Do you have a favourite childrens book? Sure. If yes, what is it? Corduroy. I would go to the school library to read it almost everyday; I never got tired of it. I also really liked Tikki Tikki Tembo because his whole name was so fun to pronounce haha. When did you last feel a need to be alone? Last week when it rained and it was cold for the first time in months. The weather made me feel ~some type of way~ and I stayed in my room all day. I wasn’t sad, I really just wanted to savor the weather by myself. When did you last "need" to be around people? Right now. I’ve increasingly been feeling this way by the day.

Have you ever been in a job where you didn't fit in with your co-workers? Not a job, but this was me during my experience applying for a local chapter of an international youth org called AIESEC. I really thought I could fake my way in and I was adamant at first because I like what the org does and besides, AIESEC looks really good on a resumé; but it’s one of the rare times that even faking it didn’t cut it for me. I was miserable and no one talked to me every time I hung out in their lounge, and their org culture was so different from what I’m used to with my home org. I didn’t last long and I ghosted the application process after a month. What do you do to "expand" your mind? For me that’s always best achieved by trying out new things, so I make it a point to have brand-new experiences every time I can. When did you last REALLY want to go out but couldn't for whatever reason? LOL. March to present. Do you need a wee right now? I do not. Is there a certain noise/sound which scares you? Yeah, loud ‘DUN’ sounds that come with jumpscares, the Windows XP shutdown sound is also weirdly scary to me, and people yelling when they’re drunk. The last one particularly reminds me of fights at home. When did you last eat sweeties? Idk what you mean by sweeties, but the last time I had anything sweet was this afternoon when my dad made churros with a chocolate dip. Do you have a favourite micro-organism? No lol What was the last thing to upset you? The recent news about a wrestler, Shad Gaspard, who was reported missing after he got swept out to sea while at the beach with his family. He told rescuers to save his kid first, but they were never able to find him after. They tried to look for him for several hours but eventually, they called the search off and now he’s presumed to have died. It’s very sad and heavy and a lot to take in. He was one of my favorites growing up because he was in a hilarioussssss tag team with another guy, JTG, and both of them were always so entertaining. It sucks, and 2020 continues to suck. What was the last thing to make you happy? Like I said, I watched Homecoming earlier. Beyoncé always puts me in a better mood, so there’s that. Have you ever eaten chocolate for breakfast? Just hot chocolate. I’ve never eaten like a chocolate bar or anything similar. Do you like balloons? They’re admittedly fun, but I know they can also be harmful to the environment so I don’t buy or use them if it’s even remotely unnecessary to. Out of the people you know, whose birthday is next? Laurice. Does that person have any plans to celebrate their birthday? I’m sure their family has something planned out inside their house, but obviously they can’t celebrate by going out for now. Do you enjoy swimming? Yes. When will you next go to the beach? I have no clue. When at the beach do you like to swim in the sea? Ugh man. Awful timing for these questions... yeah I guess. But I don’t want to think about that now. If you have pet fish do you bother to name them? When I was a kid I did name each of my goldfish. Do you like adventure games like Monkey Island and Diskworld? No. Did you ever read the Terry Pratchet "Disk World" books? I did not. If yes to the question above, what are they like? Have you had to change a nappy lately? Nope, no babies around here. Would you like a holiday about now? Not really. It’s not like I can celebrate it or go for a vacation. What's stopping you from going on holiday right now? So tired of saying it every time. If you know you know. Do you keep your eggs in the fridge? Yes, we do. Have you ever owned chickens? Nope. Super common to just see chickens running about the highway once you reach the province though hahaha. Do you like classical music? Some. I sometimes like listening to classical playlists when I study, but not always. When did you last listen to music? An hour ago. Have you ever seen "Canibal the Musical"? I haven’t. Are your breasts sore? Nopes.

#survey #surveys

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lesbianrobin · 5 years ago

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Okay now I’m craving Stranger Things snow day headcanons. But also can’t stop thinking of the Party in place of my own friend group that one year where we nearly broke my friend’s nose playing “snow football” lmao

FULL STORY PLEASE....

also my personal snow day headcanons are as follows:

steve refuses to wear a hat he just won't do it so he walks around freezing with red ears and constantly complains about how cold it is and everyone is like well put on a fucking hat and hes like that is a ridiculous request and i will not respond to it

he also wears ridiculously impractical footwear he just wears sneakers and his toes turn into blocks of ice

steve: refuses to dress for the weather in order to preserve his Look and ends up freezing and soaking wet

also steve: why do people like snow so much it's terrible

robin bundles the fuck up she wears a tank top and then a t-shirt and then a long sleeve shirt and then a sweater and then a jacket over the sweater and then a puffy coat, scarf, toboggan, and gloves to top it all off

steve makes fun of her for it and she pretends like she isnt actually kind of hot even though theyre outside

the two of them are less snowball fight types and more sitting inside with a fuzzy blanket and warm drink types

nancy just wears a sweater, coat, and gloves like a normal person if she Has to go outside but she'll generally take a snow day as an opportunity to sleep in late and fuck around and reread her favorite books

jonathan literally goes out in the snow in a jean jacket because he's an animal but if joyce catches him he gets yelled at and then he feels bad

the kids are all still young enough that their parents check them before they go out the door when it's snowy but max hates gloves and won't wear them and will can never find his scarf and mike will take off his hat as soon as he's out of karen's sight out of pure spite so the kids all end up in various states of chilliness which stresses steve out so he starts wearing scarves and gloves and hats just so he can take them off and make the kids wear them

he's like "max you'll be able to throw that snowball at lucas a lot better if you can feel your fingers" and she's like damn.... you got a point....... gimme those gloves

the kids go fucking APE

will and el kind of hate the cold and snow in general bc of Trauma but as they help the others build their dnd characters out of snow and help max dump snow down the back of mike's shirt (by distracting him and then by holding his shoulders so he can't run away) they kind of get caught up in the fun and the snow isn't so miserable anymore

lucas is like Determined to do all of the Snow Stuff with el he's like "okay we gotta make a snowman and have a snowball fight and do snow angels but those have to be last because then your back is all wet and gross and then we need to go inside and warm up with hot chocolate-" and el is like "oh okay cool by the way-" and just shoves a bunch of snow in his face which kicks off The Great Hawkins Snow War of '85 and it lasts a full two hours

dustin slips and eats shit like constantly even though he's got snow boots on and someone manages to be watching every single time which is just unfair

mike Does Not Slip Ever he just likes chillin on the ground okay he's a chill kind of guy alright he's just relaxing he did NOT slip!!!!!

lucas builds an elaborate snow fort and makes it Base of Snowball Operations for his team (mike and will) so then obviously el, max, and dustin have to make their own fort and while max is out running a guerilla mission against the other team el cheats a little with her powers to make a somewhat unbelievable snow fort directed by dustin's grand architectural vision

it has two floors

joyce makes them knock it down

hopper drives over to the byers place just to be like "hey joyce just uh making sure you and jonathan have your snow tires and you're all good :) just a friendly visit :) because i love you :) buddy :)" and she's like yeah we're good but you need a hat jim hopper and they banter and it's cute and all of the kids are like retching in the background

once they make a "no powers" rule for the snowball fight the teams are pretty evenly matched (although lucas argues that having mike on his team should count as an official handicap when evaluating each team's performance)

they ask jonathan to judge and he's just like "uh dustin has the most snow on him?" and they're like you're useless

ultimately they call it a draw and go inside to warm up but they argue about the True Winner until the next snow day

that's it for now :)

#em talks #asks #long post #stranger things #define-lying

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lovemesomesurveys · 5 years ago

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What’s the most played song on your iPod? I haven’t used my iPod since 2012. I use Spotify on my phone, but I don’t think it tells you what your most played song is. What is one quality you admire most in others? People who are driven and get shit done. What would you do with a million dollars? Sigh. I’d have to first and foremost pay off my debt. I’d also help my parents and brother out. I’d get us a new house. Traveling is a must. What’s your favorite song to dance to? I don’t dance. Well, unless you count a little head bobbin’ and maybe a little movement of my arms or shoulders. lol. What would your ideal birthday party be like? I’m 30 and old so I don’t look forward to my birthday anymore, ha. If I were able to travel for my birthday then that would be nice.

If you could be reincarnated into anything you wanted, what would it be? I don’t want to be reincarnated. I don’t believe in it. What talent would you like to have? A talent at all would be cool, but in particular I wish I had any artistic ability or was musically inclined. Are you ticklish? Just my neck. What’s the longest you’ve gone without sleep? 30+ hours. What New Year’s resolutions did you make? I don’t make those anymore. What are three songs that mean the most to you? Everlong (acoustic) by Foo Fighters, Free Bird by Lynyrd Skynyrd, and... I’ve having a hard time choosing a 3rd. There’s so many songs that mean something to me for one reason or another. So many memories and emotions. Who is the one person you miss the most? There’s 3 someones. What do you think of your parents? I love them with all my heart. I couldn’t keep going if I didn’t have them. My mom and I are super close, she’s my rock. What is one thing you would do to make the world better? I don’t know what I could do. What is your favorite kind of sandwich? My sandwiches at home consist of bologna, sharp cheddar cheese, mayo, mustard, and spinach with olive oil on the side mixed with basil and oregano for dipping. At my favorite deli I get turkey, salami, provolone, mustard, mayo, and oil and vinegar. If you had a puppy, what would you name it? My doggo’s name is Princess Leia. She’s 2, but she’ll always be my puppy. (: If I were to get another dog; though... I’m not sure what I would name him/her, but it’d also be after a character. If you could be invisible for a day, what would you do? I don’t know. How much cash do you have on you right now? Zero. What do you think makes you attractive to other people? Nothing. Would more money make you happier? It would help with a lot, but I wouldn’t be cured of my mental and physical health. I’d still have that baggage. Money isn’t magic. What is one of your favorite memories as a child? So many. I loved my childhood. It’s not that I didn’t have any struggles or obstacles, cause I did, but honestly that’s not what stands out. I was a strong, brave, resilient kid. Kid me would be so disappointed in current me. What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do in your life? I’ve had a lot of struggles. How do you measure intelligence? I don’t know. There’s issues with the IQ test for one. Grades aren’t accurate representations of intelligence either; neither are exams. It’s a complicated thing.

What cartoons do you watch? Hey Arnold, Rugrats, and Doug. Have you ever used drugs? Only weed. If you were a Skittle, what flavor would it be? The red one I guess that’s the only one I liked. How would you describe your style? Very casual, ha. I wear leggings and oversized graphic tees. If you had to spend $1,000 in one hour, how would you spend it? Christmas presents for my family. What’s your favorite smell and why? I have many. Where do you buy your clothes? Mostly Hot Topic, Boxlunch, and Kohl’s. What’s your favorite kind of cake? White cake with buttercream frosting, funfetti/rainbow chip with funfetti/rainbow chip frosting, red velvet with cream cheese frosting, lemon with lemon frosting, and strawberry with strawberry frosting. Does intelligent life exist elsewhere in the universe? I don’t think there is in space, but what do I know. If you could eat anything right now, what would it be? I’m good right now. Are you into tattoos? Nah. Do you like photography? I mean, sure? I’m not a photographer, but I can appreciate nice photos. If you were a holiday, which one would you be? I love Christmas, but I’d probably be Halloween cause it’s dark and gloom, ha. Do you have any siblings? I have 2 brothers. If you were to get a tattoo, what would it be of? I’ve wanted to get free bird tattooed on my inner wrist for several years, but I highly doubt I’ll ever get it done. What’s the biggest celebrity you’ve ever seen in real life? Jamie Lee Curtis. I met her at a book signing years ago. How many pushups can you do? Zero. What person in history do you admire most? There’s a lot of admirable people in history. Who is your favorite actor? Alexander Skarsgard. What is the most daring thing that you have done in public? Nothing. Have you ever lied about your age? Only back during the AOL chat room days. :X Have you ever cried while watching a movie? If so, what movie? Yeah, I’m not usually one to cry during a movie, at most I may tear up a little, but there’s been a few who have managed to get me. When The Fault in our Stars came out I ended up seeing it by myself cause no one else I knew wanted to see it and I was in there bawling my eyes out lmao so it was better that I went alone. The Avengers: Endgame definitely got me. Are you afraid of anything that most people are not afraid of? Probably a few things. Where do you see yourself five years from now? I just gotta take it day by day. What is your favorite candy? I haven’t had any candy in like over a year, but Reese’s are always a good choice. And white chocolate. Have you ever watched someone struggle with addiction? Yes. Who do you look up to for your style? I don’t look up to anyone for my style. Who is your favorite sports team? I don’t care about sports at all. How often do you drink alcohol? It’s been 6 years since I last had any alcohol. What is your life in three words? Blah, bleh, and meh. If you could be anything in the world, what would you be? Healthy. Would you have a pet dragon? If so what color would it be? Um, no. I’m no mother of dragons or whatever. What’s your favorite sport? None. Do you believe that homeless people are dangerous? Just because someone is homeless it doesn’t mean they’re dangerous. Sure, some homeless people can also be dangerous, but it’s not mutually exclusive. If you could be skinny and miserable or fat and happy, which would you be? Well, I’m skinny and miserable now. I’m not miserable because I’m skinny, but it is related to some of the issues I have and also adds to some. I just want to be healthy and happy. Period. If your life flashed before you, what do you wish you would have done? I want to do something meaningful with my life. If you were to invent something, what would it be? I have no idea. Who would you like to get to know better? No one at the moment. Have you ever had a near-death experience? I’ve had two. Do you fear death? Yes, of both losing my loved ones and dying myself. What is the strangest food you ever ate? I don’t eat anything I consider strange. I’m so picky and basic. Do you think you’re cool? Nope. I’m definitely not. What reality show would you like to be on? None. What’s your favorite thing to order at a Chinese food restaurant? Chow mien, pot stickers, egg rolls, and crab rangoon. I used to love orange chicken and kung pao chicken, but I can’t either one anymore due to the spicy food sensitivity I developed a few years ago. As someone who was once obSESSED with spicy food... it sucks. Are you happy with your life? No. If you could name your own planet, what would you call it? Planet Nowhere. I know that’s already a thing, but shh pretend it’s not. If you could live another 200 years. What would you hope to see? Oh yikes. I mean, the future terrifies me and I don’t want live 200 years, but I am curious about what the world will be like then. Like the advancements made and such. Hopefully it’s not worse... Would you rather be hot or cold? Cold. Definitely. How would you rate yourself? In the negatives. Would you ever move to a different country in an attempt to start over? Not another country, but another city, maybe even another state, yes. My family and I want to move out of here. If you could be a character from any book, who would you be? Hmm. Do you prefer taking baths or showers? I only take showers. I haven’t taken a bath since I was a kid. Do you still collect toys from Happy Meals? No. I heard they were bringing back popular ones from my childhood; though, and I kinda want to get those. What’s the most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done? Uhhhh. I have no idea. I’m not the most spontaneous person. In your opinion what is the greatest challenge the world faces today? * Like, the world or jst humanity? Bc I think humanity is its own worst enemy <<< Most definitely. Do you like dogs or cats better? Cats are cute and all, but I’m a dog person all the way. What have you achieved that you once thought was impossible? Earlier this year I got really sick and it knocked me flat on my ass, causing a lot of issues and setbacks. I didn’t think I’d be able to get to where I am now, which still isn’t good, but not like it was then. It was just really, really bad. If an ex texted you out of the blue, how would you respond? I probably wouldn’t even respond at all to be honest. Do you have a favorite poet? No. What have you tried to quit, but weren’t able to? Picking my nails, picking at/biting my lips, and picking at acne. Would you rather go on a shopping spree with $200 or put it in the bank? Put it in the bank. What was the last rumor that you heard? *shrug* What country star would you most like to meet and why? Blake Shelton. He seems cool. Have you ever been in a car accident? No. Are you an organ donor? No. What is the most dangerous thing you have ever done? Not taking care of myself like I should be...not doing and neglecting certain things. What is the meaning of life? Uhhh. What word do you like the sound of? I can’t think of an example right now. What’s your favorite ice cream flavor? Strawberry. Wow, I haven’t had ice cream in like 3 or 4 years. Do you prefer cupcakes or muffins? I like both. Are you an athlete? Nope. There’s nothing athletic about me at all. What did the last text message on your phone say? I don’t feel like checking. What is the funniest movie you’ve seen in your whole entire lifetime? Hmm. I don’t know what I’d choose as the funniest movie ever of all time. What’s the worst nightmare you’ve ever had? Losing my mom in one and my brother in another. I woke up literally shaking and sobbing. What do you know how to cook? Ramen. What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had, and what was it from? The one that made me a paraplegic takes the cake I’d say. What’s your favorite amusement park ride? Most of the rides at Disneyland. What do you wish you were doing right now? I’m fine with doing this. Who are your musical influences? I don’t have any. I’m not an artist or musically inclined at all. What was your favorite band or musician when you were 12? The popular artists and groups at that time circa 2001. What’s the best pick-up line that’s ever been tried on you? I’ll never forget this one guy in high school who actually came up to me and asked me my sign lol. How many drinks can you handle? I was a lightweight. What was the longest phone conversation you’ve ever had? A few hours. I can’t believe I actually used to spend that much time on the phone at one point. What’s your favorite candle scent? Autumnal ones from Bath & Body Works are great.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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lizardrosen · 6 years ago

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Shortly after leaving the Convent of Petit-Picpus, Cosette encounters a group of children.

This fic explores a few similarities between Petit-Picpus and Paris Atomized, plus Jean Valjean feelings!

#BrickClub #les mis #my writing #cosette #Valjean #gavroche #it's implied anyway #team hot chocolate for all the miserable kids in this book

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parabuttai · 6 years ago

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In All Things

aka the coffee shop, jurdan au I wrote in a hungover haze

It’s a muggy, autumn day when their parents die. Jude didn’t see it happen, she was in the café playing hide and seek behind the sofa with her twin sister Taryn while Vivi, the oldest, painstakingly painted her nails a brilliant shade of red and kept a lenient eye on the pair of them. The café was her parents pride and Jude loved everything about it, from the red, leather chairs smattered comfortably around the room, to the whipped cream covered hot chocolate her dad snuck to her and sisters when he thought mum wasn’t looking. She didn’t it happen, but she does see the tall man, in a black suit with a red pocket square enter, disregarding the “closed” sign on the door entirely. His name is Madoc and he’s a lawyer. Jude doesn’t really know what a lawyer is. The one time she asked her mum left her know clearer. What she does know is that he is also Vivi’s birth father, although her sister has only ever called their dad by that term. They see him every so often at Christmas and Thanksgiving with his wife, Oriana. Today, he tells them that their parents are dead, and then he takes everything.

She can’t even hate him for it, not really. Legally the rights to all the recipes, all the protocols, even the deal of the day sign, which Jude’s mother painstakingly painted belong to the Greenbriar’s and their lawyer Madoc is simply the tool by which they have claimed them. The Greenbriar family owns the Greenbriar franchise which stretches across America in a multitude of coffee shops and cosy cafes, just like the one lovingly owned by their parents. As soon as her parents are dead Madoc swoops in with a team of lawyers to reclaim the property and get it up and running under new management. As well as taking the café he takes all the children in, his heir and her scrawny half- siblings. Vivi sits in the front of his black BMW sober faced and silent but Jude and Taryn cry the whole way to their new home. That night, when Jude’s curled up in bed, listening to the even sound of Taryn’s breathing from the twin bed across the room she imagines the crash, imagines Madoc’s face behind the wheel of the oncoming vehicle. In her heart of hearts she knows that he wasn’t the one responsible for the crash, that he wasn’t anywhere near the intersection of the day a stupid kid was too busy looking at his phone to realise that he had swerved into the oncoming traffic. Still, that didn’t make the sight of the heavy metal lettering spelling out “Duarte’s Café”, lovingly carved by her father’s hand being unceremoniously ripped from the space above the café and replaced by the cold, corporate logo of Greenbriar an any less bitter pill to swallow. Nor does it make the big, busy town house feel any more like a home. Slowly though, Jude adjusts to her new life. Madoc and his pale wife Oriana are kind in their own stilted way and their son Oak has such a boundless enthusiasm for the arrival of three, new sisters that it makes it hard for Jude to resent the willingness with which she was taken into their family.

Vivi, however, finds no such peace. She is a thundering torrent of range and resentment and as the years past her anger hones itself into something sharp and brutal. She screams and throws things, delighting in smashing whatever she can lay her hands on. In desperation Madoc and Oriana send her to a fancy boarding school in the hopes that a new scene will assuage her anger but it takes only a month before she is sent home from the prestigious school and asked never to return there again. Over the years her screams quieten and she stops smashing things, but Jude can sense the anger in her, bottled tight just beneath the surface. It’s something of a relief when she arrives at dinner one evening, suitcase in hand, and announces she’s moving across town to live with her girlfriend Heather. Taryn cries herself to sleep that night, rocked in Jude’s embrace until she falls into a fitful sleep. It’s only her twin’s tears that stain Jude’s skin that night though, although she feel’s Vivi’s absence like the loss of a limb. The next morning she goes to Madoc and requests a job in the café. He is inscrutable as he looks at her and although she gazes calmly back at him she wonders if he can sense the loss, the panic that crawls beneath her skin like a living breathing thing. Whether he can sense that she is unravelling like so many threads from a worn tapestry and she has no way to stitch herself back together. That is he says no it is she who will be lost next. He says yes.

He puts her to work scrubbing dishes in the back with water so hot it scalds her hands and leaves her nails cracked and peeling. But although her hands are sore her heart is lighter than it’s been for several years and soon he is showing her how to balance multiple cups on her arm and the best way to tell when the milk is sufficiently heated to pour into a cappuccino. He has one of the chefs teach her how to make scones so soft they melt in your mouth and allows her to try her hand at painting the day’s deals onto the sign. Her breathing is shaky, but her hand is steady and when she wipes a paint, splattered hand across her forehead and surveys her work she thinks that this might be enough.

However, although the work sooths her heart and sooths her soul, her colleagues do not. Their waitress, Nicasia is a vain, self-absorbed girl with a tongue as sharp as the fresh marmalade they serve with the butter biscuits. Her mother is a world famous beautician who has little time for her only daughter apart from to offer criticisms disguised as complements, an art that Nicasia has also perfected. She is accompanied by thuggish Valerian, who delights in violence and makes a habit of pinching at Jude when she’s carrying plates causing her to smash them on the ground until Jude viciously salts every meal he brings to work and he is forced to halt his campaign or go permanently hungry. Worst of all is the manager, Cardan, a younger son of the Greenbriar family and is in charge of overseeing the establishment. Cardan delights in sly taunts and makes it his mission to make Jude’s time there as miserable as possible. He sneers as she makes cups of coffee and carries plates and does nothing to stop the constant digs that Nicasia and Valerian send her way. He is not violent towards her like they are, preferring to make her uncomfortable by pinning her with his disconcerting gaze when she is working or giving her cups of coffee with insults scrawled on the takeaway cups. “Excruciating, alarming distressing,” each one an intelligent protest at her presence. She smiles and drinks the coffee anyway and doesn’t let herself show the shame she feels. He smiles a knowing smile, as though its written on her face anyway.

She doesn’t know what she’s done to earn his wrath, but he makes it clear that her very presence is an offence to him.

“You don’t belong here, Jude” he tells her pleasantly one day as though remarking on the weather. “I don’t know why you don’t just give it up and go somewhere else.” Jude stops still as though he has slapped her and at once, she is eight again and her parents are dead, and the café they made is dead with them.

“I belong here every bit as much as you,” she hisses with as much venom as she can muster and Cardan blinks once, before grinning a lazy, cat like smile and sauntering off to take a waiting customer’s order.

She hates him.

Then they get a new recruit and she thinks her luck might be changing. Locke is charming and handsome and seems genuinely interested in her. He makes her feel like a character from a story book, showering her with complements. They stay up late together one night, drinking a cheap bottle of wine she borrows from Vivi and watching the stars. Locke tells her the stories of the constellations, some so outlandish Jude is half sure he is making them up. His lips are stained dark purple when he kisses her and she almost thinks she’s in love. Turns out it’s not her he wants, but her sister. They have been seeing each other too, Taryn confesses tearfully one day. She stands before the counter in the café, holding hands with Locke who is smirking while Valerian and Nicasia howl with laughter. Jude’s eyes stare numbly at their intertwined hands and thinks of wine stains and stars and the memory turns to ash in her mouth. Before she can lose any more of her dignity she sinks into one of the stools at the counter, pointedly ignoring Taryn until she finally leaves. Strangely, Cardan has been strangely silent as the pantomime plays itself out. A large group enters and he sends Nicasia to take their drink orders uttering his first words since Taryn had burst through the door with Locke in tow. Valerian is summoned to fix an order that should have been tuna salad, but somehow ended up with cheese and then she is alone with Cardan. She cannot look at him, but she also cannot summon the energy to move. Maybe if she sits there long enough she’ll be left alone until the end of her shift. Maybe she’ll be fired. She cannot bring herself to care.

“Here.” It’s Cardan, he’s standing on the other side of the counter from her, cup of coffee in hand. She can see the grinds at the bottom of the coffee machine and knows he has made it fresh. Carefully, he slides the takeaway cup across the counter towards where she is slumped. The rich scent of coffee drifts pleasantly from inside. “I don’t need a cup of coffee,” Jude snaps angrily, shoving it roughly back towards him, unable to care about the dark scowl she can feel forming on her own face. “What does it say this time, huh? Disturbing, warped, fucking awful? I’m not in the mood for any of your crap at the moment.”

“Just take it, little ant” sighs Cardan. His face is carefully unreadable as he reaches across the counter and puts his hand on her clenched fist, pressing against where her fingers curled tightly around her thumb. She is so startled by the touch of his hand on hers that she jerks back, fingers spreading as she recoils away from the warmth of his skin. Before she can fully process what was happening he had placed the coffee cup into her hands, squeezing securely on top of her own hands as though he is afraid if he lets go she might hurl the cup back across the counter top like some insolent goblin. Jude feels herself swallowing the insult on the tip of her tongue as the weight of those hands settle over her, almost like a comforting hug and for a moment she feels that small, bitter part of her heart that has been rising up as she thinks of Locke and Taryn twists. Just as suddenly, his hands are gone, leaving her feeling cold despite the heating that warms the room. “Take it and go home, Jude.” He says, his tone bored.

“I can’t go home, I’ve still got another four hours left before I clock out.” She retorts, feeling unsettled at his sudden change in tone and manner.

“I’m the manager, remember?” He says archly, tapping on the badge affixed just under his right shirt collar. “Get out of here. I don’t need you in here snapping at the customers and driving off business with your star crossed woes.”

“Like you need any help scaring off customers with your attitude,” says Jude with a role of her eyes, relieved to find that she sounds harsh rather than sad. But she can’t stand the thought of finishing off the shift while Nicasia and Valerian titter over her pathetic love life so the offer is too good to be rejected, even if it has come from him. “Thanks,” she mutters awkwardly at last, scuffing the tip of one of her converses on the floor as she hops down from the stool, adjusting her skirt with one hand while the other twisted the cup around to read the word “unique” scrawled in a familiar hand over the list of allergens. She imagines him saying it, imagines his mouth drawing out each syllable but her body does not fill with the familiar flush of shame that normally accompanies his reminders that she doesn’t belong here. “A little out of tune with your other jabs?” She says with her eyebrows raised.

Cardan does not deign to reply. He has already turned his back to her to wipe down the nozzle of the steamer and acts as though the whole interaction hasn’t taken place, isn’t still taking place. Taking the hint, Jude strides towards the exit, cupping the drink tightly in her hands as she steps outside into the bite of the cold, winter air. And if she tells herself the tingling in her hands is from the warmth of the coffee, nothing more, then that’s that. There’s nothing more to it. Unconsciously, she lets her fingers trace the fine cursive lettering which runs down the side of the cup all the way home.

Jude doesn’t see much of Cardan over the next few days. She’s not scheduled to work at the café over the weekend so she spends most of her time avoiding Taryn, a job made easier by the fact that Taryn seems determined to avoid her too. But eventually, it’s time for her to return to work. She spends the day studiously avoiding Cardan’s gaze, determined When her back is turned she can feel dark eyes watching her. The day is slow, and when night falls Cardan dismisses the rest of the staff claiming that he can deal with the last few customers on his own. Jude is the last to leave, the sleeve of her coat is trapped in the locker and she is still struggling to remove it when Cardan comes in to the small cloakroom.

“Jude!” He exclaims. His eyes are wide and he looks briefly childlike in the half dark room as he stares at her in surprise. Then, he gathers himself and the look is gone. She can almost see the shutters falling in his eyes. “I thought you had left.” He says and it’s a statement, but it’s also a question and Jude finds herself wanting to answer even though she’s not sure what he’s really asking.

She settles for “my coat’s stuck.” Gesturing lamely to where the offending item of clothing is hanging limply. He looks at her blankly.

“Well then get it out,” he says as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve never known you to be set back by something as trivial as a stuck piece of cloakroom equipment. Are you sick?” Jude rolls her eyes but at the same time she feels something warm settle in her stomach. Although his tone is acerbic Cardan has as good as offered her a complement.

“I’m getting to it, your majesty.” She shrugs sarcastically. She realises she’s made a mistake at once when he grins.

“Your majesty,” he pretends to ponder it, eyes glittering wickedly in the dim light. “I like it. I think I’ll make it my official title. Much more fitting than manager.”

“I agree,” she snipes. “Manager implies you actually manage things here. Majesty is much more fitting for someone who sits around all day letting others do all the work.”

“Why would I want to manage anything when I’ve got you rushing around and making sure nothing falls apart?” He laughs. “Far more entertaining for me to sit around and gossip with the regulars, although I don’t know why you put so much work into this place, you’re the only person here who cares about this dump.”

Jude bristles. “This dump,” she snarls, “used to be something great, something precious, and I don’t want to see that go just because some spoilt brat can’t be bothered to manage it properly.” She is so incensed she has her hand half raised to slap him before she regains control of herself. He is staring at her, eyes wide at the outburst and his eyes flicker to her hand. She realises he is afraid she is going to hit him and she lets it drop limply to the side. She’s better than that.

To her surprise Cardan doesn’t start shouting, doesn’t leave. He runs his hand through his dark hair, letting out a huff of air.

“I’m sorry,” he says and she feels her jaw drop. “I always do this with you. I can’t say the right thing, be nice, be better and so I say the worst possible thing instead.” Jude regards him wearily but he continues.

“I meant that you’re a great employee the place would be falling apart without you.” The words fall heavily from his lips and he is staring at her, his eyes dark, and normally she would resent that stare but it feels different now. She can tell it has cost him greatly to admit this to her, can see in his eyes that he is waiting for her to strike back now he has laid this out for her, now he has made himself vulnerable. But she is no longer angry, and he seems to be able to read that in her face as the tension flows out of him.

“You mean you think I’m better than Nicasia and Valerian?” She is unable to stop the question from flowing from her lips but he doesn’t pounce on it the way she expects. Instead he shakes his head, laughter in his eyes and she imagines him sneering “you, better? You barely belong.”

Instead he surprises her again by saying “you’re the best employee here.” She looks at him suspiciously, but he seems sincere. Rather than push the cat and mouse game any further she returns to the loosening of her coat, deciding to ignore Cardan completely. However, he stretches up his arms and his shirt, loose from the day’s work, rides up out of his pants revealing the hint of a tattoo on his left hipbone.

“Is that, a tail?” Jude gasps, reaching unthinkingly out to run her fingers over the sinuous, dark shape she can see peeking out over the top of his waistband.

“It’s not a tail.” Cardan drawls, making no move to push her away. “It’s an ouroboros, a symbol that dates back to the ancient Egyptians.”

“You have a tail!” Crows Jude delightedly, ignoring his explanation in favour of examining the tattoo in more detail. At a distance it looks a little like a circle but as she bends her head to inspect it more closely she can make out the fine, scaled pattern that runs through the length of it. “I always said you were beastly, now I have the proof!” As she speaks, she prods him firmly in the chest and turns to look at his face. Her laughter stops abruptly. Suddenly she realises just how close she has come, realises that her hand still lingers on his bare chest, how close they are together. His eyes, always dark, are like pools of midnight as he stares down at her and she barely managed to supress a shiver. If Cardan is a beast, then he was one with sharp claws and wicked teeth and he wants to swallow her whole.

“By all means, continue your molestations,” he smirks “don’t mind me. I’ll just stand here while you accost my personage.”

“I’d like to see you spell personage,” mutters Jude, withdrawing her hand reluctantly from his firm chest.

“What was that, dearest one?” Cardan’s grin is mischievous as he continues to lean rakishly across the wall of lockers so that his stomach remains exposed. He carelessly unbuttons one cuff, deliberately leaving the front of the shirt untucked as he continues to smile wolfishly at Jude. Jude stares back, determined not to let him see how flustered she is by his naked flesh or the moment of intimacy they had just shared. She is satisfied to see him blink at her own, pointed look and he shuffles slightly on his feet, his abdomen tensing as he moves. He doesn’t look away from her though, even as he starts to slowly tuck the shirt back into his pants.

“Don’t.” For a split second Jude wonders if perhaps someone else has entered the small storage space and spoken. Maybe Taryn has come to find her and has wondered in after them. Maybe she is going mad and have started to hallucinate. Then the realisation that it was her own, treacherous mouth which had uttered the word sinks in. She is startled to realise she doesn’t regret it. That she is relieved she had said it. The magnetic force that draws them together is pulling her down and there was only one way to assuage its demanding pressure.

“Don’t what, exactly?” Cardan asks and Jude is relieved to see that despite the levity in his tone his grin falters briefly at her word. It is that, perhaps, more than anything else that gives her the courage to step forward and place her hands over his own, stilling them over his belt.

“I said,” she murmurs, leaning in so close that she can feel the force of his breath against her cheek. “Don’t, do that.” Her heart is pounding fast in her chest and she imagines that, if only she listened closely enough, she might hear Cardan’s heart beating ferociously in a matching, unrelenting rhythm with her own.

“Jude.” He whispers her name so quietly, so reverently that she isn’t sure she heard him. Isn’t sure he’d even meant to say it aloud. There is something so heavy in the word that for a moment she feels her bravado fading leaving behind a crushing shyness that makes her want to flee, but even as her name falls from Cardan’s lips, he is lowering his face towards her and carefully, pointedly, pressing his lips to hers in a searing kiss. Any thought of flight flees from her mind after that. Despite his harshness, his kiss is soft, softer even than the sound of her name on his tongue and it is all Jude can do to stop herself from sinking into the feeling of him kissing her. All thoughts of the Locke, of her sister’s betrayal leave her mind as he tentatively cups her face in his hands, deepening the kiss until the only thing she can do with any sense of certainty is kiss him back. She does just that, snaking her hands under the bottom of his shirt to feel the heat radiating through his body as she offers hungry, greedy kisses of her own. Finally, when she thought she was ready to burst from the lush, heady sensation of kiss he pulls back, lips swollen and eyes wine dark.

“What was that you said before about molesting?” She gasps and he lets out a sharp bark of laughter. He is breathing heavily against her and he grins broadly so the tips of his teeth glint in the light.

“That was hardly molestation, my little ant. That was a full on debauching.” Cardan stretches out his arm and pulls her in an unwieldly motion so that she staggers to rest fully atop him. If he releases her she will fall. “I am a branch, swaying in the wake of your storm. Have mercy, or I will be felled beneath your tempestuous whims.” Jude laughs at the ridiculousness of the statement, at the ridiculousness of them. But as he kisses her again in the cloakroom of her parent’s café, she can’t help feeling like perhaps, just maybe she is home.

#the cruel prince #the wicked king #jurdan #holly black #jurdan fic #lmao

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arianakristine · 6 years ago

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Title: Like My Mirror Years Ago AKA The Prompt That Won’t Be Written

CHAPTER 14

Present

Graham pulled his jacket collar up, blowing out a low fog of breath into the evening air. He looked out over the empty street and weighed his options.

It was inching toward seven in the evening, and it was chilly. While it was every bit possible that Henry had made his way to his castle, the beach would be even worse. The cold and stinging wind would not be sustainable for long, no matter how much of a safe space that area was to him. He thought it more likely that he’d hide somewhere sheltered.

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. His stomach pulled with conviction: the library.

He headed down the sidewalk more purposefully, occasionally nodding to the townsfolk he passed.

The library wasn’t a functioning library. Sometime, years ago (how many years?), it had lost its funding. Now it was a liminal space, dusty and quiet and waiting. Shelves still teamed with books, piles of newspapers and microfilm in the back. It was boarded up to prevent anyone going inside to loot or injure themselves, but a couple pieces had been pried up near the back entrance. The door now sat a couple inches off its hinges, just wide enough for a kid to sneak through.

Graham moved the door a little wider, and hunched his shoulders to fit in to the small entry. The smell of dust made him cough a little before his eyes adjusted to the dim. The lone, steady beam of a flashlight called him deeper.

Henry was in the center, far enough from the windows for the light not to be seen from outside. A small hill of books was at his side, one lone tome open on his lap though he was not engrossed in it as he would have expected. Instead, he was staring blankly at the wall opposite him, his eyes blank.

“Henry.”

The boy looked up and his face darkened. “Are you gonna take me back?” he demanded.

Graham cocked his head to the side. “Depends. What are you doing here?”

He sighed and flicked through the open pages. The boy looked exhausted, more mentally than physically. The spark that had ignited in his eyes when he’d brought Emma to the mansion had faded back down. “I d’unno,” he finally mumbled.

He swallowed, and moved to sit down next to him. He tapped the open book. “Okay, then. Anything good in there?”

Henry scowled. “I’m not coming up with another crazy theory, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said bitterly.

Graham pressed his lips together. He felt the worry again, that Henry blamed him. “I didn’t say that,” he said. “I know some things were said—“

“Which one told you?” he asked bluntly.

Graham shrugged and ran a hand over the pocket of his jacket, where a scrawled on gas receipt lay. “Emma.”

Henry looked away sharply, but not before he caught a flash of hurt.

He knocked his knee against his. “She said that you overheard something your mom goaded her into, and then you ran away.”

He said nothing, but sniffed loud in the quiet. His fingers dug grooves into the soft, ageing paper.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he pressed.

He shrugged and tossed his book toward the dusty shelves. Graham watched as it settled next to the others, its dark leather cover worn down to barely glimpse at a title, Almanac spooling in decaying gold text. “What’s there to talk about?” he said bitterly.

“Henry—“

He folded his arms and cut him off. “Why do you even care? You’re not my dad.”

Graham swallowed thickly and turned slightly, surprised by the sharp pain accumulating between his ribs and in his throat. He said nothing a long moment, letting the boy’s bitter words fall between them. “I—“ His jaw tightened, and he stared at a spot on the wall across from them.

Graham let a moment beat. He didn’t know why the words hit him so hard; he wasn’t this child’s parent, and he was never going to be. But that fizzle of feeling towards him – that mix of protectiveness and empathy and compassion – it wasn’t nothing.

“You’re right,” he said finally, and finally chanced a look at the lad. “I’m not. And I know it’s not my place, Henry.”

Henry shifted and curled in on himself. So much of his face matched Emma in that moment, that line of stubborn anger that had set into the woman. But his eyes couldn’t quite match the stony expression; they said too much that belied the stance, soft and sad and remorseful.

Henry opened his mouth, but at the same time the phone at his belt rang. Graham winced and grabbed it, and then frowned deeply when he saw the number. Of course. Graham locked eyes with him as he brought the cell to his ear.

“Sheriff.”

The voice was callous, irritated. He blinked slowly, keeping his eyes on the green-blue of Henry’s. The boy looked defeated more than anything else. “Madame Mayor,” he answered simply.

“Henry has a seven o’clock appointment with Dr. Hopper. I expect my son to be there promptly.”

The way she placed her words with the clipped, acerbic tone made his fist clench in irritation. She wouldn’t even ask after him? Would even see if he was okay after running off? He felt his grip tighten until a small hand rested on his forearm. He looked up at Henry’s resigned, concerned gaze and finally gave a short nod. “I can get him there, Madame Mayor.”

“Good.”

The phone clicked, and Graham dropped the phone back into his pocket.

“I’m sorry, Graham.”

He looked up, surprised. He offered him a smile. “You don’t need to apologize, Henry.”

Henry’s brow furrowed, distressed. He kicked his feet out and stared at the toes of his shoes. “No, it’s not right. I know you care. I … I’m glad you care.”

“But it’s not enough,” he finished softly.

His face crumpled before quickly evening, big eyes watering at the edges. “Maybe I am crazy,” he ventured brokenly.

Something inside him seized and he shook his head rapidly. “Henry, no one said you were crazy. The fairy tales … it’s hard to understand, is all,” he said. He pieced through his fogged memories and closed his eyes tight. “I can’t promise I believe in it all. But you’re right about some things. Maybe it’s just the theory that needs work.”

Henry frowned deeply. “No, it makes sense.” He hesitated, and his brows crinkled in. “Or it did, at least,” he grumbled.

He took a deep breath in, and remembered the sound of a wolf’s howl when his skin touched Emma’s. He couldn’t pretend that he believed that Emma was a princess and that they were all from a magical land with their memories swiped clean … but there was definitely something that made him pause. Maybe not a princess, but maybe something more rural, wild. Maybe he could see that blonde hair mussed and tangled and shrouded under grey furs, falling in loose tresses against his shoulder, pale hand at his cheek and red lips warm and sweet and close ….

He shook away the fantasy. He had never felt so off-kilter as he had since Henry brought her to their town. His mind had been overarching through these strange imaginings that felt more real than anything else he could recall in the past ten plus years.

He finally rose up and shook his head clear. “Maybe you just need to get all the facts straight, and then we can all figure it out,” he said finally.

Henry looked up at him curiously. “You got lost again,” he commented.

“What?”

He shrugged. “You do that sometimes. Everyone does. If I ask about something from before, or if I say something that doesn’t fit. You just get … lost. Even Emma sometimes.”

He was quiet a moment, taking that in. “Is that why it makes sense to you?”

Henry looked unsure of himself a beat, but finally nodded. “Yeah. It fits.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, but smiled at the boy. “Well, that’s what matters. We can figure out the rest later, yeah?”

“Okay,” he mumbled, and then pushed to his feet. He pressed his lips together, and looked up with soft eyes. “I really am sorry, Graham. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s okay, Henry,” he answered, even as the stone climbed back up his throat. He offered a stiff smile. “It’s not like it’s not true. But you know that I’m here for you, regardless, right?”

Henry ducked his head but nodded. “Yeah.”

He nudged him, and waited until he looked up. “Let’s get to Dr. Hopper’s, and then tomorrow maybe I’ll see if I can get you something from Granny’s. Your mom will be busy trying to figure out the new policies, so I might be able to sneak away from the office for a bit after school lets out. Maybe a hot chocolate?”

Henry half smiled. “Maybe.”

He grinned. “Maybe we can even see if Emma wants to talk about Operation Cobra a little more, huh?”

Henry’s face fell, and he looked away sharply. Graham tightened, realizing he must have said the wrong thing. Emma’s distress from earlier caught, and he placed a hand on the top of Henry’s head. His bottom lip quivered and he sniffed. “She’s gonna leave.”

Graham shook his head. “She said a week.”

“That was before,” he said miserably.

Graham hesitated on another protest, realizing that it was Emma that would have to comfort the boy on this. He sighed. “Let’s just get out of here for now,” he said softly. “We’ll get you to your appointment. C’mon. It’s too cramped in here, anyway.”

Henry nodded once and collected his backpack, which swung emptily as he hoisted it to his shoulders. Graham’s face firmed. The boy always took at least a few books with him; the void only spoke to how broken up he was about this situation.

He opened the door for Henry, careful to check for any loose nails that might snag on his clothes or skin. Once he was sure it was clear, he pressed him forward between his shoulder blades and followed him out. “What are you going to talk to Dr. Hopper about today?” he asked, more to keep the conversation than to hear the answer.

Henry shrugged, and his mood darkened even further. “I don’t want to talk to him today,” he said.

“I get that,” he ventured, and carefully placed his hand on his shoulder as he guided them down the street. “And I think that’s okay sometimes. Nobody will make you talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Do you think she wants me to think I’m crazy?” Henry asked softly, so lightly that Graham almost didn’t catch it.

Graham startled. “Who, Emma? Of course not.”

He shook his head and peered up at him thoughtfully. “No, not Emma. I meant my mom.”

Graham grit his teeth and looked down the empty streets instead of answer immediately. “I don’t think it’s as simple as that,” he said.

Henry looked up solemnly with eyes that knew too much. “You’re right. I think she wants everyone to think they’re crazy,” he said.

Graham didn’t know what to say to that, but Henry leaned in and buried his face into his side, hugging him close as they walked down the path. Graham realized that he needed to commiserate rather than be comforted at this time. He sighed once more and wrapped his arm around him, thankful that at least Emma’s presence has allowed Henry to be more willing to seek out others for comfort. Even if the affection was in part a way to be defiant of his mother.

“I want you to remember, Graham,” he said, muffled into his jacket. He looked up at him again, green eyes bright in the streetlamps. “Then maybe you can get your happy ending, too.”

He felt another flash, sharp and sudden and gone before he could grasp it. He nodded forward to the doorway a few paces off. “Don’t you worry about me, Henry. I’m fine.”

Henry frowned. “But what if she doesn’t stay?”

“Henry.”

They both looked up, watching as the redhead stepped from his office, an unsteady smile under his bespectacled gaze. He glanced between the two, seeming surprised.

“Oh, Sheriff. If you’re here to follow up on the call earlier—“

“No, no, Dr. Hopper,” he said, raising a hand. He didn’t need another reminder that he’d arrested Emma just that morning, especially in front of the boy. Archie already called to drop the charges, anyway. “Just making sure Henry got to his session okay.”

He seemed even more confused at that, and Graham couldn’t exactly blame him. It would be much the same as Henry’s teacher dropping him off: strange. Shouldn’t the parent being dropping off the child at therapy, or at least someone closer to him?

“Well, then,” Archie shuffled uncomfortably and then stood to the side. “Come on in, Henry. I got the fire going, so it’s nice and warm inside.”

Henry glared up at Archie a long moment, but finally slumped forward and trudged to the entrance. “Thanks anyway, Graham,” he called, and then slipped inside before he could get a word to answer.

His chest heaved tiredly, and he locked gazes with the therapist.

Archie gave a tight smile and adjusted his glasses. “He’s a strong boy, Sheriff,” the man said by way of comfort, and then turned to follow him inside.

Graham watched as the door shut, left on the outside, and rocked back on his heels. If only that were enough to get Henry through this.

Eleven Years Ago

The cottage was indeed tiny, he surmised. He had only been inside a few homes in his life, but the three bedroom was small in comparison to the drawing rooms he’d practiced in. The living areas were compact, furniture almost on top of each other, no space to stretch out. The fireplace acted as hearth, only a large handcrafted table separating the kitchen area from the couch and weaving areas. The doorways were narrow, and he didn’t expect the rooms to be much bigger than a closet. It seemed even the sheep outside had more room in their shelter.

“Now, I’m sorry for the state of this place. I’m afraid we don’t get much company. I do have some extra things if you’d wish to dry off, some clothes of mine and my son’s.”

Emma shivered beside him. “Yes, please.” He shot her a look, and she pursed her lips. “I don’t think he wants anything, though.”

Ruth tsked. “Now, now, I think you’re just the same size as my David. There is plenty to spare, and you don’t want to catch your death. I’ll let you start the fire while I get some pieces.”

She rushed away before he could protest, and he sighed heavily. Emma was trailing her hands across the knots on the table, surveying the space. “She’s just being nice,” she admonished absently. “Besides, we’re paying her.”

“I’ll make the fire,” he grumbled, and moved to the hearth.

He saw her roll her eyes out of the corner of his own. “Sure, continue being grumpy when we actually got shelter.”

“I don’t do well with people,” he reminded.

“Well that’s an understatement,” she said bluntly, but there was something in her voice he recognized as playful.

He made quick work of the fire and looked up at her again. Just as the woman predicted, it wasn’t until they found their way there that the storm really picked up. But it was just enough rain to soak Emma through, and her blonde hair was sticking to her pale face. Her lips were purple, but he only really noticed now. His brow furrowed and he pulled her down to the floor in front of the hearth. “C’mere.”

She complied easily, and he pulled a blanket off the threadbare couch to strew around her shoulders. He rubbed them and pulled her close, sharing his heat as best he could. She shivered and curled closer. “Why are you always so warm?” she asked, teeth chattering.

He shrugged and pulled a strand of hair behind her ear. “Couldn’t tell you,” he said, and pressed his cheek to her cold one. She hesitated a moment, and then wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him to her.

“Here you go, kids. I have some towels for your hair, too, honey.”

Emma’s head popped up and she nodded. “Thank you, Mrs.—“

“It’s still Ruth, sweetheart, I do insist. And it’s no inconvenience. What’re your names?”

He stiffened and could see that Emma noticed. She was the one to answer for them both. “I’m Emma, and this is my friend.”

She left it at that, and he relaxed slightly. Ruth seemed to take her answer in stride. “I’m going to start prepping for dinner. David’s finishing with the sheep, so he’ll be in in just a bit. Here, Emma, I’ll show you the room so you can get changed.”

He stopped himself from jumping up, suddenly frightened at the idea of her leaving his sight. But Ruth exited just as quickly as she whisked Emma away, and started busying herself in the kitchen. He watched her with a keen eye, plucking the strands of hay from the blanket with deft fingers.

“Once your friend is finished, I’ll show you where you can change. Then you could help, if you wish. You know how to break down lamb?”

He hesitated and then nodded.

“Good, I can use an extra hand. Come,” she said.

I can use an extra hand. Ruth’s words echoed back to him in Fionn’s voice. He vacillated, the memory of the words unwelcome. But then Emma came out in fresh if plain clothing, looking refreshed and, better still, safe. He felt weak with relief. He nodded. “Okay,” he said.

Her eyes widened, but then she smiled brightly. “He speaks! Good. Let’s get you into some dry clothes first.”

A plain shift and rough pants were laid out on the wool-covered bed. He brushed his hand over the carefully constructed blanket, ignoring the clothes at first. It was stitched better than the clothing he’d been provided, and its intricate loops were interesting. He’d never bothered with fancy stitching, but he was suddenly wondering if he could copy the pattern. Emma would like it, he thought.

He shook off the sentiment and then undressed and redressed quickly, barely bothering to rub the towel over his hair. By the time he came back out into the main area, there was another person in the kitchen. He surmised quickly that it was Ruth’s son. His hair was blond and windswept, and he had a smile almost exactly like his mother’s. He was placing his coat to dry on a rack, listening to Ruth explain their presence.

He had a friendly face, but he couldn’t help feeling distrustful of him.

Emma seemed to notice his reaction, because she crossed the room to his side as mother and son spoke, curling her hand in his. “This is Ruth’s son, David,” she explained, her voice just loud enough for them to hear. “I was just telling him how we’re paying for a room for the night.”

“Pleased to meet you,” David said. His voice was just as warm as his mother’s, but it didn’t set him at ease. He only glared in response until Emma’s tug on his hand made him drop his gaze.

“Come, you’re supposed to be helping with the food. David, would you tidy up a bit? I can have Emma help with the table later.”

He sent Emma a small smirk at the fact that Ruth seemed to unconsciously know not to put her in charge of the cooking. She only rolled her eyes and sat on the stool, warming her hands over the fire.

A cleaver was placed on the counter beside him, and he looked down at the cut of meat Ruth had begun preparing. Quietly, he bowed his head, wordlessly thanking the animal, before beginning to break down the meat.

He felt the heat of a gaze as he worked. He looked up, finding Ruth’s soft blue eyes on him. She nodded. “You’ve got a good technique,” she said simply, but he could hear the question within. He ignored it.

“Here, I can help,” Emma said and jumped to assist the boy. He was shuttering the windows against the wind howling outside. She worked beside him, latching the locks and shivering in the wind.

“Thank you, miss. It’s been a long time since we’ve had such weather,” he said with an easy smile.

Emma peered curiously at David as they worked, and he felt a wash of something unnamed filter through his stomach. She looked confused by him, and he studied the boy again.

He was their age, maybe an inch or two taller than himself and similarly built. He had a naivety to him at face value, but his blue eyes flashed at times with an undercurrent of wisdom. Something in either his face or posture or expression was almost familiar, he could admit. It wasn’t just the clear similarity to Ruth; it was disconcerting.

He watched as he sliced, seeing them work in tandem to place the beams over the wooden shutters. They worked seamlessly and easily, barely bothering to speak a word between them. But it wasn’t like Emma usually was in speaking so little; it was as if they already were attuned to each other and just had no need for extra phrases.

He couldn’t shake the gnawing feel in his gut, and continued to flick his eyes up from the lamb.

“Once you’re both done there, if you’d please help in wiping down the plates and mugs,” Ruth called out as she stirred her now-boiling pot. “Usually I’d have a stew for this kind of weather, but that needs to cook for hours. I think I can whip us up something a little quicker. Thank goodness we had the Spring lamb this time. Usually all we have is mutton.”

Emma nodded distractedly, and carefully crossed to grab the items and a rag. His whole body slackened at her nearness, as well as the new distance between her and David.

He couldn’t help staring during his rote act of dicing. In the plain, rough, ill-fitting dress she still didn’t look like she belonged there. Her hair was drying, messy curls in her face and shining all the same. He swallowed thickly, reminded of how the strands felt tangled in his hands. She finished quickly and sat on the stool, eyes meeting his quickly before a flush rose in her cheeks and she looked away. Her lips were red once more in the heat of the room, and for a moment he forgot about the rocking of the blade in the memory of tasting her. He shook off the feeling, and looked back down at the meat.

“If there are split greens, I can prepare those as well,” he muttered to Ruth, wiping his blade off on the rag Emma left on the table.

“You’ve good instincts, there, son. Yes, I think split greens would do nicely. I have some purple potatoes and carrots to add to the meal as well.”

Emma looked up to catch his eye again and then glanced away just as quick. He swallowed and tried to stop his eyes from flicking up to her face as he worked on the food. The firelight and the pattering of rain and her … it was something both foreign and familiar – comforting.

She licked her lips and set the mugs to the side. She sighed, and turned away from him sharply to look back at the boy. “David, I’m sorry, can I help?” she asked.

He looked up sharply at David, something irritated itching through him as he did so. David was struggling with shaking out a rug, but he paused at her voice. He turned to Emma with that warm smile. Something in him that was not mere protectiveness wanted to bash it off his face. “I’m okay, thank you.”

Absently, she began wiping the table, brow barely furrowed but clearly thoughtful.

Ruth chopped aromatics to go into the broth along with his greens, her movements quick and precise. She barely glanced up as she spoke. “You’ve seen the spare room. It’s not much, only the one bed. You can stay with my David while Emma takes it. He’s got a small couch in his room, or plenty of space by the fire, or if you wish to share –“

The flash of fear struck him even before he felt the denial. “No.”

She looked up. “No?”

He shook his head firmly. “She stays with me.”

She looked like she wanted to protest, something warring behind her eyes. Emma had paused in wiping the table, watching them expectantly. The air felt heavy, and even David had turned to watch them with piqued interest.

“Certainly,” Ruth finally said, reluctantly. “It’s not my place.”

Emma’s face flushed and she turned away, but a small smile appeared on her lips.

He didn’t want to think about the benefits of sharing the room, only the convenience of it. “I won’t be separate from her,” he said gruffly.

Ruth’s eyes flicked back and forth between them, carefully studying them. Finally, she nodded. “That’s fine,” she said soothingly. “I’ll make sure you have enough bedding.”

#gremma #gremma ff #graham humbert #henry swan #henry mills #sheriff graham #like my mirror years ago #the prompt that won't be written #hunted believer

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invaderhogtwopointohno · 6 years ago

Text

Row F, Seat 3

For @ettomaru For Kacchako Secret Santa.

3 of 5.

Read on AO3 Here.

----

Chapter Three

Coffee Is The Best Shared Together

Ochako and Katsuki sat down and watched the chaos of hundreds of people coming and going throughout the airport, the rush of families returning home from their time at relatives and visits over Christmas over.

“Coffee?” she offered and he looked at the front counter.

“Yeah, what the fuck do you want?” he asked, getting up and heading away from their table. She was going to offer to pay but apparently he wasn’t going to wait around for her.

“Uh- Hot Chocolate actually please! Extra marshmallows!” she called.

She looked at her phone and texted her parents that she was home safe and was going to be back at the apartment in another hour or so.

Katsuki came back and left a nice hot cup in front of her and sat down across the table. He pulled out his phone and started typing a text and leaving it on the table.

“So, you work with your roommates?” he asked, picking up on their conversation from the plane.

“Yeah, we are a little team. My roommate Iida is the financial guy, he knows everything about the books. He also really good at keeping us under budget and on schedule. And Midoryia is the guy who is good at getting us clients, he’s a real people person and he knows just what the clients are looking for. He got us the taco stand so I trust him to help us get our next project off of the ground!”

He nodded.

“And how are your co-workers?” she asked. She knew so little about what went into a magazine. She wondered if he had a lot of writers and responsibilities.

“Annoying. They are constantly bothering me. Kirishima decorated my entire goddamn office for Christmas and they made me wear a stupid Santa hat at the damn party,” he said through gritted teeth as if the thought of it still physically hurt him to admit.

She broke into a laugh, trying to imagine him wearing a Santa hat and looking angry at everyone having a party.

“I bet you were adorable,” she said, thinking of an angry little Pomeranian with a Santa hat on.

“Shut up, it was fucking stupid!” he said, and crossed his arms, looking embarrassed.

“Well, I hope that everything else is fun- I bet you have a lot of great writers that you take care of,” she said and he looked annoyed.

“They’re all useless idiots- I am constantly having to tell them to pick up their damn trash or get some sleep or go home after hours. They are so annoying!”

She smiled again at her hot chocoloate. She was starting to understand that he took care of people in his own way. Like when he kept reminding her to calm down on the plane and got her whatever she needed before she even had the chance to ask for it. She even realized after she thought about it that he’d let her, a complete stranger, sleep on his shoulder in an airport.

If she wasn’t careful, she could come to really like someone like him and that was dangerous. A guy like Katuski probably had no interest in a boring architect from a little hick town.

“Anyway, I have to get back to the office and finish my article. Our magazine is hosting it’s annual New Year’s Eve Ball on the 31st and I need to cover it for the ending of the year.”

She had not realized that he had been talking this entire time, and she smiled weakly at him.

“That sounds like a lot of fun. Black tie?”

“Yeah. All Might, my boss, he is all about getting dressed up and putting on a show. We’re holding it at the UA Tower this year, it’s going to be massive,” he continued.

She wanted to attend a party like that more than anything. She could imagine herself wearing a frilly dress and dancing all night and then counting down until….

Her face was turning red because she was starting to imagine things she shouldn’t.

“Are you okay? You look like you might be getting sick again.”

She smiled.

“No, no- I am fine.”

They sat there chatting for what only seemed for a few minutes but a text message made Ochako realize that they’d been there almost an hour and Midoryia was almost to her gate to pick her up. She was disheartened to have to go.

“That your ride?” he asked, noticing her sudden change in mood. She didn’t want to go but it was time.

“Yeah,” she said miserably. Midoryia’s timing was always so bad. She got up and he followed, silent as they made their way through the crowd towards the front doors of the airport to pick up.

They stopped and waited on the curb, and finally Katuski was tired of the awkward silence. “Give me your stupid phone number,” he said, shoving his phone in her face. She smiled and took it, typing in her number and handing it back. He called her and she had his.

“There, now you can annoy me whenever,” he muttered.

“Uraraka!” a voice called out and she looked over to see Midoryia pulling up and rolling down the window. He smiled and waved but faltered when he saw the angry blonde next to her. And by the incredibly violent reaction Katsuki had to the sight of Midoryia, Ochako quickly came to realize that they knew each other.

“Deku?”

“K-Kaachan!” he yelped and got out of the car, looking horrified.

“Y-You two know each other?” Ochako asked and Katsuki stepped in front of her, glaring at the cowering Midoryia.

“K-Kind of… w-we k-knew each other as kids,” Midoryia said, and smiled at Katsuki. “It’s been so long- how are you doing?”

“Shut up, you fucking nerd!” Katsuki yelled, and Ochako reached out and grabbed onto his arm.

“Hey, don’t yell, you’re making a scene,” she said, looking around to see the other people taking an interest in what was going on. A security guard yelled at them to get moving, they were blocking traffic.

Bakugou turned and looked down to see her arm around his. He shook her off and stepped back onto the curb.

“I have to get going,” he said quickly as he walked away before she could stop him. He didn’t look back, no matter how many times she called his name.

---

A/N: sorry it’s short and has a cliffhanger... yikes....

#kss18 #kacchackosecretsanta18 #kaccahko #ochako uraraka #katsuki bakugou #izuku midoryia #sorry for the mess i have written

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tmorriscode · 6 years ago

Text

Companionate

(Ace!Charlie Weasley x Fem!Hufflepuff!MC)

Summary: Charlie Weasley doesn’t see the point in getting worked up over girls. Not when there’s quiddich and looking for that dragon he just knows has got to be hiding in the Forbidden Forest.

That’s ok. You’re too busy looking for the cursed vaults to get too worked up over blokes, anyway.

Or: how two clueless idiots fall in love and then take ten years to figure it out.

The masterpost of all my interconnected imagines is here.

—

companionate - adj: harmoniously suited

1. Charlie Weasley never meant to fall for you. In fourth year when the other blokes were suddenly tongue tied around girls (or boys), he just didn’t see the point of it. After all, there were so many other things that needed his attention.

Like quiddich. Or dragons.

“I wonder if we could play quiddich with dragons?” You asked him one day during care of Magical Creatures. He paused right in the middle of searching for fire crab feed to stare at you.

You have a reputation. The half-mad sister of the mad-as-a-hatter Jacob (Y/L/N). Your bizarre sense of humor and penchant for trouble don’t help.

But Bill says you’re an alright sort, even if you are as obsessed with the cursed vaults as Charlie is with dragons.

But when he thinks on it, adding dragons to quidditch would actually be really brilliant. Even if the match would be extremely short and rather deadly.

“It would certainly make it more exciting,” he says.

He thinks the matter is dropped, until History of Magic, when you pass him a note. It had a set of silly rules for “Dragon Quidditch.”

He falls a little in love with you then.

2. “Oi Weasley! Tell that Hufflepuff spy to shove off!” Billingsley snaps at him.

Charlie shakes the rain off of his quidditch goggles and looks down at the stands. It’s the kind of wet, miserable Scottish winter day where even he doesn’t want to be out. (What was he thinking, scheduling practice tonight?) So he’s surprised to see a lone person sitting there.

Whomever it is huddled under a brolly spell, swaddled in a black-and-gold quilt that was probably filched out of the Hufflepuff dorms.

Charlie lands, shaking off the rain, and is surprised to see you sitting there, a muggle book in your hand. (“King Solomon’s Mines.” Not the same one, he thinks, that you were reading the last time he defended you from Merula.)

Suddenly unsure of himself, he scratches the back of his neck. “Bit cold for outdoor reading, yeah?”

You shrug. “I just needed to get out of my head for a while. There’s nothing to do in the castle, and I was going a bit stir crazy.” Your breath steams in the chilly air.

Charlie realizes that the only time he ever sees you sitting still is when you’re absorbed in one of the cheap muggle paperbacks your Mum sends you. You’re like a perpetual motion machine. It’s as if you’re trying to outrun your demons.

He hopes he never sees a day where they catch you.

He blames it on the cold when he shivers.

“How about I walk you back once practice is over, yeah?” He scuffs his toe on the stands. “You can tell me about this one.”

You raise one eyebrow. “Yeah alright. If you like, you can share the warming charm I put on my blanket.”

“Are you sure?” He asks. “I’m a bit soggy.”

“Sure. Besides,” Your smile turns mischievous, “I know how to sneak into the kitchens. You look like you could be doing with some hot chocolate.”

“Marry me,” Charlie jokes, completely deadpan.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to get in line behind my other suitors.” You wave to the empty stands, also completely deadpan.

If Charlie shows off his fancy flying a little more during the rest of practice, no one says anything. After all, as captain, it’s his job to set the right example for the team.

It’s not even like you’re watching, right? You have your book.

And after practice, when you say: “nice flying,” if he stands a little taller, what of it?

3. “Are you thinking of applying for the Ministry’s dragon division after Hogwarts?” You ask him over sandwiches in the great hall.

Charlie doesn’t answer right away, chewing on his dinner as he mulls it over. The ministry would be the obvious choice: His dad works there, and could probably help Charlie get the placement despite the family reputation.

But ministry work, even with dragons, just doesn’t stir his blood like the idea of working with the dragon sanctuary in — “Romania. If I can get on there, I’d like to study the dragons in Romania.”

You look surprised at that. “With the way you go on about your family, I’d have thought you’d want to stay close.”

He nods in understanding. “I love my family, don’t get me wrong. But there’s so many of us. And we’re in each other’s pockets all the time. I’ve been sharing a room with Bill from the moment Mum booted me from the nursery because they needed it for Percy. I just . . .”

You look at him like he’s grown a second head (which would be possible, if one of the twins was pranking him). You’ve been a neglected only-child since your brother vanished. The thought of needing space is as alien to you as the thought of breathing air might be to a fish.

As Charlie wrestles his thoughts into something you might be able to understand, one of the twins flings their mash across the aisle from the Gryffindor table. It lands with a squishy sound in his hair.

He ignores their braying laughter. Getting visibly angry is only letting them win. And why get mad when he can get even?

You have your hand over your mouth, your eyes wide like saucers.

Charlie gives you a lopsided smile. “Sometimes I think it might be nice to love my family from a distance.”

You reach for your wand while twirling the index finger of your other hand in the air to signal for him to turn around. He complies, and you set his hair to rights with a cleaning spell.

“Would it help if we put flobberworms in your brothers’ beds?” You ask once he’s turned back around.

There’s a splattering sound behind him, Charlie throws another look over his shoulder, to find that you’ve cast the shield charm, protecting him from behind. He feels warmed all over from the inside, like the time he and Bill drank a flask of firewhisky out in the shed.

“Any chance That I could take you with me when I go to Romania?” Charlie asks.

4. Charlie puts his head down on the table next to you in the library, hard enough to make a thumping sound. He repeats it a couple times, just to see if any brilliant thoughts shake loose.

Pince shushes him. Although he can’t see it, the old bat probably has a dirty look on her face.

“Alright there?” You run your fingers through his hair.

He lets out an inarticulate sound that could either mean “I really like that, keep doing it,” or “I just cracked my skull open and I’m too tired to scream.”

You pull the tie free from his hair, and card your fingers through the loose red locks.

“Feel free to stop anytime in the next five years or so.” His voice is muffled against the table.

Rowan and Barnaby look up from their study session across the way. Rowan lifts an eyebrow. Off your shrug, they put their heads back together and continue whatever discussion they’ve been having.

“What’s got you so down?” You ask.

He rolls his head to the side so that his cheek is pressed to the wood surface, staring at you while you continue to play with the ends of his hair. “Nothing too earth shaking.” His eyes widen as a new thought occurs to him. “Hey! You’re good at everything you try.”

“Thanks?” You feel your face heating up.

“What would you say to your team if you were a quidditch captain and you had to inspire them to victory?”

You lay your head down on the table, so that you can look him in the eyes.

“Since it’s me, and I’m rubbish at quidditch, my hypothetical team is probably hopeless. So I’d say: ‘Men, we’re going to lose today. But first, we get to kick the absolute bloody hell out of the other team!”

“If I’m ever captain of the Falmouth Falcons, I’ll remember that speech,” Charlie laughs. “So much about you is clear now.”

“Oh really?”

“For one, I know why you prefer dueling.”

“Well, dueling club also has the best uniforms. I mean: I had to polish André’s drool out of my boot leather.”

“It’s nice to know you’re not good at everything,” he says affectionately.

“You can be good at the things I’m not,” you reply. “Then we both have someone to lean on.”

The idea makes him feel like he just drank a pumpkin fizz: all bubbly inside. “Sounds like a deal to me.”

5. You’re not exactly sure when you fell for Charlie Weasley. It just seemed to sneak up on you.

Three years of laughing at the back of his head over his futile attempt to grow his hair each term, only for his mum to cut it all off every summer. Then suddenly he defends you from a bully, and you’re arse-over-teakettle for him.

It makes sense to you that he loves dragons. They say opposites attract. And in your mind, dragons are beings of fire and air. While Charlie is a being of earth and water: steady, calm, cool under pressure, and nurturing. His ready smile, cheeky wit, and good natured enthusiasm hiding the depths of his convictions the way sunlight sparking on the surface of a lake never reveals the water’s depth.

Your whole life, it seemed like everyone was looking to you for something. Mum wanted you to be safe, and hoped you’d find Jacob. Your friends wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing before you led them into danger. That you were confident that you wouldn’t be caught. Even that Gryffindor kid who sat behind you in charms wanted your help tutoring.

But Charlie never asked anything of you. Instead smiling and telling you: “we’ll figure it out.”

We.

For the first time since Jacob disappeared, you didn’t have to be the strong one. It was okay not to have answers. And you didn’t feel so bloody alone.

You think you fell a little in love with him then.

—

A/N:

*I wrote this as an exercise in developing headcanons about Charlie. A lot of what I’ve written helped me develop MC, and her backstory. But I hadn’t given deeper thought to everyone’s favorite dragonologist.

*I’ve decided that:

1. He’s very tactile. He likes to hold hands. Pet his hair like a cat and watch him melt.

2. He’s slower to act and deliberate in his actions (in contrast to many of his siblings with their infamous Weasley tempers). He waited till fourth year to get to know MC. Meanwhile Bill pulled a Molly Weasley and adopted MC on sight.

3. He has depths like a well.

4. He loves just being around his loved ones. They don’t even have to be Interacting. Just sitting together and not talking. If he’s sitting by himself and someone just came into the room because he was there, he’d feel loved. If he has the choice to sit by himself, or in a room where a loved one is, he’ll gravitate to that room.

5. He feels deeply loved when someone takes an interest in him. He’ll go on and on about the things he’s passionate about (dragons, his family, quidditch ). Often to the point that the listener’s eyes will glaze over. If you know as much about dragons as him, it shows that you like him enough to pay attention. He shows how much he cares by really listening to you, even on subjects he cares nothing about.

6. He was only pretending to be happy that Barnaby was along for the forbidden forest adventure. Not only is Barnaby a slytherin, but he’s also not that bright. (Punch a centaur? WTF, Mate?) When Charlie was saying “just follow my lead” I headcanon that he was eye-rolling the whole time.

7. Charlie is also very good at compartmentalizing, which is why he and my MC don’t become an official couple until 5 years post Hogwarts. He’s put her into the friend compartment, assumed that there wasn’t even a compartment for girlfriend. And then one day he found her in a compartment labeled “platonic life partner” and said to himself “I didn’t even know I had one of those.”

*Brolly is British slang for umbrella. So a brolly spell would be that unnamed spell that they used in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Since they don’t call out an incantation, It hasn’t yet got a canon name.

*King Solomon’s Mines was a Victorian adventure novel that is old enough that it’s probably up on Project Gutenberg. It created the “lost world” genre of pulp novels. The protagonist, Allan Quatermain was the forerunner to Indiana Jones. (The book is also what tv tropes calls “fair for it’s day.” Meaning it has less of the super sketchy great white hunter/yay!Colonialism type attitudes that were baseline for Victorians at the time.) There are several movies based on the book. One staring a young Sharon Stone and Richard Chamberlin doing a bad Indiana Jones impersonation (it came out in 1985, so MC definitely saw it on summer holiday).

In the book, Quatermain is leading an expedition in search of the brother of the expedition’s financier. The missing brother was an explorer searching for King Solomon’s mines. No idea why this book resonated with MC. 🙄

#charlie weasley #hogwarts mystery #hphm mc #fanfic #hogwarts mystery headcanon #hphm #hogwarts mystery imagine #long conversations over food #quiddich and dragons

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