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acciowilltolive · 6 months

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"Wait, so they sent three of you for ah five year old? Seems a bit like overkill, dude, not gonna lie."

"Kid, I will ask you one last time. This doesn't concern you. Get. Outta. Here."

"Well, too frickin bad. If you wanna get to Morgan, You'll have to go through me."

Tony and Pepper are out of the country for a fundraiser, leaving Peter to babysitting duty. But the night goes very south very quick as three thugs with the motive to kidnap Morgan enters the mix.

Activate: Protective Brother Peter

Whumptober '23: Day 28 - Bloody Knife | Sacrifice | "You'll have to go through me

Chapter 1:

“Those are the only choices you have.”

“But what about-?”

“No,” Peter held up a finger, squinting his eyes threateningly, “You either pick The Lorax or Megamind or, I swear, I will not hesitate to play another Star Wars film.”

“But Petey!” Morgan whined, bouncing on the couch, “Both of them are so old.”

Peter gasped, beyond offended, “I’ll have you know, missy, I grew up with those.”

“Yes, Peter,” she rolled her eyes dramatically, assembling her Frozen Lego set, “That is because you’re old.”

He scoffed, “...Remind me to apologise to Mr. Stark. This hurts. And speaking of things that can hurt; isn’t this practically a safety hazard?” he poked the Lego castle, “This is very sharp and could probably seriously maim someone.”

“Dad can seriously maim someone.”

Peter agreed with a laugh.

“When will Mom and Dad be back?” Morgan asked, cozying against his side.

He wrapped an arm around her, patting her head, “They said not to wait up. So, a few more hours at least.”

Mr Stark and Pepper had gone to New York for a fundraiser helping all the people who lost their livelihood due to the snap, leaving Peter to babysitting duties. He didn’t mind it. He loved Morgan. Her sharp humour (even for a five-year-old) kept him on his toes. He shared her stories from before she was born and in exchange she told him stories from the years he was - ah - MIA, to put it lightly.

He wondered himself when Mr. Stark would be back, and checked his wrist to see the time only for his eyes to widen, “Oh shi-” Morgan looked at him with a look that was just pure Tony.

“...sheeps. Time to… count sheep! In bed! Time for bed! Sleep!” he said jerkingly, getting up, shutting off the TV, and gathering Morgan in his arms.

“But I’m not sleepy,” Morgan said, letting out the cutest ever yawn oh my god.

Peter smiled, “Of course you aren’t.”

In less than ten minutes, he had gotten Morgan to brush her teeth, change into Iron Man pyjamas –with Spider-Man socks!-- and tucked her in her bed. He freshened up too and was scrolling mindlessly through his social media after chatting with May when he felt it.

His spider-sense.

He paused, holding his screen to pause the video of a rabbit nibbling on a strawberry.

Nothing.

Peter had learned by now to never doubt his tingle, so he put his phone on the bedside table –a decision he’d come to berate himself over later– and made his way down the staircase.

He held his hand onto the handle of the door leading into the main hall, steadying his breathing. He opened the door and-!

No one.

Huh.

He swallowed and found his throat dry. He made his way to the kitchen, ducking to reach the lower cabinets for a glass.

Maybe his senses were just warning him against dehydration.

The lights turned on.

…that’s probably just Morgan who woke up and followed-

“Get out from under there. Hands in the air. No funny business.”

Okay… maybe his senses were not just warning him against dehydration.

Peter slowly straightened up, hand clutched around the glass, and frowned at the sudden onslaught of lights.

“Seriously? Are you trying to get caught? Who turns on the lights in the house they are trying to rob!”

At least, he hoped they were just robbers. There were three guys –all in black attire, complete with ski masks– all of them tall, with knives in their belts. The guy on the left looked the strongest with muscles bulging out of his arms, whereas the other two seemed more on the leaner side.

“Look,” said the middle guy, “You don’t have to get hurt. We are just here for Stark’s kid. Get outta the way.”

Peter’s head vibrated with an inner ‘Activate: Protective Brother’ as he tried to stall them to formulate a plan.

“Wait,” Peter shook his head, “So they sent three of you for ah five year old? Seems a bit overkill dude, not gonna lie”

“Kid-” the middle guy spoke again, the other two as still as rocks. Was he like the spokesperson of the group? “I will ask you one last time. This doesn’t concern you. Get. Outta. Here.”

“Well, too frickin bad. If you wanna get to Morgan,” his hands clenched around the glass.

This glass empty.

“You’ll have to go through me.”

Yeet.

He threw the glass straight at the thug nearest to the stairs, both –the dude and the glass– shattering on impact, leaving the spokesperson and the strong dude to be dealt with.

“You’re gonna regret that, punk,” the kidnapper spokesperson moved in front of him as the other guy moved behind him, essentially trapping Peter between the two thugs and the countertop.

“You know, I regret like ninety-five percent of my decisions, so it’s really not that bold of a statement.”

Using his banter as a distraction, Peter rolled over the countertop and before the spokesperson could turn around, rammed his shoulder between his shoulder blades, sending him flying into the bulky guy.

The bulky guy rolled the other thug off of him and came at Peter with his knife raised high. Peter looked around and ended up using a rolling pin to defend himself. He punched the assailant in the ribs, before throwing the rolling pin on his masked head. He was about to follow it up with a kick when-

Spider-sense.

He ducked.

And not a second too late, if the knife embedded in the wall by his head was anything to go by. The Spokesperson looked almost offended that Peter had dared avoid getting shish kebab-ed by his knife.

Peter was about to show some real offence to his face when he was tackled by the muscle of the group. The guy manhandled him into standing in front of the spokesman, pinning his arms behind him. The spokesperson took advantage of his bound arms and punched him square in the jaw, his body stumbling further into the guy behind him. Blood gushed in Peter’s mouth as the spokesperson continued raining down punches on his face.

Peter’s vision started blurring around the edges and knew that he had to think of something; and fast. Thrashing around was useless –only tiring him further– and unless he wanted to reveal his identity to these creeps (he didn’t) he couldn’t Spidey his way out of this one.

So he did the only smart thing he could think of.

He bit the arm holding him.

Hard.

The bulky guy howled in pain and released him. Peter gave him a hard kick in the nuts for good measure before whirling around and throwing a punch at the spokesman’s abdomen, the impact sending him skidding across the floor till he hit his head on the window.

He wasn’t getting up anytime soon.

“Peter?” Morgan stood at the doorway, her Black Widow plushie grasped tightly in her arms.

“Oh… hey Mo!” he smiles awkwardly, waving a bloodied hand. Oh, he must look horrible, blood covering his face, staining his teeth, trying not to collapse on the floor.

Trying to be as non ‘character in a horror movie’ as possible he spoke in a calming, yet hurried voice. “Mo, I have a mission for you: I want you to go to your bedroom, lock the door, call Mr. Stark, and not come out until he asks you, can I trust you with that?

“Yes, but about you- Watch out!”

A sudden weight on his back sent him sprawling across the floor.

“Morgan! Lock the doors!”

He listened to her hurrying up the stairs and sighed internally. Fingers grabbed at his hair and sent his face pounding into the floor. Repeatedly. Each thud resonated painfully in his skull. Peter gritted his teeth against the pain, placed his palms on the floor, and jerked his head back with everything he’s got.

The weight disappeared off his back and in a split second Peter got up, crouching low to the floor, and before the muscle-man had time to recover, tackled him around his shins, using his bulky build against him as he dropped to the floor like a bag of bricks.

Bag of Bricks, however, had more fight in him than Peter gave him credit for. He sat up, grabbed the back of Peter’s sweater, and hurled him across the room.

Peter’s body collided painfully with the sofa’s edge, sending him rolling across the sofa and onto the ground, all the air being knocked out of him, leaving him winded and dizzy.

Footsteps walked in his line of vision and Peter couldn’t do anything but cry out as a foot reared back and kicked him in the ribs.

“Punk,” The guy scoffed and Peter saw with bleary eyes as he made his way towards the stairs.

Peter scrambled to get up, looking around desperately for something. That’s when his eyes fell on his weapon of choice. He grabbed it and with a final burst of strength ran towards the assailant and just as he turned-

BAM!

Peter slammed Elsa’s Lego Castle across the bulky guy’s temple, efficiently knocking him out for good.

He stood for a few seconds, reeling with the aftershock, panting with exhaustion, sweat dripping into his eyes.

“Yep,” he bounced the Lego set in his hand, “Could definitely maim someone.”

He winced and looked around at the destroyed living room. He hoped Pepper wouldn’t be too mad. He heard the distant hum of thrusters and knew Mr. Stark was near. He’d know what to do. Mr. Stark always does.

Peter blamed his momentary sense of relief as to why he didn’t notice the first guy getting up.

Glass guy grabbed him by the shoulder, turned him and pushed a knife to the hilt into Peter's side. A broken gasp lodged itself in his throat which turned into a hoarse cry as the guy ripped the knife out, slowly. Peter felt each jagged cut of the knife tearing through his insides as it was pulled out and felt his eyes closing against the pain.

When he opened his eyes, it was to find himself leaning against the countertop, legs spread in front of him and head lolling onto his shoulder, the assailant screaming crazily something which Peter was too far gone to comprehend. A steady nothing had taken over Peter’s hearing; only the sound of blood dripping onto the floor audible to him.

He knew he should do something. Put pressure on the wound, stop the blood from flowing, shut the stupid yelling, but he was just so tired. Fatigue had settled heavily on his bones and made home. His eyes threatened to roll back into his skull.

A great stream of light blasted across his vision, his eyes squinting against it and when he opened them he was seeing red and gold.

Red and gold meant safe.

Red and gold meant he was okay.

“Peter! Kid! Stay with me, please. Come on, don’t do this. Talk to me!”

Mr. Stark had gotten out of his suit, his cream Armani suit –which probably cost more than Peter’s existence– was stained a rusty shade of red as he pressed his hands to Peter’s sides.

Peter knew he should feel pain. But he felt absolutely nothing.

He gathered his strength and choked out, “M-Morgan-”

“Rhodey’s got her. That’s it, kid. Keep talking to me.”

He shivered, “S’ C-Cold.”

Mr. Stark’s face crumbled painfully as tears flowed freely from his eyes, “We’ll get you warmed up soon. Okay? You hear me. Just- just, hold on. Please.”

“I’m – I’ll be okay. I’m safe.” he coughed, and felt blood dripping down his lips, “As long as you’re here, I am okay.”

Mr. Stark smiled.

And he thinks he smiled too.

Before passing out in Mr. Stark’s arms.

#whumptober2023 #peter parker #morgan stark #tony stark #peter parker whump #fanfic #whumptober day 28

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deqdyke · 2 years

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I fucking hate how much euro-american racialist brain rot ideology has steeped into the way people think. PoC as a term doesn't denote some universal experience. There aren't "opportunities for people of color", or "poc sensitivity readers". The idea that I can somehow be asked to speak to the experiences of a Vietnamese person, or a Black woman, or a Palestinian, or an Iniqutuk person is ridiculous!

It's an attempt to find a set of social rules and methods for white people to navigate the "problem" of people of color instead of learning to see us as people and ask about our individual experiences. You don't want to accept the responsibility of navigating the fact that even within our own communities we are not a monolith and there's no "correct" way to approach us.

You want to feel as if you're behaving in a morally "pure" and correct way, rather than have to synthesize our diverse opinions into a fuller understanding of what exactly is going on in our minds and communities and accept that you'll fuck up sometimes and have to adapt and apologize. It's a desire to shave off the rough edges and unsightly elements of our experiences and to absolve yourself of the responsibility and reality that you're constantly making choices about who to believe.

Like some examples to explain what I'm talking about: I've met people who identify proudly with the term G*psy and who actively don't want to be referred to with the more politically correct term for it because of their specific family experiences. How do I approach that? Do I say the word which registers to me as a slur, or do I respect their wishes and how they self-refer? I've had Black loved ones who have told me that me not parenting aave at them makes them feel safer with me, and I also had a coworker who took me not doing that as me looking down on their culture and way of speaking. Which is the correct way to behave? There isn't one! You're going to be doing something someone disagrees with regardless. It's about connecting with us as people and learning about our experiences. Learn how to listen to us, not just how to speak with/about/for us.

And this seeps into our communities internally too. I've seen supposedly progressive and leftist spaces post about opportunities for Indigenous people ask indigenous friends of mine to prove they were indigenous because they looked "too white passing". As if that's not a continuation of the same race science blood quantum bullshit that GOT us here! I've had people refer to the literal genocide of my immediate family in the 1990s as "irrelevant" and that I was "claiming oppression because my family was oppressed hundreds of years ago". The 1990s! I've had someone who I organized with in close proximity basically every day for FOUR YEARS tell me to check out a local Turkish restaurant to "remind me of home" as if I hadn't spoken about Turkish colonialism and Kemalist fascism with them TONS of times.

This stuff happens when you view allyship/white traitorhood as some obscure set of words and rituals that if you learn correctly will absolve you of whiteness. It won't, because whiteness isn't fuckin real. Race is constructed socially and is contextual. I have more in common with an eastern european immigrant here than I do with bougie diasporista whose families are the colonizers back home but get to play at oppressed while here for social clout and then call the cops on me.

#vent #fucking. hell #accepting that whiteness and being a person of color #are some transcendental terms that you are on any substantial level #instead of contextual social constducts #reinforces white fascism #yes even if you flip the script and view whiteness as evil #youre still reinforcing a racialist mindset #which is part of what makes the flip from white leftist to white fascist so common #also sorry if i misspelled that one word uhhh #I've only ever heard it spoken #and i had a friend in mind #who uses that term but doesn't use the broader label bc they don't identify it for personal reasonz

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hoe-doroki · 3 years

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On the Job pt. 2

minors do not interact

warnings: 18+, fuck or die sex pollen (which means there are noncon/dubcon elements), reader is a sex worker, masturbation, face fucking, temperature play, (light) pain play, biting

pairing: todoroki x fem!reader

wc: 3.4k

summary: Super human society has a secret. Aphrodisiac quirks aren’t just the things of porn and fantasy–they’re actually quite common and too often fall into the wrong hands. Heroes, of course, do the best that they can, but when they get hit, they must be taken off the line of duty and someone needs to be able to activate the quirk’s release condition. If they’re single, who might that someone be? Obviously, you.

a/n: Half of me didn’t actually think that I would follow up part one, but I feel a heavy obligation towards my fanfic promises so...this is a weight off my shoulders, lol.

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

You’d gotten the call early today.

Not early in the day—truth be told, you’d hardly known what time it was before picking up the phone. No, you got the call early. As in not last minute. The call saying that your client would have to be transported to the agency from on site and they could tell you the details in the meantime.

The call saying you’d better drive to the agency, because you had to service a hero in an hour.

Now, patience wasn’t usually your virtue of choice—actually you didn’t often tend towards virtues in general. Save perhaps for kindness, which you preferred to deal out on your knees or your back, augmented by praise and the generosity of offering all three of your holes for your clients’ needs. But you were happy to cultivate it today, because an early call meant one thing.

You knew who was coming today.

Your pants were already off and you shirt was pushed up over your breasts as you leisurely played with yourself. You’d licked the tips of your fingers and gotten them started with slow passes over your clit, the other hand pinching your nipple, just a little too hard in prep for a hero who’d probably give it to you rough.

Maybe your reaction wasn’t right. Maybe it wasn’t kind of you to be so relaxed—relaxed and eager, actually—over the news that it was possible that Pro Hero Shouto would die. That he’d been hit with the particularly high stakes brand of aphrodisiac quirk and that if you didn’t trigger the release condition—that was: hot and heavy sex—his heart may very well stop or whatever happened on the other side of these troublesome quirks.

You wouldn’t know. After all, you hadn’t lost a single client yet.

So perhaps that was cold of you. Perhaps it would be more virtuous for you to be worried about him, fretting on the other side of the door with the guards over his ETA.

Then again, as stated: you’d never been one for virtue. Sin was much more fun. And surely it was better to make sure that whenever Shouto did show up, you had a wet pussy that he could waste none of his precious time sinking his cock into.

You groaned at the thought, dipping two fingers from your clit into your cunt and scissoring them. Your head lolled back against the pillows, eyes fluttering closed as you pressed against that front wall the flats of your fingertips, feeling that soppy wetness covering you and beginning to drip down your knuckles.

Yeah, you were ready for him.

In fact, you’d been waiting for Shouto longer than just today. After nabbing the number two pro hero, Dynamight, a few months back, you’d gone ahead and debased yourself further—how much further was there to go, though, really?—by creating a list of your dream clients. You’d written Dynamight just to check him off, the memory of him cumming in you raw and licking you clean still hot between your thighs.

Your near encyclopedic knowledge of heroes—naturally, you took a healthy interest in your job—had then led you to daydream about Dynamight’s whole hero cohort. You added Red Riot to the list, dreaming of his abs, imagining riding them, teasing sweet whines out of him before backing up and dropping yourself on his cock. You thought of Deku, what it would mean for your ego to nab the number one hero, the flash of jealousy that would rise on his face when you let it slip that you’d already fucked his biggest rival, fucked his goddamn brains out and yours to boot.

Of course, you couldn’t do that. NDAs, after all. You’d already signed away your rights to mentioning anything about what happened to or with Shouto today. Still, you could dream.

Then, of course, your thinking had truly devolved, and you’d thought about the boys being paired up, fighting a villain with an unknown quirk only to be hit by the ever common, ever unknown—thanks to you and your prudence; oops, there was another virtue—aphrodisiac quirk and having to take care of both of them. Spit-roassting, Eiffel Tower, a goddamn daisy chain—anything. Long story short, you’d ended up cumming twice more on your hands before the evening was done.

But also on that list, was Shouto Todoroki.

Who, if you weren’t mistaken, was now on the other side of the door.

After all, these walls weren’t soundproof. It provided quite the show for the lucky guards on the other side, but hey, if you needed to scream for help, they had to be there. By the same coin, you could hear the shuffling on the other side, the footsteps approaching, and the telltale sound of the lock on the door being activated. You pressed your legs together, resting them to the side, hiding your glistening pussy artfully with your legs for the sake of modesty. Everyone knew what was happening here, but you didn’t need to send Shouto’s poor handler back blushing to their colleagues.

Shouto was ushered into the room and, without eye contact, someone yelled to you, “Ready, ma’am?”

“Ready!” you called back, and the door was closed, leaving you alone with the number three hero.

Without modesty, your legs fell open, revealing the mess you’d already made of yourself to Shouto. You dipped the fingers you’d been using into your mouth, and cleaned them dutifully. After all Shouto was still wearing his costume, and you did so hate the agency having to send those to the cleaners with your fluids all over them.

“Hey, bud,” you purred, running a hand slowly up one thigh. “I heard you have a problem.”

Pro Hero Shouto was known for his stoic personality. News conferences and interviews he participated in always consisted of a slow, even tone, and little beyond cold facts. There was something pleasantly mysterious about that, sure, but it didn’t exactly hint that he’d be quick to jump into bed. Sexy voice, though.

But whatever quirk he’d been hit with must have been strong, because the next thing you knew, the index finger from his left hand was tracing down the front of his uniform, cleanly burning a line straight to his already tented crotch. His accessories had already been taken off—his belt, gloves, shoes, even the clasp at his neck had been undone earlier. So there was nothing in his way as he pulled either side of his scorched uniform to the side and off his arms as he approached the bed.

“All business, huh?” you asked, pushing yourself up off your pillows by your forearms, watching as Shouto climbed onto the bed on his knees, finally pulling his jumpsuit down past his crotch.

You’d taken a bet with yourself on the color of his pubes—it’s not like you’d be losing either way if you got to see them. They turned out to be dual-colored, but not the stark red and white of his hair. No, they were more neutral in tone, like yours. Unlike yours, they were nested above a heavy cock, already shining with precum—or actual cum, you didn’t know—at the head.

Shouto didn’t reply to your comment, and you weren’t surprised. Some people went totally nonverbal when hit by sex pollen quirks, and that was fine. You’d rather someone button their lip than ruin the mood by saying something off, after all. All business was fine by you—this was your job, after all. And no matter the size of his mouth, his cock was just fucking right.

You naturally lowered your legs as Shouto began kneeing over you, cock in hand. Your brain only just managed to catch up to what was going on when his legs stopped on either side of your ribs, his leaking cockhead crossing your eyes before you. Automatically, your jaw dropped open, and Shouto’s cock smeared pre against your cheek and the corner of your mouth before sinking deep into your mouth, drawing a first obscene moan out of him.

A humming moan fell out of you too, barely able to take in the taste of Shouto’s cock before it was pressing against the back of your throat, springing tears to your eyes automatically. Something about aphrodisiac quirks so often seemed to play with the taste of these heroes’ cum. No longer was it bitter, but just heady, salty, and more pleasant than it should have been as it coated your tongue and throat. You adored it, and purposefully relaxed your muscles so that you could take more of him in.

Shouto didn’t hold back. With barely half a breath in your lungs, Shouto was thrusting deep in the back of your throat so that your spit dripped from your mouth and smacked wetly between his balls and your chin. You blinked tears out of your eyes and looked up at him to find blown pupils staring back at you, gaze hot and pointed.

There was light behind those eyes. Whatever Shouto was right now, it wasn’t unthinking, not pure instinct. No, the way he was fucking your throat, the way his eyes had you pinned—it was intentional.

Abruptly, Shouto pulled out, a think strand of spit snapping from his dick, cold on your tongue as you panted from the rough treatment. You held your mouth open, expecting him to shove back in once you’d caught your breath, but Shouto seemed to have other plans. He moved down your body, soaked cock again in his palm, and his eyes now set on your pussy. You reached for one of the condoms you’d set out next to you, and held it in front of him.

“Hate to sound like an after-school special, but no glove…”

Shouto paused, eyeing you for just a moment before taking the square and making quick work of it, rolling it over himself.

Then, abruptly, he put a hand on your cheek, drawing your eyes back up to his. “Thank you for your hard work. It does not go unappreciated.”

“What the—”

You were left agog at his statement, wholly unprepared as he swiftly took each of your thighs in one hand, spread them, and plunged in you to the hilt. You gasped high in your chest, your throat still tender from being rawed by Shouto’s dick. He leaned over you, sighing with a relief that doubled then halved the size of his chest. His forehead touched yours in a strange moment of intimacy, and, for a moment, you wondered if that was it. Was that all the release condition took? Penetration? Or had he cum and you just hadn’t noticed?

Were you going to be left to tend to yourself with the bullet vibrator in your glove compartment yet again?

Then Shouto leaned back, looked at you again with those sharp eyes, and began smacking into you with abandon.

“Fuck,” you let out as Shouto’s balls, still wet with your spit, left their mark on your ass with every deep thrust he gave you.

Shouto manhandled your thighs, grabbing them firmly in each hand as he reared back fully on his knees again, taking the lower half of your body with him. You reflexively braced with your arms, and soon they were the only part of you still in contact with the bed, along with your upper back and head still resting on the comfortable stack of pillows.

As was often the case, you’d lost control of the situation. You could barely match Shouto’s thrusts on your own as he repeatedly used his upper body strength to bring you to him, and his lower body strength to send his hips right back in return. If you tried to reach him, your fingertips would barely brush his thighs, much less any other part of him. You were totally at his mercy.

You couldn’t help but eyeball his broad biceps, flexed by holding up the weight of most of your body. And aside from the sweat dripping from his forehead—probably quirk-induced—he was showing little to no strain.

He hadn’t always had muscles like this, you were sure. You couldn’t help but remember pundits sounding off on Shouto’s overreliance on his quirk over physical strength, or the difference between his body and the massive tank that was his father, Endeavor. They’d shown clips of his body—handsome, always handsome—but either Shouto had done a lot of bulking in the last few years or those newscasters had been particularly unkind. Likely both. Because now, drops of sweat were trickling from his body in rivulets; there were no straight paths to go down. A bulging muscle here to dip around, the crease from a flexed ab there to pool in. You were hypnotized by his form, even the thighs straining under the part of his uniform that he hadn’t bothered to burn off.

Your mind was so enraptured by thoughts of Shouto’s body that the sensations happening to yours crept up on you. All at once, you realized that your thighs were burning. Actually, one was burning, and the other was freezing cold, both just under his palms and branching up the fingers currently painting five bruises into each muscle.

A gasp flew out of your mouth and your eyes rolled back as your thighs suddenly began quaking unbidden. Shouto looked down at you, his expression easy save for those passionate eyes, little huffs escaping his slack jaw. “Too much?” he asked.

Your head shook side to side, a vehement no as Shouto dug his fingers even deeper into your flesh, bringing dull throbs of pain so close to where every thrust brought about sharp flashes of pleasure. It felt like a betrayal when he just then loosened his grip to slide his hands up to your knees and hook them over his shoulder. Then those hands, right at the brink of freezing and searing pressed into the meat of your ass as he brought your hips to his with redoubled force.

That first new thrust sent Shouto’s head turning to the side, digging a painful bite into the fleshy part of your calf, making you cry out. A moment later, he let go, his tongue passing over the teeth marks like a salve over a wound.

All the dueling sensations had you close. You’d been teasing yourself for so long before Shouto had even shown up and now he was fucking into you like…well, like his life depended on it.

God, was it wrong to love fuck or die quirks?

You were quick to take a hand and put it back on your aching clit, despite the strain it put on your neck and upper back to lose one arm of support. Part of a good fucking was being folded like a pretzel, and you’d just book a massage appointment tomorrow to deal with it. Surely saving the life of the number three hero was worth a reward.

Shouto’s eyes honed in on your fingers moving rapidly over your clit, and you bet he could feel the twitches of your cunt approaching climax. A hand left your ass and went behind his head to pat your ankles. “Cross them,” he instructed.

Obediently, you crossed your ankles, making your position a bit sturdier as Shouto continued to drive you back onto him with one hand. Then that second hand went to yours, brushing it away with the backs of his knuckles. A surprisingly gentle gesture for the man who was kneading bruises into your ass and biting your leg. Then, with his thumb, he painted one slow, hard, blazing stripe up your clit, and you came instantly.

“Fuck!” you shouted as your back arched in midair, the crown of your head digging into the pillows as your neatly crossed ankles came undone, your thighs shaking and falling from Shouto’s grip. His cock slid out of you as your lower half bounced once on the bed. Before the springs could vault you back, Shouto was on top of you, pressing himself back in your still convulsing cunt.

His thrusts were long, desperate as he breathed into your neck. He mouthed the base of your neck with light bites and suckles—never quite kissing. Your thighs came back up around his hips and his left hand went back to squeezing your thigh. Meanwhile, the right came between your thighs, surprising you as two fingers began prodding at your entrance.

Almost immediately, you could feel the heat of the stretch. Or rather, you would have felt the heat of the stretch, had his fingers not been ice cold against you. You cried out as he curled his fingers forward while his cock kept thrusting straight through you, the hot and cold contrast nearly too much. You wondered how much more intense it would feel if Shouto were unbound by the condom, and you able to bear its full heat.

“Please,” you whimpered as your orgasm began to rise again, too quickly, nearly as sudden as the first one had been, but without all the build up. This one felt like it was going to tear out of you.

Just then, the nips that Shouto had been teasing over your neck went away, and he planted one more good bite on your shoulder as his thrusts became insistent, the fingers petting inside you matched with a cold thumb over your clit. And neither of you could hold on a moment longer.

Shouto groaned low and bone deep in your ear while your voice, still raspy from early, keened in his. Your thighs went tight around his waist and his hand was trapped between you as you both rode out your highs. It took a full minute for your muscles to unwind, and your feet to fall flat to the bed. At that point, Shouto pulled out and rolled over next to you, both of you panting as the sweat dried on your skin.

Shouto pulled the condom off of himself and found a trashcan to toss it into before falling flat on his back again. After a few moments of nothing but heavy breathing, he opened his mouth. “Thank you for your professionalism.”

You snorted. “You’re welcome,” you managed, keeping your laughter at bay. “That’s not what people usually thank me for.”

“Thank you for saving my life?” Shouto tried again, his gaze shifting over to you.

His eyes were still bright, but his gaze less sharp, obscured by dual-colored bangs falling over it. Suddenly, Shouto looked a great deal more innocent than the man who’d been fucking the life out of you just minutes ago. Perhaps an effect of the quirk wearing off, perhaps the effect of unfettered pleasure meeting relief.

“More common, yes,” you replied, unable to keep the smile off your face.

“You’re very good at what you do,” Shouto said, his eyes going to the spot where he’d bitten your shoulder. He circled it with one finger, brows furrowing. “You’re like a hero.”

“Hah,” you returned, looking up at the ceiling. You weren’t going to let this be the moment in your career that made you blush. “Vixen, the orgasm hero. I don’t think it would meet the commission’s guidelines.”

“Perhaps not,” Shouto said, sitting up and pulling up what remained of his costume, frowning at the spot where he’d torn it. You supposed you needn’t have worried about this costume going to the cleaners; the support team would likely toss it and make a replacement.

“There are clothes you can change into in the closet,” you said, pointing to the near invisible door in the back wall.

Shouto waved you away as he stood up. “This will be fine to make it to the locker room with.”

“Suit yourself,” you said as you pushed yourself up, trying to remember where you’d thrown your leggings before you’d started jerking of, grunting as your spine cracked.

Shouto plucked the leggings from near the foot of the bed and tossed them to you before heading towards the door. With his hand on the knob, he turned back and made eye contact with you one last time, the ghost of a smile you’d never seen before on his lips. “Thanks again…Vixen.”

As he closed the door, you could only blame your own impropriety, that utter lack of virtue that you first thought was:

Number two pro hero, Shouto: check.

#todoroki smut #bnha smut #mha smut #shouto todoroki smut #shoto todoroki smut #tw: sex work #tw: sex pollen #tw: masochism #tw: pain play #tw: dubcon #tw: biting #tw: temperature play

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milkyymoons · 3 years

Text

Honey Tea | 01 Yandere!Jungkook

pairing: yandere!jungkook x reader (f)

genre: yandere, angst, mentions of mental health, future smut, manipulation,

Parts: 01 | 02.

summary: You're delighted to find the perfect caregiver for your ill grandmother but are soon to find out his intentions are far from pure.

Your eyes were glued on the clock that hung on the brown tinted wall, nervously biting your lip. You really hadn’t liked the idea of having to even hire a caregiver for your grandmother to begin with but you weren’t left with much of a choice. Finding a job was hard to begin with, not only due to the fact that living in such a small town made the options limited but your lack of job experience didn’t make it any easier. Your anxiety disorder had only gotten worse over the years, interfering with your daily activities and made things such as simple trips to the grocery store a living nightmare.

However, you couldn’t let your anxiety control your life any longer. You knew it was finally time to take some actual responsibility and do what was best for your grandmother. She had taken care of you and raised you all your life up until now, she was tired and her heart condition wasn’t going to get any better. It was up to you to take care of her now, she was all you had left.

While your grandmother was decently well off and had insisted you didn’t need to get a job, you had refused. Medical expenses were not getting any cheaper and while the job you managed to land at the old bookstore down the street wasn’t much, it would surely help some bit. Besides, you were hoping it would help better your anxiety, being stuck inside the house all day surely wasn’t helping your intrusive thoughts.

Now the only issue was having to leave your grandmother home alone for so long, she had insisted she would be fine but you knew better. At her age, the amount of things that could go wrong would just race through your head nonstop.

The sudden knock on the door made you jump, you lifted yourself off the soft leather coach and rushed down the small hallway of your home. You took a deep breath, not even bothering to check the peep hole in your rushed state and swung the door open, the chilly air instantly hit your face.

The guy in front of you looked exactly like his profile on the caregiver website, his tall frame towered over you and his large dark eyes quickly took you in. His dark hair falling below his ears and he gave you a friendly smile. He wasn’t much older than you according to his age on the website but his face held a childlike look to it, his handsome features were even more intimidating in person.

“Hello, you’re Y/n right?” He questioned, his voice smooth. The way his eyes scanned over your face almost made you want to hide.

“U-uh, yeah. You’re Jungkook right?” You asked, cringing at how awkward you sounded already. He nodded and you stepped aside, signaling him to come in.

“Sorry, my grandma is still sleeping, she should be waking up any minute.” You explained as you walked down hallway and he followed closely behind you. You guided him to the kitchen, offering him to take a seat at the table which he gladly accepted. You suddenly felt anxious all over again with his gaze on you.

“That’s okay, I’ll giver her the medications when she wakes up.” He smiled at you and his eyes darted around the kitchen, seeming to take everything in.

“Right, I left them on the counter for you and I texted you the details in case you forget. She takes her blood pressure and heart medication first thing every morning , her stomach is a bit sensitive so I’d prefer she ate something before she takes the-“ You rambled, pacing around the kitchen.

“Y/n” Jungkook cuts you off, his tone gentle. “Don’t worry, I know what to do. I’ll make sure to make her some breakfast.”

You nodded your head in embarrassment but his words brought you comfort. You knew you were worrying over nothing , he had some of the best reviews on the website and obviously seemed to know how to care of elderly people way more than you ever would.

“Sorry, I’ve just never left her alone with anyone.” You admitted, sitting down on the empty the seat right across from him.

“I see, is she your only family?” He asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

“Yeah, my parents died in a car accident when I was little so my grandma practically raised me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He gave you a pitying look and reached over to take your hand in his. You were a bit taken aback by the sudden action but he didn’t look phased in the slightest.

“You seem like a caring girl, many young people like you wouldn’t think twice in sending off their grandparents to a retirement home.” He said, his eyes boring into yours. He seemed genuinely in awe.

“I could never, she’s all I have.” You didn’t even want to imagine a world without your grandmother , despite knowing the reality of her old age and health conditions. Not to mention, the idea of sending her off to one of those facilities just seemed cruel to you, you didn’t have the heart to even consider it.

Jungkook watched you, you were indeed more beautiful in person. The blurry profile picture in the website didn’t even come close to doing you justice. He could tell how much you cared about your grandmother, it was obvious even through the messages you had sent him when you first selected him for the job. He could tell you were an anxious person just by looking at you. The way you had seemed like a deer caught in headlights when you first opened the door, your smaller frame cowering behind it. It was obvious even in the way you sat now, your leg bouncing beneath the table and your eyes refusing to make direct eye contact with him ever since he had arrived.

He found it all endearing.

“I-I better get going! It’s my first day and I don’t want to be late.” You said, suddenly remembering what time it was, the last thing you needed was to make a horrible first impression the first day at your job.

“First day? No wonder you seemed so nervous.” Jungkook teased, his hand slipping from yours as you got up.

“Yeah, well more like first ever real job so it’s even worse.” You let out a small shaky laugh, walking over to grab your bag from the counter.

“It’s your first job? How exciting.” He beamed, eyes seeming to follow your every action.

“Well, it’s a bookstore so probably not that exciting.” You mumbled as you tugged at the ends of your dress anxiously. Jungkook lips quirked up at your scattered movements, not ignoring the way the dress hugged your curves.

“Please make sure to text me if you need anything. The fridge is full and my grandma usually likes oatmeal in the morning, feel free to help yourself when you get hungry too!” You said, pointing towards different areas in the kitchen.

“ The bathroom is down the hall too and oh! I completely forgot to give you a tour of the house!” You groaned , realizing your dumb mistake. You had not even properly told the guy how to direct himself throughout the house.

Jungkook chuckled , standing back up and he making his way past you.

“Relax, I’ll be fine. The house isn’t that big, I can find my way around it.” He assured you, observing your grandmothers medication bottles that sat on the counter.

You nodded and starting making your way out the kitchen.

“Y/n.” Jungkook called and you halted, turning back to face him. He gave you a warm smile, eyes trailing over your exposed shoulders that the thin straps of your sundress failed to hide. “ It’s quite chilly outside, you should wear a jacket .”

“Oh, right. Thank you!” His comment only confirmed how fitting he seemed for the job of a caregiver, you found it cute. You quickly grabbed the cardigan laying on the couch on your way out and rushed outside.

—-

To your surprise, the first day at your new job had gone quite smoothly. It wasn’t nearly as nerve-wracking as you had thought but it mainly had to do with you not having to interact with anyone much. You had spent your day stacking and reorganizing books, you were glad your boss hadn’t put you as the cashier. The old man insisted for you to stay in the back, probably noticing how anxious you had seemed in the job interview and not wanting to risk you embarrassing yourself with customers. You were grateful for that in a way, if your job continued like this then you were sure you could do it.

“Grandma?” You called out as you stepped inside the house, your shoes padding against the wooden floors. You let your bag drop on the ground as you walked down the hallway. You heard faint laughter near you, seeming to come from the living room. You turned and saw your grandma seated on her rocking chair, happily chatting with Jungkook who was seated on the coach beside her.

“Y/n! You’re home, my dear. “ Your grandmother gushed when she saw you, a smile forming on her wrinkled face. You walked over to her, giving her a tight hug.

“You didn’t tell me such a handsome young man was going to be the one to wake me up this morning.” Your grandmother stated and your face heated up at her words.

“Grandma!”

Jungkook chuckled, his smile reminded you of a bunny in a way.

“I’m assuming things went well?” You asked, face still hot.

“Perfect, your grandmother is a joy to be around.” Jungkook confirmed, glancing at your grandmother. “ I think she’s the easiest person I’ve had to look after.”

You sighed in relief, overjoyed that there hadn’t been any issues and everything seemed perfectly fine.

“Jungkook made some delicious oatmeal, I didn’t know these caregivers were such good cooks. “ Your grandmother added and you giggled.

“I gave her all her medications and she should be good to go to bed soon.” Jungkook said, standing up .

“How was your first day at work, my dear?” Your grandmother asked and you felt Jungkook’s heavy gaze on you.

“Good , I think. I mean it was better than I expected.“

“You know you don’t have to force yourself too much.” Your grandmother insisted, worry lacing her tone but you shook your head.

“I promise I’m not.”

“Your grandmother said you are a bit of anxious person?” Jungkook mentioned, tilting his head in a questioning manner.

You glanced at your grandma, wondering how much exactly she had told Jungkook.

“I told him how much you struggle with your anxiety and socializing with people. “ She sighed, resting her hands on her lap. “ You know how much I worried about you getting a job. I want you to put your health first.”

“Grandma, I’m fine. This job is helping me.” You insisted, not being able to help the annoyance in your tone. You felt a bit awkward now that Jungkook knew about your mental health conditions. It seemed too invasive.

“Your grandma is just trying to look after you, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Jungkook’s tone was sincere as he stared down at you, noticing the change in mood you took.

He wondered how you would react to him knowing much more than just the surfaced level information your grandmother had provided for him. It wasn’t hard to get her to talk about you, it was all she ever did seem to talk about and Jungkook couldn’t be happier at that. It made it easier to get to know you despite him not being able to be near you all day. Your grandmother served as an immediate resource. Although, not much of what she had said was surprising, he had figured the type of person you were at first glance, her words only serving as confirmation.

—

As weeks passed , Jungkook became more and more involved in your home life and his presence became so familiar to you, almost as if he had always been part of you and your grandmother’s life. He was here everyday first thing in the morning until late in the afternoon, sometimes even staying for dinner. Even on the weekdays, he managed to stop by for a bit and check up on your grandmother. You couldn’t believe it at first, that you managed to find such a perfect caregiver.

“Y/n!” Jungkook called out from the kitchen as you adjusted the scarf around your neck.

“One sec!” You said, rushing out and making your way towards the kitchen, you were met by a plate of stacked pancakes, scrambled eggs and chopped up fruit on the table.

“Don’t forget to eat before you leave.“ Jungkook stated, fussing over you to take a seat. It had become a habit of his to serve you breakfast each day before you left to work, insisting that it was bad for your health to leave on an empty stomach.

“You really don’t have to do this, Jungkook. You already do so much for my grandma.” You smiled, hesitantly taking a seat and taking a bite out of the delicious pancakes. Your grandmother really wasn’t lying when she said he was an amazing cook.

“Of course I do, besides I have extra time before your grandmother wakes up. “ He pushed a glass of orange juice towards you that you happily accepted.

“You seem a bit sickly lately, are you getting enough sleep? “ Jungkook questioned as he took a seat beside you. You had been more tired than usual lately but you figured it was because of your job. Although it wasn’t that physically demanding, you were sure it was your body getting accustomed to not sitting at home all day for once.

“Probably just tired from work.” You replied as you took another sip of your orange juice. Jungkook eyed you, taking in how shaky your hands seemed as you tilted the glass over your lips.

He didn’t like you working. He didn’t like seeing you do any type of labor, no matter how small. You should be treated like a princess, with so much care and not having to lift a finger for anything. He didn’t like the fact that you were away for such long hours, not knowing what type of trouble you were in or what you were up to. Fortunately, that would come to an end soon.

“I’d prefer if you actually finished your food this time. “ He said, his tone a bit more firm this time. You almost giggled at his serious expression.

“You take this caregiving job really seriously.” You commented as took another bite of the food. “ I’m sure my grandmother feels spoiled.”

“Hm, I’m sure she does. I try my best to.” Jungkook hoped you were the one that felt spoiled. He took great pleasure in seeing you happy, making sure he had all your needs met. He had took time finding out what your favorite foods, shows, and hobbies were. Anything related to you, he had become obsessed with knowing.

“I need to pick up my grandma’s prescriptions today so I may be home a bit later.” You added in between chews.

“No need, I picked them up already before coming here.” Jungkook smirked, and you sighed.

“You really were born for this job.” You mumble.

—

Jungkook sat on his bed, his eyes glued to his phone screen. The tiny camera he had hidden inside your room was at a perfectly angle from your bed. Placed inside one of the eye sockets of your many stuffed animals, he had found your collection of them cute. He watched as you emerged from your bathroom, eyes following the tightly wrapped towel around your body. Your skin still damp from the shower as you reached over your dresser for the lotion bottle. He swallowed heavily as he watched your towel drop on the floor, exposing your bare body. His eyes hungrily took in every curve, from your breasts down to your core.

You were ethereal, no matter how much he had tried to handle his needs by fucking other women , he was never satisfied. They weren’t you, and they would never would be. He almost felt as if he was betraying every time he had went to bed with another women. He was disgusted with himself for even giving in, promising himself he would never seek the pleasure of another women. You were his only muse, the only person he wanted. You were going to be together forever.

He watched as you spread lotion over your legs, massaging them. The tightening in his pants only worsened and despite how much he tried to control himself, he let his hand tug his pants down and closed his eyes.

—

“I don’t know what’s wrong with her, she’s been sleeping a lot lately. “ You chewed on your bottom lip worriedly.

Your grandmother had been more lethargic than usual, you knew her old age made her sleep a lot most days but still, her sudden change in behavior was odd to you. Your grandmother was usually a chatty old lady and now she barely had the energy to hold a full conversation with you.

Jungkook listened intently, having his back turned to you as he prepared you some tea. He lifted the kettle and poured the hot water over the tea bag, adding a bit of extra honey knowing you had a sweet tooth. He didn’t want you this anxious all night.

Especially not tonight.

“ You have to understand your grandmother is at a very delicate age now,” He began to explain. “ She’s tired and doesn’t have much energy for anything.”

You knew what he was implying but you didn’t want to accept it. You shook your head at just the mere thought.

“What if it’s because of me?” You wondered as he took a seat across from you and handed you over the mug. You thanked him and took a sip, the hot liquid soothing your throat.

“Bab-“ Jungkook stopped himself, not letting the nickname fall from his lips.

“You can’t blame yourself for these things. None of this is your fault.” He stated with a more serious tone, staring so intensely at you that you almost believed him.

“B-but what if it is? I mean, I don’t even spend that much time with her anymore. “ You reasoned. “Maybe she’s depressed.”

“You overthink too much,” He replied, watching as you took another sip of the tea. “ She seems happy all the time, you can’t expect her to be the same as a few years ago, it’s just the age.”

You sighed, nodding slowly at his words. You knew deep down he was right, your grandmother was just reaching a certain age that didn’t let her have much energy for much. However, that made you even more guilty having to go to work and just leaving her. Of course, you knew Jungkook took amazing care of her and she loved him, always gushing about how attentive he was. But that didn’t stop the guilt washing over you.

“I’m gonna go give her a good night kiss. “ You whispered, setting the mug down. Jungkook watched you until you disappeared from his view, rushing down the hallway.

You came into your grandmother’s room, turning on the lamp on her nightstand. She looked so peacefully asleep, you almost regretted coming inside in fear of waking her up. You made your way over to her bed, crouching down a bit to her level as you pulled back her covers a bit.

“Love you, grandma. Good night.” You whispered, pressing your lips to her cheek. Her skin was so ice cold that it made you flinch back.

You frowned, eyes scanning over body.

“Grandma?” You asked, shaking her shoulder a bit. No movement.

“Grandma?” You repeated, this time more panicked. You felt your heart drop as you continued to shake her more and no response came. She didn’t seem to be breathing.

“Jungkook!” You yelled as you stood up, fully taking the covers off her.

“Jungkook! Somethings wrong!” You yelled again, frantically running out of your grandmother’s room in search for the caregiver. You hurried down the long hallway, feeling your heart rapidly beat in your chest.

“Jungkook!” You found him sitting in the same spot you left him, he slowly turned his head towards you when he saw you enter the kitchen. “ Please call an ambulance! My grandma is not moving!”

“Y/n, calm down.” He said, slowly standing up from his seat. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion at his calm and nonchalant behavior.

“What!? How am I supposed to calm down? She’s not breathing!” You screamed at him, running past him in search of your bag.

“Where’s my phone!?” You dumped all the stuff out of your bag on the table, frantically searching for your phone.

Jungkook watched you silently , slowly circling the table. He took a quick glance at the clock that hung on the wall.

“Why are you just standing there!” You whipped your head back at him, angry tears already forming in your eyes.

“Do something! Go find hel-“ The wave of dizziness that took over your body made you shut your mouth. You stumbled back a bit, feeling a pair of arms hold you up.

The floor seemed to be spinning beneath you. You scrunched up your face in confusion. What the hell was happening?

“Shh, it’s okay baby.” You heard Jungkook whisper , his hot breath on your ear. Your heart continued to beat rapidly in your chest as your vision became more disoriented.

“W-whats going on?” You mumbled, feeling a heaviness take over you. Your legs felt weak, almost giving out beneath you as the arms around your body tightened.

“Everything is okay, baby. “ Jungkook hushed, arms holding you down.

“Just sleep.”

The tea. Your body chilled in realization.

“M-my grandma.” You attempted to free yourself from his grip, pathetically throwing punches against his chest. He almost found your attempts humorous.

He looked down at you in pity.

“Your grandmother was just an another obstacle between us, she’s in a much better place now.” His words made you freeze, your mind not knowing how to process what he had just said. You shook your head rapidly.

“No, no.” You let out choked sob, this wasn’t happening . None of this was happening.

“What did you do to her?!” Angry tears stained your cheeks, this had to be a nightmare. This couldn’t be real. Jungkook could never do that, this had to be some sick joke.

“What did you! Let me go!” You demanded but the weakness in your body only seemed to get stronger, your own body was betraying you right now as Jungkook continued to carry you down the hallway.

“Baby, you need to calm down.” Jungkook repeated as you continued to fight against his grip, he knew you wouldn’t last much longer. “ You’re going to hurt yourself. “

“P-please, let me go.” You cried, your vision blurry now. Everything seemed to spin, slowly fading away into darkness, your body falling limply against his.

“That’s it, fall asleep.” Jungkook pressed his lips against the side of your forehead. His princess was finally his.

“Everything is going to be okay, baby.” He smiled down at you, brushing your hair out of your wet face. “We’re finally going to be together.”

#yandere jungkook #yandere!jungkook #yandere!bts #yandere x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook au #jungkook #bts au #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts #yandere #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook

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familyagrestefanblog · 3 years

Text

Analysis of the Family Agreste Portrait

Quarantine strikes again and since the Agreste family portrait has fascinated me for a loooong while now I decided to put my thoughts into words and write another essay x3

The amount of informations we get out if it is amazing and its not only highlighting the absolute TRAGEDY it is that this family is about to face such a horrible fall out, it also hints at the former family dynamic before everything went to hell.

So make yourself comfortable and get something to drink, because we will be here for a while.

Here we go: My analysis of this beauty of a fictional portrait

Let's start with the most obvious one: Hawkmoth.

Its commen knowledge by now that the background makes it seem like Hawkmoth is standing behind the Agreste family like a bad omen waiting for fate to take its course and cause their doom. The portrait is brilliantly designed so the illusion is created that Gabriels body (here in a blue suit closer to Hawkmoths normals dark purple one) overlaps with Hawkmoths and a darker line is connecting the two faces as well, which rest on the same height right beside each other. The very same line grows bigger as it goes further behind Emilie - coloring her entire background - showing us that EMILIE is all Gabriel sees when he becomes Hawkmoth. But notice that Adrien on the other hand can hardly be concidered part of Gabriels “sight” at all.

Its forshadowing 101 and damn beautiful if I may say so. But this isnt what I want to focus on in this post.

I want to elaborate on two other key factors that tell us about the former dynamic of the Agrestes instead and what they tell us about the present and future.

The heart:

This is hitting me on another level because look at the heart these three form with Adrien right in the middle! He was so LOVED. This family may have never been anywhere close to ideal but still, there was LOVE and now he's gonna loose it all.

Adrien already lost his mother which led to his father getting even more distant and cold and now his father is becoming increasingly more abusive as he falls deeper and deeper into villainy. Gabriel was never a good father, the show has already made this clear with episodes like "the bubbler", “the collector” or "Gigantitan" for example but gosh there was hope for their little family! The end scene in "Jackady" portrayed it perfectly and I wrote a whole other post just covering the sigificants of Adriens and Gabriels hug in that episode. Check it out here if you want, it goes hand in hand with this one.

Miraculous is all about love and the completely different ways it can affect us, our behavior and actions. Because love isnt just wonderful, pure and empowering, it also can be twisted, destructive and cause the darkst nightmares. And with this family the writers know how to portray the complex love in an abusive houshold thats destined to go up in flames and they also know how to hint at their troubled past with the family portrait.

But this heart visual tells us even more in connection with the positions of their hands. And with these two key factors, lets start with Gabriel:

His hands convey it so strongly. He loves/d Emilie and Adrien so much and no doubt this love for them was certainly the reason why he started his quest as Hawkmoth. But he is now losing himself more and more in the pleasure of his villainy to the point where he forgets why he's doing it in the first place and becomes a complete monster (of a father). But this turn and spiraling into villainy didn't came out of nowhere - this root already had to be in him to grow like that. And this is also something the portrait indeed hints at as well.

Because Gabriel is the only one of the three who:

1. We see so completely open and without hesitation reach out and hold BOTH his family members.

2. Is visually “cut off” from them as well.

But this doesn't mean he was excluded and the only one who truly cared and loved, it just shows that things were more... complicated...as usual.

This is best explained with Adriens hand placements:

One hand is holding his mothers but the other one is visibly not reaching out for his father. But as we all know, that's not because Adrien doesn't love him. In season 1-3 it is made more than clear that Adrien does not hate his father - he loves him alot and tries to be there for him and be patient because he knows that the loss of his mother brought his father terribly down.

Sure, Adrien gets frustrated and angry with him, literally how could he not?? But Adrien tries his best to reach out to Gabriel so they can bond and come out of this tragedy stronger.

But this loving willingness to forgive his father for the chance of growing a father-son bond with him doesn't change the fact that these two didn't had a bond prior to this. And let's be honest here, does anybody actually think this distance between them was caused by Adrien? I don't think so.

So notice how Adriens hand - not reaching out for his fathers - is the only one in the portrait NOT inside or forming the heart.

When the connection of the hands between the family members symbolise their connection to another, then Adrien keeping the hand for his father away from the display of love is VERY telling. It tells us very directly what this distance did to Adriens side of the relationship. Despite Gabriels hand being right there, Adrien does not meet the gesture. And I cannot believe that he did it out of resentment, nothing in the show indicated such strong negative emotions from past Adrien.

It's much more likely that Adrien not reaching for his fathers hand is meant to show us that Adrien felt that he either CAN'T return the gesture because he fears that it'll end in an unpleasant reaction from Gabriel - that it isn't Adriens "place" to reach out to his busy and distant father like that, like it's demanding something - or Adrien simply didn't took Gabriel laying his hand on his shoulder, in the context of posing for a portrait, as a gesture of love and affection.

The way I interpret the portrait is that prior to Emilies dissappearence Adrien did not exactly try to reach out to his father the same way he did from s1-s3, which, I mean, of course wasn't the case. Not only is it NOT the 13 years olds (or younger) job to form an emotional connection to their absent parent - when that’s the PARENTS job - it also wouldn't be necessarily "needed" for Adrien to do so.

Because Emilie at this point was still in the picture so and she was the complete opposite. She was a (or maybe the ONLY) safe, reliable and loving constant of parental attention, affection and care in his life and because of these two HARSH contrasts Adrien learned from very early on to focus mostly completely on her in that regard while kinda blocking his father out.

That most likely wasn't even an active choice whatsoever - Gabriel proofed to be an unreliable resource so Adrien learned to subconciously treat him that way out of self protection. That doesn't mean he had any kind of dislike or malice against his father it just means that he wasn't able or allowed to connect with Gabriel the way he needed. Several episodes show that Gabriel deadass only parented like 15 minutes tops in his life with one of the worst offenders kinda being “Gigantitan” ngl.

So yeah, when I see that the portrait wants to tell me that prior to Emilies loss, Adrien - a 12-13 year old at most - is THIS used to rely solely on the strong bond he has with his mother and not even really reaching out for his fathers love, then I can't help but interpret it in the way that... Well... Gabriel was so distant and emotionally unreliable to Adrien for all his life, that Gabriel simply... wasn't needed by his son. Not at that point of time at least.

And while this may seem weird, because obviously Adrien only now starts to stop craving for his fathers affection and approval (which is btw a horrible, HORRIBLE thing and not something good. A half orphan losing the last remaining hope he had left of having the chance to finally get to form a bond with the only other parent he has left, just to be crushed by disappointment and abandonment all over again until he let's go, is REALLY NOT as much of a good thing people will make it out to be. This is... plain awful) it's actually quite logical.

Adriens hand outside the heart doesn't mean that his father meant nothing to him and therefore refuses to meet and accept his affection (that's literally the complete opposite of what the show shows us), it means that Adriens and Gabriels father-son relationship suffers from a fatal emotional disconnection caused by miscommunication/ a lack of communication.

And this was caused by Gabriel. How? Let me elaborate on that by going a bit far afield (cuz lbh we all have time for this. I’m writing this in quarantine and youre reading this is quarantine, so lets gooooooooooooo).

In "The bubbler" Adrien says that his father "always forgot his birthday", but I cannot agree with this in true honesty. Gabriel is controlling his sons entire life, calls him "the epitome of perfection" and temporarily truly gave up being Hawkmoth for him, he definitely never forgot Adriens birthday.

"The bubbler" even SHOWS us that Adriens perspective of the situation is actually not the truth:

This is Adriens first birthday after Emilies dissappearence and it's incredibly telling how Gabriel handles the planning.

What this entire little sequence tells me is that Gabriel is completely and UTTERLY used to NOT be the one to take care of anything related to Adriens birthday. So Emilie was always the one who did it but somehow - now without her - Gabriel apparently still hasn't even considered changing anything about that nasty non-involvement and just expected Natalie to pick everything up where Emilie left it.

Because let's be real here, knowing Natalie she would NOT have forgotten to get a present if Gabriel truly had told her to. Natalie is never presented to do mistakes like that but Gabriel on the other hand IS definitely presented to us claiming things about himself as ultimate, blameless and true when they simply do not reflect reality. A great example: Gorizilla

You didn’t even speared a minutes of your time for Adrien and he DID try to! Asshat… It's a problem guys. The lack of self awareness Gabriel displays in moments like this is legitimately concerning when you think about how deeply this man is falling right now.

But back to the topic:

Because even if Gabriel didn't even consider doing anything himself for Adriens birthday - not even taking the time to SEE his son (who just recently lost his mother, come on Gabe, really?) - one thing one cannot hold against him: he sure as hell remembered Adriens birthday like any decent parent would and it wasnt portrayed as a this-year-for-the-first-time thing.

And yet Adriens statement still makes complete sense. Because a big, BIG problem with Gabriel is just how much he takes things for granted. He EXPECTS things to be universally known and to never be doubted, just because that's how HE sees them. I will write 10 essays if it's needed to make people understand that Gabriel DOES truly love Adrien, it's just that Gabriel HIMSELF is such a rotten, twisted and toxic person that he cannot see how much his (oppressing) behavior and the way he (doesn't) express his love hurts Adrien and that HE is the one at fault. (for more, once again, read this)

Gabriel LOVES Adrien but he takes the love he feels as such a matter-of-fact that he just completely... forgets to show it.

And when we take Adriens words and look at the Family portrait it unfortunately seems that...

…. Gabriel ALWAYS forgot to show it.

Adriens hand - that should at least be reaching out to his father - is outside of the heart in accepting certainty. Because that's what Gabriels non-presence was for Adrien while growing up: an unreliable and unreachable certainty he had to accept early on as safer to not try to emotionally depend on too much or else he will get hurt.

So yeah, Adrien is the one in the portrait who is very openly not reaching out but only because Gabriel never gave him the needed affection and stability to be able to create that bond.

But let me correct what I said a little earlier: Adrien ALWAYS needed his father. Every kid, especially one in a bad situation like Adrien, does need their parents/friends etc as support system to become independent and confident in a healthy way. And if they don’t have that they WILL crave and look for it!

What Adrien has been doing up to now IS normal for a teenager - humans NEED affection, belonging and safety. What ISNT/SHOULDN’T be normal is Adriens disconnection towards his father in the portrait and just how much Gabriel fails to take care and BE THERE for his son in BOTH TIMES!

Collector:

Bother Christmas:

One thing I like about the show is that it portrays their young main cast with one very important truth: The psyche of a child/teenager of their age will react and adapt so it SURVIVES, even if it results in unfortunate consequences in other relationships and places. Thats the psyches main concern and it'll try to cope with the limited experience and development it has in whatever way necessary to get itself to the next day. A coping mechanism is not there to make you a better person, it ensures your SURVIVAL, everything else is a secondary concern.

So seeing pre-show Adrien not react to Gabriels touch and even feel completely unloved and disconnected from him is no surprise to me. Kids are incredibly observant. They may lack the needed experience and knowledge to truly understand that they deserve better and to stand up for themselves but they are masters in picking up red flags in people and can put this danger into perspective while comparing the different danger levels of their options of people and places to adjust their behavior.

Feast:

Stormy Weather 2:

So the broken connection between father and son we see in the portrait (that Gabriel doesn't even notice but Adrien fully internalized) isn’t there because Adrien “didnt needed” or wanted his father, its because Adrien NEEDED Gabriel so much in his isolated upbringing but Gabriel didn’t LET him need him - so Adrien had to adjust to that accordingly. Big, huge, ENORMOUS difference.

Honestly the most miraculous thing about Miraculous is that Adrien was able to bring up the strength to stay positive and friendly and to forgive Gabriel in hope for a better future. That boys situation is 7 kinds of depressing and traumatizing...

It's just flabbergasting to me how well this portrait shows how basically non-existent their relationship was at that point. And it's horrible to know that this estranged and unformed bond is all Adrien had left after Emilie dissappeared, just alot worse because after Emilie incident Adrien states that his father changed alot for the worse as well.

So to think that all Adrien had left wasn't even this former basically non-existent relationship with his aloof father - who would only barely show his true affection for his son because he's either not around enough to do so or he thinks it "unnecessary to proof his affection" for/to Adrien because he already thinks it so obvious and undoubtable.

Well he thought wrong. And GOSH, it breaks my heart!

So now comparing the "Gabriel" hand from Adrien with the one representing his connections with his mother conveys a pretty harsh contrast.

Because last but not least, let's take a look at Emilies hand placements:

But here is now an interesting difference to Adrien. Whereas we openly see that Adriens side of the Adrien-Gabriel relationship is completely disconnected from the heart/love - showcasing just how badly Adrien has always been neglected by his father - we don't see Emilies hand in her Emilie-Gabriel relationship AT ALL.

Once again just like with Adrien, this doesn't mean she didn't love her husband and that Gabriel was used and fooled by the woman he so utterly adored. It just means that from Emilies point of view things were a bit more complicated. What exactly this is, the portrait is keeping secret from us. We have no way of knowing if and how Emilie is returning her husbands gesture. All we can say is that if she does she is definitely not doing it in such an open and unconflicted way as she does with Adrien.

But since when has anything with this family been this easy?

One thing the portrait makes very clear, Adrien and Emilie had a strong and good bond. Definitely the healthiest because the Adrien-Emilie connection is the only one depicted without any kind of disruption from both sides. Both mother and son are reaching out for the other ones hand creating a whole half of the heart, showcasing their affection for another openly and without any of the implied doubts the other connections display. And honestly? Comparing all the hand placements, the one connecting Adrien and Emilie just comes across as strikingly pure and true (which makes it even worse that it was HER Adrien lost…)

As I said it's a HARSH contrast to the one Adrien shears with Gabriel. This contrast is highlighted even further by the way these three face on another.

Emilie and Adrien are positioned facing another and so are Emilie and Gabriel. Telling us that Emilie was "face-to-face" aka involved with both her husband and son. It is Adrien and Gabriel were this looks wildly different. These two have no way of seeing each other in the eyes the way they stand now/then, further displaying their deeply rooted disconnection. It's portrays perfectly how important Emilie was in this family dynamic, because even though Adrien and Gabriel bearly had a connection at all they at least had Emilie as a link between them, keeping the family together. But then they lost her and where this left both father and son off we know oh too well...

So to collect all the informations we get out if this portrait:

-Adriens and Emilies relationship was the strongest and purest. Both of their hands connect and reach out for another in the heart, showcasing that they had a loving and positive bond.

-Adriens and Gabriels relationship is heavily scarred by a deeply rooted disconnection leaving Adrien feeling unloved and unwanted by his father to the point where Adriens side of their dynamic is outside the heart altogether. Gabriel may love and adore his son just like he loves his wife and never thought he displayed his love for him in a lacking way, but fact is: this love never reached Adrien the way it should have and Adrien is the one in their dynamic who got severely hurt and damaged by it.

-Gabriel was the only one completely unconflicted and happily at peace with the former Family situation. He's reaching out to both his family members with open love and affection in blissful oblivion that neither his wife nor son could return them the same way (to different degrees for different reasons). Gabriel was the ONLY ONE in the Agreste family who didn't saw problems in their lives and thought them all happy, hence why he's so obsessed with changing the past and bringing THIS state of their family back. He was happy and he had everything he needed and loved right with him, of course he wants THIS back. He's not aware that Emilie and ESPECIALLY Adrien did not feel the same about their former situation and that bringing all of them back to this is not the perfect happy ending for their entire family as he thinks.

-Emilie may not have been as unconflicted with Gabriel as he was with her but she is NOT feeling the same disconnection her son feels and isn't depicted with negative feelings towards Gabriel. Her side in the Emilie-Gabriel relationship is neither shown outright positive as with her son or outright bad as Adrien with Gabriel. Her side of their bond is depicted through her unseen hand placement in the unknown area in between.

-Despite their not so unconflicted feelings towards Gabriel - and Gabriel himself being aloof - neither Emilie nor Adrien are actively trying to cut Gabriel out. They aren't flinching away from his touch or exclude him from the heart whatsoever. He's happily included, obviously feeling loved. They may not be 100% happy and Gabriel doesn't notice it, but they aren't denying him his happiness and make him unhappy. Again, he's the only one truly happy here. Something neither Emilie nor Adrien tried to take away from him.

-Emilie and Adrien are facing each other as do Emilie and Gabriel, implying the presence of communication and a bond. Adrien and Gabriel do not face each other, showing their disconnected bond. If they could see each others face Adrien would have been able to see that Gabriels hand is a gesture of genuine affection and Gabriel could see that Adriens expression does not exactly display pure happiness the way he thinks. This also goes for Emilie. Emilie just like her husband is placed BEHIND her son, so even if she is facing him she would not be able to really see just how much Adrien is not satisfied and truly happy with his life at that point (meaning how unhappy being looked up, friendless and at distance with his father actually makes him).

- This fascinating family makes me sad and I like it lol

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hyungieyoongi · 3 years

Text

Epilogue: “Run Away to You” Part 7

To the person who never stopped supporting and loving me, even when I ran away from him – I promise from now on to always run away to you.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Former Actress!Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Genre: Angst (if you squint) + Fluff (nobody look at me I’m so soft)

Warning: Brief mention of reader’s panic attacks and mental health

Series Masterlist: Run Away to You

Premise: You ran away from your acting career one year ago, disappearing from the spotlight without a trace. No one from your past life knew where to find you. On the anniversary of your disappearance, your carefully constructed reality is shattered.

Part 6 \\

---

One year later...

You stood in the wings to the right of the stage, watching Yoongi stand side-by-side with his fellow members as they took their final bow. The love and energy from ARMY was overwhelming, your heart swelling with pride as you saw the look of pure happiness radiating from Yoongi and the rest of the boys.

BTS had held a series of surprise concerts in the past couple of months, and tonight was the last one in Seoul. Yoongi had made sure you attended each one with him, no matter where it was in the world. He told you he had always wanted to travel with you.

You looked out into the stadium, ARMY bombs lighting up the seats, illuminating the arena with a wash of purple light. You smiled, tears coming to your eyes at the beauty of it all.

As you took in the sight, you couldn’t help but reminisce on the past few months with Yoongi and everything you both went through to get to this moment.

You had been honest with the world in your video, explaining that you had to step away from your career for your mental health. You opened up about dealing with panic attacks and the toxic pressure of the acting industry. You explained how you needed to get your creativity and passion back for new projects by disappearing for a little while. There were so many people who had sent you messages of love and support, welcoming you back with positivity and warmth.

But the other side was picking you apart relentlessly. They accused you of trying to use Yoongi to get back into the spotlight now that you had gotten tired of living the “normal” life. They were saying that the pictures of you and Yoongi were all a ploy to get attention to restart your acting career.

If only they knew how much trouble those pictures had caused you.

You remember how you found it ironic how much the first few weeks of your life back in the public eye were so like your life when you first went into hiding. Moving into a new apartment, donning baseball hats and masks whenever you stepped outside, the threat of unwanted and uncontrolled publicity controlling your every move.

You had to have security with you, especially in the early days. The press wanted to get the scoop on your disappearance and your time with Yoongi, often flanking you with cameras if you popped out to get a coffee or go to the store.

Yoongi’s label put out an official statement to explain away the potential romantic implications of the picture, saying that the two of you knew each other from your time in the business and you were “old friends.” They cautioned the two of you to avoid being seen alone together in public, but Yoongi put his foot down, telling the label that you were not going to be hidden away forever.

Your publishing company was thrilled to hear that you no longer wanted to publish your book under a pseudonym; your name recognition was guaranteed to start a buzz around your upcoming release. Yoongi would often try to peak over your shoulder when you were working together, trying to read what you were writing. You would tease him, telling him he had to wait to read it just like everyone else.

Not to mention you were a little nervous to tell him that the story that you were writing was not-so-loosely inspired by your own relationship with him.

Navigating the public world again was made better by having Yoongi there with you, albeit privately at first. You would often have dinner with the boys or go watch Yoongi rehearse when you weren’t in editorial meetings or writing your book.

Being in love with him again had been the easy part.

The harder part was the conversations late at night about when and how you wanted to go public. You both were trying to balance the needs of his job as an idol with your timidness over putting too much of yourself back out there too soon. You were attempting to show the world your genuine personality this time around. There was no production company to impress or an acting job that was dependent on your popularity; you were just hopeful that his fans would be more receptive to your relationship if they already felt like they knew the real you. You never wanted to go back to feeling like you were suffocating under the weight of the pressure.

You decided as a couple on a deadline – six months. After six months of dating privately, you had to decide whether you wanted to be together publicly.

Yoongi came to your apartment six months later, looking pale with nerves and a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hands. You hadn’t spoken over the past two days, wanting to give each other the space to decide what was best on your own.

You told him you had already made your choice the night when you went to dinner with him and the boys at his apartment – you weren’t about to change your mind. He carelessly dropped the flowers on the ground, sweeping you up into his arms.

You both knew that you would face backlash, maybe even some hate, but you were stronger together than apart. He was it for you, and you weren’t going to let him go just like he promised you he wouldn’t. It hadn’t been easy, but it certainly was worth it.

You turned your head to watch as the boys waved goodbye, exiting stage right and stage left. Yoongi walked toward the side of the stage with purpose, eyes alight with adrenaline. You smiled brightly at him, his arms coming around you as he practically collided with you, head landing between your shoulder and neck as he breathed out heavily. Your hands instinctively went to his head, running your hands through his slightly sweaty locks as his heart rate came down from the high of the concert.

“You were amazing, Yoongs,” you told him. He leaned back, placing a firm kiss on your lips, surprising you. When he pulled back you were greeted with a gummy smile. Staff started to flutter around you, dabbing Yoongi with a towel and handing him an open bottle of water. You stepped away to let them through, not wanting to interfere with their jobs. Before you could move too far away, his hand reached through the bodies surrounding him, searching for your own. You wrapped your fingers around his, Yoongi using the grip to pull you back to be closer to him.

The staff adjusted to your presence again, shuffling you both along toward his dressing room. Intertwining your fingers with his, he brought your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of your knuckles. You thought you saw Jin amidst the flurry of activity, hearing a distinctive laugh that you were pretty positive was directed toward the blatant show of public affection between yourself and Yoongi since he got off the stage.

With how lucky you felt in that moment, you couldn’t seem to find it in yourself to care.

---

“Remember, I warned you that you might not like the book. I was dealing with a lot when I started writing it, and I promise I changed the characters enough. Only you or I will even notice the similarities. I mean, the characters get a happy ending and so did we, but…” you were rambling, your newly printed hard copy gripped firmly in your hands.

A week after his final surprise concert wrapped, you had come over to Yoongi’s apartment to gift him the copy of your book you had promised him, but you were reluctant to actually let it go. Yoongi was trying – and failing – to get it from you, leaning back with an exasperated sigh when he realized you weren’t going to budge.

“We have been dating for over a year now, Y/N, I think I can handle the fictional book version of our relationship,” Yoongi said, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

“But it might bring up old memories. Bad memories,” you said quietly, averting your eyes. Yoongi propped your chin up with his index finger forcing you to look at him.

“Stop worrying so much. Our past is the reason why we are together now. I’m not scared of it anymore,” Yoongi admitted with a nonchalant shrug. Your cheeks burned, Yoongi chuckling at your pink face before kissing you sweetly. Even after all this time, you still became flustered at his romantic gestures.

You finally handed the book over.

“You should probably check the dedication page first,” you murmured, slightly embarrassed. Yoongi’s lips quirked up in a smirk, slowly flipping to the dedication page in the copy of your book in his hands. His expression changed to something unreadable and soft as he read the words dedicated to him:

To the person who never stopped supporting and loving me, even when I ran away from him – I promise from now on to always run away to you.

I love you.

You held your breath as you watched him read the page twice, your knee jumping up and down in nervous anticipation. Yoongi put his hand on your knee, stopping your movements. He leaned forward, your book still in his other hand. You felt yourself instinctively move closer to him, seeming to melt into his warmth.

“I love you, too,” he whispered into your ear.

He would always be your happy ending.

Part 6 \\

---

To everyone who read and followed along with this fic – it has meant so much to me to have people read this little series of mine and interact with it. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

Taglist: @loveyoongles @agustd-2020 @delacyrose224 @sunshinejunghoseokie @jinsearthh @alpacaparkaseok @sheebaba @diamonddia-mond @dearyoongii @tarahardcore @kawaiiixchan

Check out my other work! ❤️

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anntoldst0ries · 3 years

Text

None shall sleep (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart 3, post Chapter 5 Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count/Rating: ~1.8k, T Summary: In the privacy of the diagnostic's office, Ethan & Noelle reflect on recent changes around them. Category/Warnings: Fluff, None Trope: And there was a bit of Hurt/Comfort

A/N: This chapter reminded me of things that have never been addressed... so this is a story of how things left unsaid all collided in my head. Hope you enjoy.

Also - yes, Ethan Ramsey can sing arias. Is anyone still truly surprised by the fact that this guy can do anything?

There is something mesmerizing about watching the lights of day go out, overpowered by darkness, ablaze with colours - from the depths of blue, through indigo, navy and all the way to pitch-black.

About how, in a sense, it washes away all the bothers and allows you to start anew with the next rise of the almighty sun.

Ethan Ramsey was hoping for this exactly, maybe more than ever, but all the signs showed it wasn’t in the cards for him.

Or at least not today.

He stared into the void, interwoven by occasional human figures passing by through the front lobby. No voices of the day were able to reach him on the 7th floor of his kingdom. Behind the glass wall, he was almost in a different world.

It had been yet another day that brought him more gritted teeth, holding himself back and resigned sighs, than actual satisfaction from helping those who counted on him. All these ‘activities’ were not only annoying but also highly energy-consuming.

Bringing the index and middle fingertips to his pulsating temples, he started to compress and massage them in small circles, trying to soothe the pounding inside his skull. He could hear the blood rushing through the highways of his veins, the sound almost drowning out all external stimuli.

But there were certain sounds his expert ear was trained on, the ones he would’ve recognized even in his sleep.

Like the one reaching his ears right now, the sound of the door handle being pressed.

With his back facing the door, he couldn’t see who was trying to impose on his much-needed solitude. But since the unexpected guest did not precede their ministrations by knocking, the possibilities narrowed down significantly. There were only two people on the premises of Edenbrook who could invade his personal space without a modicum of manners.

“Can I help you?” He modulated his voice to ensure the tone was expressing two things: annoyance and irony in the otherwise polite question.

“I’m sorry.” From all the voices, this one he did not expect to hear now. A melodic tone was joined by a scuffle of retreating steps. “Do you want me to go?”

Ethan curled his lips in a tiny smile. They both knew she wasn’t apologetic and that he wanted anything but her to leave.

“No, it’s just that there are only two people in this hospital that wouldn’t bother knocking and I thought it was one of them paying me a visit.”

“Let me guess… Zaid and Baz?”

“No, but in terms of concept, you were actually close…just another type of evil ‘twins’."

“Oh, you mean his majesty King Bloom & his annoyance Dr Carrick?”

“Even as a joke, it sounds creepy and horrible.”

“Well, count me as a third now. Heads up though, I will only stop knocking after twilight.”

It was clear as crystal Ethan’s already specific sense of humor had less than ever space for amusement.

“I brought you this.” She put a brown paper bag on his desk, which immediately revealed the aroma of something delicious. “I figured you’re probably gonna stay here all night, so I thought I’ll pop over and check on you.”

He didn’t say anything, staring into the darkness. Not because he didn’t want to - he simply didn’t know what. This simple gesture was very touching and filled him with gratitude. But he was lacking the right words.

Then, for the first time since she’s interrupted his train of thought, he turned around to look at her. Tired and with puffy eyes, she’d still put everyone else to shame. Even on the worst of days, the light radiating from her turned heads and made the room brighter.

She extended a hand and when their fingers touched, he felt this weird, tingly feeling that has traveled from his palm, through his arm and neck, and then straight to his core.

Pressing him gently against the edge of the desk, she took his glasses off. Then loosened his tie and nonchalantly disheveled his hair. Ethan wouldn’t let anyone else in the world touch them, let alone put them in a state of such disarray.

With her, all the rules existed only to be broken.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on in this big brain of yours?”

“Smart move, Valentine. You’ve pacified me so that now I will have no choice but to tell you whatever you want to know.”

“You always have a choice, let’s just hope you’re gonna make the right one.”

Ethan nodded, no sound escaping his lips. She knew she’d have to take it upon herself to get any information out of her stubborn converser.

“So, how are you holding up? I want an honest answer."

“I’ve been better.”

“I thought so.”

“It’s just that… Tobias is driving me crazy. His presence really tests my patience… I don’t know if I would’ve stopped myself from punching him had it not been for you.”

“Why thank you, I didn’t know my therapeutic services were that good.”

“They are.” Ethan cleared his throat. “But it’s… not just that.”

Dead silence lingered between them and he knew he had no other choice but to continue.

“The only reason why I haven’t wiped this ridiculous smirk off his face yet is that whenever I look at him, I… I see you in that room with Travis. I’m trying to remind myself that, as much as I hate to admit it, he was crucial to finding the cure on such short notice.”

“Ethan…”

“I already told you” - he interrupted her as if not to stop the words from flowing, afraid they may be trapped forever otherwise - “that there was so much more at stake last time Tobias set foot in Edenbrook.”

She took a deep breath, her eyes going slightly wider.

“The truth is, for me… everything was at stake. I would’ve done anything he’d asked me to, I’d have forgiven him if it meant saving you.”

Elle turned still, all her body movements, her breathing and even her blinking ceased.

It was one of those moments that mean so much but leave you with so little to say.

Using the power of non-verbal communication and their deep affinity, she bestowed on him the most gentle, loving and grateful expression her face could muster after yet another exhausting shift.

Ethan extended his arm and before she realized it, her back was gently pressed to the older doctor’s chest. Having wrapped her slender frame with his broad shoulders, Elle inhaled his familiar aroma. He smelled of comfort and felt like a safe harbor. He nudged her hair with his nose and placed a featherlight kiss on the crook of her neck. She smelled of calmness and felt like coming back home from a long journey.

“So,” - he murmured directly into her ear - “whether you like it or not, I am using you to soften the blow every time I look at Tobias’ face.”

“I think I can live with that.”

“But I can’t guarantee it will always be enough, he is a cocky son of a bitch.”

“Let's make a deal then. I see how much it costs you and I’m not telling you to trust Leland or forgive Tobias, I still believe you should be cautious. Let’s just wait and see where this goes, I think we’ll know sooner rather than later. In the meantime, we should focus on what matters the most, our patients.”

“Where is the deal part?”

“If it turns out you were right, I will hold Tobias and you will punch him. Deal?”

“I believe it should be the other way round. Declan Nash’s face told me your right hook is exquisite, Rookie.”

They both laughed at the memory which seemed so distant now, almost as if it's happened in another lifetime.

But Ethan went quiet again and she felt his body tense up, his arms tightening gently around her. It wasn’t very obvious, but she knew. It still came as a shock how well she actually knew him.

“Ethan? What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Ethan.”

“I’m sorry, I am not the most cheery companion today. You’re probably better off not spending too much time with me before you turn into a cynic.”

“Dr Ramsey, what a pathetic attempt of trying to get rid of me. You’ve never been the most cheerful type and I’ve survived your gloomy companionship, hell, I think it grew on me over time. So I should be ok today, too.”

It looked like silence was very much their third companion today.

“I’m thinking about Francis.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I’m thinking about how hard it would be not to see. So many beautiful things, colors, all turning into nothingness.”

“I take it you mean the opera?”

“That too, but let’s just say I’ve learned to appreciate things that are right in front of my nose… literally and figuratively.”

The butterflies started somersaulting in her stomach.

“I didn’t want to add more to your plate at the time, but I’ve already felt this way… when we diagnosed Caroline and Leland.”

It was funny that, despite his obvious animosity towards Bloom, whenever his wife was in the picture, he spoke about both in an almost affectionate way. His doctor’s instincts were kicking in, because first and foremost he was a doctor who had his patients’ best interest at heart.

“The thought of not being able to touch you…it reminded me of touching you through the layer of hazmat suit. And now with everything Francis has been through, I just can’t be bothered to think about anything else but you. This is my true personal connection to this case.”

It was her turn to be speechless.

Ethan tightened his grip over her once again, this time protectively rather than out of stress. Slow hum started filling the air, the melody soon joined by lyrics, which he sang in fluent Italian; a private concert, performed for her and her only.

Tu pure, oh Principessa

Nella tua fredda stanza

Guardi le stelle

Che tremano d'amore

E di speranza**

She remembered their patient’s face, which seemed calmer once Ethan started singing the aria before the depths of illness contorted it with pain.

Francis' husband's words echoed throughout her head.

Even though the man holding her in his arms didn’t say it, there was no need.

She knew.

He will always be here.

And she will always be here, too.

-----

** Lyrics - aria "Nessun Dorma" (‘None shall sleep’) from the opera "Turandot".

Translation:

Even you, oh Princess,

In your cold room,

Watch the stars,

That tremble with love

And with hope.

Tag 🔖 list: @starrystarrytrouble @genevievemd @sophxwithers @maurine07 @lovingramsey @iemcpbchoices @oldminniemcg @schnitzelbutterfingers @archxxronrookie @jamespotterthefirst @the-pale-goddess @queencarb @fireycookie @qrkowna @coffeeheartaddict @utterlyinevitable @gryffindordaughterofathena @xxsugarplumfluffsxx @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @mrs-ramsey @tsrookie @fayeswiftie @mercury84choices @lisha1valecha @lucy-268 @stateofgracious @danijimenezv @alina-yol-ramsey

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

#ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #playchoices #ethan x noelle

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svnflowervol666 · 4 years

Text

Ma Petite Chérie: Sweet Creature (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Read more from this little universe, Ma Petite Chérie, in my masterlist!

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Harry goes out of town and leaves Tallulah with Y/N for the week.

Author’s Note: Hiiiii. I decided to turn Ma Petite Chérie into it’s own little “thing,” so here’s another look at Harry, Tallulah and Y/N’s life! I’ve found it much easier to write in little blips rather than following a direct plot, so expect random little moments featuring the three of them. Also, this is not proofread and I am going through a period of having full blown insomnia, so I’m praying there aren’t too many mistakes. I hope you all enjoy and send any ideas, asks, or questions you have for them my way and I’ll be happy to respond! Take care and TPWK.

“I left her car seat in the garage. If she starts gettin’ fussy during the day, just put her in her room and turn on the noise machine and let her color - that usually does it. I refilled her medicine the other day, didn’t I-”

“Har-,” she shushed him, “We’ll be fine. I know the drill. Allergy meds and gummy vitamins in the morning, french vocabulary every other day, no tv before bed, and no sugar after six.”

He took a deep breath in and placed his palms on top of Y/N’s that are gripping his shoulders to ground him. He was a mess, but how could he not when one of the only people he trusted with his daughter, his mother, was away on holiday and couldn’t stay with her when he had to go on a week-long business trip? It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Y/N, he absolutely did. He just hated feeling like she thought he was using her as a free babysitter rather than the loving girlfriend she actually was. That couldn’t be further from the truth, but his anxieties always had a way of getting the best of him.

“Sorry. Always get nervous leavin’ her. Feel like something bad’s gonna happen every time and I won’t be there t’ help her.”

“It’s just a few days, bubs. She seems to like me, or at least pretends to. I’ll keep her entertained. Take her to the park and go get our nails done or something. It’ll be like one, big sleepover.”

“If yeh take her t’ the park, make sure yeh put sunscreen o-”

“Harry,” she’s stern and it shut Harry up immediately.

“Right,” he paused and took another intense, labored breath in an attempt to stop himself from canceling his plans and just staying home with Y/N and Tallulah for the week.

“She does like yeh. Asks about yeh all the time when you’re gone. Loves yeh a lot, actually. We both do.”

That word used to scare him, love. He realized long ago that he had only ever truly been in love with his daughter, so making himself vulnerable to sharing those same emotions with another person was genuinely terrifying. But each and every time, Y/N does something to remind him that it is well-worth the internal struggle he’s endured.

The proud smile that adorned Y/N’s face at his words is another one of those moments. It’s full of light and reassurance that his baby will be perfectly safe and healthy while he tended to business an entire continent away.

“I love you both as well. Might have a slight preference towards Lulah, but it’s nothing to worry yourself over.”

“Swear yeh only datin’ me because of her,” Harry muttered under his breath.

“You’re absolutely right,” she scoffed, “I only come over five nights out of the week to watch The Little Mermaid with her and I just tolerate you.”

Harry laughed, a genuine cackle that reared his cavernous dimples and turned the apples of his cheeks a pale shade of pink.

“I’d do the same,” he said with a shrug.

“Harry, you’re stalling. You’re gonna miss your flight if you don’t get on the road soon. I don’t think you want me to kick you out of the door.”

He feigned ponderance and tapped his index finger on his chin.

“I do love it when yeh mean t’ me.”

“Harry, go.”

“Alright, alright. I’m leaving. Just...check in with me every once in a while. Let me know how she’s doin’, yeah? I’ll call every night t’ talk t’ her.”

“Was already expecting you to.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she repeated.

He cleared his throat, heart weighing heavy in his chest. He knew he was supposed to leave for the airport ten minutes ago, but he couldn’t find himself to wheel his luggage out to the trunk of his car.

“Goodbye, Harry,” Y/N whispers in hushed tones.

She reached up on her tiptoes to plant a chaste kiss on his bright pink lips, which he then took upon himself to deepen by loosely wrapping his fingers around her throat and applying just enough pressure to make her contemplate giving into his obvious hesitance about leaving.

“Tell Lulah I love her when she wakes up, okay? Feel like shit leavin’ her in the middle of the night.”

“I’ll tell her first thing.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too, Harry,” she smiles, “See you in a week.”

Their first few days went by smoothly, a little too smoothly, Y/N thinks. She’d let her pick one activity to do each day and it seemed like to Harry and Y/N, she was having the time of her life.

Monday was the park, an obvious choice for a toddler. Tallulah wore herself out so much that she’d gone to bed that night with no trouble whatsoever.

Tuesday was a pampering day. Y/N had tried to get them into her preferred nail salon for pedicures, but there were no empty slots so she’d made up Harry’s master bathroom to look like a spa. She painted Tallulah’s nails blue (because Tallulah said blue was her dad’s favorite color), ran her a bubble bath with more bubbles than Harry ever allowed, and even let her put on some of her expensive face mask cream (Harry nearly shit himself out of pure adoration when he received a selfie of the two of them with pink goop smeared all over their faces and cucumbers over their eyes).

Tallulah’s request for Wednesday was a trip to the carnival that was in town, in which Y/N spent nearly fifteen dollars trying to win a stuffed bear for her but was unsuccessful. They went home with a real, live goldfish instead that Tallulah named Carrot because she claimed he looked like her favorite vegetable - she told Tallulah not to mention it to Harry and that she’d break the news to him later. She even let Tallulah have sugar after six o’clock (what Harry knew wouldn’t hurt him and besides, she told Y/N that she’d never had cotton candy before and Y/N totally wanted bragging rights for introducing her to basically a two-year-old’s fever dream of eating pink clouds).

She hadn’t asked about Harry once.

It wasn’t until Wednesday night after the carnival and her bath and daily FaceTime call with him that she began to get antsy with Y/N, claiming that she wanted her dad to tuck her in and read her a bedtime story. No matter how many times Y/N told her that Harry couldn’t do that but that he would be home in a few days, Tallulah didn’t understand why her dad wasn’t there to give her cuddles and rub her back until she fell asleep like he often did. Eventually, her exhaustion caught up to her and she gave in to the need for sleep, but Y/N had a feeling that that wouldn’t be the end of her tantrum.

It was nearly eleven o’clock, and Y/N was in the living room enjoying a glass of red wine from Harry’s vast collection of alcohol that he kept in his office (for some reason he had an irrational fear that Tallulah would somehow get into it, so he kept it locked away in a room where she wasn’t allowed in). The fermented concoction had almost lulled her to into a light slumber right there on the couch in the middle of a documentary about how agriculture influenced climate change when she heard the piercing cries of a toddler coming from down the hall.

Y/N rushed towards Tallulah’s room, all effects of the wine immediately dissipating as her mind went to the worst possible scenario. She’d fallen off her bed and hurt herself, she was having an allergic reaction, there was a strange man in her room trying to kidnap her. But there was seemingly nothing wrong with Tallulah when Y/N flung her bedroom door open so quickly she almost broke the knob.

“What’s wrong, Lulah?” she asked as she approached her on the bed that sat low to the ground.

Tallulah was red in the face, covered in a thin layer of sweat, and tears continuously flowed from her bright, green eyes that looked exactly like Harry’s and even shifted a teal blue in the sunlight.

Y/N’s heart sunk when she heard it. Over and over again. Nothing else. Only crying out one word.

“Daddy.”

She didn’t want to overwhelm her, so Y/N laid down next to Tallulah and pulled her close. As she brushed her curls away from where they were matted to her sweaty forehead, Y/N cooed her reptitiously in an attempt to calm her down. After about three minutes of incesant crying and copious amounts of fat, shiny tears, Y/N needed a better idea.

“I know you miss him, bubs. I miss him too. But he’ll be home soon, okay? I know something that might make you feel better. Do you want to come in daddy’s room with me?”

It was quiet and muffled over her blubbery cries, but Y/N heard a tiny, “yes,” escape through her lips and then she was scooping Tallulah up into her arms and carrying her off to the master bedroom.

She placed her in the middle of Harry’s bed and quickly began digging through Harry’s dresser for what she was looking for. When she found it, she ran back to Tallulah’s curled up body on the mattress.

“Okay, whenever I miss your dad, I put on one of his shirts because it smells like him. It always makes me feel like he’s close to me. Do you want try that?”

The toddler had calmed down dramatically since she’d left her own bed, most likely due to exhaustion from crying so much in such a short period of time. She gave Y/N a gentle nod and let her take off her matching set of pajamas and replace them with the shirt of Harry’s that dropped almost all of the way to her feet. It was a white t-shirt with the words “Dream Boat” screened onto the fabric, which was perhaps a bit controversial for his two-year-old daughter to be wearing, but it was the smallest shirt of his that she could find. Otherwise, it’d be falling off of her shoulders and she wouldn’t be able to move.

“Can you smell it?” Y/N bunches the fabric in her hands and raises it to Tallulah’s nose.

“Smells like daddy, doesn’t it?”

Tallulah inhaled the best she could through her stuffy nose.

“‘mells good,” she whimpered, reaching her short arms to wrap around Y/N’s neck.

“Do you want to lie in daddy’s bed with me for a little bit? You can sleep in here, if you want,” Y/N spoke softly into Tallulah’s hair while she held her.

Y/N felt a nod against her chest and that was all it took for her to climb towards the pillow with Tallulah in her arms. She laid Tallulah on Harry’s side of the bed, hoping that the extra scent he left in the sheets would further will her back to sleep.

And it worked.

After reaffirming what felt like a million times that Harry would cuddle her for an entire day straight when he got home because he missed her just as much as she missed him, her eyes slowly shut and peace took over. Y/N thought the coast was clear and a crisis had been averted, and she also remembered that she hadn’t taken her makeup off yet. So she wriggled Tallulah off of her chest and slipped stealthily out of the bed like a burglar attempting to not get caught and tiptoed away into the bathroom to wash her face.

Right when she was patting her face dry with one of the plush towels on the rack in Harry’s bathroom, she realized that the coast was indeed, not clear, and Tallulah began wailing once again.

“It’s okay, Lulah. I’m right here,” Y/N consoled the small girl that looked even smaller in Harry’s king-sized bed.

But she wasn’t interested in Y/N at all. Her sobbing was louder than the last and it was Harry’s name that fell from her weepy lips like it was the only thing keeping her alive. This time, Y/N knew there was nothing that could soothe her besides Harry himself.

“Here, baby,” Y/N wriggled the toddler out of her arms and reached over to the nightstand to grab her cell phone, “Let’s see if daddy’s awake and maybe you can talk to him again, okay?”

“Okay,” Tallulah huffed, but it sounded more like “o-tay.”

Under any other circumstances, Y/N would be awing at the way she said certain words, but now, she just wanted Tallulah to go back to sleep. She was just as exhausted as Tallulah and was starting to become overwhelmed by the nature of everything that was happening.

Harry picked up her FaceTime on the second ring, eyes wide and concerning even though Y/N could tell that her call had woken him up.

“What’s goin’ on? ‘S she alright?”

Her cries that he heard through his speaker broke his heart, and he wanted nothing more than to jump on the next flight home to hold his sweet little girl until all of the tears had dried from her face.

“She’s been crying for the last hour, Har. She wants you. Maybe talk to her a little and see if she calms down?”

She heard Harry curse under his breath and rub the sleep out of his eyes. There was a sense of relief that washed over him when he realized that everything was alright and his daughter wasn’t in any immediate danger, but he didn’t quite feel better by any means. Y/N tilted the phone down towards Tallulah who had taken to rubbing the corner of Harry’s pillowcase between her thumb and forefinger.

“Lulah, baby. Talk t’ me. What’s the matter?”

“Daddy?” her face lifted from where it was buried in her stuffed elephant that she’d had since she was a baby and looked up to see her father’s face lit up on Y/N’s phone screen.

“Hi, lovie. Why’re yeh cryin’?”

“Want you come home,” she pouted, her bottom lip jutting out in a way that made her look far too adorable for how sad she really was.

“I know yeh do, petal. I’ll be home soon. I promise. Then, we can have a big cuddle. Does that sound good?”

“You come home tomorrow?” she asked, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

Harry internally cringed when he saw her wipe it on his sheets, but he was obviously not going to scold her for it at the moment.

“Not tomorrow, but soon. I’m not goin’ anywhere for a long time after this so it’ll be just me and you for a bit.”

Tallulah grew upset by this, and understandably so. Her dad always gave her cuddles when she was sad. Why was he telling her that he couldn’t?

He sensed her tears springing back to life, to which he quickly diverted her attention away from.

“Tell me more about what yeh did with Y/N today at the carnival, bug.”

After sucking up a few slobbery breaths, Tallulah was able to speak to Harry again.

“We got a fishy.”

Damnit.

Harry’s ears perked up.

“A fishy? At the carnival? How did yeh do that?”

“Y/N gotted it.”

“She did?”

Y/N knew Harry was not only talking to Tallulah but also to her. A tone that suggested Y/N had some explaining to do, but he wasn’t going to bring that up now.

“Yeah, she winned a game.”

“Does the fishy have a name?”

“Carrot.”

This made Harry snort, as he was not expected that one.

“And did Y/N get Carrot a nice bowl and some food?”

“Mhmm,” Tallulah nodded, “He’s in the kitchen.”

“Well, that sounds lovely. I can’t wait to meet Carrot. Gonna give him cuddles when I get home, too.”

“He said he loves you.”

“That’s very sweet of him. Tell Carrot I love him, too.”

There was a long pause in which Harry, Tallulah, and Y/N all yawned, clearly overtaken by the urge to fall into a deep sleep.

“It’s really late, Lulah. Yeh think yeh can go back t’ bed for me?”

Tallulah brazenly shook her head from side to side, no.

Harry sighed heavily, his frustration and sadness becoming all too much for him to bear. He was nervous to do what he was about to offer, but he knew it was the last resort in anyone in this scenario getting any sleep whatsoever.

“What if I sing yeh your song? Will that make yeh feel better?”

He watched as her eyes light up with a glint of joy and he knew that that was possibly the cure to everyone’s problems.

“Peas?”

“Of course, baby. Thank yeh for usin’ yeh manners.”

Y/N laid the phone down so she could reposition Tallulah in her lap as Harry’s melodic voice began to pour from the speakers.

It was her favorite song in the entire world. No matter what was wrong or how upset she was, the second he sang the first few notes and the sound registered in her ears, Tallulah was always able to bring herself back down to earth.

The first time he sang it to her, she was only ten weeks old, just two weeks after she was brought into his life. He first thought it was a one-off chance that the song had lulled her to sleep, but he quickly found out he was wrong and that she took a genuine liking to it. He’s always assumed it brought on a sense of familiarity and comfort to her whenever she felt like her tiny, two-year-old life was crashing down on her.

Y/N had never actually seen him sing to her. She’d heard it a time or two through the door of her bedroom when she stayed over, but she’d never asked Harry about it. She had always let their song be just that - their song.

Hopefully, and he genuinely means hopefully, the trick works just as well as it usually does despite him not being there physically. He’s got to be up at five and he refuses to hang up the phone until his baby isn’t sad anymore.

It took a bit longer than usual, but by the second round of the chorus, her eyelids were heavy and the grip she had on Y/N’s lotus pendant had weakened. Hell, the song almost put Y/N to sleep as well. Had she not been worried sick over waking Harry up in the middle of the night and his daughter spilling the beans about the fucking fish, she would have been out well before Tallulah. She loved his singing voice, but she only ever got to hear it when he bopping along to a song on the radio or when he was really, really drunk.

As the last few notes of the song trailed to silence, both Y/N and Harry took a peek at Tallulah through the phone screen, eager to see if she was fully asleep or just in a state of tranquility. Sure enough, she was out cold.

“I think she’s asleep,” Y/N whispered.

“Thank god,” Harry muttered, “Bloody awful, that was. She’d been cryin’ like that the whole time?”

“Pretty much. Sorry for calling so late, I didn’t know what else to do.”

“‘S alright. Honestly, I was waiting for it. When she stays with mum, I usually get a call or two just like this. By the way, was she wearin’ my ‘Dream Boat’ shirt?”

Y/N starts to chuckle but remembers there is a fragile (both physically and emotionally) child on her chest and she can’t move too much in fear of waking her back up.

“Yeah, she is. I told her I wear your shirts and sleep on your side of the bed when I miss you because they smell like you and thought it would calm her down. It kinda did, but she woke up when I left to go to the bathroom.”

“Christ,” Harry wipes his face with his large, ringed hands.

“What?”

“That’s the cutest shit I’ve ever heard in my life. I love you. A lot.”

“I love you a lot, too,” Y/N grinned.

After a brief moment, Harry talks again.

“So, what’s this about a fish named Carrot?”

Y/N grits her teeth together and sucks in a deep breath.

“Have you seen her face? I know you have. What was I supposed to tell her? No? Got that fucker on the first try after spending seventeen dollars trying to win her a stuffed animal.”

A laugh from deep within Harry’s belly reached the surface and he stifled it with his fist.

“You’ve got a point, princess.”

“I can get rid of him, if you want. I figured she’d get bored and forget about him in a few days, so it wasn’t a big deal.”

“No,” Harry insists, “Keep him. Teach her how t’ take care of him. Give her a responsibility. Maybe she’ll stop harrassin’ me about gettin’ a damn cat.”

“Already done,” Y/N smiles proudly at the camera.

“She knows we feed him in the mornings and she told me she’d help clean his bowl once a week. Even taught her how to say ‘fish’ in french.”

“Have I already told yeh that I love yeh? ‘Cause I do.”

“You did. But I don’t mind hearing it again.”

Harry took a moment to just look at her. Her eyes were bloodshot and he knew she probably felt like she’d just been to hell and back, but there, with his baby girl on her chest, she had never looked more beautiful. He was physically incapable of stopping the words that left his mouth.

“Move in with me.”

“Hmm?” she lifted her head from where it was resting halfway on her pillow and halfway on Harry’s as if to see if he really just said what she thought he said.

“Only if yeh want to. I know it’s a bigger deal because of Lulah, so I get it if yeh still want yeh space. Just...really want yeh around all of the time. And I know she does, too.”

Y/N smiled from ear to ear and placed her free hand that wasn’t holding the phone on top of Tallulah’s curls. She’d been wondering when this conversation would happen, given that she sleeps over at Harry’s more than she does her own apartment and she’d slowly taken over half of the drawers in his bathroom and three shelves in his closet; she just hadn’t expected it to come at midnight, directly after his daughter had the biggest meltdown she’d ever witnessed.

“If I say yes, will you sing to me like that every night?”

Harry blushed beet red as he breathed heavily through his nose.

“If that’s what it takes. Then, yes.”

“Think Lulah’s strong enough to help me carry some boxes?”

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #dad!harry #dad!Harry styles #dad!harry x reader #dad!harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

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lilsuzn · 3 years

Text

MLQC Gavin - Fluff abc headcanons

So by the popular demand - I am back.

Just kidding. No one was asking.

Fandom: Mr. Love: Queen's Choice

Warnings: None (the reader is gender neutral)

Dedication: @marytheredqueen

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

You need to trust me when I tell you that Gavin had indeed tried to find at least one thing he could dislike about you. Many times.

Yet your body seems to have no flaws. He checked quite a few times at this point.

Your heart is pure. Loving. Patient. Loyal.

Whenever you’re at his side… The world is at peace. No pain exists, nor does suffering.

You are his purpose. You are his equilibrium. Nothing matters as long as he can be by your side.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Your beautiful eyes.

There will never be anything more beautiful than the way they shine before your lips meet in a loving kiss.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

Him on his back.

You in his arms. Laying on top of him.

Your head rests on his chest, no matter if it’s your front, side or back that presses against his muscular torso - it’s perfect.

He also likes the smell of your shampoo… it’s just intoxicating for him.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

He likes doing things outside with you.

Attending festivals, engaging in new, interesting sports, indulging in some street food or picnics.

He’s a sucker for long, romantic walks too, soooooo

He takes you out to the festival. Buys all kinds of yummy food for both of you to share. Wins you an enormous plushie and then carries it around for you. While holding your hand. Tightly.

Then takes you for a night stroll, to then kiss you under the sky full of stars before you turn back.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

He only feels like he can really express himself around you - so it will get intense. In all the best ways.

Gavin doesn’t shy away with showing you his affection, even if he tends to have a slight problem with voicing it sometimes.

His expression softness, his fingers brush delicate circles on your skin.

He doesn’t need to say anything. You know.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

Oh he really, really wants a family.

Two kids… or maybe more.

A dog for them, maybe.

House with a big garden and a treehouse.

He wants to play and fool around with his kids. Put them to bed. Support them. Be proud of them… Everything his father never did.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

When you want something, no matter how silly it might be - it’s yours.

Don’t even make me start on what you need.

Because there are very little things (and all of them are about you) that could make him happier than seeing you happy because of what he gave you.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

It's not optional.

There will be hands holding whenever it's possible.

It’s as much for your safety as it is for his comfort.

All these guys with eyes better don’t use them to stare at you.

See this hand? This beautiful gem of a person is with ME.

Likes to hold your hand while snuggling on a couch. Or in bed while falling asleep.

Holding hands is like a physical projection of the bond that’s between the two of you - and he loves it.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

He would blame himself. No matter what. It might be ridiculous, but he would always feel guilty for not preventing it from happening.

Wouldn’t leave your side. Would help you with anything and everything.

If there’s a concrete person or a group of people that caused your harm... Insert a very, very angry and strong bird cop with a gun.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

You would have a light-hearted relationship in which he would tease you from time to time and he wouldn’t be mad if you did the same to him.

However he’s not one to prank you. He would find no enjoyment in it.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Gavin loves to be kissed and he loves to kiss. All over your face. All over your body.

Any kisses are game. Slow and passionate ones. Heated ones. Sweet, delicate, loving, appreciating - he loves them all as long as he can share them with you.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

Acts of service - He looooves to spoil his lovely sweetheart (you) this way. Wants to bring you food, tidy up your apartment for you, brush your hair, paint your nails… Just ask him and he will do it. Whatever it is. And then he will do things on his own initiative, because he likes to surprise you. You smile so beautifully when he does…...

Gifts - He likes gift giving as I already mentioned in G, but it’s no indication of love to him. He just enjoys your reactions. Prefers to show his love differently.

Physical touch - His number one and you can not convince me it is not. He’s a snuggly bear who loves kisses. You are just so soft and warm and he loves you sosososososo much. Would never want to hold this way any other. His physical affection is something reserved only for you.

Quality time - see Q.

Words of affirmation - Gavin is not very good with words. Not that he can’t be when he wants to, but he kinda doesn’t want to most of the time. It’s uncomfortable. He’s feeling unconfident doing so. He prefers other ways, but when he does speak up… It’s the most adorable and loving thing you will ever hear in your life.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

It was your first 'real' date, but even though you both confessed love to each other, you weren't a ‘official’ couple yet.

At least there was no proper act of becoming a one.

You walk through the park on an evening of a chilly fall. Not many people in sight.

You just finished a lovely dinner date. Gavin even bought you a dessert to share.

And it just felt right. Everything.

The way your fingers were laced. How you both couldn't spot peeping at each other.

"Will you be my girlfriend Y/N? Please?"

He sure was pretty sure you wouldn't deny him, but he didn't expect you to throw your arms around his neck and kiss him the way you did.

"Nothing could ever make me happier than that, Gavin."

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

He’s scared of losing you.

Either by you walking away from him after discovering that you “deserve so much better”

Or by not being alert enough to protect you…

Surely, he would prefer the first option, but he can’t deny that both would hit him harder than anything else ever could.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

Gavin is a little bit of an odd duck in general, but I think he has one major weirdness about him.

I would call it… A Keanu Reeves complex.

He doesn’t like compliments. Always feels like they’re far from true, because he always feels like he’s not enough and maybe even never will be.

Which is so far from true.

Like, Vivi, come on! You’re so freakin perfect!

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

He usually calls you simply by your name, but the boy has his moments.

Moments when he can help but call you all sorts of the cutest names.

Little angel, starry eyes, little munchkin along with the classics like honey, babe, sweetheart, treasure and my precious.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

How?

Often.

Intensely.

Calmly.

Comfortably.

Restlessly.

He just wants to be by your side. Any. Chance. He. Gets.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

Moonlight by Ariana Grande

Because Gavin’s sweet like candy, but he’s such a man...

Or A Drop In The Ocean by Ron Pope

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

Not at all. At least at first.

He gets better with time, but you still need to ask for it. He would never just come to you to lean on your shoulder and tell you what troubles him.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

Well. A lot.

Because of what I say in X below.

He just assumes that you don’t reciprocate his feelings, because he doesn’t deserve it.

He eventually tells you about his feelings under your insistent questions regarding the subject.

And then? After he finally tells you?

That’s when it escalates quickly.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

At first he tries to keep it inside. Not let you see… But it’s pretty obvious since he doesn’t talk to you. Barely throws any acknowledgment your way.

It would take quite some convincing for him to tell you what’s wrong.

Unless it’s jealousy that is a reason behind his anger. Then he will show you just how upset he is…

Not necessary in a bad way, tho...

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

He’s very proud of you. Always.

Even when you think you’re a failure, he still recognizes how hard you work and how smart you are.

And he also prides himself for earning love of a woman as wonderful as you.

But he’s not a show off. He doesn’t like to be in a center of attention. He doesn’t care for compliments or recognition.

He knows how wonderful you are and that’s all that matters to him.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

Well, it goes without saying.

Yes. Obviously.

This is Gavin. He does it actively throughout the whole story like it’s the only thing he knows.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

He’s not an expert in emotions.

He gave MC a blood stained letter and was surprised she was troubled by that.

Okay, let’s not sugar coat it - he’s not good at it at all. I said it.

I’m sorry. I wish it was different for you Vivi.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

I think in Gavin’s case it would be no kneeling with a ring type of thing, because he personally sees no value of that.

Of course, he would if you told him that that’s what you want, but if you don’t…

It would be a beautiful, summer evening. The both of you watching a beautiful sunset from the rooftop of a high building.

Last months you spent together were absolutely wonderful. Life with you by his side was much happier than Gavin could ever dream of… And the way the golden sunlight graces your skin is so, so beautiful.

It wasn’t the first time the thought crossed the bird cop’s mind. He caught himself thinking about it more and more often as your relationship progressed… And before he knew it, the words left his lips.

At first you were sure you must have misheard, so you asked him to repeat. And he did.

His beautiful eyes glimmered with so much love… just as much as you felt for him.

How could you say no to that gorgeous man that adores you so much?

And after that, expect to someday come back home to find the most beautiful and meaningful ring in the world waiting for you to wear it.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

Gavin is a man who enjoys simple things in life.

He likes to cozy up with you on a couch on his birthday.

Watch a sunrise and drink cocoa with you on Christmas.

He obviously enjoys various sports, especially if he can enjoy them with you.

But what really, really makes him perfectly calm? Driving Sparky with your hands around his ways and your chest pressed against his back.

The feeling of freedom mixed the warmth of your closeness… how could anyone ask for more?

#mlqc #mr love queen's choice #mlqc fluff #mlqc gavin #mlqc headcanon #mlqc hc #mlqc gavin bai

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toriwakes · 3 years

Text

Choosing You [George Weasley x Reader]

summary: you and fred were always an unlikely pair. it was too good to be true.

content warnings: cheating, suggestive activities, angsty fluff, some swearing. fem!reader (pronouns she/her)

a/n: hello! i thought of this concept in the shower. i’m actually super proud of it. it was kinda inspired by the people saying that when they shift, fred cheats on them if they don’t script otherwise but...yeah. hope u like it and as always, let me know if you have any requests!

they were so different. too different, some said. she was dedicated, intelligent, reserved. he was loud, always moving, outgoing. no one expected the two to be a match. some accused her of putting him under a love potion, but he assured her that he didn’t need a love potion; he was devoted to her. at first she couldn’t believe it when the weasley boy asked her out- how could she? they were friends, sure. but just like everyone else, she found it mind-boggling that he took interest in her. she accepted though, jaws dropping when they made their relationship public. they went to quidditch practice together, went to the kitchens late at night and even used her prefect powers to get him out of trouble.

so you can imagine the utter shock, anger and confusion when she caught him in bed with another girl.

after what felt like decades, quidditch practice finally ended. she was eager to check up on fred; he must be in so much pain since he was sick. she frowned at the thought. she picked up some of fred’s favorite snacks hoping they would make him feel better. (y/n) did small things like that for him. that’s the type of good girlfriend she is. why wasn’t she good enough for him?

she entered the common room quietly, not wanting to startle her sick boy. when she finally reached the steps to the boys dormitory, she heard faint pants. this actually made her reach the door faster. she believed that fred was having some sort of reaction to the medicine and wanted to help. her hand was on the knob now, but she realized something. the pants turned into moans- she recognized it right away. who wouldn’t recognize gryffindor’s head girl’s voice? before she could stop herself she opened the door and saw exactly what she was expecting to see. fred’s frame covering most of angelina’s. he was still in her. when they finally noticed the girl they panicked. fred’s eyes went wide and he threw the covers over the figure under him, left to cover his manhood with his hands. (y/n)’s head was mad. ‘curse them out! embarrass them!’ it screamed. but her heart was kicking, screaming and sobbing so loud that all that came out of her mouth was a quiet, “how could you do this to me?”

fred was red in the face and angelina had the same look of shock on her face. “(y/n)? is that you?” hermione’s sweet voice spoke. (y/n) ignored her. fred leaped forward to shut the door but (y/n) stopped him. she forcefully shoved him back; now her head was talking. “did you enjoy yourself then?” she shouted. “did you? are you content?!” fred was stumbling back- he could see hermiones flabbergasted face over (y/n)’s shoulder. “answer me! how dare you! you’re up here fucking her while i’m down there worried sick about you, you bastard!” they stayed quiet. “should i be seeing this?” hermione peeped. (y/n) never removed her eyes as she spoke, “hermione you stay right there. i want you to hear and see everything so you can tell everyone how pathetic fred weasley is!” he flinched at your shouting. she didn’t even hear the rest of the team walk into the common room. “i don’t think i need to tell anyone.” hermione scoffed. she waved everyone up, and next thing you know, the entirety of gryffindor house witnessed the scene. (y/n) turned around. absolutely out of her mind, she opened her moth. “welcome to the show! if you look closely you’ll see fred weasley, a poor excuse of a man.-“ she moved so she could shift the attention to angelina. “-and angelina johnson.” she dropped her arms to her side and kissed her teeth in disgust. “a disgrace to gryffindor house.” she spat. now completely turning around so her back was to the pair, she spoke to the small crowd that formed. “take a picture, i hope you all remember this moment. i know i will.” with that, everyone made a space so she could leave, kicking the sweets she brought in that had fallen on the way out. “freddie...” george sighed.

george was mentally cursing out his idiot of a brother. did he forget the bet? the promise they made? about 3 months ago fred noticed (y/n) for the first time. with a cocky tone he whispered to his twin, “i want her.” george felt like punching his brother. he wanted (y/n). and he let it be known. “dude, i want her.” fred shrugged and proposed a bet; whoever swept her off her feet first would get the girl first. fred ultimately won, but george warned him. “you treat her right, okay?” fred promised george that he would. he broke that promise. the twins never break each other’s promises.

no one knows where she went that night. some say she went to hagrid’s hut and she cried like a baby into his bushy beard. others say she went to mcgonagall and the professor gave her outstanding advice. they were good guesses, but wrong. only george weasley knew where she went. he followed her with caution- he was sure the last thing he wanted to see was a replica of what once was her boyfriend. she went to the greenhouses, which made sense. she loved herbology. he only revealed himself when she started to cry. “(y/n).” her eyes were shut from blinking away the tears but she managed to draw her wand and point it at him. “what do you want, fred?” when she opened her eyes, she. realized that wasn’t fred. she was one of the few people who could tell them apart, and she didn’t see fred. she saw george. tucking away her wand, she sighed. “oh. hello george.” she slumped against a nearby column. “hey.” she was gazing into the sky. “you’re not mad i’m here?” he finally asked. “no. why would i be?” she knew exactly why. she just wanted to hear him say it. “well, you know..fred.” she only laughed. “about that..” he trailed. “you know what i realized about him? he’s not a real boyfriend. he only gets girlfriends so he can cheat on them, can you believe that? he grabs girls hearts, and then he just breaks them. and for what, the thrill of it? it’s sad.” she hissed. george shut his mouth. he decided to not defend fred this time. it was his battle and his only. “if it’s makes you feel better, i didn’t know.” “i know you didn’t. you would’ve told me. wouldn’t you, george?” she looked at him now. “of course.” the gingers head was full. he contemplated telling her about the bet. “she deserves to know.” “yeah, i did.” she scoffed. george only just realizing he said the sentence out loud, cleared his throat. “i doubt it’s worth anything, but fred and i had a bet.” she whipped her head to look at him. “a bet?” he slowly nodded. “we both had a crush on you. we said whoever won your heart first, had you.” “you idiots had a bet on my feelings?!” she said, rightfully angry. george looked down shamefully. “i know, it was stupid. look, i know your heart is broken right now but i have to ask...when it’s healed, so you think we could..” (y/n) chuckled. her eyes fixated on the moon, she spoke, “my heart isn’t broken.” “it’s not?” george now spoke with a smirk. “nope.” she popped the ‘p’ with a smile. “does that mean i’ll have a chance to sweep you off your feet?” she shook her head. “yeah.” “cool.” they stood around in silence for a moment. then, (y/n) got an idea. “do you want to go to the lake?” george scrunched his eyebrows. “it’s past hours.” (y/n) looked at him curiously. “since when do you care if it’s past hours?” “touché.”

two weeks was all it took. she was as good as new. she owed george some credit for her quick recovery. they spent endless amounts of time together. “do you wanna do this?” george inquired. he meant go public- show off in front of the entire great hall that you were in fact his now. “you don’t think they’ll think poorly of us?” (y/n) picked up george’s hand and put it in hers. “anyone who thinks poorly of us is supporting angelina and fred’s choices. do you need that type of person in your life?” she asked. george simply smiled and pecked her on the lips. “keep away from her!” they were torn apart by hermione, a look of pure disturbance on her face. “oh! goodness, forgive me. i thought you were fred.” “hermione?” (y/n) said. hermione cocked her head as if to say ‘yes?’ “what would you say if george and i were dating?” hermione’s breath hitched, sounding like a gasp. in a low whisper, she asked, “are you?” (y/n) looked at george. george was already looking at her with a grin. “yeah.” hermione was already smiling, but she smiled brighter and gave the couple a slow clap. “brilliant!”

all eyes were on them. everyone in the great hall had their jaws on the floor as george walked in with (y/n) on his arm, a cocky smirk on his face. they even got looks of respects from slytherins. angelina reacted first, fred right after her. “you’re a slut.” angelia spat. ‘that’s funny’ (y/n) thought. ‘i don’t remember transfiguring myself into a mirror’. gasps erupted from the hall. george lunged forward but she held him back. “you...want to talk about being a slut?” (y/n)’s cold voice was unsettling. without reason angelina flicked her wand, basically punching the girl in the face with a jinx. (y/n) touched her nostril- blood. “george, honey, do me a favor. have a seat.” george sat down at her words. blood on her robes now, (y/n) faced angelina. the girl raised her wand but toria was quicker, muttering a “flipendo!” and knocking angelina back several feet.

of course that was when snape walked in.

he crossed his arms and sucked his teeth. it reminded her of when she caught fred. “i’d love to hear your explanation for this one, (y/l/n).” he had a shit-eating smirk on his face. “and i’d love to give you one, professor. as incriminating as this scene looks- none of it was my fault. angelina verbally attacked me first, calling me rude words that i shouldn’t repeat. then physically, giving me-“ she wiped her bloody nose with her thumb. “-this gem.” snape’s black eyes switched between the two girls. “and everyone here can confirm that.” (y/n) added. several ‘yeah, she’s right’s came from the students. “alright then. 20 points from gryffindor. ms johnson, come with me. (y/l/n), get yourself to the infirmary and stop bleeding everywhere.” snape left with angelina who seemed to have a bruise on her arm. “so that’s it then?” fred spoke now, george putting himself in front of you. “i guess it is.” her boyfriend said. “you know what you’re doing is wrong, right? you can’t date my exes-“ she was going to let george handle it, but now she had to but in. “you don’t have any say in what he can and can’t do! not after what you did. he’s lost his respect for you.” george grabbed his girlfriends hand in attempt to calm her down. “you’ve love your respect for me?” fred sounded sad. george didn’t care. “earn it back once you’ve decided to stop being an ass.”

george was walking her to the hospital wing now. “this won’t get in the way in your relationship with him, will it?” george sighed. “you’re so good, you know that? my brother cheated on you and you’re worried about if him and i will be okay.” you smiled. “i should’ve chose you.” she whispered. “what was that?” george hummed. she spun in her feet and cupped his face, pulling him down so their lips could meet. “im choosing you.”

#george weasley fanfiction #george wealsey x reader #george wealsey imagine #george weasley #weasley twins imagine #weasley twins fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #harry potter #draco malfoy smut

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 3 years

Text

We've Got Tonight - Ch 4

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This story is set hazily around season 8. Just squint a little, and it’ll settle in somewhere. I wrote this story after certain big revelations in the show, but before other big ones; you’ll most likely be able to tell which. I play with time a bit in the story itself, so if things seem out of order, they are. Hopefully, by the end, all the pieces will fit together.

What the hell, let’s give it a shot.

EXTRA WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS THE SOURCE OF MOST OF THE WARNINGS FOR THE STORY. Please don't kill me. THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER, I PROMISE. It's not over yet. I can't promise you won't hate me when it's over, but I will not leave you here. There's more.

Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

In case you missed it: Chapter 3 ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

...

We’ve Got Tonight

Ch 4

Pre-dawn is too damn cold, she decides. She has to visually check that her fingers are actually doing up the buttons to her ragged denim jacket. She lost sensation in her hands a while back, and it’s the only way to make sure they’re actually doing their job. Her jacket is utterly unsuitable for the current temperature, but she doesn’t expect to need it for much longer.

Just before sunrise, Crowley told her.

The sky is already lightening on the horizon, the medium gray more obvious than she would have thought against the stark black, but, then, she’s never had much occasion to be out quite this late before. She’s usually done at the diner by six, singing at the club by ten, and in bed by two at the latest. She hopes Crowley is punctual. She can’t decide if the waiting or the cold is worse.

Except that, yes, she really can. The waiting is definitely worse.

The sound of shifting gravel pulls her out of her thoughts, and she turns to find the King of Hell himself smiling beatifically at her. She shivers, not bothering to search out the source of her discomfort, as she is rather spoiled for choice at the moment. She’s out in the freezing dark, about to hand over her life and soul to a demon because deranged cultists got it into their heads that they should use her blood to start an apocalypse (and who knew there was more than one of those outside of Sunnydale, seriously).

Shivering is probably the most rational reaction she’s had in a while.

“Hello, darling. Pleasant evening with the boys?”

He’s got more sass in one off-the cuff remark than she has in her entire history, and for a moment she can only marvel at the affected innocence in his expression. It's almost convincing. She opts to remain silent rather than take his bait. He smirks, the expression natural and only a touch derisive.

“No surprises, then? No sidekicks to save you at the last minute from the bad, bad demon?”

“I thought the torture didn’t start until after you kill me,” she sighs, hugging her arms tighter around herself, a futile attempt to ward off the chill. Maybe she’s got a little spark in her, after all. He laughs, a friendly, personable chuckle that would set anyone else at ease, reassure them of his honorable, benign intentions.

“Come on, Crowley, what's the hold up? I was here on time. Can we just get this over with already? I could have gotten one more round in with Dean if we were just going to stand around, shootin’ the breeze.”

Even watching for it, she can only just see the tick in Crowley's jaw, the slightest tension that betrays...something. She doesn't know what or why, but Crowley has more than a little unhealthy obsession with the elder Winchester brother, and she is pleased she managed to crack his veneer even for the briefest moment.

At least I don't have to worry about Dean, Andy thinks, relief creeping into the sea of dread that is her stomach. Her deal with Crowley was not only about stopping the apocalypse but also keeping Sam and Dean and even Castiel safe.

“Once you're gone, I won’t harm a hair on their precious heads, nor any other part of them,” he swore to her a mere eighteen hours earlier.

“I’m hurt you don't find my company more pleasant, love,” he murmurs, taking a couple of steps closer. He slides his hands in his coat pockets, the very picture of nonchalance. “I do try my best to be cordial, even congenial, after all. But since you’re so very uncomfortable, I suppose you won't object, then, that I took the liberty of inviting a few friends whose company you seem to prefer. What a lovely party we’ll have when they get here.”

As if he’s summoned them, a pair of lights appear in the distance, growing larger with every passing moment. Headlights, she realizes; a second later, she hears the distinctive roaring of a very particular car engine, and before she can turn back to Crowley, the Impala leaps out of the darkness, skidding across the hard-packed dirt road, coming to a halt bare inches from the demon’s impeccably shined shoes.

Andy stumbles back, choking in the cloud of dust the car kicks up, only to hit something solid. Impossibly strong fingers dig into her chin, lifting her face out and away as cold, thin metal is pressed to the side of her neck, and only now does she freeze.

“Let her go, Crowley,” Dean growls, his gun drawn and aimed even before he exits the car. “This isn't her fight, and you know it!” On the other side, Sam and Castiel climb out, Sam drawing his gun and moving to flank the demon.

“I do heartily protest, sir,” Crowley says, his tone mild and conversational. The blade digs in ever so slightly under her ear, and a thin trickle of warmth slides down her skin to soak into her collar. Dean doesn't flinch, but his eyes narrow, and he readjusts his aim.

“Not only is the lady at the epicenter of this fight, she's gone and made herself the brightest star in the show. Ask her yourself, if you don’t believe me.”

“How-” she manages through fear-numbed vocal cords. Dean should be unconscious, snoring blissfully away in his bed where she left him. She made sure to leave no sort of trail they could follow, and she checked that they were all asleep or otherwise occupied before she took off.

“I wasn’t asleep, Andy,” Dean replies, leveling his gun at Crowley. “And I’ve been tracking since I was seven. Gimme some credit.”

“I wouldn't do that, if I were you, Moose.” Crowley’s words freeze Sam in his tracks, and the blade on Andy’s neck digs in a little deeper. The flow of warmth down her neck widens just a touch. The sheer smugness in Crowley’s tone sets her teeth on edge, breaking through her stupor, and she grabs the hand with the knife, pulling at it with all her might. She, of course, doesn’t make a dent in the demonic strength, but she’s got to try something.

If you asked her later, Andy would swear to you that the searing pain that drags along her neck parallel to her jaw line right then is pure Hellfire. Deep down in the darkest recesses of her mind where all the worst truths lurk, she knows she’s feeling the bite from Crowley’s knife, but in that instant all she is aware of is the agony of the wound, of Dean’s enraged roar, and the juxtaposition of Crowley’s gentle touch pressing her own fingers to something hot and slippery under her jaw.

“Hold pressure there, sweetheart, or you’ll bleed out too soon. Wouldn’t want you to miss the finale.”

Her knees buckle, and she drops, but somehow she stays upright long enough to see Crowley’s demons approach out of the darkness. She tries to warn the boys, but time moves with a dreamlike lethargy that betrays every one of her good intentions, and, anyway, her voice doesn’t seem to be working at the moment. The roar of gunfire all around her sounds faint in comparison to the rushing in her ears, and she is powerless to stop Crowley’s plans from reaching fruition.

“You...said...you wouldn’t...”

“Well, pet, you aren’t dead yet, are you? I’ve got, what, at least another three minutes before you snuff it, by my count. Plenty of time to conclude my business with the Winchesters and their featherbrained friend before you expire.”

Though he was right behind her only a moment ago, Crowley appears abruptly next to Castiel, who at the moment is distracted by two lesser demons both wielding machetes. She realizes as she watches Cas easily fend them off that they, just like Andy, are only a distraction, only bait to tempt the bigger players to overextend themselves.

Too late, she sees the perfection of Crowley’s plan. In all the confusion, she loses track of Sam, and she wrenches her eyes away from Dean’s staggering form only to watch as the angel blade in Crowley’s hand bursts through Castiel’s chest. Then her gentle, confused friend is gone in a flash. The demons vanish, and she can’t find Sam or Dean, can’t reach them, can’t make her voice work to call out.

The quiet is wrong, so out of place after the violent cacophony. The roaring is gone, the gunfire silenced, and all that’s left is a terrible wheezing, gurgling sound that takes her too long to recognize as her own labored breathing.

“Crow...ley…”

“I’m here, darling. What do you need?”

“Lying...bastard…”

“Now, now, sweetheart, are those really what you want your last words to be?” He lifts her easily from the ground, carrying her the few yards to where Dean lies sprawled in the dusty gravel. His shirt is stained black in the retreating darkness, and Andy can only be thankful that she won’t make it to sunrise to see what exact shade of red is spreading over him. Dean’s far hand scrabbles on the ground, stopping its frantic search only when it finds his brother’s.

Sam’s still form doesn’t return his brother’s grip.

“After all, I’ve done you a favor; I didn’t have to give you the opportunity to say good-bye. I can’t promise you adjoining cells, but I’m sure your torture will coincide with his occasionally,” Crowley continues conversationally, “so, really, the two of you should be thanking me that you’ll at least get occasional visiting privileges. It pays to be on good terms with the king, after all. And, who knows? After a couple hundred years of good behavior, I might even be persuaded to-”

“Why?” It’s all she can manage as he lays her on the ground. Dean reaches for her with his free hand, and she is just able to find his fingers. Their eyes meet, but her vision is blurring as breathing gets tougher, and she can’t see what he’s mouthing to her. Even his eyes, such a luminescent green only hours ago, are fading into the remaining dark of the night.

“The Winchesters, dear, it’s always been about the Winchesters. Oh, the fanatics and their doomsday ritual were real enough, as was your blood. I just simply took advantage of the situation, as any intelligent monarch would do. Settled things with the apocalypse groupies, rid myself of some major pains in my rear, and now I get you, to boot! I do love when a plan comes together.”

Dean’s fingers tighten in hers, and she tries to grip his back, but the harder she holds on, the less she can feel him.

She’s not really feeling much of anything but cold now.

“Shut...up...already.”

“Always ungrateful in the end, even after everything I do for them,” Crowley grumbles from above her. But then he does shut up, and she finally feels something besides the cold.

Relief. ...

Chapter 5

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karasuno-chaos · 3 years

Text

Recommending Music (Tsukishima x Reader)

What do you think Tsukishima listens to with those headphones of his? 🎵 Also this one’s a bit long and a bit messy, sorry. -Giz

Word Count: 2,381

Fluffvember masterlist

The notebook started in middle school. You’d befriended Yamaguchi almost immediately, but getting to know Tsukishima had taken some time. After your first year, you could usually read the intention behind his snide remarks and hard stares, but you weren’t sure you qualified as a friend yet. At least he tolerated you and allowed you to hang out with him and Yamaguchi sometimes, and you were willing to take what he’d give.

During lunch one day in the middle of your second year, you finally received some clarity.

“If we’re going to be friends, I have a list of songs you need to listen to.”

“You consider us friends?” you asked, feeling a rush of excitement.

“Obviously.” His expression was annoyed, but he wasn’t being aggressive. Sometimes you suspected that his frustration with himself surfaced as frustration with other people.

“Is it your top ten songs, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asked, totally unphased by his friend’s frosty behavior. “Has it changed at all?”

“Not really. Pass me your notebook,” he requested, holding a hand out to you.

“Hang on, I don’t have one handy.” You heard him sigh as you ran back to your desk, but you didn’t know what he’d expected. You didn’t usually bring school work to lunch. You grabbed a mostly-empty notebook from your desk and flipped it open to a blank page before slapping it down in front of him.

“Here you go.”

You opened your lunch and ate while he marked the page with his sharp, precise handwriting. Yamaguchi watched over his shoulder.

“That one’s new,” he said, pointing to the eighth on the list.

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

“Sorry Tsukki.”

This common refrain between them had alarmed you at first, but neither friend was bothered by the words. Like so many of Tsukishima’s remarks, it sounded more aggressive than he meant it to be.

“Here.” He turned the notebook to face you, and you studied it curiously. You’d heard of most of the songs, but some of them were unfamiliar. He’d also written little notes next to a few of them, like “bass line” or “harmonies”.

“So I just need to listen to them?” you asked. “You’re not going to quiz me or anything, right?”

“Why would I bother?” he scoffed, shifting his headphones from around his neck to over his ears. You glanced at Yamaguchi who shrugged with a smile. You looked at the notebook again. Somehow this list felt like a confirmation that you had a place in their small but very close friend group, and it made you very happy.

A few days later, Tsukishima asked whether you’d listened to the songs yet.

“I have,” you replied confidently.

“Just once, or multiple times?”

“Multiple times. You can’t fully appreciate a song after just one listen.”

He blinked at you, and a tiny shift in his expression told you that he was impressed.

“Tsukki had to tell me to try them several times at first,” Yamaguchi admitted. You gave him a sympathetic shrug. You didn’t want to admit that you’d been so thorough in an effort to impress Tsukishima. Despite his confirmation that he considered you a friend, you still felt like you might be on a trial period with him.

“What did you appreciate about them then?” he asked, sitting back in his seat.

“Hang on, let me get my notes,” you said.

“You took notes?” Yamaguchi asked, also impressed. He looked curiously at the notebook when you pulled it out. You’d scribbled your thoughts next to Tsukishima’s concise script. “You really took this seriously.”

“Was I not supposed to?” you asked, starting to feel embarrassed at the effort you’d made.

“Let me see,” Tsukishima said quietly. You handed him the notebook and tried not to fidget too much while you waited for his reaction. You braced yourself for the cutting remarks and cold criticisms you were fairly certain would come.

“What do you mean by ‘trying too hard’?” he asked after a bit, pointing to a note you’d made.

“The singer kept embellishing the melody like she was trying to impress the listener, and sometimes the guitar came on a little strong. It was like they wanted to come across as serious musicians, but instead they sounded desperate.”

“The band was still pretty young when they first recorded this track.”

“I figured,” you said.

“Which is why some of those guitar riffs are so impressive,” he finished with the confidence of someone winning an argument.

“I’m not saying they’re not skilled,” you conceded, “but having the skills and using them well are two different things, and I think they could have done better.”

“Interesting.” He looked at you critically, and there was that shift in his expression again that indicated he was impressed. Your embarrassment left. Maybe your extra effort had been worth it.

He asked you about some of your other notes or particular parts of some of the songs. Yamaguchi chimed in, too, and you could imagine Tsukishima giving him a similar education in his musical tastes. He didn’t speak with particular passion or aggressively impose his views, but he was much more focused than you normally saw him. He was actually interested in what you had to say, and you rather liked having his attention.

As your lunch period drew to a close, Tsukishima flipped the page of your notebook and jotted down another few lines.

“Check these out next,” he said, and that’s how it started. He’d tell you to listen to a few songs, you’d discuss what you thought of them, and you’d do it all again. You ripped out what little school notes you’d had in your notebook, and it became dedicated to your music exchanges After a while, you started recommending songs for him, too. You enjoyed subjecting him to your musical tastes and defending your choices. Yamaguchi participated sometimes, but the exchange was mainly between you and Tsukishima.

You were surprised when it continued through middle school into your first year of high school, but by then you had cemented your place in this little friend group. You were pretty sure your debates over music had helped you win over Tsukishima. At the very least, they helped you understand him better. His song suggestions felt like snapshots into his mood or the way he viewed the world. You wondered if he knew how much he told you through those songs when he couldn’t hide behind snide remarks and sneers.

“Ah, look at this. The hotshot volleyball star graces us with his presence before taking off for the week,” you said in a teasing tone as Tsukishima and Yamaguchi met you at your locker after school. The Shiratorizawa first year training camp started tomorrow, and you were taking every opportunity you could to tease your friend about it. You’d noticed a heightened intent when he went to practice as though his attitude toward the sport had changed somehow. You knew he was excited about his invitation to this camp even though he didn’t say anything.

“Whatever.” There’s a hint of scorn in his voice as he brushes off your jest, but you’re not bothered by it. His “whatever” is the refrain he’s given you, like telling Yamaguchi to shut up. You were used to him hiding his feelings behind his words.

“You’ll be gone all week, right Tsukki?” your freckled friend asked.

“Right.”

“A whole week free of the king of the court and that annoying tangerine,” you said, mocking the way he sometimes talked about his teammates. “I bet that’ll be fun. Though you’ll have to work hard, and you won’t get to hang out with Yamaguchi all day, which sucks.”

“You won’t get to hang out with him or me, so who’s the real loser here?”

“Definitely me,” you sighed, leaning against Yamaguchi. He patted your shoulder consolingly.

“You could always help Kiyoko and Yachi while we practice.”

“I’d rather not work harder than I have to during break.”

“Then you’ll have plenty of time to listen to these.” Tsukishima tossed the music notebook at you. You barely reacted fast enough to catch it.

“Hey, I was wondering where this went.” You flipped to the new list and skimmed over it. “Did you pick any good ones?”

“Obviously,” he smirked. “Come on Yamaguchi.”

“Have fun,” you called as they headed off to practice. “Let me know if you get bored of volleyball and want to hang.”

“Bye Y/N.” Yamaguchi waved before turning to say something to Tsukishima. Your taller friend didn’t turn back or spare you a farewell, but that wasn’t uncommon. You’d message them both later anyway.

You didn’t get around to the new song recommendations until the next day. After sleeping in a reasonable amount and enjoying an easy morning, you flopped onto your bed. You compiled the songs into a playlist on your computer, put on your headphones, and hit play.

For your first listen, you always laid back and stared at your ceiling, letting the music spill over you uninterrupted. The second and third listens were for writing notes and preparing your reviews for the debates. Anything beyond that was purely for enjoyment.

After jotting your notes for this round, you let the playlist cycle into some of Tsukishima’s past recommendations. You enjoyed most of the songs he’d suggested lately, and part of you wondered if he was taking your tastes into account or if your preferences had shifted the more you’d been exposed to his. You flipped through the notebook to revisit the past playlists, laughing to yourself over some of the notes on the pages. It was amusing to see how your handwriting had changed over the years.

You’d run out of blank pages in the notebook soon. You wondered if Tsukishima would want to continue these music exchanges, or if they’d fall to the wayside as high school and activities demanded more time and attention. You began counting how many pages were left when some script on the final page made you stop.

You reread the top line twice to make sure you weren’t seeing things. Songs that make me think of you. You sat up and looked at the page carefully. There were a dozen songs on the list, and from the variance in script and ink color, you knew he must have added songs as they struck him. When had he started the playlist? How long had he been working on it? He hadn’t written any notes next to the titles, so you weren’t sure what his intentions were, but you felt a pleasant squeeze in your chest.

You listened to that playlist four or five times uninterrupted, and each time you felt like you better understood what he was saying through the music. You could feel the blush rising in your cheeks along with a feeling of happiness. You’d been keeping your growing crush on Tsukishima a secret. You never would have guessed he might feel the same, and based on the evidence that he’d been working on this playlist for a while, he’d been keeping his feelings a secret for a while, too.

You spent the rest of the afternoon figuring out how to respond. Even if it was unexpectedly sudden, you knew you needed to act on this revelation today. After dinner, you bundled up in your winter gear, grabbed the notebook, and headed over to his house. You waited nearly an hour, pacing up and down his block, until you finally saw him walking home from the bus stop. He slowed a little when he spotted you, pushing his headphones off of his ears to around his neck.

“Hi,” you greeted, feeling a little awkward but determined to get this over with.

“What are you doing?” He was being careful by keeping his tone neutral, but you could tell he was curious.

“I listened to your playlist.”

“Okay.”

“Both of them.”

“Oh.” You could almost see his guard come up. You understood him so easily, you were amazed you hadn’t noticed his feelings before now.

“I made a playlist for you,” you said, opening the notebook and handing it to him. He took it and looked over your selections, keeping his features neutral. Waiting for him to react was torture, but you let him process the situation at his own pace. After all, you’d just sprung this on him, whereas you’d had all afternoon to acclimate to the idea of sharing feelings.

“There are too many genre jumps,” he said eventually, and you rolled your eyes as he critiqued the flow of the playlist. “It’s like listening whiplash.”

“It’s not about the listening experience, it’s about the message of the songs,” you said. “If I’d expected you to actually listen to it, I would have put in more effort.”

“Maybe I should wait for you to put in that effort,” he smirked, handing you the notebook.

“Tsukishima,” you said. The seriousness of your tone made his smirk drop back to a neutral expression. “I know I’m kind of going out on a limb here, but I think I understood what you were trying to say with that secret playlist. The truth is, I’ve liked you for a while, in a more-than-friends way, and based on the songs you picked, I think you might like me that way too. So I picked a bunch of songs about falling in love and asking someone out to see if maybe you’d like to be my boyfriend.”

The emotional confession left you a little lightheaded, and you almost couldn’t look at him, but you did, and you saw the way his stare softened a little.

“After you redo that playlist,” he said, walking past you to go inside.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s not a no.” He turned back at the door. “Depends on how good the playlist is.”

You knew he was teasing you. He wasn’t shallow enough to make his decision solely based on your musical tastes, but you were willing to play along.

“Fine,” you agreed with a grin. “Tomorrow night, I’ll have the best asking-you-out playlist you’ve ever heard, so be ready to be my boyfriend.”

“Whatever,” he said, but the corner of his mouth lifted in a genuine grin as he glanced at you one more time before heading inside.

#haikyuu!!#hq #tsukishima kei #tsukishima #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu!! fanfiction #haikyuu!! fanfic #haikyuu!! scenarios #hq fanfiction #hq fanfic #hq scenarios #fluffvember #music #fluff #tsukki #tsukki x reader

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nicknellie · 3 years

Text

@sunnysbright requested: something flarrie pls, maybe like a cute date or something, also pls include 🍓

Anonymous requested: flarrie first date pls!!!!

Seeing as both of these requests were for a flarrie date I decided to combine them into one prompt. I included strawberries, but I’m not gonna lie, I’m no expert on how strawberries grow and stuff like that so you might have to suspend your disbelief lmao. Anyway, these prompts were really cute and I love writing for flarrie, so this was a lot of fun. Thank you so much for your requests!

Like Summer

As far as first dates went, Flynn thought she had outdone herself. She had picked the right day, with the sun streaking through the canopy to bathe her and Carrie in its warm summer light, the slightest breeze and the shelter from the trees keeping them just cool enough. The activity couldn’t have been better either – it was Flynn’s opinion that Carrie needed to get out more, so she had packed them each a rucksack and brought Carrie hiking through the forest.

Though judging by all the grumbling, Carrie wasn’t quite enjoying it as much as Flynn.

“You could have at least told me we’d be doing this,” she groused, not fifteen minutes in. “That way I might have been prepared.”

A dozen or so paces ahead of Carrie, Flynn grinned to herself. She had purposely been secretive about what she had planned for their date, fully aware that if Carrie knew she’d be walking through a forest for three hours she would be less than excited. But still, Flynn knew their destination would lift Carrie’s spirits and that all the complaining she was about to receive would be completely worth it.

“If I had told you what we were doing you wouldn’t have come,” Flynn called over her shoulder.

“You know me so well,” Carrie deadpanned. “I’m not even wearing proper shoes for this.”

Flynn briefly turned back to glimpse Carrie’s dainty slip-ons already caked in mud. The rest of Carrie was looking a little worse for wear too; she had pulled her hair into a ponytail that was starting to look like she had been dragged through a hedge backwards, the sleeves of her cardigan were rolled up to the elbow, and the hem of her dress was grass stained. Flynn couldn’t help but feel a little bad, but equally she was probably one of the few people to ever see Carrie Wilson looking less than perfect, so in a way her state of utter disarray was endearing.

“You’re not wearing proper anything for this,” Flynn corrected. “But you let me choose what we were doing. You should have been prepared for anything.”

Carrie rolled her eyes and stormed ahead of Flynn, nose in the air, clearly displeased. Flynn was sure that Carrie wasn’t as moody as she was making it out to be. This had always been their dynamic – quick wit, insults, and snide remarks hiding that little flame of affection that had gradually blossomed into a roaring fire. Now that they were finally on an official date, they still kept that sense of rivalry, but it was diluted by the fact that they had finally admitted to one another how they felt. So Flynn wasn’t worried about Carrie’s mood, and even if she was really grumpy Flynn knew she would be able to cheer her up one way or another.

Plus her bad mood might have been more intimidating if she hadn’t fallen into a bush fifteen seconds later. Flynn was laughing so hard as she tried to tug her out that she dropped her back in several times.

Not long later (although with Carrie’s complaints it felt much longer) they came to a break in the treeline that exposed a hill, the grass coloured a summery bright green. Over the hill Flynn saw the sky for the first time since they’d entered the forest – pure blue, no trace of any clouds, the sun high in the sky. It was inviting and warm and she couldn’t help but feel happy. She glanced at Carrie and felt her breath hitch in her throat.

The thing was, Carrie shouldn’t have looked so good at that moment. She was covered in mud, her hair was a mess, there were ladders in her tights and an enormous rip in the shoulder of her cardigan, and she had been scowling so much on their hike that there were lines on her face Flynn was sure hadn’t been there before. But the sun gleaming down on her lit her hair like a halo and made her skin glow, and for the first time in hours she really let herself smile, an unhidden release of joy that reassured Flynn that she really was enjoying herself. She looked like a painting, so gorgeous that she couldn’t possibly have been real. She blew her hair away from her face and then flipped it over her shoulder, seeming like she moved in slow motion.

“Flynn!”

Flynn was snapped out of her thoughts by Carrie’s voice. Judging by her face, she had called Flynn’s name more than once. Flynn smiled pleasantly, trying to act as if she hadn’t just been worshipping Carrie like a goddess.

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“What’s up? That hill.” Carrie pointed up the slope.

“Oh, that. Didn’t see that there.”

“Are you seriously going to make me climb that?” Carrie said, glaring daggers at Flynn.

Flynn wasn’t fazed. She slipped her hand into Carrie’s, delighted with the blush it elicited from her and the tiny quirk of her lips as she suppressed a smile. Flynn knew better than anyone that Carrie was all talk – she could pretend to be as angry as she wanted, but it was easy to tear down those walls with something as simple as holding her hand.

“Yes,” Flynn said brightly as Carrie regained her composure. “It’s not that steep and you can literally see the top from here. Plus, when we get up there I promise it’ll be worth it.”

Carrie pouted. “My legs ache. This better be somewhere we can sit down.”

“I could carry you up the hill if you’d like,” Flynn half-joked, winking at Carrie. Again, Carrie flushed pink, easily ruffled.

“I can walk myself, thank you very much,” she said, and set off up the hill ahead of Flynn.

It was, truthfully, a very small hill, so it took them barely two minutes to reach the top. It was hotter at the top of the hill, free of the shade the forest had provided, but Flynn wasn’t bothered with the heat – she was looking at Carrie to make certain that this had all been worth it.

Thankfully, Carrie was smiling. No, she was positively beaming, a glimmer in her eye that made her look happier than Flynn thought she had ever seen.

“You like the view?” Flynn asked. Carrie nodded mutely, wonder plain as day on her face. Flynn inwardly breathed a sigh of relief – she had been sure Carrie would like it up here, but to have it go down well in reality was a whole different feeling.

She tore her eyes away from Carrie and looked out across the scenery for herself. Right in front of them was a large field, uncut grass swaying in the gentle breeze, the whole area lined with row upon row of strawberry plants, ripe and ready to eat. Spanning out below them was a splendid view of the ocean, the sea glittering with dashed sunlight, boats framed by gold as they floated on the horizon. It was a sight Flynn had seen many a time before when she had walked this same route with her family and after she had discovered Carrie’s love of strawberries she had known she had to share it with her.

“The walk was worth it?” she checked, sliding her hand back into Carrie’s.

“The walk was worth it,” she confirmed, gripping Flynn’s hand tight as she raised it to her lips and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. Flynn felt her heart flutter, getting a little hot, and not because of the sun. “I did know you had something amazing planned – you know that, don’t you?”

“I know,” Flynn replied, leading Carrie to the hedgerows. “I knew that your whining all the way up here wasn’t you not enjoying yourself, it was just your personality.”

“The same way I knew how you being so stubborn and refusing to tell me what we were doing wasn’t you being a complete control freak, it was just you trying to surprise me,” Carrie quipped.

Flynn grinned, ready to rise to her challenge, but as soon as she opened her mouth Carrie silenced her by sticking a strawberry in there. Surprised, Flynn had no choice but to bite into it – luckily, Carrie had picked a ripe one, and the flavour danced over her tongue, tasting like summer.

“These are safe to eat, right?” Carrie asked, picking up another strawberry and inspecting it closely.

Flynn raised an eyebrow. “You’re only saying that after you put one in my mouth? Should I be worried?”

“Yes,” Carrie said. Flynn rolled her eyes fondly. “But they are safe to eat, aren’t they?”

“I wouldn’t have brought you here if you couldn’t eat as many strawberries as your heart desires,” Flynn said wistfully. Carrie beamed again, that smile as bright as the sun, and popped the strawberry into her mouth. She sighed contentedly, all of her earlier gripes seeming to be completely forgotten.

“Good?” Flynn said.

“So good,” Carrie replied.

Flynn lost track of how long they stayed there together, feasting on strawberries, feeding them to one another, basking in the sun, laughing and joking and talking, doing nothing more than simply enjoying each other’s company. As far as first dates went, Flynn was pretty certain this one couldn’t have gone any better. It felt like they had been on a thousand dates just like this before: comfortable, familiar, utterly perfect. With the sun on her skin and Carrie’s hand in hers, Flynn couldn’t imagine anywhere she would rather be.

They shared a few tentative, slightly nervous kisses. They tasted of the strawberries they had been eating. Flynn had never kissed anyone before, but she was certain that there was only one person she ever wanted to kiss from then on, and it was Carrie Wilson. The feeling of Carrie’s lips on hers sent shivers down her spine despite the hot weather. It was thrilling and calming at the same time, a sensation like no other, but Flynn was drunk on it.

As the afternoon wore on, the sun drifted slowly across the sky, and Flynn realised they needed to start heading back before it got too dark.

“I wish I could bring some of these strawberries back,” Carrie thought aloud.

“Oh, that reminds me!” Flynn announced. She had known Carrie would say that, and she was prepared for it. She dug around in her backpack for a while and eventually pulled out another bag, this one empty. She handed it to a bemused Carrie, smiling proudly at her own predictive skills. “So you can collect some and take them with you. I knew you’d want to.”

There was a small, soft smile on Carrie’s face, something in it that Flynn couldn’t quite name. She watched as Carrie practically bounced back to the hedges, giddy in a way that Flynn had hardly ever seen her before, and followed after her to give her a hand.

When the bag was nearly full, Carrie zipped it up and shouldered it, reaching for Flynn’s hand and leading the two of them back down the hill towards the forest, back the way they had come.

“I can carry the bag if you like,” Flynn offered, trying to be a good date.

“I’ve got it,” Carrie insisted.

“I thought you’d be eating them as we walked back,” Flynn said.

Carrie just smiled. “These aren’t for me. They’re for you.”

“Me?”

Carrie nodded briskly. “I’m going to make you a pie.”

Flynn almost laughed. “What for?”

“As a thank-you,” Carrie said like it should have been obvious. “You organised this entire amazing day and all I did was tag along. So, to show how much I care about you and how great today was, I’m making you a pie.”

“I– thank you.” Flynn tried to keep the tremor from her voice, trying not to show how touched she was. She liked this aspect of what they had – they were always equal, it was never one of them putting in more effort than the other. It showed how much they cared, how much they respected each other. It made Flynn feel loved.

But it was too early for love, she knew that. It was only their first date after all.

Carrie rolled her eyes again, but there was a blush on her cheeks. She squeezed Flynn’s hand affectionately and they walked the rest of the way back through the forest in comfortable silence.

The next day, Flynn’s legs were killing her. She texted Carrie as soon as she woke up, but other than that she allowed herself to sleep in until late, resting her aching joints. She just laid in bed and spoke to Carrie, remembering how perfect the day before had been and becoming ever more eager to go on another date.

She had almost forgotten Carrie’s promise until the text came: I’m outside your house by the way.

Flynn leapt out of bed and peaked out of her bedroom window. Sure enough, Carrie was stepping out of her dad’s car and walking up Flynn’s driveway. In her hands she held a large dish, mostly covered by tinfoil.

Ignoring the fact that she was still wearing her pyjamas even though it was nearing one o’clock, Flynn ran as fast as her tired legs would carry her from her bedroom to the front door. She opened it before Carrie even had time to knock.

“Hi,” she said breathlessly. Carrie looked a lot less haggard than she had on their walk yesterday, beautiful even without the gleam of the sun on her face. The smell of the pie gently wafted out from underneath its covering.

“Hey,” Carrie replied, smiling sheepishly. She held the dish out and Flynn took it carefully. “I told you I’d make you a pie.”

Gently, Flynn pulled back the tinfoil and saw perfect pastry filled with bright red strawberries, covered with careful latticing and lots of tiny pastry hearts. Carrie was blushing the same shade as the strawberries and Flynn didn’t remember ever feeling so touched.

“It looks great,” she said, smiling up at her girlfriend. “Do you want to come in for a bit and have some?”

“I’d love to,” Carrie returned.

Flynn led her to the kitchen, cut them both a slice of pie each, and completed it with whipped cream. They sat at the table together, quietly eating their pie, the strawberries just as sweet as they had been the day before, the mood just as bright and comfortable. Flynn thought that if being with Carrie was so easy, there would definitely be a lot more dates and a lot more shared strawberry pies in the future. And she was more than alright with that.

Taglist (if you want to be added or removed just let me know): @ace-bookworm @williexmercer @willex-owns-my-heart @itstiger720 @the-reckless-and-the-brave @that-one-newsie @bluedarkness @lookingthroughmirrors @tmp-jatp @salty-star @julieandthequeers @lmaohuh

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deniisu-sims · 3 years

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Hi! I was wondering when converting s4 to s3 how do you make the multiplier and specular? Thank you for your time!

Hmm, okay, how to explain it without taking too much time...

THE MULTIPLIER

All right. While many people prefer to re-bake a multiplier on Blender (and you can find bake tutorials VERY EASILY), I actually REALLY LIKE the painted-on wooden texture of many EAxis objects, so I extract a diffuse from my object of choice:

(as I told in a previous post, I actually extract two, a high contrast one for the mask, a low contrast one for the multiplier, and I make the mask FIRST.)

PNG is fine; I only had to extract a diffuse in DDS once, because EAxis screwed with the alpha.

I make my mask (it’s basically selecting different colored parts and filling it with color channels, that’s for another time), then I add it as a new layer over my multiplier diffuse:

See the bottom right corner? Two layers!

But before playing with the magic wand, I go to Layer 0 / Background Layer / whatever it works on your image editor, and I desaturate the multiplier. In Photoshop, it’s Image > Adjustments > Desaturate.

My multiplier layer looks like this now.

While it LOOKS like it’s finished, now I need to check if the average color of a certain part of the texture is middle grey, or RGB 128, 128, 128 (some people go for 133-133-133 to avoid flat blacks, assuming the risk of getting overblown pure white recolors, but that’s a matter of TASTE).

For that, I’ll reactivate my mask layer and use the magic wand to select the red channel, THEN I hide my mask layer again. Do not forget to set tolerance as 0, no anti-aliasing, not contiguous.

If you do it right, your selection will look like this

Now it’s just a matter of using the eyedropper tool to click on a not very bright, not very dark part of the selection and see if it’s 128-128-128 or very close to it (126 to 130 is an okay margin).

In this case, it’s a little too dark, so I go to Image > Adjustments > Brightness/Contrast and I fiddle only with the Brightness slider until getting close to my result (you CAN use the eyedropper without applying the changes, just look at the upper right corner to check the new value. For this selection, I used Brightness +38.

(Some textures, especially when too light, need to be darkened by Adjustment > Curves, but that’s more of an outright Photoshop tutorial than just fiddling with stuff. Practice, practice, pratice...)

All right, it looks like this now, with only the part of the multiplier that will be affected by the red channel brightened:

If your item has only one channel, then save your multiplier, it’s finished (and you really didn’t need to paste the mask as a new layer to help with the selections, since a one-channel mask is fully red, but it’s good to get into the habit)

For every other channel, press Ctrl + D to deselect everything, reactivate your mask layer, select the new channel, repeat everything. But IMPORTANT: different channels WILL require different Brightness values UNLESS you got a monochromatic diffuse, and not every item comes with a plain swatch.

In this case, my second channel needed an adjustment of Brightness +28, just to prove what I just said about different channels, different values :)

Since my example only came with two colors, I save it as PNG for now. I only convert to DDS when it’s over 1024x1024 or I’m pretty sure that the DDS compression won’t fill my texture with artifacts. Even multipliers with transparent or translucent parts work with PNG just fine.

THE SPECULAR

You’ll NEED a finished multiplier first. Yes, really.

The fastest way is to select everything, go to Image > Adjustments > Brightness/Contrast, and hike the Brightness to +100 or +110 and up the Contrast a little.

LIIIGHT.

Than you go to the Channels tab of your Layers window and add a new Alpha Channel by clicking this button:

You’ll have a brand-new Alpha 1 channel that’s fully black. That’s fine, keep it that way.

Select the RGB channel, you’ll see that your specular will have a faint red tint - no worries, that’s just to show that your Alpha is also active.

Now, you’ll have to save it as a DDS, no ifs or buts:

ALWAYS keep the Alpha Channels option ON, or else you’ll have an item that’s always shiny because no alpha means a fully white alpha, which means the game will force the brightness of the original, hyper-brightened texture ALL THE TIME. Black alpha, and it means things only get shiny if you add a shiny pattern in CASt.

In the next window, choose DXT5 compression.

And that’s... the basics. Checking if it gets noisy, if it needs more adjusts after you import it to TSRW, etc, are matters of practice, getting familiar with your image editor, and developing a good eye for subtle color changes. But the necessary parts are those that I explained, and they’ll work great in 95% of the cases!

(the other 5% are for when you need a translucent part in Phong Alpha shader to not be recolorable because Phong Alpha overlays SUCK, when TSRW messes with your textures no matter if it’s PNG or DDS and you’ll need to save a texture as 8.8.8.8 uncompressed DDS and replace it with S3PE, and all sorts of... annoying issues)

Also credits for @enable--llamas for finally showing me a way to make speculars that WORK.

This is a tad slapdash, but hope it helps!

#tutorials #simmingberryland

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