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beesmygod · 2 days

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do the forbidden woods have any connection to the beasts or great ones, aside from being geographically adjacent to byrgenwerth? Are the snake infested fellows just "normal" as far as yharnam is concerned? Like before yharnam got all bloodborney, was the Yharnam Cartographer's Guild map of the woods still just a big circle with SNAKES written?

this is a really good question because, as a lore psycho, i think the understated lore implications of the woods are genuinely fascinating. i think there's a lot to unpeel, even if we take into account that it was one of the places in the game that was chopped up at the 11th hour and scrambled before release.

as always for these lore posts, important nouns are bolded and speculation is in italics. we are going to discuss the woods in three parts: from the gatekeeper to the windmill is "the village". from the windmill to byrgenwerth is "the woods". the subterranean cave shortcut back to yharnam will just be called "shortcut." i'll expand on this shit GREATLY when we reach this part in "you hunted" (I HAVENT STOPPED WORKING ON IT I PROMISE IM JUST SWAMPED) so considered this a light overview. feel free to ask for more details on things and ill do my best to fill in the blanks.

THE VILLAGE:

-from the jump, the village gatekeeper is a fucking weird little blip in bloodborne's narrative. i haven't thought about him enough to figure out if he's more than just a spooky, unexplained element but he has some cut dialog that sheds some mindboggling information about yharnam: he seems very confused about WHEN it is and will cite the last time he had a visitor as anything from a year to a century.

-the lamps in this area lighting the way to the village are little burning fetal beasts of some sort.

i'm starting to understand more and more about how fire operates in the world of bloodborne, since most of the time it appears in the game, it's seemingly impossible. the thing that confused me the most was how old yharnam was still burning if it happened a long time ago. i think it's time to start thinking of the old blood as impossibly combustible and a great source of light/fire. this isn't the first in-universe example of creatures being used as fuel: the lamps in the fishing village are slugs (also infants? they strongly resemble the hunter's appearance as a baby great one in the "childhood's beginning" ending). this is a whole fucking like, thing. it's its own post.

next, the huntsmen enemies here are dressed funny. you probably noticed it but couldn't pin down how. they're dressed in white church clothes! the first model here is used only in the forbidden woods. the two on the left are from central yharnam. note the gloves on the first two; these are church doctors!

(this post goes on like this for some time)

the white church doctors are the ones that were doing "experimentally backed blood ministration". the butcher's garb further defines it as "forbidden research". these white church doctors are the citizens of this "village". in the clustered buildings where the majority of the huntsmen are, you can find blue elixir and beast blood pellets in abundance. both of these items can only be purchased from the store after obtaining the choir's badge, drawing a firm connection between the white church doctor's research and the goals of the choir.

although, this probably isn't too much of a surprise; it's almost certain that this is where fauxsekfa came from. she took the same shortcut we did, right? i'm not really sure i understand the shortcut too much. but let's talk about it.

THE SHORTCUT:

although not explicitly stated, i am strongly convinced that this cave is the entrance to the hintertomb. at the very least, it is absolutely an entrance to the labyrinth. the presence of tomb mold, blood gems, parasite larva, and pthumerian giants/corpses makes this very clear. the root chalice for the hintertomb describes it as "a cesspool of noxious snakes and insects"; i think it's likely that the snakes came from the hintertomb given they can be found in the swamps there.

the giant graves here and further into the woods are referred to as "tombstone[s] of a great one".

the hunter's mark i think would suggest these are pthumerian made. its possible that the hintertomb is spilling out into the world above but frankly all of the graves here are baffling. grave placement and appearance needs more research. the graves in the woods only are developing a strange sort of honeycomb rot pattern not unlike the head of an amygdala. this pattern shows up enough that it warrants more investigation.

the slow poison-inducing "water" here has similar properties to the slow poison pool in the research hall. they are different colors, but have similar origins: the poison pool in the research hall is from the decomposing bodies of the patients, who were exposed to bizarre blood ministration and parasitism. the pool here is likely from decomposing great ones. with this in mind, perhaps the silvery liquid is mercury.

the ladder leading out of this area is fucking insane and i have a hard time understanding what occurred there. like what in the hell is up with that grave you exit into in yharnam. who popped it open. why is it so cavernous. what happened to the contents.

anyway, let's just go back to the woods.

THE VILLAGE (again)

there's really only two more things to mention here before we move on: first, beast roar can be picked up here. it's the undead, still twitching hand of a darkbeast. nothing touched by the old blood can truly die, and these severed limbs are no exception.

second are the butchers. these are the people who collect specimens, hack them apart, and present them to the church doctors for research. they show up in three different ways: the surviving madaras twin wears the butcher's set (the hunter picks up the set from the other twin's corpse), the "executioner" enemies (REMINDER: a better translation would have been "butchers" [or, literally, "dismantling men"], i have no idea why they went with "executioner" outside of their superficial appearance) wear the cape with the popped collar, and there are huntmen enemies skulking the streets below the grand cathedral hunting for victims dressed in the garb. they literally only appear there.

ah, one more thing. this is the place where you can find the suspicious beggar and interrupt him while he's in the middle of chowing down on one of the biggest families i've ever seen in my life. at first i thought the devs hysterically fucked up the sizes of the corpses, but they're dressed like the citizens of yahar'gul. while not outright stated, evidence strongly suggests that the beggar is irreverent izzy or one of his followers such as the close proximity of one of izzy's inventions and the beggar's clothing reflecting his past as both a veteran tomb prospector gone mad and former church agent. there's a lot of meat on that bone, but for another time.

OKAY. LAST PART NOW.

THE WOODS:

this is the part you probably remember the most bc it's snake hell. the first thing we absolutely need to keep in mind is that the snake-infested guys you meet are a reference to doobie from jojo. the snakes are parasites to people, but the snakes themselves are also being parasitized? they are covered in ticks, those are the huge bloated blobs all over them. given that the augurs of the great ones are invertebrates...what does that imply about the inclusion of the ticks narratively?

there's something absolutely fascinating happening to the flora and fauna in this section of the woods but it's hard to know what it all means. some notes:

-when enemies in bloodborne die, the game handles their corpse in different ways. some of this is lore related, some of it is to reduce hardware strain. some corpses turn into ragdolls, some explode into blood, some explode into white particles (sometimes with blood but not always). snakes explode into white particles. i got way too into the fucking weeds with this, but (outside of the slime scholars....kind of) all of these enemies either appear or were intended to appear in the chalice dungeons, the nightmare frontier, or the nightmare of mensis (the lecture hall containing the scholars connects the waking world to the nightmare). all of these locations are, arguably, the nightmare.

-there are statues of amygdala and a presumed evolution of the celestial child sprouting out of the ground. i am almost certain these are original versions of the statues in the grand cathedral and yahar'gul, respectively.

-remember that strange pond with the fireflies? the only place in the game where there's fireflies? what the hell is up with that lol. i kind of have an answer:

most concrete is this: back when the original boss of the woods was snakeball, you would have faced a rematch in this pond.

insane theory crafting moment: look, this is stupid complicated and a reach so if i have to get into really defending it it, ill do it in another post. but in bloodborne people can be teleported around via "communion". communion is the means of entering the chalice dungeons and requires three things: ritual blood (or perhaps just liquid, if rom's arena is anything to go by), something to hold the blood (typically a chalice, but sometimes the "chalice" is a skull), and light (this is almost always achieved with candles). this pond is probably full of blood, if the rotten bodies nearby are any indication, and the fireflies offer light. but, look, this shit was cut so don't think too hard about it.

-its in the art book but also in the game (but hard to see): the wall separating byrgenwerth from the rest of the world is melted.

wait wtf there's dudes in it. lol. what da hell!

oh my. the name for this asset is "wall of divine tomb". cool. every day i lean some new insane shit about this game, for real.

anyway the only other point of interest is whatever the fuck valtr and the league are doing. too deep of a topic for now. anyway, those were the points of interest in the forbidden woods. i hope this was....whatever counts for informative when it comes to video game trivia

#bloodborne lore #bloodborne

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northern-passage · 2 years

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one last post about this, since i’m receiving multiple Essays on why people hate Merry so so much:

i’m not trying to say that you have to like every single female character. that’s silly. particularly with Merry, i am Aware of her personality, i know she is abrasive and your first interaction with her is her picking a fight with Lea - i wrote her that way, i know.

what i’m trying to say is whether you dislike Merry or not, there’s still nothing she’s done to deserve active hate and violent misogynistic messages in my inbox - hate she gets only because she’s a woman. now if Merry was a man, would her actions make you this angry, or is it just because she was mean to your male fave? is it just because she’s “competition” for Lea? if it was possible to have an m/m poly with Lea, would you like the dynamic between them more rather than how it is now, with a mean, evil woman?

it’s really okay if you don’t Love Merry. i’m not asking you to, and i’m not calling you a misogynist if you don’t like her (which seems to be what a lot of you think). it’s fine!! i wrote her to be a bit of an antagonistic character, and i’m glad that she seems to be polarizing. the point of what i was trying to say is that Merry in particular gets a huge amount of hate, despite not really... doing anything. the hunter can be just as mean (if not even meaner) to Lea in the game, and i don’t think there’s anything Merry has done that warrants the kind of backlash she has received. she gets the same level of hate as Duncan, though i’ve received more violent messages about her than about the literal villain of the game.

#i think it's telling that the immediate response was for multiple people to write me like pages long messages #detailing all the things they hate about her. lol #would you feel compelled to do that about anyone else?#i'm ending this discussion here because it's just going to go in circles because it's tumblr #and everyone is just going to misinterpret everything i say as always. this is why it's pointless to have these discussions #no one actually cares and everyone will just twist your words until they're right and you're wrong #and ofc everyone else gets to be anonymous except for me #but since im Still receiving messages about it. this is the last thing i'll say #also another note. if ur someone that dislikes merry but has never sent these kinds of messages. then i think it’s fair to say #im not talking about you. everyone is allowed to dislike characters #but maybe dont send violent fantasies abt killing them to people lol

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outlying-hyppocrate · 2 months

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what the fuck.

#random thoughts #that doesn't change the fact that palestine is still fucked over because of them..?#I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY. i love eurovision but. fuck. no. fuck israel.#OUGH. why can't eurovision just ban them like they did with russia.#which is. not the main issue here. outside of eurovision there is a WHOLE FUCKING WAR GOING ON.#but. ):#do not mind me. i am having very conflicting feelings about this because eurovision is a thing i enjoy and it is now being ruined.#which is obviously not the biggest problem here. i know. I AM A SELFISH CHILD WHO LIKES THINGS AND I'M SORRY.#i am writing myself into a circle. post ends here. will work on that other post thing. about myself.#BECAUSE I AM SELFISH. FOREVER AND ALWAYS. MY OWN MOTHER THINKS SO. THIS IS NOT A THING I SHOULD BE DISCUSSING ON A POST ABOUT. FUCKING.#ISRAEL AND PALESTINE.#okay. post ends here for real. i don't like politics. they make me sad. ):#free palestine. !!

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luveline · 11 months

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Jade I’ve been WAITING and HOPING for you to ask about spider verse and/or Miguel requests. He is the epitome of grumpy love interest falls for sunshine reader, would you maybe write something where he’s like in the midst of being scary and intimidating and then when reader walks in he is trying to maintain that image in front of whoever else is there but she just like totally ignores it and basically exposes how soft he is?

Obviously feel free to take or leave whatever parts of that you like I just love grumpy x sunshine

SPOILERS FOR SPIDER-MAN: ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE BELOW

thank you for your request! for you my love, grumpy (lovesick) miguel x sunshine spidergirl!reader, 1.5k

Miguel spends a lot of time arguing with Peter B. Parker, or as you've so fondly nicknamed him, Sweatpants-Man. Well, Miguel spends a lot of time yelling at him. It stopped for a while; Peter B. Parker took some time away from the Spider Society, but eventually he returned with a brand new spider. A baby girl.

You linger at the door, startled to find him in company, but pleased when he isn't yelling as loudly as he could be. He looks desperately as though he wants to shout, and is holding back through sheer force of will, his eyes widened and his hair falling in unruly waves over his forehead, strands of it curled into his eyes.

Miguel is a worrier. It isn't his fault. He's a great man with responsibilities beyond his control, and he may not always react how he should, but he tries his best. You don't agree with everything he does, but you like him. You adore him. For all of his goodness, his bravery, and the smile he gives you when you're alone.

He's clearly troubled by something.

"I don't really see the harm, I won't tell him a thing," Peter B. Parker says.

"Why do you refuse to listen to me? No. End of discussion."

"I think we should reopen the discussion," Peter B. Parker says.

He and Miguel are friends, you think. They would have been best buddies by now if Peter could abide by Miguel's rules. Then again, you ignore the rules often and indiscriminately, and Miguel likes you.

He's scraping his hair out of his eyes now, a fierce glare fixed on Peter's face, and you have the urge to go in there and try to persuade him to give Peter whatever it is he's asking for. You're almost certain you could do it.

Not through your sheer mastery of the persuasive arts, though you have mastered them, but because Miguel O'Hara has a soft spot for you. He tries to hide it and you refuse to let him. You haven't tried to kiss him or anything (you secretly aren't that brave) but you run circles around him for fun, only letting him boss you around every now and then to keep things loose. You could be much meaner about the whole thing: what is so humiliating as falling for your lackadaisical subordinate? But you don't hold it against him, because he likely isn't finished falling yet, and because you really do like him.

You pull your mask off of your face and then your gloves, shoving them into a concealed pocket on your thigh.

"Miguel," you murmur, knowing he'll hear you no matter the volume, "what's wrong?"

Miguel doesn't glance your way.

Peter B. Parker's shoulders sag in relief at your appearance. "Thank god you're here," he says.

You hadn't realised Peter knew who you were. "I'm here," you repeat mildly.

"Tell Miguel that the risk involved with visiting Earth-1610 is super, duper small."

"Well, it is negligible," you murmur, though Peter's quest isn't your prerogative.

Miguel groans loud and unapologetically.

You stand near Miguel and look up at him. He's ridiculously tall. You’d have to crane your neck if you stood at his feet. You maintain some distance and look him over from a gentler incline, cataloguing the dark circles under his eyes for the hundredth time. They don't look too bad today, but you wish he'd get more rest.

He has a very fierce face, but you know how it softens when he laughs. It's hard to find his glaring intimidating when you've witnessed the white flash of sharp teeth as he smiles, the way his eyes light up and his eyebrows relax from their stern set when you bring him something to eat on late nights. It's almost always smothered as soon as it happens, but it does happen.

"The risk involved is not super small," he says, still not looking at you, "the risk involved is actually incredibly big, and it isn't worth it."

Peter puts his arms out just as Mayday drops from the rafters above. You huff a laugh at his coordination and Mayday starts to laugh, her knitted beanie drooping into her eyes.

"Hi, baby," you say softly, reaching out to hold her hand. She squeezes your fingers.

"It's worth the risk. Absolutely, it's worth the risk, and I would argue that me visiting would actually strengthen the state of the multiverse–"

"In what scenario–"

"–and, like, make your job easier." Peter stops Mayday from climbing up your shoulder.

"If there's one thing you've never done, Peter, it's make my job easier. I can't believe you're asking me again," Miguel says, taking a big breath, like he's going to pop.

You step away from Peter to catch Miguel's attention. When his eyes lock onto yours, you smile as fondly as you're able, the kind of smile you know he likes. Your eyes widen just a touch and your eyebrows rise, the corners of your mouth not quite dimpling. It's a smile that says all the same stuff you love to say aloud. Hi, handsome. What's got you so stressed today?

"Don't be like that, Miguel," Peter says.

You tilt your head to one side. "You don't look very well," you say.

"I'm fine." There's a thread of gentleness there, almost indistinguishable from his serious tone. "Or I would be, if Peter would listen to me for once."

"I'm listening, man, I just think you should see sense."

Miguel's face flickers like he wants to correct him, but he keeps getting caught on you. Nothing specific, just that his gaze lands on your face or your shoulder or your arm before he looks at Peter, and all the steam rushes out of him. He’s trying not to smile at you.

"I see sense," Miguel insists. It's like he wants to be angrier than he has, gritting his teeth weakly. "It's not feasible right now."

You smile at that. Right now. You're not sure he's ever said something that could lead to a compromise. You are sure that he hadn't meant to. Peter is understandably thrilled, hiding his own smile as he puts Mayday back into her carrier.

"Alright. Well, I've gotta take her home. But I'll see you both again soon," Peter threatens, wiggling his eyebrows. "Thank you," he adds, nodding at you.

You laugh as he leaves. Miguel is nowhere near as pleased.

"You did that on purpose," Miguel says.

"I did what on purpose?"

"Coming in here."

"Yeah, of course. I come to see you all the time on purpose. Did you think I was drifting in here on the breeze? That would be difficult, considering." You gesture to the entrance of his office, which is far from easily accessible.

Miguel looks at you, unimpressed, with his hands on his hips. You wonder what it would take to make him put his hands on yours.

"Don't even think about it," he says.

"About what, handsome?"

"You think I don't know what that look means?" He sounds fond rather than angry. It's a win.

"I bet you know, but I'm in the dark, so if you'd… illuminate it for me, that would be greatly appreciated."

He checks that no one's about to enter his office. You feel your heart jerk in your chest, and if his super senses are anything like the other Spider People, he can hear it.

"You really can't come in here when I'm trying to set people straight," he says.

"Why?" you ask. You could pout at him, but you think that might be too much.

"You know why." Somewhere between words he drifts closer, soundless, his face inching down toward yours with a surprising swiftness. "You know why," he repeats.

You lift your chin as much as you dare, which isn't much, but enough that your giggly confirmation fans over his lips, "Yes, I do."

He nudges you away, and it isn't without affection. His warm, big hand lingers on your shoulder, even as he says, "Go, go do something."

"Miguel, I came to see you."

"I know, and I have a meeting with Jess in a minute, so you can't be here. It'll undermine my authority."

"What will?" you ask, smiling, because you already know. His fondness for you.

"Go away. Come and see me later," he says.

You sigh and spin away from him. "I will, but not because you told me to!" you call, leaving the office with an awful sense of victory.

Miguel scrubs his face with his hands as you go. He's really not sure what he's going to do with you. His plan to hold you at arm’s length isn’t working anymore, and honestly? He doesn’t think he could stand it a minute longer. Thank whoever’s watching over him that you actually do as he asks for once and leave.

Miguel was one sweet smile away from kissing you up against the wall.

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norrisleclercf1 · 1 year

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It’s Too Early

Pairing: Charles x Pregnant!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Tough pregnancy, premature birth, PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome), IVF mentioned, angst, fluff at the end

Synopsis: Being pregnant hasn’t been easy, especially when Charles is away for the season and can’t be with you 24/7 like he wants to be. So what happens when he finds out you went into labor from a reporter? Chaos, utter chaos

A/N: Wrote this morning and I picked PCOS because that's something I suffer with all the time, and felt the need to write a fic about now, everyone's experience with PCOS and the topics discussed in this are different, I did research and put my own hardships and feelings in this, I hope everyone reads with an open mind and enjoys this but also Dad!Charles who could give up Dad!Charles

Charles would kill for you; he really would. And right now, he wanted nothing more than to kill the FIA, who would refuse to let him sit out this season to be with you, his pregnant wife.

Finding out you were pregnant was the happiest day of his life, but soon it turned...not a nightmare, but a living hell. You were classified as a high-risk pregnancy due to polycystic ovarian syndrome, something you let Charles know when you first started dating.

He was there through the painful periods, the cramps that left you defenseless and laying in bed all day, to the doctor visits and the mood swings. Through it all, he was still with you and loved you more and more each day.

When you both married and settled down a bit more, the conversation of becoming pregnant came up. Charles knew the risks and had done research before bringing it up with you; he even explored other ways of having children. But you told him you wanted to try naturally and go from there before discussing different ways and seeing what happens.

After 3 years of trying and doing everything, even trying IVF, that damn stick showed that fucking plus sign. You sat in the bathroom for hours just staring at the positive test, and that's precisely how Charles found you when he came home. On the bathroom floor, staring at the test.

He can still feel the tile on his skin as he hugs and kisses you, calming your fears away from the worst thoughts in your head.

It hasn't been an easy pregnancy, from cramps to horrible morning sickness, to the doctors worried you might give birth way too early, even being put on bedrest for the rest of the pregnancy due to worries of preeclampsia. Charles fought hard with the FIA, saying he needed to be with you, but they refused to listen and told him he needed to race. You talked him off the ledge as he called to quit and stay home.

"Charles stop; this is ridiculous. You love racing; you aren't quitting because of me." You groaned, going in circles with your mess of a husband.

"No! What's ridiculous is that the FIA won't even see why my wife has a high-risk pregnancy and that I'm needed home, not driving in goddamn circles!" He snaps, slamming his phone down and pulling his hair.

"Char, breath." You whisper from the bed, in agony, simply because you can't get up and comfort your husband.

Charles, almost sensing your dilemma moves from the end of the bed to laying down next to you, placing his head on your chest, careful of your swollen breasts, knowing how much they've been hurting lately. No words are said as fingers run through his hair to calm him down and stop him from making a huge mistake.

"Charles, I'll have your mother here with me. Me and the baby are going to be okay. Listen, if anything changes, I will call you immediately. You can't miss this; you have a real chance this year and must show the world that Charles Leclerc will be a World Champion." Your words convince him as he lets off that familiar defeated sigh of his, making your smile grow at this.

"Immediately. Do you understand? I don't care if it's stupid like your back itches you call me." He bargains, making you laugh and nod in agreement.

Pascale has been staying with you for only a month, and you finally reached the safe zone, where if you did go into labor, it wouldn't be so dangerous for you or the baby. It was race day, and Charles was in Silverstone, needing to finish P2 or higher to challenge Max for the title.

It was a typical day as Pascale fixed you a light snack as you weren't feeling well, your lower back was hurting, and it felt like your pelvis had its own heartbeat. You didn't think much of it as it was a hot day in Monte Carlo, and you had read in books that it was customary to feel this, so you didn't say anything to Pascale to not worry her. The race was halfway through when the first real cramp startled you to the point you dropped your cup; thankfully, it was rubber, so it didn't break.

"Y/n? Honey, what's wrong?" Pascale was right there in an instant picking up the cup, looking over you.

"Just...a cramp, it's nothing." You mummer rubbing your stomach but flinch from how much it hurts to touch it.

"Y/n, when did this start?" Pascale asks calmly, knowing it was wise to keep you calm and not start to freak out because you might be in early labor.

"Last night, but it's picked up this morning. It's nothing, Pascale, honestly, just the baby moving." You try to reason, not wanting to jump straight to labor.

"Y/n, I'm calling for an ambulance, okay? I think you might be in early labor, and with you being on bed rest, they need to help me, alright." She mummers pushing your hair back, trying everything to keep you calm.

"Okay, okay." You repeat as the cramp passes, and you hear her on the phone telling them everything as you force yourself to pay attention to the race and not to the growing pit in your stomach that you might be in labor.

They get here fast as you breathe through another cramp. Tears start to flutter down your cheeks, the realization of you possibly in labor while Charles isn't here, but in the UK. They ask you question after question and share a look, a look that sets you off.

"No! No! I'm not in labor, okay? I'm just having some cramps, which is normal; I have PCOS; okay, nope, I'm not." You argue as the medics alert the hospital to your condition.

"Mrs. Leclerc, I understand that you are only 29 weeks and you're scared, but right now, you are in early labor, and we need to get you to the hospital as soon as we can, okay?" The friendly medic tries to reason with you, but you refuse to see reason.

"I'm sorry, but no. Charles isn't here; he should be here; I can't do this alone. I'm sorry, but I'm not going anywhere." You argue as Pascale packs your bags and looks over at you.

"Y/n, I know you are scared, but Charles isn't here right now, but he will be okay. I'll call him when the race is over and let him know immediately what's going on. But, please, if you wait, it'll be worse for you and the baby." She can reason with you, finally getting you to the hospital as you try hard to stay calm and not make things worse.

But of course, Pascale could never make the phone call as everyone was too busy keeping you calm.

Charles was on top of the world. He had won Silverstone and was only 4 points behind Max now. Sticky with champagne, he checks his phone, looking for the standard text from you, but not seeing a text from you, he hits dial, calling you. But, you don't pick up, making him call you again, yet again, you don't pick up.

He reasons you must be asleep, knowing you had been super tired lately, and his mother said everything was fine. You're eating normally and just sleeping or reading. He moves and takes a picture of the trophy, telling you he won it for you and the baby and he couldn't wait to get back home to you both. Sadly, he's pulled away from his phone to go do media even though he wants to head to the airport and go home, but he needs to do this first.

Only 4 more hours before heading to the plane, then another 5 to 6 hours before he's back home to you.

He makes it through all 5 interviews before coming to the last one, Pierre on his right and Carlos on his left as they all give their final interviews.

"Charles, amazing race. I have to say that it was fabulous to see you win this and to have your teammate and your childhood best friend up there. It must've been something." The reporter gushes, making Charles smile at how genuine the reporter is.

"Yes, um, having Carlos and Pierre be there next to me was something. I mean, the Red Bulls put up one hell of a fight, but we know not to get too comfortable and that we really need to start pushing it more and more each day so we can close the gap and pull in front of them." Charles smiles.

"Yes, this must be a wonderful day with you; with what winning Silverstone and your wife going into labor, you must be just on top of the world." Charles freezes, hearing the words come out of the reporter's mouth and let's put a nervous laugh.

"I'm sorry? My wife isn't in labor," he argues, starting to fidget and lick his lips.

''Really? Reports are that she went into labor at the start of lap 23 and has been at the hospital, your mother." Having cut the camera, realizing that Charles honestly had no idea.

"Nope, she's not, okay, she's not in labor. She would've called." he snaps, hands fumbling for his phone, trying to call you again. This time, it goes to voicemail, sending his heart plummeting to his feet.

"Alright, that's enough for today." Pierre voices and grabs Charles leading him away from prying eyes as he keeps calling you repeatedly.

"Charles. Charles, stop!" Pierre yells, snatching the phone away as his friend cries. Fear takes over Charles as he starts to imagine the worst. What if something was seriously wrong, and you went into early labor. You're only 29 weeks. That's 6 months. Yes, the baby would be okay, but would you?

"Come on, let's go to the hotel. Get your stuff, and you and I will fly out and call your mom. Okay, let's go." Pierre reasons, dragging his friend away and to the cars trying to calm down Charles.

'Pierre calls Pascale and puts her on the speaker; thankfully, the woman picks up after 3 rings.

"Why the fuck didn't you call me the moment she went into labor? I wouldn't give a damn if I was still in the car. Why didn't you call!" Charles rips out before Pascale can say anything, and Pierre groans, knowing that if the situation was different, the Ferrari driver's mother would bury his ass in the ground.

"Because Charles, I've been trying to keep her calm. She's freaking out because you're not here, and honestly, honey, I forgot, as I was trying to make sure your wife's blood pressure doesn't get worse; now, get here as fast as you can because she's almost fully dilated and she needs you Charles, and she needs you to be calm and strong for her because right now she's not." Pascale hangs up, leaving the car in a stiff eerie silence.

"Get me to the airport as fast as you can," Charles whispers, making Pierre nod to ensure he'd get there.

"I can't do this, Pascale; nope, I'm sorry, but I can't. It hurts too much, please, make it stop." you cry as your mother-in-law soothes you. She tells you Charles is on the way. But that did nothing to comfort you. It only made you more anxious about the fact that this would happen.

"Y/n, I know you're scared but Charles will be here soon, okay? But you can't stop pushing, okay? All these nurses and doctors are here to help you, ow let them." She urges as you scream out from another contraction.

"I want Charles." You sob, collapsing against the bed from exhaustion. This was too much for you, the pain, Charles, and everyone in the room; you can't do this.

"Baby!" A familiar voice cries out as the door swings open, and Charles runs in. His hair is messy, and he looks so bewildered you could kiss him, but all you can do is scream.

"WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?!" Making Pascale and everyone else jump, Charles just smiles and pushes everyone out of the way to get to your side.

"I'm sorry, I was on a plane, and my phone wasn't working." And lies, not wanting to tell the truth of no one telling him but a reporter that you were in labor.

"You're lucky I'm giving birth right now or so; help me go-" Your words get cut off by another contraction, making you grab Charles's hand and squeeze it so hard he'd thought it'd break.

"Okay, Mrs. Leclerc, we need you to push." the doctor instructs while Pascale slips outside, startled to see half the grid in the hallway.

"Come on, let's give them some privacy." Pascale smiles, wrapping an arm around Pierre as she leads the boys down the hallway.

"I love you," Charles whispers, kissing your forehead, not caring for a minute you are drenched in sweat.

"I love you too, but we're adopting or surrogacy next time." You cry as you get one more contraction, everyone yelling at you to push, and soon your cries are mixed in with smaller ones.

"He's here. He's here." Charles repeats, kissing you all over and making sure you are okay. He wanted to check on his baby, but first, he needed to ensure you were alright.

"It's a boy? We had a little boy." You whimper, leaning into Charles's chest as you cry in relief that everything went as smoothly as possible.

"He's perfect, Y/n, all ten toes and fingers, and god, I love you so much." Charles mummers finally kissing you while the nurse cleans up your son.

"Here you go." the nurse smiles, handing you your son, who cries his little lungs out but soon stops when he's placed on your chest.

"He'll need to go to NICU for just a night so we can go over everything and make sure there are no complications, but after that, he can come down here and stay with you, Momma." the nurse smiles, going back to help make sure your vitals and everything else was good.

'Charles, and you can't help but stare at your little boy while you start to feel that ache and tiredness settle in, but Charles holds you both, his entire world in his arms.

"We need a name," Charles whispers, making you hum in agreement.

"I've got the perfect one. Also, tell Pierre I say thank you for getting you here."

Charles blinks down at you, confused, but you just giggle.

"I can smell his cologne." Making Charles laugh right along with you.

You fell asleep after picking the name, and the nurses follow Charles to the waiting room where everyone is, Pascale the first to see her son.

"Everyone," Charles starts making the others turn their heads, Isa and Carmen gushing at the tiny little baby in Charles's arms.

"Meet Pierre Hervé Jules Leclerc." Charles announces, making everyone laugh as Pierre stands there stunned, looking at his best friend holding his son.

"Really?" Pierre asks, making Charles nod. "Of course, if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have gotten here in one piece. Also, Y/n says thank you." Charles smiles but adds, "she could smell your cologne on my clothes." Making everyone laugh at this.

"Can I hold him?" Pascale asks, but Charles shakes his head no.

"Sorry, but he won't be held by anyone but us and the staff for right now; he's got to go to the NICU overnight, and frankly, I want Y/n to get a say who holds him first after us, Mother." Charles smiles, but Pascale just beams, seeing Charles transform before her.

"Say goodbye to all your uncles and aunts, Pierre," Charles whispers, laying him in the trolly as the nurse reassures him that he'll be fine and he can come up and visit if he'd like.

Everyone watches as the Ferrari driver just smiles at his boy and leans down, whispering something to the baby before pulling away and watching the nurses take him a floor up.

"What did you say?" Pierre asks his friend.

"We'd always love and protect him, and he's only allowed to root for Ferrari." He laughs, making Pascale slap her son on the arm, everyone joining in on the laughter, a memory no one would forget.

4K notes · View notes

residenthughes · 3 months

Text

persuasion - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x fem reader

word count: 5.7k

tags/warnings: college/university au, fluff, slight angst?, fratboy! jack (he's sweet in this, dw), mentions of alcohol/drinking, no mention of y/n

summary: you get a bit more than you bargained for when paired up with all-american hockey star, jack hughes.

notes: hi. it's been a (long) while since i've posted on here. not to mention, i'm back writing about someone a bit different 😭 but i've recently gotten into the nhl and this fic is the result of me drunkenly coming across this photo a few days ago. despite the changes on this blog, i hope this post finds you well and that you enjoy this (poor) attempt of me getting back into writing. much love <3

The end of the semester couldn’t have come sooner. Swapped with what was possibly the busiest you’ve ever been, the sweet relief after submitting your last assignment was unparalleled and lulled you to a much deserved slumber, only to be awoken by a barrage of messages pinging from your bedside table. Disgruntled, your arm extends in search of your phone, groaning into your damp pillow as you blink away the tired film coating your eyes and read the messages from your best friend.

frat house party tonight, presence is mandatory!

all the girlies are onboard, your sexy ass better be ready by 9!

Another groan emits from you, exhaustion seeping through your bones at the mere mention of doing something else besides rotting in bed. You’re about to type some incoherent excuse, but your best friend beats you to it.

apparently, z and his guys are going.

chances are jack’s there too.

There’s a messy stutter in your chest upon reading the message and suddenly, you’re more awake than before as you gingerly sit yourself up in your bed. Of course, she’d mention he was going just to convince you further. You weren’t even aware she knew of your crush. Considering you hadn’t mentioned him much besides when asked, his name being referenced feels more intrusive than it should be. Then again, as perceptive as she is, there was no denying the fact.

Jack and yourself had worked on a group project earlier in the semester, which is how the two of you had crossed paths. Upon hearing of the task at hand, you couldn’t help but let out a sigh because you were never a fan of working with others you didn’t know, but considering none of your friends took your class, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to get to know others and build your social circle. When your assigned group had got together towards the end of the lecture to discuss formalities and such, you hadn’t expected the whirlwind that was to come in the presence of a sandy brunette haired boy.

Jack is as easy-going as he is charming. Cracks a couple jokes and suddenly, all the ice isolating your group dissolves to water and there are constant hums of conversation bouncing off every member of your group. He’s nice too, considerate of everyone’s schedule and what tasks they felt confident in completing, never uttering a word of complaint unless warranted. It’s interesting, he’s interesting, you think to yourself. Perhaps due to the fact that since he’d revealed himself to be in a frat, you had some preconceived notions as to what his personality would be like and maybe at times, he’d fit that stereotype to a tee, there were other times he’d stray away from it completely and leave you curious as ever.

Peculiar is what you’d describe those few weeks to be, your interest gravitating towards any relation to Jack. Heart beating as you walked past your university’s ice arena, knowing he practically lived on the ice beyond his time in class. Eyes lighting up when he texted in the group chat, mental fuzziness plaguing you every time you sat across from one another as you completed your portion of work in the university’s library. You’d be a fool to dismiss the budding attraction you felt towards him, spinning your world round but also leaving you feeling so unsure of everything, yourself included. There’s no scarcity of girls who like him, it proved to be difficult resisting the All-American hockey star with looks to match. However, taking into account the sheer volume of attention directed his way everyday, your lingering glances didn’t seem to be much more significant. So, one-sided this crush remains to you, storing away the quiet memories of shared laughs and time spent together in a place close to your heart.

That was until he invited you to his game, shortly after your project had been submitted for assessment. You wanted to go, you wanted to go so badly that you agonised over the decision for longer than necessary, but ultimately, as you laid awake that night, eyes blazing red with fatigue, doom scrolling to further delay your dreams, the evidence for your answer surfaced. It was nothing but a silly Instagram post from one of his friends, Trevor Zegras, the boyfriend to one of your friends. A collection of typical photos: the boys, hockey and more of the antics they got to. It’s in the last slide where in the background of a recent football game is none other than Jack, in all his handsome glory, grinning ear to ear as a girl envelopes him in a hug that feels too intimate to be seen. Embarrassment runs your skin hot and jealousy leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, the thought of you entertaining anything more than platonic with Jack a pipedream at best. Naturally, there can be so many explanations for the photo, but what rings true is that you’ve made yourself vulnerable to heartbreak, which is nowhere to be found on your agenda. So, you call it a night, turning off your phone and hoping to put the crush behind you come tomorrow.

And, it works for a bit. Jack doesn’t text you further and you don’t run into him on campus. Summer soon approaches and the last few days before your break have you buzzing with excitement for all the plans you have lined up. Your world doesn’t hinge on every interaction you have with Jack and your mind is freed from the shackles of mulling over every detail in said interaction. It’s liberating and you’d like to keep it that way. A fleeting crush, you reason, all said and done with. A mantra you repeat to yourself as you respond back to your best friend, gleaming as you and your group chat discuss outfits options and pinterest inspired makeup looks.

There’s nothing better than being with your girls, you’re reminded, as the buzzing excitement never fizzles as the night stretches on. Controlled chaos dominates the night as you pack into one friend’s rooms to get ready together, helping each other with eyelash extensions and annoying back zippers. Someone makes the suggestion to drop by the campus bar for a drink or two, just to ease the nerves, and it turns out to be a great idea because by the time you stumble out of the bar and towards the frat house, the party’s in full swing.

Trashed lawn and red cup galore, the music somehow manages to reach outside the house with hoards of people dotted around and inside the house. With the merry buzz you’ve got from the bar, confidence details your movements as you lead your friends with clasped hands into the packed house, mumbling a thousand ‘sorry’s as you trample on through the crowded hallways to find yourselves in one (?) of the living rooms.

Hands suddenly grasp at yours and you’re thrown into a fit of giggles as your friends tangle themselves up in a messy but fun dance. You follow suit, fully relishing in the euphoria of the night and the found family you have in these girls as you dance and chatter until you have no choice to venture into the kitchen for a refreshment.

Surprisingly, the kitchen is vacant as you push through towards its door you were directed to, scanning the room amongst belongings to find some mixer for your helping of vodka stashed away in your purse. Despite your better judgement, you resort to apprehensively searching through cupboards on your tippy toes in search for mixer and as you’re about to open the last cupboard, the kitchen door opens.

“Looking for something?”

Goosebumps arise and your heart stills. You know that voice like the back of your hand, the same voice that echoes in the back of your mind and whispers sweet nothings in your ear when you dream. The fact that he’s so ingrained in your memory makes you curse at yourself, teeth gnawing on the plumpiness of your bottom lip as you attempt to recollect your racing thoughts. With a quiet breath, you sink back from your elevated posture and turn towards the source of the voice, blinking like a deer caught in the headlights.

It’s comical how such a simple sight renders you a loss for words. In the doorway of the large kitchen stands Jack, shoulder and head leaning against the doorframe as he looks at you with an expectant look and a cheeky grin to match. His legs are crossed at the ankles and he’s holding a beer, but he’s got this pearl white long sleeved polo on with washed out jeans and a black snapback to top it all off. The outfit in itself is so simple and yet, here you are, heart being sent into overdrive as the effortless combo drives you wild. Sets your skin alight and conjures up electricity that pulses through you like wildfire.

“Lemonade,” you gracefully croak out, gesturing towards your empty red cup. “I didn’t bring much to mix my drink with.”

“Here, I’ll help you with that,” he reassures you, bouncing off the door frame as he draws closer to you, your feet absently shifting a few steps backwards. “No need to back up. I don’t bite, you know?”

You huff at the comment, realising how foolish his mere presence makes you and will yourself to relax, shoulders easing down from your ears as you watch Jack search through the cupboards. It doesn’t take him long to find what he’s looking for, pulling out a large bottle of lemonade that coasts against the marble of the countertop.

“Feel free to use as much as you like, I never usually have this myself anyways.” insists Jack, turning himself around with his back against the countertop, arms crossed his chest with a peering eye directed to you.

“How thoughtful of you.” you jester as a brief chuckle is shared between the two of you, the loud thumps of heavy bass music sounding from beyond the kitchen door as silence settles between the two of you.

“It’s been a while, how’ve you been?” he asks, undivided attention focused on you as you pour the last of the lemonade. If not for the embarrassment of spilling your drink in front of him, the unsolicited awareness he’s currently given you would have resulted in exactly that, so you stop yourself and give him a convincing smile.

“I’ve been good, thanks. It’s the end of the academic year, I have no more complaints,” you muse, bringing the cup to your lips as you peer over the rim to look at Jack, his long lashes fluttering as his focus remains you. Your heartbeat picks up its pace. “What about you? Frozen four’s a big deal, but winning the championship is even bigger.”

Jack gives a lighthearted laugh, smugness adjusting his posture as his shoulders move back and his chest puffs out. Meanwhile, he gives this half shrug and grin that has heat gravitating towards the apples of your cheeks. It’s one of the things you like about Jack, how confident and sure of himself he is without it being overbearing and unappealing. It feels assuring, not having to dim your own light for the sake of his own comfort.

“Yeah, that was nuts, I can’t lie. We had a really good run and I think our efforts really showed for themselves in that case,” Jack responds, taking a swig of his beer. “Christ, I sound like I’m talking to the media or something.”

“Well, consider this practice for when you join Jersey in the future,” you simper, snickering as you take a sip of your own drink. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of fun speaking to the media.”

He gives an eyeroll, amusement prominent in the way his eyes twinkle and you can't help but laugh more. “So you say. How did you even know about Jersey?”

Your laugh is cut short, ice cold realisation washing over you like a bad hangover as his words hang in the air like a gauntlet waiting for its descent. Of course, this was nothing to be caught off-guard by considering how much your university boasts about how Jack, amongst other talented players, were drafted before committing to your university. However, the painful memory of you awake one late night doesn’t escape you, said night spent hesitantly typing his name into Google to come across all the info you knew to confirm how great of a hockey player he was. You feel shameful even looking him in the eyes right now.

So, your eyes stray from him, the somewhat sticky floor being the source of all your interest. “Who doesn’t know? Our uni does a good job of reminding us of everyone that’s been drafted.”

You decide to spare a glance at Jack, taking in how a pinkish hue decorates the surface of his cheeks as his lone hand goes to scratch the back of his neck. The timidity that clouds his movement evokes a simper out of you, one that you direct into your cup, its contents rapidly draining under the weight of your continued conversation.

“Oh, man. Maybe, I shouldn’t have asked that,” he jokes, smile all pearly white and heart fluttering. “Can’t blame a guy for being nervous, no?”

“Nerv-”

Suddenly, the kitchen door bursts open and a flood of drunken students come barrelling in, hollering as their drinks splash to the floor and chaos ensues. You’re just as confused at their unexpected appearance as you are at the comment Jack made, but before you have a chance to ponder further, a warm hand settles against the small of your back followed by the gentle waft of Jack’s aftershave, a mixture sea salt with a hint of lavender and spicy nutmeg. It takes everything in you for your knees not to buckle.

“Let’s head out back.” he whispers, breath fanning over your neck as his fingertips ignite fire against your skin.

Abruptly, you clear your throat, mindlessly nodding along as you blindly follow him out back, Jack’s larger build serving as a shield of sorts as he seamlessly navigates his way through the hordes of students. He does so with your hand in his and as much as your internal monologue unleashes panicked squeals at the contact, you revel in his touch - calloused hands that hold yours like porcelain, warm hands that match together like the universe and all its stars.

A cool breeze blankets your skin and your focus shifts from your inner thoughts, taking in the generous and lush green outdoor space with sparse camping chairs circling a bonfire and a large tree further up ahead draped in fairy lights. There’s some people here too, but the atmosphere is a 180 from the mayhem inside, hushed light-hearted conversations exchanged beside the lit bonfire with the faint smell of weed filtering through the crisp air. The dazzling fairy lights blind you into bumping into Jack’s back, apologising with a laugh before he collapses onto the daisy white hammock before you.

You follow suit with the carefree attitude Jack gives you, but you miscalculate horrendously because you don’t fall into the place beside your crush, but into his lap. Shock runs through your veins like ice as your bewilderment freezes you in place, mouth gaping open as you turn to face Jack in absolute horror. He seems to fare better with the unexpected contact, enlarged azure eyes showing his awe and yet his hands are in all the right places - supporting your waist as your weightless body struggles to hold its own.

“I’m-“ the hairs on your neck are standing and you’re close to crying, the heat of your mortification burning your body hot like a furnace. “-so sorry. I didn’t-I didn’t even-“

“Relax, you’re good,” the chill of his beer against your skin sends a shiver down your spine, the feeling intensifying by the thousands as Jack’s thumb gives your exposed skin the smallest caress. You’re sure you’re the personification of shock at how every inch of your features displays pure alarm. “Unless this was your plan?”

You’re shoving him before your brain is able to comprehend its commands, your flustered state leaping out of his lap and collapsing back alongside him this time, hands clasped over your eyes as you take the time to maybe calm down. “What frat house even has a hammock anyways?”

“Rachel - Z’s girl - thought it’d be a nice touch for the garden,” you hear Jack mumble, but you’re too busy nursing your ego to fully immerse in conversation. “You’re friends with her, right? You guys came in together.”

“Keeping an eye out for me, Hughes?”

Apparently, your ego isn’t as bruised to make such a comment, a smirk finding itself onto the surface of your face as you’ve yet to remove your hand from your vision.

“It’s hard to keep my eyes off you.”

You freeze in place, the heaviness in your stomach incomparable with the hammering of your heart against your chest as your brain picks apart Jack’s comment at the speed of light. None of the comments Jack has made throughout your entire conversation have gone over your head, the flirty undertones as clear as day. He wasn’t as up front with his compliments when you two first started working together, the furthest compliment he’d given denoting how nice you looked despite rolling out of bed twenty minutes beforehand. His directness makes your eyebrows furrow, or rather his intentions have you looking around as if you could find some answers. Perhaps this is how Jack is at parties - all pleasant with a careful flirtation that gradually pulls you inwards. Or maybe, this simply is the case of him showing his interest in you. The concept is not lost on you, but there is still apprehension that manifests within you, for reasons you are yet to discover.

You’re about to say something, your parted lips issuing a single incoherent syllable that dissolves on your tongue when the faint murmur of country music from a group of guys up ahead takes your notice, Jack’s nose scrunching with delight as he exclaims, “Ah, what a banger.”

Your eyebrow quirks upwards, merriment spreading against your features. “I never pegged you as the country type.”

“Well, I’m not a Drake guy, I’ll tell you that much.” Jack shifts in his seat, extending his arm out behind your back.

“So, a belieber then?” you jester, taunting eyebrows raised as you can’t keep your snicker to yourself when you watch Jack roll his eyes with the same grin.

“If that makes you happy, then yeah,” Jack reasons nonchalantly, whereas you make a pathetic attempt at stopping the stammer in your chest. “But no, that’s pretty much all that plays when my brothers and I wakesurf in the summer, unless Z is on the aux. Then, he and Quinn have a go at each other for it.”

Chuckles emit from your lips as you picture the image of a sunny summer day out on a boat, Jack’s older brother, Quinn, and Trevor becoming enemies of silence as they bicker over music choices. A warm fuzziness embraces you, the image placing you right beside Jack as laughter bubbles between the two of you whilst Luke wakesurfs in the background. It’s a honeyed depiction, all rose-tinted and for you to hold close to your heart along with other fantasies you allow yourself to entertain.

“We’re planning on going back to our summer house upstate where we do loads of other stuff,” Jack trails off, his fingers tapping against the glass of his bottle as you two share a look between each other. His eyes flicker downwards almost immediately, the top of his ears crimsoning. “You should stop by sometime. It’d be good to see you over the summer.”

For someone as confident as Jack, these rare glimpses of timidity demonstrate themselves as a pure anomaly. So, you can imagine your surprise at not only his incredibly generous offer but also his sheepish demeanour; gaze never aligning with yours as you feel his fingers fiddle with the material of the hammock behind your back. The sight enamours you, a rush of endearment washing over you as you lean into the feeling, not bothering to hide the wide smile growing across the expanse of your face.

If this is what awaits you at their summer house, you’re already packed and ready to go.

“I could be persuaded.” Jack’s already rolling his eyes and against his better judgement, he finds himself chuckling with you too.

When your amusement blends into the night sky, Jack's eyelids fall halfway, gaze steady as he mirrors your prior smirk that’s all but gone with the quiet wind. “And, what would that involve?”

A moment is shared between the two of you. Burning bright like a star and erupting fireworks in your fingertips as your eyes linger on one another longer than explanatory. The landscape of his dotted moles capture your attention first, your sight leading itself to the galaxy-like twinkle dazzling in the ocean blue of his eyes. It’s so precious, this point in time - so delicate and intimate that it feels like a secret, whispers of infatuation pulling you together by their invisible strings as Jack’s extended arm circles your shoulders. You lean in, the temptation of his lips calling your name. Earlier restlessness ceases to exist as your movements read as second nature, the bruising of your chest accompanying the fuzziness that dances in your stomach as Jack leans into too.

“Yo, Jack!”

The moment is all but gone, burst like a bubble as both your heads turn in the direction of the voice, spying one of Jack’s friends, Cole, standing on the porch with a hand clasped around his mouth.

“Get your ass in here, we’re playing Jenga!”

A string of unpleasantries filter through Jack’s mouth in the form of a murmur, remnants of your interrupted kiss lingering as Jack gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze and gives you the most apologetic look you’ve ever seen. Puppy eyes and pouty lips, an image you lock away in your heart forever.

“Did you wanna head in?” He gives you the choice, head tilted to the side as he studies your expression whilst you ponder the inquiry.

The almost kiss is something to behold and if this has occurred weeks prior amidst the intensity of your crush, you would have begged and pleaded to stay, hinging on the hopes of whatever this is being fabricated once again to fulfil your fondness dreams. But, this feels different. It feels sold, as opposed to balancing upon shaky possibilities. This is undeniable, a point in time that is infinite and kissed upon by destiny. A junction you can return to time and time again.

“Yeah, I’m sure my friends are looking for me anyways,” you unravel yourself from Jack’s loose grip, hoisting yourself up before you turn to face him with a soft beam. His expression reads unsure, gaze scattered before he looks upwards before your sneakers knock against his impossibly white Air Forces. You nod towards the house, the giddiness building within you exceptional as your hand extends out to meet his. “Let’s head in together?”

It comes out more of a question than a statement, but you could care less when Jack gives you that soft smile that’s only reserved for you, grabbing a hold of your hand after he brings himself off the hammock before you proceed to return back to the party.

The bustling atmosphere appears to have maintained itself in your absence, hundreds of conversations mixing in with the booming sounds of some bass heavy hip hop song. You nod your head to the beat, grinning when you see familiar faces in the crowd as you trail behind Jack yet again, following him in promise of your friends who Cole had mentioned joined their group’s game of Jenga. You make do with getting down the stairs of the basement without tumbling due to their frigid nature, face instantly lighting up as you catch sight of your friends, collapsing into a fit of excited hugs and shared giggles as you all catch up on the events of the party.

Amidst all the dialogue, some of which you’re assuming Jack’s sorority brothers and friends make quick work of getting the bare room ready, arranging beers for everyone as the box of Jenga is brought out. The weight of concentrated eyes seers into your goosebump-riddled skin and by the time you volunteer to assemble the Jenga tower, you’re more than aware of Jack’s attention on you. Even with how overflowing the confidence you possessed was as you left the back garden, the heat of his gaze reduces you to a sheepish mess, antsy hands uncertain of their movements as you attempt to achieve some standard of normalcy, your eyes avoiding his. It’s when your hands accidentally touch that you cannot avoid it much longer, peering through clumpy eyelashes with a flush that feels as vivid as painted glass.

A lone corner of his lips inclines, his look of allurement tangled with blatant attraction enough to make you knock over some of the Jenga pieces. A deep chorus of disapproving sounds holler at your actions, your sheepishness fended off by the laughter amongst you and Jack as you continue to assemble the tower again, this serving as the last of your communication before the Jenga game commences.

Every Jenga piece taken out of the tower involves a dare that has laughter erupting from the pits of your stomach or mouth gaping open at the gull others possess whilst intoxicated. With the muffled sounds of the music upstairs and endless talk in the room, merriment captures your heart in a gentle squeeze as the dares carry on, the harmless fun quickly becoming one of your favourite memories in recent times.

It’s your turn to go and the frat guys are already teasing you with endearing nicknames, putting a smile on your face as your hands steady to pull out a tricky Jenga piece with ease. Wooden block in hand, your line of vision skims the chicken scratch of a dare with an effortless glee that’s swiftly replaced with plentiful surprise.

“What does it say?!’ exclaims Trevor, the anticipation in his voice evident as he squeals his words.

You’re reducing to your meek self again, not daring to look upwards as you enunciate your words to aid your own comprehension. “Spend seven minutes in heaven with the player across from you.”

You’re unsure whether the universe has some really good jokes up their sleeve or this is just fate to begin with because when you lift your head up, already knowing, Jack’s amused facial expression speaks for itself.

Hollers and cheers fill the room, enough pandemonium to make you crimson as you stumble to your feet, casting a peek at your best friend with a cross between disbelief and delight. Your best friend, the same one that texted you about Jack’s presence at the party tonight, bawls her hand into a tight fist, bringing it to her chest as a sign of victory with mischief painted all over her. The ridiculousness of this farce eliminates you from ruminating about what awaits you in the closet a mere metres away. The guy most pleased with the situation opens the closet door, a few brooms pushed back into the compact space that is surprisingly clean with no cobwebs or dust in sight.

“All clean and ready for you two lovebirds,” Trevor grins with the keenness of a kid in a candy store, pushing back his long locks of hair as he sends a wink your way. “Don’t get too carried away in there, you’ve only got seven minutes.”

Jack says something in reply to Trevor’s cheeky comment but you’re too preoccupied by your own thoughts, feet carrying you to the fate of your Jenga dare as the door closes and darkness shrouds you.

It’s silent for a minute, nothing but soft breaths and dulled whispers from outside the closet door. The closet is dangerously compact, your back up against the wall not sparing you from establishing your own personal space, the slightest shift of your shoes inevitably going to knock against Jack’s. Outside in the back garden feels so far away now, slipping through your hands as if sand with the daunting weight of unsaid expectations folding your arms and clearing a stubborn croak in your throat.

As the seconds tick on and no communication is shared, the everlasting laps you round around your mind exhaust you for the last time and you decide to face whatever this is head on, a start being making eye contact with the man that makes it the hardest thing in the world. However, with the tiniest sliver of dimmed light peaking through underneath the closet door, you can see him. Jack, in all his glory - soft and boyish, all charming in nature. The round pool blue of his eyes and the moles that dot his skin like constellations. It’s a rush of emotions, all raw and bare, to overwhelm and comfort you, with the easiness of his smile that directs your way and warms your heart like no other.

“We don’t have to do anything in here, I’d never do anything to make you uncomfortable,” Jack explains, his hand reaching to drag down one side of his face as his eyes cast away. “I hope you know that.”

This - you feel resolute in - establishing some sense of security in this room as you smile up at Jack. “The thought didn’t even cross my mind.”

There’s a double meaning in your words and you don’t bother to correct yourself, reading in between the lines cementing itself as your favourite pastime. But, Jack knows and so do you. Perhaps you knew all along that every nook and cranny in your heart was specially reserved for Jack and no other could do. Maybe, you spent so much time in your head because this unexplored territory felt like the birth of the universe, so big and beautiful that it had more questions than answers. A forbidden fruit of sorts - a sweet mirage that the more you pulled away, gravity pulled you right back. A place where you belonged - with him in this moment forever sealed between the two of you.

Jack offers a smile in the wake of your thoughts, timid yet teasing in nature and you can’t resist, in the almost dark of the closet, grin too because this was sealed from the very beginning. Alone with infamous fratboy Jack Hughes, under some sort of awkward pretence bringing you together because you let your fears get the best of you, a stark contrast to what they are now - engulfed in thoughts, feelings of your lips against his and how this charade will come to a close, the building tension boiling till it overflows

“Hey-” you both say at the same time, silencing as you chuckle at the unison you unite in.

“Ladies first.”

“I’m more interested in what you have to say.”

Because there’s no doubt in your mind he’ll steal the words right out of your mouth, the mere thought of those words escaping his lips the centre of all your desires.

He pauses, eyes searching yours for confirmation which presents itself in the toothy grin he struggles not to reflect, canine sinking into the corner of his lips before he responds, “If you insist.”

Jack doesn’t miss a beat as he reaches for your hand, absently tracing patterns into the skin with a thoughtful hum that proceeds his words.

“I think I’ve been a lot more straightforward with how I feel about you, but I’d like to chance to tell you right here that I’m interested in you, in being with you. To the point that the boys get sick of me yapping about it,” you chuckle at his comment, the humour of the joke distracting you from the flood of emotions that submerges you indefinitely. “I felt this way from the time we got assigned to work together. And, if maybe you had any reservations about us, I’d do whatever it takes so that they don’t exist because you’re what matters most and that will never change.”

No feeling can compare to this. It’s almost as if you’re experiencing the full spectrum of emotions for the first time, rejoicing in the sunshine Jack basks upon you in the wake of his confession. A mirage turned reality, the colours are bright and blinding and you’re so elated within yourself that you physically cannot do more than bring Jack’s hand to your cheek to kiss his palm. A confirmation that needs no words.

The warmth of his hand against your cheek melts you into his skin, eyelids falling shut as you revel in the tender caresses of his thumb, of his love and the unspoken words between you. A graze against your throat has your eyes fluttering open, lips parted as Jack secures his hand gently against the nape of your neck. A soft inhale escapes you as his thumb traces the corner of your mouth, dilated pupils flickering between your own and your lips.

“Can I-”

“Yes, please.”

A star is born at the centre of your lips as they fold over one another, blending seamlessly together as you move together in synchronised harmony. You taste the remnants of beer, inhale his musky cologne and send yourself flying into another universe as Jack holds you close for impact. All your brain knows to do is convey your sentiment tenfold, kissing him as if touch starved as your fingers thread through the curls of his hair. You commit this to memory - the slowness of the kiss, the scent of his apple shampoo and his curls around your fingers, the feathery feeling of your fluttering heart and the tenderness of your hearts beating as one. So sickeningly besotted with another that everything pales in comparison.

Reluctantly, you pull away from his soft lips when the shared oxygen between you two vanishes, eyes slow to open but ultimately capturing the part of Jack’s rouge lips that quiver in your wake, his gaze meeting yours moments later.

You kiss him again for good measure.

“Alright, horny bastards. Time’s up!” Cole’s voice thunders from beyond the door.

Lips still pressed against Jack’s, you both smile into one last kiss, just as sweet as the last. Jack savours it for what it’s worth, forehead pressed against yours as you two stand together, bruised chests aching with all the yearning that can fit into your palms.

“Consider me persuaded.”

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #nhl #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes imagine #nhl imagine #nhl hockey #hockey #jack hughes fic #nhl fanfiction #jack hughes one shot #residenthughes

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remember-the-fanfics · 2 months

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An asked 'I feel like if Adam met the gen Z overlord before he came to the hotel they talk circles around him.'

But it came out as their first interaction, they still roasting Adam when they can.

Set in the first episode

"Ah yes, the first man. The reason I had to live my life and have responsibilities. So wonderful." Said (Y/n), after Adam revealed who he actually was..

"Who the fuck do you think you're talking too? I'm the dickmaster!" Adam said finally noticing (Y/n)'s presence in the room.

"Well being the first man, you really had nothing else to compare it to." They told him with a smile.

"This is (Y/n), they came with me because-."

"I don't trust any of you so I'm making sure Charlie stays safe." (Y/n) finished the sentence not wanting Charlie to soften any words with the Angels.

"No sinner should be here, I should end you for even setting a foot in here." Said Lute, glaring and getting close to (Y/n), who just glared back while getting up from their chair.

"Test me, bit-." Getting interrupted by Charlie pulling them back into their chair. (Y/n) looked at Charlie with a upset glare but settled back down while Lute returned back to Adam's side.

"I want to discuss biggest problem." Said Charlie, trying to get back on track on why she was here.

"Oh herpes. Yeah, that's a bitch." Adam replied.

"Seems to be a you problem." Said (Y/n), seeming already done with Adam.

"No! Our... other biggest problem."

"Ugly people? Math? Global Warming? No wait, that's earth problem." Said Adam, earning a deadpan look from Charlie, who (Y/n) patted on the back.

"You can't change stupid, Charlie. No matter how you try." They whispered to Charlie. "But hey maybe he isn't a complete moron."

Which (Y/n) completely took back after tuning in to Adam being on a different topic now. Being sexist and boasting his own masculinity.

"Do you cope by being a complete ass?" They said, Adam completely ignoring (Y/n) went on.

"-expects you to pay the check but you're like 'Hey, I thought you wanted equality."

"I'm gonna kill him." Said (Y/n), looking at Charlie.

"No! Our shared problem of overpopulation in Hell!" Charlie finally said before (Y/n) could try and kill him.

"Ohh, well that's not a problem! We got that covered." Adam said before turning to Lute. "Lute, how many demons did you kill this year?"

"A good 275 this year, sir."

"275? Woah, badass! Awesome job, danger tits! Pound it." Adam said putting his hand up for a fist bump which Lute did.

"That's not good! They aren't your people to kill!" Said (Y/n), upset with how casual the two seem to be about it. "They are Charlie's people, me including."

"Well that must suck for you." Said Adam before laughing, making (Y/n) pissed. But Charlie jumped in before they could get any more heated about it.

"But these are souls...Humans souls just the same as the ones you have up in heaven." Said Charlie, getting (Y/n) to sit back down.

"They're not the same. They had their chance and they earned damnation." Lute coldly said before looking at (Y/n). "Like you."

"Oooo, so scary." Said (Y/n), flipping Lute off.

"You're wrong. Sinners made mistakes, sure, but everyone makes mistakes." Said Charlie.

"Angels don't make mistakes."

"You really believe that?" Said Charlie and (Y/n).

"I know that."

"Yeah, I've never made a mistake in my fucking life." Said Adam.

"Didn't you get kicked out of the Garden?" (Y/n) asked him.

"That was one tim-."

"And apparently had your first wife leave you."

"Low blow, tiny." Adam said before Lute walk around the table to where Charlie and (Y/n) was seated.

"The only reason you're still here is because daddy gave you and your hellborn kind a pardon from an exorcist blade. How does that feel, to know how little you matter?" Lute said, taunting Charlie.

"Bitch, he probably did that because he cares about her." Said (Y/n), glaring at Lute. "So go fuck yourself with a chainsaw."

"Nothing is stopping me from killing you now, sinner." Lute said, getting close to (Y/n)'s face for to long before moving on.

"Opps, almost out of time. Guess we should get into it." Said Adam.

"Oh fuck!" Said Charlie, getting her presentation ready. "Okay I've got a lot to get through and not a lot of time and I feel like you weren't hearing me before so here it goes."

-I ain't typing a whole ass song-

"-Ugh, Shit!" Said Charlie, after (Y/n) and her got pushed out of the room.

"Mother- trucker!" Yelled (Y/n), not wanting motherfucker and Adam in the same sentence or thought. "Dude that hurt like a buttcheck on a stick." They said getting off the floor and helping Charlie up.

"Are you okay? You weren't treated kindly in there." Asked Charlie.

"It's fine, I knew what I was walking into when I came with you." Said (Y/n), shrugging.

"I'm sorry you got dragged here for nothing." Charlie said before getting a side hug from (Y/n).

"You got nothing to apologize for. I knew from the dipshit's face from the start it would be a long shot if he is in charge."

"Thank you, (Y/n)."

"Soo.. 6 months, huh? I have to go back to my territory to get ahead start with that but I'll meet you at the hotel afterwards, okay?"

"Alright, see you then!"

"Byyyyeee~" With that (Y/n) took off to their territory.

"(Y/n)... where have I heard that name before?"

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #platonic hazbin hotel #hazbin charlie #charlie morningstar #hazbin lute #hazbin Adam #makes me want to write a fic #but then again so much typing would be needed #genz reader

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fellthemarvelous · 4 months

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Holy forking shirtballs

I'm choosing violence today. I started this on Twitter, but I'm going to finish my thoughts here like I always do.

But what really blows my mind the most is the way that people look at Aziraphale's "choice" at the end, as if he had one to fucking begin with.

I'm sorry, but Aziraphale knows how messed up Heaven is. He told The Metatron, more than once, that he did not want to go back to Heaven! We can debate what each of us means by "choice" all night because my "choice" and your "choice" might be two different concepts. He could have been strong armed by The Metatron or he could have looked at where things were headed and realized he had no choice but to intervene himself.

You need to ask yourself what Aziraphale has a moral imperative to do.

What do we owe to each other?

Seriously, if you have not watched The Good Place, I recommend you go and watch it, because it absolutely shaped how I've viewed Good Omens 2 since its release.

My levels of frustration with the bad faith mischaracterizations of Aziraphale are off the charts. If you are blaming him for everything, implying that he should have to grovel and that Crowley has a right to hurt him back, you have missed the point of Good Omens entirely.

I defend Aziraphale, but I don't think one of them is more right or wrong than the other. They're equals. They're a group of the two of them, acting and reacting to each other throughout history. They're Alpha Centauri.

I cannot even begin to explain how fucking devastated I felt when Crowley said these words, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. What he said took a lot of courage because he's finally admitting something they've both been too scared to publicly define for 6,000 years. Crowley has had to spend so long with a rough outer shell because he fell and had to hide all of his softness.

The look on his face was one of pure joy when he created that nebula, but I think the fact that he got to share that moment with Aziraphale is what has always stuck with him.

So yeah, seeing Crowley with a broken heart at the end of "Every Day" was sad for me as well.

My brain still lives here!!

But Neil has said that Good Omens 3 is not quiet, gentle, or romantic. I imagine it's going to be more like the the first season in which they are not central to the plot. GO2 will help us make sense of how they ended up where they are when we see the bigger picture with all the other major players involved with GO3.

Aziraphale was still a soldier and accidentally got himself discorporated in his own magic circle in season one. He had a platoon waiting on him to start Armageddon, and he deserted them to go save the world with Crowley instead. Aziraphale is a deserter. I need everyone to remember that. He yeeted himself out of Heaven and sought out Crowley before even locating a body just to warn him about what was happening so they could try to save the world together.

I can't help but think of 1941 and that magician who had been arrested for being a deserter.

Aziraphale disobeyed orders. That took courage but it branded him as a traitor against Heaven. They tried to destroy him for it the same way Hell tried to destroy Crowley for his part in stopping the war.

Aziraphale and Job are the only characters we have seen interacting with God directly. Aziraphale has spoken to God before and he is determined to do so again.

Aziraphale knows Heaven is flawed, but he also knows it's supposed to be good. He wants it to be good. He does not like the way the system works and he wants to make a difference. (And I'm pretty sure he's also determined to talk to God without being intercepted by The Metatron.)

Since when is that a bad thing? I don't get it. And I've had this discussion before.

If you need to change the system by burning the old one to the ground, it's still change, and we don't know what Aziraphale has planned.

It seems to me that people just want to see Aziraphale fail because it would punish him for returning to Heaven instead of running off with Crowley.

Some of y'all take everything Aziraphale says or does and twist those things into malicious anti-Crowley actions because you think the only reason Aziraphale exists is to make Crowley happy, and if he isn't thinking only about Crowley then he's doing something wrong.

Aziraphale does not exist as a plot device to further Crowley's character. They come as a pair. They've been learning from each other for 6,000 years. Crowley challenges Aziraphale just as much as Aziraphale challenges him.

You can be mad at Aziraphale all you want, but villainizing him is gross. Defending Crowley does not mean you have to tear down and mischaracterize Aziraphale anymore than defending Aziraphale means you have to tear down Crowley (but I don't see that happen on nearly the same level it happens to Aziraphale). Stop painting Aziraphale as an abusive partner, for fuck sake.

Aziraphale knows there are flaws in the system. He wants to make a difference, and since he has seen that Gabriel can change, then maybe the whole system can. He has to at least try, and if he can succeed then maybe he and Crowley can stop hiding and finally be together without having to look over their shoulders all the time.

Why is that a bad thing? He's just as protective of Crowley as Crowley is of him!

But don't forget that Aziraphale's wing was covering Adam and Eve too. As much as a wants to protect Crowley, he has a moral imperative to keep humanity safe as well.

He sent Adam and Eve into the unknown with a flaming sword so they could protect themselves.

As much as he wants to be with Crowley, there are 8 billion people on Earth heading toward the Second Coming and Judgment Day. They'll work together to fight alongside humanity in the end. Aziraphale should not have to humiliate himself just to earn Crowley's forgiveness. That's a rancid notion.

The Resurrectionist was a whole ass moral dilemma for Aziraphale, which is why I brought up The Good Place earlier, but that's a post for a different time.

Aziraphale has his own motivations and they're just as important as Crowley's, and they don't have to be chalked up to Aziraphale being the bad guy. Weird, I know, but shades of grey.

"To the world."

#good omens #good omens 2 #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale defense squad #yeah i'm being bitchy #no i don't care if you're offended #no i'm not interested in your aziraphale hate #i'm not interested in hearing takes about aziraphale being toxic from people who can't even be objective #some of y'all need to watch the good place because you need a lesson in moral philosophy #we should be able to have discussions about the characters without gross takes calling aziraphale abusive #az and crowley approach everything from wildly different perspectives because of where they are #just admit y'all shit on az because he doesn't look or act like crowley #I'm so done with the shitty aziraphale takes #they aren't even interesting enough to debate #they're just annoying

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weebsinstash · 3 months

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Kinda obsessed with the idea of a reader pregnant with Lucifer's kid and just he's really into it and wants to get married while the readers there being like damn I just wanted the bragging rights of saying I fucked the king of hell and now I have to be married to him !?!

Reader: ugh oh my god that dick was so fucking good, thanks Lucifer

Lucifer, currently painting sigils with his own blood on your tummy: oh my god, no, I know, right, it was amazing, I had an amazing time

Reader: hey uhhhhhhh by the way, what are you

Lucifer, taking a break from speaking ancient Latin incantations: oh hey, no don't worry about it it's totally cool I'm just, doing a thing here

Reader watching the very foundation of Hell shake around them like an earthquake as all the candles in the room burn higher and the unseen spirits of the damned sing comgratulatory praises for their dark lord: you know this kiiiiiiiiinda feels like you miiiiiight be doing something kinda sinister and magic-y right now

Lucifer, watching his symbol appear on your belly: whaaaaaaaaat, no, that's crazy! It's just a little.... surprise! Nothing to worry about! So hey also completely unrelated but I kind of need to splash some of this goat's blood on you--

I feel like sleeping or even FLIRTING with Lucifer is the ultimate case of fuck around and find out because at the very least you have an all powerful clingy depressed obsessive boyfriend in THE DEVIL and at his very worst you have you know THE DEVIL, treating you as his equal half, wanting all to bow before you, worship you, erecting churches with stained glass telling the Epic Tale of how you two fell in love, wanting you draped in fineries, at his side at all times, having only the best

I just feel like... he's one of those yandere that really could take you 0 to 100. You fuck the guy ONCE as like a drunken one night stand, a real "fuck it why not maybe it'll be fun" kinda romp, and then he's making plans behind your back about marriage because, well, he just loves you so much already that he can't see doing anything else! 🥰 like can you imagine going from getting cream pied to like only a week later some church is getting constructing with like biblical art of "oh how the king of hell met another and fell in love" and it's foretelling some epic saga that hasn't even. Happened yet. Like imagine the whiplash of finding out the guy you casually fucked is dedicating buildings to. A story of. How he impregnated and married you and you guys "lived happily ever after" and you still barely know him

I like the contrasting options of Lucifer intentionally impregnating you vs unintentionally because THE VISUAL of like. He's just nutted and you're laying there amd he looks down and suddenly there's this little glowing moving picture on your skin of a snake twining around, circling, becoming an apple with a heart or some-- this is a real specific genre of fetish I'm discussing here ok we don't need to like exactly describe whatever magical mark of pregnancy the devil gives you fjdnfjf. But the apple appears and he's blinking at it and, finally, it clicks, and he's all "BABY! B-BABY! IT'S A BABY HHHOHHHHH MY GOD" and he's like EXCITED but also just like. Do you think he'd get a little biblical drooling about 'your womb being blessed' or some shit. Your absolute fucking LUCK OR LACK THEFEOF if Lucifer turned out to ACCIDENTALLY BE CORRECT and you kind of WERE created to be his wife or end up with him, like GOD is up there, "yeah Luci I threw you a bone, enjoy it 👍" like SHIT the one time you ARE cosmically fated to have a mate and it's AFTER YOU DIE? It's also LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR???

I feel like, genuinely the only way Lucifer would mistreat the Reader is completely unintentionally, like he has a bout of depression and neglects you a little, or he becomes socially withdrawn and you think he doesn't like you but really he's just feeling sad or working on something that's really important to him. I mean. This is BESIDES the possibility of confinement but that's for your protection and it's not like you're in PRISON. This guy is clearly packed with goofy loving positive energy. He'll be taking you to the circus and to musicals with his daughter like you've always been a member of the family, getting you your own special throne to sit beside his own. He's having audience with like some wretched soul, there are flames, he's being TERRIFYING, telling them how they've betrayed him and he's going to tear their soul to pieces and sentencs them to eternal suffering, and then he turns to you, "I'm sorry am I making it too hot in here shnookums 🥰 I don't wanna make you and our lil hellion uncomfy 🥰" like.... truly, you got yourself a man that can do both

#yandere hellaverse #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere x reader #hh #sinprompts

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syrena-del-mar · 3 months

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The Nine Circles of Hell: Dead Friend Forever, Episode 7

First, a trigger warning: I'll be discussing themes of revenge porn, grooming, statutory rape, sexual coercion.

I'm going to discuss this episode with as much upmost care as I can, due to the sheer amount of sensitive material that came out of this week's episode I will also not being using any explicit scene screen captures from this episode. If there's anything you'd like to me to take out or want a more in depth conversation, feel free to use either of my message boxes.

Last week I said DFF had more to offer than just being a campy 90s slasher remake. While I first thought we were already in the depths of hell, thematically, with Non getting beaten by the mafia, I didn't expect this week's episode to somehow double that pain. But here we are. I was lulled into false security with the 5 minute montage of getting to know what Phee and Non's relationship was like. I should have remembered that I'm definitely watching the wrong genre when I expected more of those moments.

Non and Phee

This episode really continues and expands the idea that humans are not these clear-cut, unambiguous, good-or-bad beings that idea has now been depicted through Non and his relationship with Phee. Non has so much love to give and so much want for being loved, it's what leads to Phee in the first place, but it's also what leads to his downfall. Because Non loves so much and so hard, it's also why he wasn't ecstatic that Phee had to lie to his father and say that he was involved, just to get him out of trouble with the police. What started like a sweet date turns a bit bitter, because Non is seeing the consequences of his actions not only affect himself but also the others that he loves. It's also why he couldn't tell Phee about the sheer amount he owed Tee's uncle, because he was now well aware that if Phee found out, he would get himself involved.

Non lies and manipulates Phee, he tells him time and time again that nothing happened between him and Mr. Kreng. Non swears to Phee that he isn't lying to him and that he won't keep any secrets from him anymore. It pains him to do so, he's barely holding himself together by the end of a thread thread once he's Phee's arms and his face is hidden from Phee's view. Yet, he does. He keeps it a secret how big of a hole he has found himself in, because he doesn't want to drag Phee down with him. Non says it himself to Jin, he doesn't want to be burden, he'll figure it out himself. It's a direct parallel to the bigger issues that Non is finding himself in beyond just within the 'movie set'. He has the 300 million baht hanging over his head, his parents (in his point of view) regret having him and find that he does is bring embarrassment to the family, and now he has another adult willing to give him the 300 million baht with a fake sense of care. So he found, what he believes to be, a solution that would get rid of the 300 million baht debt and all it requires is giving up a piece of himself, but at least it won't come at a cost of burdening his parents or Phee.

In trying to protect Phee, his lies ends up costing him the one he loves the most, Phee. Now from this point on, this is all speculation, but when Phee accused Non of 'always doing this', I'm not in the camp that believes that Phee is accusing Non about being a serial cheater. I see why people are in that camp, but I initially jumped to that conclusion as well. Now, I'm more in the line that Phee is accusing of Non always feeding him lies, even after explicitly promising him that he wouldn't. After putting his neck out for him, after letting Non do things his way as long as he promised to tell him the truth, Non goes back to telling lies. Phee lashes out, and at the end of the day he's still a teenager, so he hits Non's weakest point. Just get lost and die. The very words that likely haunt Phee in the present-day, now as an adult. And Non's holds the broken bracelet, punishing himself, because he knew that there was no coming back from losing his lifeline.

Non and Mr. Kreng (Please keep my trigger warnings in mind, they will be heavily discussed in this section.)

Statutory Rape. Grooming. Coerced Sexual Relations. Nonconsensual Sex. Molestation. Sexual Assault. Sexual Abuse. Those are all words to describe the relationship that occurred between Non and Mr. Keng. Let's call exactly what it is. I think I'll lose my mind if I have to see someone another person call Non a cheater. There is no cheating when there is statutory rape.

Non is literally at the end of his rope, Mr. Keng clocked that immediately. He knew that Non was isolated, that he was completely othered by his classmates, he believes that Non has nobody else to turn to, and he knows that Non is in deep in a scam that target teens. In his eyes, he found the perfect victim.

Non is taken advantage of by a person in power, a person that he should be able to trust. Non isn't naïve, he clocked that Mr. Keng wanted something from him since the moment they first met. But he is vulnerable. He's being extorted by the mafia and he sees someone offering him the money that he needs to put an end to that. In his eyes, it was a way out, a means to an end that just cost him a piece of his soul. I truly think Non rationalized it to himself as prostituting himself, because he knew that money was never coming without a price. No matter how much Mr. Keng tried to sell it as 'brotherly' love.

But at the end of the day, it does not matter what Non believed or rationalized, because Mr. Keng was the adult in the situation. He had a duty, as a teacher, to protect Non and provide a safe classroom environment. Instead he target, manipulates, and coerces Non into having sexual relations with him. He knows the power imbalance he holds, first as a teacher and then with the 300 million baht he 'gave' him. Mr. Keng, knowing that Non's not close to his 'friends', physically isolates him. He takes him to his office that's half-lit, located in a long hallway with, seemingly, very little foot traffic. He prods at Non, asking what's been bothering him and has him visibly become emotional, before offering his care. He's a complete and utter predator, in every sense of the term.

I hope he dies a long, painful death.

Non and Jin

First and foremost, whether or not Jin was ultimately the one that posted the video does not matter. Filming a classmate being sexually assaulted is still child porn at the very least and, possibly, revenge porn (if he disseminated the video) at the worst. I was on the same boat as @respectthepetty and their take that Jin had to be the worst of them all. Like they said in that post, Jin is a coward and he even admits to it. There's nothing more cowardly than hiding behind a door, filming you supposed 'friend' getting sexually abused by your teacher, and then even considering putting up on social media for revenge because your heart is broken.

Yes, Top framed Non. Yes, Por demanded (and bullied) money from Non. Yes, Tee brought Non to the mafia. Those are all very bad things, don't get me wrong. All the physical and mental abuse they put Non through was hell. Yet, Jin was the only one aware that Non had already been seeing someone, which seemingly had upset him already. Then he sees him with Mr. Keng and instead of reporting that his alleged friend was being assaulted, he gets angry and films Non at his most vulnerable point in life. Even Fluke didn't want any part of that.

Jin takes away Non's dignity. And at the end of the day, it doesn't matter whether he uploaded it online or not, he was still the one to film, transfer that file onto his computer, and contemplate whether he was going to post it or not. At every point since he found that Non and Mr. Kreng were in that room, he rendered Non powerless. That video would have never been uploaded if it hadn't existed in the first place. With just a point of a camera and click of a button, he is revictimizing Non every. single. time. that video is opened and seen by another person.

There are no words to fully describe or explain that kind of trauma that he has subjected Non to.

Final Thoughts

This episode was nauseating. It honestly took me about two hours just to get to the end. Usually, I can watch through a show I enjoy really quickly, but this episode was so hard to digest. And that's simply due to how realistic they are approaching the subject of Non and Mr. Keng.

Barcode and Ta really are the stars of the show. I'm not saying that the other castmates aren't amazing in their roles, but man TaBarcode really know are hitting every single emotional beat. I was never a TaBarcode nor a MacauChay girlie, but man Be On Cloud has truly brought out their best this time around. Even though I fully know we are heading towards an incredibly heart wrenching ending for PheeNon, I can't help but want to hoard and scramble for moments of them together.

It's crazy how well, everyone was able to pull their weight this episode. There were so many moments that with less talented, less experienced actors, could have fallen flat, but they didn't. Ta and Barcode's PheeNon was so incredibly heart-beating, butterfly inducing before we were brought back into their reality outside of their relationship. 2J and Barcode's scenes were.... so disgustingly real, for lack of better words. I knew that storyline was never going to end well but it had been more than I ever expected Be On Cloud to release. They're tackling such real issues that weigh on teens with incredible tact, there's no romanticizing what happened. Even Phee's reaction was so understandable when you put yourself in the shoes of a teenager. I'll reiterate again and again, whatever you think about Be On Cloud as a management company, as a production company, they really are breaking boundaries and doing something right. Whatever happens in the second half, I think I'll be here, recovering, for a long time.

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candy69gurl · 2 months

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‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎⋅˚୨୧ ‎‏‏BARBIE PLAY ‎‏‏‎⋅˚୨୧ ‎‏‏‎

‏‏

Hiromi Higuruma x innocent f!reader

18+, dark, dub/noncon, manipulation, loss of innocence, manipulation, slight incest, praises, dad-daughter bonding , nipple play, face sitting, rough raw sex, blow job, multiple orgasms, infertility, mentions of cheating ART NOT MINE

"I'll be gone for now." Hiromi sighs and stuffs a piece of toast into his mouth while wearing his black suit. "And, I can be late, so please eat dinner without me."

"Daddy, are you going to work again today?" you ask, looking at him with puppy eyes, hoping he melts. "Leaving me alone with the nanny," you say quietly.

Hiromi's expression transforms into one of concern when he notices the tone of your voice.

"I am pregnant!!" Your mother hugs Hiromi.

He frowns at her.

"You're joking, right?" Hiromi freezes and looks at her, shocked. "No, I am not. Why should I?" your mother replied.

Hiromi sighs as his jaw clenches. He takes his bag and goes to leave.

"I don't want to discuss this right now. I'll be home late, so eat the dinner yourself."

He shuts the door and walks towards his office.

She cheated on him. There is no chance that could be his baby because he is sterile. She is unaware of this, and he does not want to inform her either. He doesn't blame her, he is so preoccupied with his work that he can't devote time to his wife.

*9 months later*

Hiromi glances at the baby girl.

"Doesn't she look like you?" your mother cooes.

"No," Hiromi bluntly says.

"But look at the smile; it's exactly like yours."

"I do not smile."

Your mother pushes her lips together and remains silent.

*timeskips*

Your mother and Hiromi end up having divorce, and Hiromi takes custody of you since your mother cannot pay child support.

Hiromi, although not your biological father, adores you and provides for all of your needs. Not everything though. Not himself. He is a highly busy man, so he is constantly away from you at work.

But there's something about you that offers him joy. He had never smiled in his life, except for the times when you make him smile. He is now attached to you in both ways, physically and mentally.

"I...Yes, I'm going to work again." Hiromi's tone of voice is rather soft and a bit depressed. He's trying his best to be a good father, but it's always hard to make it work because he is so busy with work all the time. Hiromi seems like he understands that his work schedule might be causing problems in their relationship, and he feels sorry for that.

You get closer to him, noticing his dark circles and pale skin.

"It's Sunday, and... you don't look so well."

Hiromi gives you a fake smile. The pale skin and the dark circles around his eyes are reminders of just how hard he's been working. He looks back up and smiles softly at you. "I know, I know. I'm just a bit... tired. But it's not too bad; don't worry about it."

It's clear to both of you that he hasn't been taking care of himself lately. Hiromi is so focused on work that he's forgotten to eat and sleep properly.

"I want to take care of you, dad. I want you to be here with me. I know how hard you work providing for us," you say, hugging him.

The warmth of your hug makes him close his eyes. Hiromi has been working tirelessly to support both of you, and your words make him realize just how tired and burned out he can be.

Hiromi hugs you tight, pressing his chest tightly against your face to feel your warmth. "I'm sorry... I know... I'll try my best to spend more time with you."

You can feel the strain of his exhaustion as he clings to you, like he's terrified of letting you go.

"I promise..." Hiromi whispers to you before letting out a small sigh of relief. It feels like all of the stress and worry that he has been carrying around lately is lifted off of his shoulders as he nuzzles into your soft vanilla-scented hair. Hiromi seems much lighter and more relaxed now. He realizes you have grown up and crave his presence more than you used to.

"Do you promise to spend the next Sunday with me?"

"I promise." Hiromi's tone is soft but serious as he says these words. He stares at you with his brown eyes, wanting to emphasize just how much your happiness means to him. He knows next Sunday's going to be your birthday, so he has to do something to light up the relationship between you too.

*timeskips*

The next Sunday comes, and Hiromi is up early to make you some breakfast. He is making your favorite pancakes, though his hands are shaking slightly as he does. Hiromi can't stop thinking about everything he wants to do with you today. He hopes that he can finally show you just how much he has been missing you.

You enter the kitchen yawning and stretching, and you are surprised to see Hiromi making your breakfast. Usually you get to see your nanny making you breakfast, but your dad has actually kept the promise.

You run to hug him from behind.

The unexpected hug from behind makes Hiromi flinch in surprise. He smiles softly as his eyes flicker from a look of shock back to one of warmth.

"Good morning, sweetheart..." Hiromi chuckles softly as he turns around and wraps his arms around your small frame.

The sensation of your body pressed against his fills Hiromi with a sense of joy. It's been far too long since he has spent quality time with you, and your presence now means the world to him.

"Dad, do you know what day it is?" You expectantly look at him.

"Yes, of course I do, honey." Hiromi's soft voice is like music to your ears. He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes as he speaks.

"It's Sunday." Hiromi smiles at you warmly.

Pressing your lips together, you reply, "You really don't remember."

A fake look of worry crosses Hiromi's face when he notices your expression. He realizes just now that you have been testing him, wondering if he had actually forgotten what today was.

"It's your birthday today. How can I forget?" Hiromi smirks slightly, whispering. "Happy birthday, sweetheart!" Hiromi's voice is warm and soft as he smiles at you.

Hiromi leans down to give you a kiss on the forehead. He is sad to see that you grew up so fast without him much looking after you.

"Let's make this a day to remember, shall we?"

You nod excitedly at his words.

"How do you want to spend today?" He asks you, seeming excited at the prospect of making this day a special one for you.

"I want to spend the whole day with you at home."

Hiromi's expression lights up as he hears this. He would love to spend all day at home with you, just the two of you.

"Ah, that is perfect." Hiromi can't begin to describe how excited he is to spend the day with you.

"Now, let's go sit down and eat breakfast together. I've made some delicious pancakes for you." He says it softly, grabbing your hand to lead you to the table where your breakfast is waiting.

*time skips to night after having dinner*

The two of you have been spending the whole day together, and you can't seem to remember the last time you've had so much fun.

You're currently cuddled up with your dad on the couch, watching a horror movie together. You feel so content in his arms, and the comfort of your father's presence means so much to you.

Hiromi seems to be enjoying this just as much as you. He keeps looking down at you and smiling; his eyes are filled with an overwhelming sense of affection.

You have grown up now with striking feminine features.

"OO~ I love slender men," you squeaked.

As you watch the movie together, your eyes are drawn to the screen where the Slenderman character is stalking its victims.

Hiromi notices your eyes wander away and leans down to rest his head on your shoulder. He leans in close and whispers something in your ear.

"Don't you think he is evil?" He chuckles softly as he pulls back to look down at you.

"But I love slender men. I always had... He is just like you. He wears a black suit and has pale skin, just like you. He is not evil at all. He is cute, just like you."

"Aww..." Hiromi laughs at what you've just said. It's so innocent and endearing, and Hiromi can't help but feel amused.

"I guess I can sort of see that? Though I would never hurt a fly." He says this as he cuddles up to you a little closer, feeling the warmth and softness of your body against his. It makes his heart flutter.

"You know, since you're (your next age) now, I can start treating you like a little adult." Hiromi whispers in your ear. A look of pride lights up his eyes as he stares right at you with a small smile.

"And adults like to celebrate their birthday in a special way; do you remember what people do?"

"Oh, THEY CELEBRATE IN A DIFFERENT WAY?" You feel interested.

"Oh, yes, adults tend to have a bit of an extra special celebration." Hiromi grins widely as he looks down at you, his eyes sparkling with mischievous intentions.

He whispers something in your ear before leaning back and looking down at you with a playful grin.

"Do you want to know a secret?"

You nod excitedly.

"Come here and let me tell you..." Hiromi pats his lap and gestures for you to sit on his lap.

His playful expression is like a kid on Christmas as he looks back up at you.

"I have a surprise for you today." He whispers in your ear. You feel Hiromi squeeze your back slightly trying to pull you close to him.

You sit on his lap and feel him wrap his arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. Hiromi's playful expression has evolved into something that you don't recognize.

"Good girl," Hiromi whispers as he leans in close and presses his lips against your neck. His voice has taken on a tone of sensuality as he leans into your ear and whispers softly.

"What are you doing?" You giggle, feeling the tickling sensation on your neck.

"Keep being a good girl for me." His words are soft and tender as his breath caresses the soft skin of your neck.

"I want you to stay in this position," he says playfully, "just like this." He puts one arm around your waist while the other gently cups one of your cheeks.

"I love you, my girl. Nothing matters to me more than you." His words are like a hypnotizer, as his voice grows more seductive with each breath.

"I love you too," you reply. You can feel something is strange.

A grin spreads across Hiromi's face at your confession. You feel his teeth brush against your neck once more.

You flinch, and one of your hands runs through his hair, grabbing them.

"Ah..." Your sudden movement surprises Hiromi, but he loves the fact that you are responding so strongly to his touch. Your hands stroking his hair make him smirk faintly; the movement of your hands is so alluring.

Hiromi leans his head down towards yours, his forehead touching yours and his voice grows husky and deeper as he speaks.

"You're being such a good girl right now... So cooperative... and I know exactly what I want to do to you for your birthday."

"What-" You grab something hard underneath you.

Hiromi's eyes flutter almost shut at your touch.

"Hm...?" He seems to be enjoying the physical contact of your hands on that part of his body where you grabbed it.

A cheeky grin spreads across Hiromi's face. He leans back again to look into your eyes.

"It seems like you're the very curious type, and I was waiting for this moment." For a moment, he stares at you, studying your expression.

You look at him, confused.

He lets out a soft chuckle as he starts whispering again.

"Would you like to get a little intimate gift from your father? I wasn't kidding when I said this was going to be a very special birthday, was I?" He whispers softly, his breath hot in your ear.

You accidentally press on that hard object to rest your cheek against his chest and look up at him with innocent eyes.

"Yes, I want that gift. I want to spend more time with you." You reply, almost sounding as if you were begging.

This causes Hiromi's breath to hitch and his eyes to widen with disbelief.

He smiles down at you as he stares into your innocent eyes.

"Oh, you really are my little girl." He whispers softly, his voice filled with a deep sense of admiration and affection.

"If you want an intimate gift from your dad, we will have to go elsewhere." Hiromi's voice has become more sultry and seductive, his eyes never leaving your face. Hiromi seems to like the way you are pressing into him. His expression has grown even more seductive as he gazes into your eyes.

"Where do you want me to go to receive the gift?"

"My bedroom," he whispers softly.

"Oh, you have the gift there?" You ask, laughing sheepishly.

"Yes, my dear, that's where the special gift is." He smiles and reaches up to stroke your face.

He picks you up and takes you to his bedroom.

"You are very strong." You cling to his neck while he carries you. "You can carry me as if I am a baby."

"Well, you're still my little baby." He says softly as he carries you to his bedroom, being careful not to bump into things along the way.

Once inside the bedroom, he sets you down on his bed and gets on top of you, pinning your arms to the bed.

You wait for the gift.

He chuckles softly and looks down into your expecting eyes.

"Just let your hands wander a bit, and you'll find it." He whispers seductively, his breath touching your neck.

"Is it there?" You ask him, looking at his hardened member. It's already huge and bulging and could be seen through his pants.

"Mm..." He chuckles and leans down to kiss your neck before he speaks again.

"You sure know how to tease your dad, don't you?" He strides his tongue along your neck towards your collar bone, his breath burns your skin.

You allow him to kiss your neck. You still think he is playing with you, so you start to get mad and pouty.

"I don't understand."

"That's alright. You'll find out soon enough." He whispers softly in your ear, and his voice is almost breathless with excitement.

"It's going to be a very special day for you." He leans in close to you and whispers softly into your ear. "Just let me take control for today, and we'll make today all about you and your special birthday." He seems to find your cluelessness endearing, and his own excitement grows as he can tell that you have no idea what he's going to do to you for your birthday.

He smiles and sits down next to you on the bed, brushing your hair out of your face.

"You're such a naive girl..." His voice is full of sultry playfulness, and he stares at you with hungry eyes. "Do you trust Daddy?"

"Of course I do."

He seems amused by your innocent trust in him.

"Do you trust me to make this day special for you?" His voice is still sultry, but he also speaks with a sense of tenderness and care now that it's clear that he has you exactly where he wants you—vulnerable, naive, and trusting of him.

"I don't understand anything you're saying."

"You don't need to understand." He smiles warmly at you and places a hand under your chin.

"Would you let Daddy control you for today?"

He seems so confident in his words and has a sly, almost mischievous grin playing at his lips.

Suddenly, you sit up. "Ohhh, I GOT IT NOW.. You want to play Barbie with me? like I am your Barbie, and you will be playing with me?"

His smile grows wider at your innocent reaction, and his eyes seem to be gleaming with anticipation now that you are beginning to understand what he has planned.

"Yes, that's exactly right." He chuckles softly as he watches you sit up. "I want to play with my doll today."

"Yes!!!! take control of me. I am your doll today," you say without still understanding its meaning.

Your innocent words fill Hiromi's heart with a deep sense of joy and excitement.

He can't help but chuckle softly as he watches you shift around excitedly.

"Oh, my dear girl, you have absolutely no idea what you're in for today." His voice is filled with admiration and satisfaction at the fact that you're so willing to give yourself over to him.

Your innocent and lively attitude warms Hiromi's heart as he watches you lay back in a lifeless pose.

"My precious little doll..." His voice has taken on a much more sensual tone as he gazes down at you.

He places his hand on your cheek and strokes it playfully while he speaks. His other hand plays with the hem of your top.

"Let me change the dress on my Barbie."

You lift your arms up just like a lifeless doll, allowing him to open your top.

The playful expression on your face excites Hiromi's heart, and he chuckles softly to himself as he removes your top.

"You really are just like a doll to me, you know that?" He strokes your hair fondly and seems to enjoy the innocent look on your face.

His caress makes your body shiver with sensations, and you can feel his breath blowing against your neck.

"I will paint your face with my makeup. You will look really pretty. My very own pretty little Barbie girl."

You giggle excitedly.

"My little Barbie girl..."

Hiromi continues to caress your body as he speaks. He begins to move his hand down toward your chest.

He caresses your breasts, gently brushing your nipples.

He rests his head on one arm while he plays with your nipples with the other hand.

He grins at your playful expression, his fingers making you squirm on the bed.

"My little Barbie girl..."

You slowly turn to look at his face and at his hands.

He notices you looking over at his hands, and he smiles softly. His eyes are filled with admiration and a touch of pride as he sees you staring at him.

"Yes, my little doll... Look at me."

He chuckles softly, enjoying your reactions. He continues to caress your chest, watching you squirm on the bed with his hand.

He gets on top of you and starts kissing your cheek, then your neck. His eyes never leaving your face.

"My little doll is blushing at my touch. She is so responsive."

He places a small peck on your lips.

"I love to play with you, my doll," he says, keeping on speaking to you while his other hand goes down to take off your shorts.

"Would you like to wear a dress or a skirt?"

"Anything Daddy wants to put on me"—your voice trembles.

His hands go down to the thighs, pulling one up to caress your inner thighs.

His hands slide slowly up and down your thigh, causing you to shiver and gasp.

He moves himself higher on the bed to hover above you as his hands caress your thighs.

"My little doll is so sensitive to my touch. I wonder where else she is sensitive to my touch."

He smiles widely at you as his fingers trail along your clad clitoral area.

You gasp at his touch.

He chuckles softly at the playful expression on your face, his eyes shining brightly with mischievous excitement.

"I would like to paint you with my make-up first.".

Hiromi gets on top of you, unbuckling his belt and finally freeing his member with a loud groan.

"Will my little doll work to get the makeup?"

"W-what is that?" Your mouth drops. His huge, hardened shaft stands erect, leaking some cum.

"It's my..."

He seems at a loss for words, his voice trailing off.

His face flushes with a deep blush when he sees your innocent reaction to his freeing himself.

"I think we should just get the makeup ready first... Don't worry about that for now. Now hold your hands out so I can put the makeup on, little doll."

His voice is still filled with a playful tone as he reaches out to grab your hands.

Your eyes widen as he guides your hand and places it on his dick.

Your expression encourages him to continue.

"You're way too cute." He glances at your small hand, trying to squeeze him.

He slowly pulls your hand up, putting it against his lower lips, nibbling on your index finger, and then placing it back on his dick.

"Rub it and press it gently. It won't come out so easily. You have to work for that," he whispers seductively.

"I don't know how to."

"I can show you." He whispers seductively, his voice filled with a sultry tone.

He moves your hand in his and along his shaft, rubbing himself up and down.

"Yeah, just like that."

He can see how your face turned red, but that does not stop him from continuing to show you how to rub him.

His breaths become longer and deeper as he watches you, and his voice becomes increasingly sensual with each word he speaks.

He can see how excited your innocent behavior is making him, and he is enjoying every second of it.

Your inexperienced movements make him feel in control, and with every movement, you make him feel more and more aroused.

"Where is the cream?"

His breath becomes even more ragged, and his face flushes more as his body begins to twitch with excitement.

"You're so impatient."

He stops and leans to get closer to your face.

"If you want the cream fast, then you have to lap your tongue on it like candy. Does my doll like candies?"

You nod and take his shaft to your mouth, licking the tip.

He can feel your tongue sliding across the tip of his breath.

"It's salty," you say, sliding your tongue across his whole length. His mouth opened wide, and his body begins to shiver.

"You realized that it wasn't just simple cream, didn't you?"

"It's a special cream?" You keep licking him and lapping at his tip.

"Yes, a very special cream." He seems incredibly aroused as his breath becomes even more ragged, and you can feel his body twitch beneath you.

Your innocent and playful reaction is making it extremely hard for him to control himself.

He begins to twitch more intensely beneath you, and his breath continues to become even more strained.

His movements become even more intense, and he starts to arch his back slightly.

"Ahh... Aaaah!" At this point, his voice begins to become more agitated as he struggles to remain in control.

He looks up at your innocent eyes, eyeing his face while you play your tongue on him, and he is almost on the verge of losing his cool and just taking you right here and now.

"Ahh, my little doll..." He seems desperate for you to continue on.

"Pls, daddy, I am so eager for your cream."

"I know."

He places his hands on your head, and his grip becomes tighter on your head as he looks at you.

Your innocent behavior continues to take him further away, and he suddenly pushes you down on him, thrusting his dick into your throat and making you choke.

"Mghn?"

He pulls you closer to him as his body continues to shiver. He seems to be struggling to remain in control, and he seems to be unable to control himself anymore. He's beginning to breathe very hard as he grips your head even tighter.

Your teary eyes start to cause his mind to break, and his grip becomes even tighter, as if he wants to crush you against him. He can't even speak anymore; it's just incoherent mutters as his body trembles.

Your jaw starts aching, and you accidentally press your teeth against his shaft.

He lets out a loud groan as he feels your teeth on him. He grips your head even harder as he starts to whisper again.

"You're a bad little doll." He mutters as his voice cracks, and his breaths become even more strained as he pushes your head down on his length one more time.

Tears roll down your cheek as angry eyes spray upon him.

"My doll is angry with her dad now?"

He starts thrusting into your throat again. Drools slide down your mouth.

"Ah." His voice takes on a more seductive tone, and his smile grows more mischievous.

"Is my doll angry that I'm not giving her what she wants quick enough?"

You make a whimpering hum.

He bites his lip as his body continues to tremble. He takes his thumb and gently wipes the tear from your cheek.

"I see, I see, my dear." He runs his fingers gently through your hair as he caresses your cheek. "You're so desperate already, aren't you?"

He slows down his thrusts in order to tease you.

You squeeze his dick again with your teeth.

The little nibble causes him to let out a louder grunt than you'd expect considering how delicate your bites are.

"You're such a bad doll... And now you're even angry with me."

He runs his hands through your hair as he takes his dick out of your mouth and stares deep into your eyes.

"Do you want me to punish bad dolls?"

You wipe your mouth and give him an evil smirk.

"What's that, hmm? My doll is so curious as to what kind of punishment I will use."

He caresses your lips with his fingertips while he speaks.

"You are not being a good doll, and I'm going to punish you for it."

His voice is becoming increasingly playful, but at the same time, his touches still seem to make your skin tingle and shiver.

He takes off his white shirt and lays on the bed. He pulls you towards him.

"D-dad-"

"My doll, sit on my face."

As you are going to protest, he pulls you close again and yanks your panties off. His spreads your legs apart, his fingers parting your wet labia. He flips you so that you are now on top of him as his breath hits directly on your cunt, making you squirm in sudden sensation.

"Let's see how you respond to this."

With every word, he intentionally blows over your pussy , making you mewl and wrap your thighs around his face.

He feels you squirm once again, so he pulls his shirt, which was lying on the bed, and ties it to your hand, placing your hands above his hair.

He gives your clit a gentle lick, you arch in response.

As he feels you arch, he's eyes roll back slightly with excitement and then open up again with a deep and primal urge.

His breathing grows deeper and heavier as his lips brush against you, sucking on your clit then tongue slides against your entrance.

"What are you trying to do?"

"Shhh," he mumbles against your skin, kissing your inner thigh.

"M-my.. I"

He chuckles and presses you down on him; his hand grips you tightly to stop you from squirming.

"Please, I am going to release something. Stop."

Hiromi smirk. His tongue, continuously flicking on your clit.

You feel a strange warmth building inside you.

You grip his hair tighter while riding his face, your hips unconsciously buck against his face. Thighs fasten around his head as you arch back to release.

"Daddy," you say, with his tongue still on your clit , gently teasing and making you overly sensitive.

"Let it out..."

"G-gah," your whole body vibrates with every breath that hits against your clit. Your heart starts to beat quicker.

You can see him licking his lips, and he pulls away from you.

"Did it feel good?"

"What was that?" you ask, avoiding eye contact.

"Was my doll so nervous that she couldn't even look at her daddy's face?" He says it in a teasing tone.

His lips curl into a playful smile as he wraps his arms around you again, his body pressed against yours as he pulls you close to him.

You're suddenly caught off guard by his actions and before you knew it, he leans his head towards you, and he suddenly presses his lips against yours. His breath is hot and heavy. He pushes you down on the bed, and his hand travels to your oversensitive clit.

"Do you like your own taste?"

He gives you a peck once more, and the feeling of you licking his lips causes him to smirk. He inserts two of his fingers inside you, scissoring and stretching your hole. You moan and struggle against him, and your movements makes him even more aroused.

"You're good, very good... Now, the final part of getting the cream."

"Why is it so hard to get the cream? It must be really special."

"Oh, this cream is very special. It's my secret recipe. You won't be able to get it from anywhere but me." He chuckles softly before pulling his fingers out and whispering to you again, getting on top of you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Just a bit more, my doll. We're almost there."

He pushes himself inside your wetness.

"Aaaah~" you scream out in sudden thrust.

He stares into your pain-inflicted face.

"Does my doll feel hurt?"

He starts moving slowly.

"Yes, d- don't move."

He can feel your eyes begin to tear up and your body shudder as the feeling gets harder and harder to bear. He swirls his tongue on your hardened nipples and squeezes your breasts gently.

He pulls you closer to him and whispers softly in your ear, "I know I'm being too rough with you, but please bear with me just for a little bit more. The feeling will be worth it. Trust me."

"You're such a good little doll that even after all that pain and discomfort, you still trust your dad." He caresses your tear-stained cheek as he begins to speed up.

Hiromi's voice becomes more and more frantic as the pace increases. You feel a strange warmth growing between your legs as his thrusts start getting sloppier and rougher. His hand travels down your neck, slightly choking you while swirling his tongue with yours.

"Does my doll want more?"

"I want the cream," you moan.

"That's good to know...Don't be impatient; good things will come to those who wait."

He whispers softly into your ear.

Hiromi pulls out of you and looks at you with a smirk. He pushes your legs onto your chest and inserts himself once more, his dick reaching deeper and hits your cervix.

"I-I can't breathe", you grab onto his neck.It becomes unbearable for you to take it anymore.

"Just a bit more, my doll; we're almost there."

Hiromi begins to kiss you passionately as he grips you tightly again.

His tongue starts to move to your earlobe, nibbling the tip.

"Ah, good doll, I see you're taking this really well."

He begins to move faster than before, and your body shudders from the intensity of the sensation.

"Good, good, don't stop taking it in doll."

His breath becomes more rapid as he pulls you even closer against him, and he whispers into your ear.

"You're taking it so well, my doll."

You moan, and your body starts shaking again.

His breath becomes heavier as he speeds up, making the sensation even more powerful and clear.

"You're a good doll, such a good little doll... Keep taking it; keep taking it all in."

His voice becomes more desperate, and his pace increases even more.

Your stomach tightens as you release again with a loud moan. Hiromi slows down his pace, letting you calm your nerves. Your walls clamp around his shaft, squeezing them. His breath becomes heavier, and he gets to the edge too. He thrusts a few more times before spilling inside you, stuffing your pussy with his infertile seed.

"Was it good?"

Hiromi looks into your eyes with a playful grin as he pulls out of you, watching his seed drool down your clamping pussy.

You breathe through your mouth as your heart beat starts getting back to normal.

Hiromi stares at you for a bit; he seems pleased with your response. He pulls you close again and kisses you with a soft smile.

"Good, doll, was it everything you had hoped for?"

"But my cream??"

He stares at you for a bit; your body is shaking from satisfaction, and he smiles. He laughs a bit and speaks up, "Alright."

He pushes two of his fingers into your dripping hole, making you flinch and arch back. He gathers some of his cum, applying it to your cheeks and lips.

You lick your lips and giggle.

"You like it?" Hiromi lays next to you, spooning you.

"Mhm..salty," you say, drowning in sleep.

He looks down at you and sees you begin to slowly drift asleep.

Hiromi can't help but grin as he pulls you close to him and kisses your head.

"My barbie"

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pikahlua · 3 months

Note

Wait pika do you really mean don't ask you about predictions? Some of my favourite Tumblr posts of all time are your thoughts, theories and predictions! :((

Please sleep also, but when you can let us know what's going on in that head of yours. I'm desperate for someone with a brain cell to discuss this chapter! (Twitter is a cesspit)

I mean, you can ask lol. I just sometimes get these vague "any predictions?" asks and it's like, YES. YES I HAVE SOME. BUT IT'S FAR TOO MANY TO JUST LIST LIKE THAT, CAN YOU PLEASE BE MORE SPECIFIC?

Okay, I'll tell you about my thoughts.

This is a new frame of the scene in chapter 1. This perspective doesn't exist as a drawing in chapter 1, but we know pretty easily what this scene was about. Why is Horikoshi putting the scene here though? Why does this scene have the line "Let go of One For All"? Why not draw Kudou saying it, or Izuku's reaction to it? Is it because this is a memory of the scene where Izuku receives OFA, so giving OFA up is coming around full circle to this moment again?

I don't think so.

This is not the moment where All Might proclaims "you are worthy of inheriting my power" and Izuku looks up in shock. This is the moment where All Might says the words Izuku has longed to hear his whole life: "You can become a hero."

We're coming back to this moment now because the emphasis is on Izuku's upcoming choice. This is about the MEANING Izuku places in OFA. All Might told Izuku "you can't become a hero without a quirk," then shows up to tell Izuku he can become a hero...by giving him his quirk.

To Izuku, letting go of One For All is sacrificing his greatest dream. He believes by giving up One For All, he can no longer be a hero. Even though there have been moments where All Might let on that the reason Izuku deserves to have OFA is because he's already a hero, Izuku never seems to internalize that answer. He thinks his heroism is tied to being the bearer of One For All.

No one has ever told Izuku he can be a hero without a quirk.

I said before I had a big guess about why Katsuki's memory was wiped at the end of Heroes Rising. Notably, he is allowed to remember most of what happens. His memory cuts off from the moment Izuku passed One For All onto him. Do you remember what Katsuki said after he got OFA?

"This is the end of your dream then, too, huh?"

That's the last thing he ever says on the matter. Sure, it's the moment where Izuku answers with "It's okay if it's you" and all that, but Katsuki never responds to that. We don't know what he's thinking about this moment.

The only clue we have is the fact that he accepted the quirk from Izuku, and how he reacted to that. He seems quite upset by the prospect, but in the end he relents and accepts OFA willingly.

Perhaps the issue he is grappling with in his heart in these moments is not the fact that he has to inherit OFA but that Izuku has to lose it. Which means...the reason he loses his memory is because his reaction is important. It's a moment we will have in the manga, which makes it a spoiler.

We've never heard Katsuki tell Izuku what he thinks of quirklessness now. All he's ever told Izuku is that way back when, he thought it meant Izuku was supposed to be beneath him. He doesn't even tell Izuku why he felt like somehow Izuku was actually above him.

He's also only ever told Izuku his actions were correct ever since he received One For All, nothing about before.

I think Katsuki's reaction to Izuku losing OFA--which could come before the final battle or after--will have to be about his feelings regarding Izuku's quirklessness. I think Izuku is going to be incredibly hurt by losing One For All because he'll think he has lost his dream, and Katsuki is going to have to set him right, because only Katsuki knew who Izuku was before he had One For All. All Might is the only other person who had at best a glimpse of Izuku.

I think Katsuki has been coming to terms with just how special Izuku is, how heroic he always has been, and that he's the only one capable of acknowledging it in a way Izuku will be able to hear because he knew Izuku before he got One For All. I think he's been grappling with this possibility ever since DvK2.

And I think he grapples with it again in Katsuki Bakugou: Rising.

In the same way Izuku saw something great in Katsuki that he wanted to cling to so he could see what Katsuki would one day become, Katsuki has always seen something great in Izuku, which awed and scared him. Their greatest divide was in not knowing what greatness the other saw in them. Katsuki has to tell Izuku what Izuku is to him.

Katsuki has to tell Izuku the words he's always wanted to hear, that he can be a hero, quirk or no, that Izuku always has been a hero, more than anybody else. Katsuki knows the truth of it firsthand.

#anon ask #ask pika #my hero academia manga spoilers #final arc spoilers #my hero academia heroes rising spoilers #izuku midoriya #katsuki bakugou #meta #theory #bakudeku

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cinnbar-bun · 3 months

Note

Could I request some poly Shanks X Mihawk X Gn! Reader headcanons please? (Sfw and NSFW if that's okay) and more importantly... Happy Holidays/Early New Years! I hope you have a wonderful time!

A/n: I'm literally exposing how long this has been in my inbox, I'm so sorry darling, please forgive me with these headcanons.

Shanks and Mihawk Poly!Gen HCs

Rating: SFW + NSFW (more under cut)

Notes: GN!Reader, no specific genitalia or pronouns used for Reader.

You can read this on my AO3 here!

SFW

Congratulations Shanks, now you have TWO babysitters!

It really is like that sometimes, Shanks is quite the energetic and spirited guy, while you and Mihawk are more “restrained”.

By “restrained”, I mean you are probably the only truly sane one there since Mihawk will also suggest something in the total opposite direction of Shanks’s suggestion that they both circle back to agreeing.

“We should get wasted” Shank says. “We should not,” Mihawk shakes his head. “Oh, thank you, Mihawk, I was thinking-” “We should fight some marines.” “Now you’re talking, Mihawk!”

It’s honestly a toss up on whose ideas will be the one to come out on top because lord these two men can make your head spin so fast.

Generally, though, Mihawk tends to have your back while you two placate and reel Shanks back in. On occasion Shanks has been known to take your side, but lord, if these two men team up against you, it’s gonna take a lot to get your way.

Thankfully, these two are helpless to you. Shanks is very enthusiastic to be with you so he is most likely to baby you and spoil you rotten with his affections.

Not to say that Mihawk never does, Mihawk is just more subtle and expensive with his gestures.

Shanks’s gestures: Lots of snuggling, hugs, and kisses. Silly nicknames reserved just for you, and nicknames only you/Mihawk are allowed to call him. Lots of whiny and teasing ‘baaaaaabbe’ here and there. An increasing amount of pouts and a tendency to have his arm on you at almost all times. Lots of shopping ventures and has a habit of pretty much blowing his money on alcohol and gifts for you two.

Mihawk’s gestures: Cooking you your favorite meals, making sure your cups are never empty, tailored outfits, custom gifts for the two of you, matching jewelry. Tender and gentle touches in order to remain polite. Guard dog (hawk?) privileges.

Most of their gestures overlap in many aspects, they’re both passionate men, but just in their own ways when it comes to romance. Shanks is very go with the flow and freeform, but Mihawk retains a sense of traditionalism and elegance to his behavior towards you two.

Mihawk is such house husband material and takes pride in you and Shanks’s enjoyment of his home cooked meals and house cleaning.

Shanks meanwhile loves discussing his adventures and impressing the two of you with his feats and bounties. As well as random gifts he finds on his travels or shops he stopped at.

While Shanks is more likely to suggest partying or going in the city for a night out, Mihawk suggests staying in and doing activities together. So a rotation and voting was implemented to make sure everyone was comfortable and having fun.

At the end of the day, Shanks is gonna be sleeping like an old, drunk man and snore everyone’s ears off while Mihawk sleeps on his back, still as a statue. You get to stay in the middle so as to avoid getting pushed off the bed thanks to Shanks.

NSFW

You thought they were competitive and crazy outside the bedroom, imagine inside the bedroom!

Let’s just say you got two absolute freaks on your hands.

Shanks is pretty much down to fuck at any given point of the day (like, what do you think he’s gonna say, no????). He has fuckboy energy, sorry. You or Mihawk will say “I’m going to shower” and Mr. Red-Hair will be all “without me hehe??”

Honestly, it’s insane how horny Shanks can and will be with you and Mihawk. He will even try to get you two riled up in public (Mihawk had nearly strangled him for those stunts). Date nights can get wild when Shanks is around and wants to have a go at you two.

Mihawk, again, is more subtle than Shanks. There’s some slight changes to his behavior when the mood strikes him. Shanks is very perceptive and will tease the shit out of Mihawk for it, before Mihawk threatens him.

Both men are very vocal when it comes to sex. Especially Shanks. You and Mihawk have to gag him sometimes because he will not shut the hell up and wants to comment about everything.

Shanks’s words tend to be more praise and comments about how good you and Mihawk are feeling/doing.

That mouth can do more than just talk, though. He’s amazing at giving oral, both to you and Mihawk. And he’s got such a shit-eating grin on his face whenever you two fall apart from his lips alone. (And the stubble, too, can you imagine?)

Mihawk also tends to praise you, but sometimes he gives commands or likes to degrade your current position and behavior.

Tells you your behavior is “unbecoming” of you while you’re (be)coming on his dick (I’ll see myself out).

Like I said though, these two are pretty much freaks. I think very little would ever be a hard “no” from them, and both are enthusiastic to try anything and everything at least once.

Mihawk likes to set strict boundaries and often is the one who makes the safe words and nonverbal cues for everyone to follow for the night.

These two also just have some insane stamina. You’re probably puckered out after one or two rounds and the two will still be raring to go.

Just my little headcanon, I think they are big on scents. Mihawk loves giving you expensive cologne/perfume for you to wear, and Shanks will often compliment it.

Wearing their clothes also tends to get them riled, but I’d mostly say wear Mihawk’s so you can at least ensure they were washed (also Mihawk’s shirts having such a big boob opening you can be happy knowing the men will tease there lots).

Immaculate aftercare with fun bubble baths, massages, and cuddles. And Shanks snoring loudly again, that’s never changing.

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece smut #smut #one piece hcs #x reader #reader insert #shanks x reader #shanks #shanks smut #red haired shanks #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #shanks x reader x mihawk

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manicpixiefelix · 2 months

Text

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 17.

Summary: Learning little things, and big things, on these summer days. About each other, and how the world sees you all, in the garden, in the family room, in hindsight, in the study late at night.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: reader, felix, venetia, and oliver getting high in the garden together, some degrading language (kind of a given any time venetia and reader are in the same room at this point), heavy discussion about the reader's parental trauma/neglect

A/N: 5812 words. i think i cast venetia in a bad light sometimes which i feel bad about because i love her to pieces, and she and the reader love each other very much its just that she's gotten used to being arguably too verbally prickly with them in order to rile her brother up mostly, and she forgets (and maybe i do too) what that looks like from the outside. anyways, just for absolutely no reason whatsoever, have you ever looked up what different flowers mean in flower language? much to think about.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Venetia rolls her joints with little hearts at the end where the filter would go if it were simply a cigarette. It's a trick she learned during what she calls her 'gap year', what Elspeth calls her 'grand wine tour of Europe', and what Felix and Farleigh have recently started cruelly referring to as 'the year Venetia inspired a TV show'. While you do think it's mean, you also quietly agree that Billie Piper bares a striking resemblance to the young Catton woman in the ads you'd seen for Secret Diary of a Call Girl. Cruel implications is all you would say on the matter, not that either of the boys had been game enough to say it to her face.

But the thought floats through your mind in this moment, taking just a moment to admire the way she's expertly curled the paper before you bring it to your lips. She watches you with that smile that tends to intimidate others, sharp and mean and hungry, sharp gaze on your lips as you inhale, lips remaining sealed as you offer the next hit to Felix on your right. Venetia's focus follows the joint, straying from you to admire the way her brother takes a hit before he too passes it on to Oliver.

Felix muses to no-one in particular about how long it's been since he'd been out here to the Fairy Ring Garden, but only gets a response from Oliver, and a strained one at that as your guest holds smoke in his lungs as long as he's able, muttering that it's beautiful. Sitting on the grass in the morning sun, you squint at the iPod in your hands, trying to choose some music.

Venetia suggests Amy Winehouse. Felix calls his sister tragic under his breath, to which she flips him off. Still, it's the best suggestion you've got so far, so moments later, the singer's rich vocals warble out of the little, portable speaker you'd plugged into the headphone port.

"Good dog," Venetia says with a particularly mean sneer in her brother's direction as she takes the iPod out of your hands to place it on the grass, replacing it with the joint you'd all been passing around once more. Out of instinct, you place your free hand on Felix's chest, telling him that whatever reaction he was going to have really wasn't worth it. Venetia rolls her eyes, "boo, you whore," she snarks, laying back on the grass.

"I'm taking the rest of this as compensation for emotional damages," you hold the joint between two fingers, telling Felix to just roll another from the kit still sitting in the middle of the impromptu circle the four of you had made. Much to both yours and Felix's surprise, Oliver moves too quickly to let him, rolling with the air of someone who'd seen it done often without having done it himself.

Both you and Felix watch him for quite a while as he stumbles through the task like a baby deer taking it's first steps. Things are getting fuzzy and warm around the edges already, and you're caught up in watching the way Oliver's hands work.

"Why 'd you put up with her?" Oliver asks bluntly, frowning at his work. Venetia's indignant 'hey' goes otherwise ignored by the three of you and it takes a long moment for Felix to respond.

"She's my sister?" But in his confusion it sounds more like a question, talking about Venetia like she's not even there. But Oliver stops, and finally looks at him; he offers a rather sad looking, clearly unfinished joint, not as an offering but as a silent request for help. Felix takes it and tries not to look too endeared by Oliver's failed attempt as he fixes it.

"Not you, Felix," Oliver, after a moment, looks away from Felix, right to you, eyes wide and earnest as he watches you take a long draft of your own joint, now burned well down. His gaze makes his intentions clear, but still he offers, "she's mean to you too." Too, like he'd pointed out about Farleigh all those months ago.

"They like it," Venetia scoffs at the sky dismissively, but Oliver refuses to acknowledge her, even if Felix takes a moment to scowl at his sister and her constant, casual degradation of you. But a slow, amused smile spreads across your lips in the moments that follow, you can't help it.

"I love that you worry about me, Ollie," you sigh almost dreamily. Clearly not expecting that, you have the pleasure of watching Oliver blush with surprise, "you're so fucking pretty, Ollie," you add, though you're pretty sure you couldn't have stopped yourself from saying that out loud if you tried. He blushes harder, while Felix and Venetia both try and stifle their giggles; you take another hit, tilting your head just a little as you look at him, analysing him. Finally, when you ask his favourite flower out of seemingly nowhere, Oliver seems like he can't function under your gaze like this, and chooses to lay back in the grass, mirroring Venetia.

"Darling, you're such a lightweight," Felix snorts, speaking from the corner of his mouth as he holds the rerolled joint between his lips as if intending to light it. Before he can flick the lighter on, however, you take his chin gently in hand, guiding him to you, pressing the still-glowing end of your own joint to his unlit one for several long seconds, until his caught successfully.

When you and Felix join your companions in laying back on the grass, you do so together. His arm is around you, coaxing you to lay with your head on his chest, beside him under this perfectly blue sky.

"Why would you want to know something like that?" Oliver's voice reminds you he's there only moments later.

"Because their robot brain needs to know everything about everyone at all times," at least Venetia sounds fond when she chimes in, even if her words aren't exactly the most complimentary.

"You're lucky you're pretty, Vee," Felix cuts in with a casually cruel tone; you can feel the way he twitches with irritation, "because you have so few other redeeming features."

"I am pretty," Venetia agrees airily, pointedly ignoring his insult, "you're such a darling brother, Felix," she adds with painfully sarcastic faux-sweetness. Felix's only response was to sigh with incredibly loud disappointment, while you tried to stifle your giggling, caught up in the sensation of him tracing abstract patterns up and down your arms, and the idea that you could count on the ever-relaxed Felix Catton to always come to your defence. Had this been the case for years? Over a decade? Yes. Would it always make you a little bit giddy to think about? Almost definitely.

"And it's not like I'm wrong," Venetia finally broached the silence once more, "as if they don't already know our favourite flowers," she points out, before making a rather insistent noise. You bark at her command, it seems - those cheerful little yellow ones on the inner ring of flowers - dismissive, but the sound of her scoff has you correcting yourself, suddenly feeling a sting of shame and not quite knowing why.

"The chrysanthemums." The other three echo the name of the flower, one right after the other, all taking turns to turn it over in their minds and mouths as you almost burn your fingers finishing off your joint. As if trying to prove yourself, you add, interrupting them all, "Fi's are forget-me-nots."

Felix seems surprised to agree, like even he'd forgotten that detail about himself, or perhaps forgotten that he'd shared it with you, while Venetia's laughter has turned fond and knowing; it's a little condescending too, like she'd expected as much from you, but you try not to dwell on it. It's Oliver's voice that you focus on, endeared as he quietly murmurs the name of the flower to himself, like he can't quite believe something as soft as Felix having a favourite flower.

"Now I'm curious, Ollie," Felix finally speaks up, and you hear the grass shift beneath his head. He must be turning to look at the man in question, "do you have a favourite flower?" He pauses for a moment, "or is this one of our weird things, like wearing cuff-links to dinner every night?" He tries to play it off, but there's those notes of self consciousness that you're surprised he often gets when talking about tradition around Saltburn.

The grass near Oliver rustles, but your comfort overrides your intrigue to watch him.

"I think it's fox... Something?" Oliver says after a moment, "my favourite flower," he clarifies, "I haven't put much thought into it," he admits. You hum thoughtfully before asking if it could be foxglove. He confirms as much before going quiet.

There's a lull that follows in which Felix asks after Farleigh's whereabouts. Farleigh should be here, your hazy mind immediately chirps, you love Farleigh! Venetia sighs, sounding incredibly put-upon to be explaining that Farleigh was in the computer room, obsessing over his ex-boyfriend's MySpace updates that he'd missed lately. The ones about the tour.

"The guy from that Broadway show?" Felix asks with vague interest.

"No, his ex-girlfriend is touring with that Broadway musical, that he knows about, that he at least pretends he doesn't care about," Venetia corrected, "the ex-boyfriend is that one from that band, the one who wrote that song about him that got nominated for that award?"

"Grammy," you supplied automatically.

"Right," Venetia barely acknowledged you, "anyways, he's on that big, American tour with all those tragic, emo bands that are a big deal, which is apparently news to our dear cousin."

"Is that the one we were all talking about getting tickets to a few months ago?" Felix asks after a moment of silence, patting you on the arm as if his words weren't enough to get your attention. You hum in confirmation.

"I think so; The Warped Tour, we were going to make a vacation of it in LA this summer," you sighed rather forlornly at how the idea never got off the ground, "it was Anabel's idea -"

"- God, she's always been such a groupie for those kinds of boy-band-types -" Felix mutters derisively under his breath as if he hadn't spent the better part of two semesters inviting her to his dorm to listen to him play guitar knowing full well she'd practically be on her knees at the very suggestion. So of course you ignored that aside to finish your explanation.

"- except she turned around and said she hated the line up, when really she didn't want to admit her passport expired and she couldn't be bothered with the paperwork for a new one -"

"Actually," Oliver chimes in, though you're not sure if he was adding to the conversation, or if he'd even been listening, "when I was a boy I got to go to this botanical garden that had all these fancy flowers usually from the rest of the world." Oh. Flowers again? Sure. "There were these ones that got flown in from Australia, and I couldn't help thinking that they weren't worth it to fly all the way over here from Australia. Too long and curly and pointy; pretty, but not the kind that..." something about the way he speaks about the experience, about the flowers, it catches in your mind; Australian, long, curly, pointy, pretty, you tried to commit to memory, "that's worth spending your time on." He clears his throat and his tone seems almost forcibly lighter, "foxgloves are prettier, wouldn't you think? Yeah..."

Silence hangs between you all for several long, pensive moments.

"What colour were they?" You ask softly.

"Foxgloves?" Oliver knows you don't mean the foxgloves. He asks anyways. Everything always for the sake of the act, the pantomime of propriety.

"No."

"Red."

There is no more that needs to be said in the moment, but later you will be grateful when the details stick through the haze of your memories. Through the quiet, Venetia mentions how she misses the purple pincushions, how sweet and strange they were, and how cruel you have been to order the gardeners to prune the flowers before they can ever bloom.

The mere mention of those purple fucking pincushion flowers sours your mood; your one regret amongst your garden, a conceit to Felix that even he wishes he could take back knowing now how much you'd end up hating them. It's been a year since a single purple pincushion has bloomed in your garden, and you've been down here at least once a day all Summer, meticulous, pruning the bulbs yourself with much malice aforethought. Part of you is so filled with fury in this moment that you consider going over and uprooting the plants by hand right now, but Felix's arm around you, Felix's chest, solid and warm beneath your head, Felix's steady heartbeat in your ear, he grounds you.

For now you must simply remain content knowing that none of Eddie's precious, purple pincushions will ever bloom upon the grounds of the Saltburn Estate again.

"Venetia," expression pinched, you address her with far more coldness than you think you've ever directed towards her before, "shut up."

You don't remember when exactly during the day you asked Duncan to fetch you all the botany-related books in the house that made mention of plants native to the Asia-Pacific region. Knowing yourself, and knowing Duncan, however, you're not surprised by the small, neat stack you find the following evening on your desk in the lilac study.

While you fully intended on continuing your trend of wearing something provocative and continuing the pantomime of propriety with Oliver as the two of you had been doing each night for almost a week, Sir James raises the suggestion of a family movie night instead. Felix whines when Venetia and Farleigh champion the suggestion of a scary movie, and pouts when they bully Oliver into agreeing with them.

"Don't ask them," Farleigh groans when you're called upon for your opinion, "they're just going to say whatever Felix said but in a different voice," he rolled his eyes. You and Felix both choosing to flick little pieces of cantaloupe at him from your desserts does nothing but strengthen his argument.

Nobody thinks to ask Poor Dear Pamela her opinion, sitting at the end of the table, looking less than thrilled by the suggestion of The Ring, so everyone else decides that you and Felix are out numbered. On the way back to your rooms to change out of your dinner clothes, Oliver tries to apologise, and Felix tries to pretend that it's fine and he's just putting it on for Venetia and Farleigh and that he absolutely does not have the temperament of a rabbit when it came to anything scary. He is, of course, lying. But Oliver doesn't realise that just yet.

Venetia, always invigorated by a social triumph such as this, and never one to let a well-earned moment of joy pass her by, tucks her arm in Oliver's as the family meets back up in the living room. The moment is not missed by either you or Felix, who both glower at her bold display of affection as she ignores you and pulls Oliver onto the sofa. The large, plush armchair next to the sofa, with it's wide, low arms almost fits both you and Felix, though it's more of a token gesture than anything. No-one is surprised when he pulls you into his lap less than ten minutes after the film begins, arms around you and watching with his chin on your shoulder, ready to hide his face against your shoulder at a moment's notice.

When the film ends and the lights come back on, Venetia finally notices how you and her brother are sitting, and opens her mouth with malicious intent in her eyes.

"Watch it," you warned her before she could say any choice, disparaging remarks, "remember who's kept you off of What Not To Wear the past six years," you remind her; Felix, giving you a little squeeze, levels a smug smile at his older sister over your shoulder. Venetia closes her mouth, expression immediately turning.

"I can't believe they're still making that show," she spits, stalking from the room. Farleigh, finally getting up and stretching, follows her out at a far more relaxed pace.

"I can't believe they're still fighting Y/N to put you on it."

With those two having left, Elspeth and Pamela both give you curious looks, Elspeth asking if it was true. You confirmed as much with a blithe shrug, finally getting to your feet.

"Years ago one of the hosts was trying to track Ven down after seeing her on a red carpet and word got back to dad - or, well, his assistant at the time - and he remembered that I'm pretty close with the Cattons," you gave a humourless smile, offering Felix your hand to help him up from the sofa, which he gladly took, "however Ven was deeply offended when I asked her if she wanted to be on the show," Felix let himself chuckle at that, while Oliver was taking longer to stand, strange look on his face as he listened to you with surprisingly rapt attention.

"And they've been, what, continuing to ask after her even though she's said no?" Elspeth frowned, but you sighed, shaking your head.

"No, apparently Ven sent in a particularly rude letter despite me informing them of her refusal, and now dad's assistants seem to think I'm her agent and I get a call every time the show is threatening to add her photo to a montage of worst-dressed celebrities."

"Didn't she freak out when you refused to get an episode pulled when they actually did it?" Felix snorts, to which you rolled your eyes.

"That's why dad's assistants keep calling me, because of how she reacted to that episode."

You do feel a little bit bad for Venetia in this moment, when you see the resigned disappointment in both her parents' eyes at the story. The rest of you do finally filter out at this point, all heading back to your separate rooms. The walk is quiet for the most part, except for when Oliver, who'd been looking as though he was ruminating very hard on something, looks to you.

"Y/N, what does your dad do for work?"

You know and hate that Oliver sees the moment in which his question makes you uncomfortable, no matter how much you try to not let it, nor how desperately you try to hide it. Shrugging as you desperately shoot for casual, you sigh.

"I'm pretty sure your guess is as good as his," you say blithely, so casually evasive that Oliver doesn't really think to call you out on it before you get to your room. But after you and Felix wish him good night and head into your room, you close the door and slump against it with a heavy sigh. Felix lets you have this moment of respite to yourself, quietly moving about the room, getting ready for bed.

"Do you think they'll even show up?" Finally Felix breaks the silence, and you just make a vague noise, "to the dinners they told mum they'd be at," he clarified after a beat.

"Probably," you muttered, dejected at the prospect as your mind wanders to the couple who reluctantly created you.

"They asked about you," you admit to Felix quietly. From what you can hear, he stops, "mum, specifically," the memory of the phone call with your grandmother burned bright in your mind; it wasn't particularly recent, had happened at the start of your last semester, but you'd kept it to yourself for so long. You'd tried to disconnect yourself from it, tried to take solace in your grandmother's fury on your behalf, but you feel your face heat up with your own anguish, "asked how you were and if you were still living in 'that beautiful house with the Reubens and all those royal portraits'," voice trembling with both heartache and resentment, you slide down the door, tears welling even as you had your eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"Nan sounded so angry when she told me," you whispered, knees drawn up to your chest, "I've never heard her like that; she made it sound like she yelled at mum for- for- for ages -" you feel when Felix settles down beside you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. This is when you finally break, when you finally let yourself cry, whimpering, "but I bet mum just hung up on her the minute she felt like the fucking victim."

Felix isn't the one who needs to be apologising right now, but part of you knows you'll never get one from the people you crave it the most from. Still, he apologises with his lips against your temple. You know your best friend well enough to know his heart is breaking for you, and fuck you wish you had been strong enough to push back this breakdown, but you couldn't -

"She asked for you by name, Fi, full name," you sobbed curling up in his arms, burying yourself against him in your misery, "they haven't spoken to me or about me in eleven years; they haven't even said my name- they've acted like I don't exist to everyone - everyone - even to my own grandmother for eleven years!"

There's no easy sleep that can be found after a revelation like this, but Felix, even after he manages to drift off, is unwilling to let you go, unwilling to let you feel even the slightest bit alone for the rest of the night. It continues through the next day, even as you assure him you're fine, that you're glad for his comfort but that you've overcome the despair that had hit you so tremendously last night. It's not even much of a lie.

You spend the day with the family who'd taken you in without hesitation, and feel a swell of pride within you as you hear Oliver comment enthusiastically on the Palissy plates Sir James had always loved dearly. You yourself vaguely recall the plates getting a page to themselves in the very book you'd gifted Oliver about Saltburn, so you were glad to see him putting it to good use.

A little white lie about how deep Oliver's love for Palissy genuinely was really wouldn't hurt anyone. Honestly, it was worth it for just how brightly Sir James' eyes shined at one of Felix or Venetia's friends finally taking an interest in his antiquities like that.

But all day, Felix was never too far away. Not that he was incredibly obvious about it, at least not from anyone else's perspective, but you could tell. Quietly, you were grateful, even if you were still trying to convince the both of you that you were okay. Something about being able to just lean back and know he'll be there in times like this, times where you need him to be there but don't know how to say it out loud, is a comfort you never want to take for granted.

You want to thank him but it gets caught in your throat. But standing on his balcony as the sun sets, sharing a cigarette, you take his free hand for this one, quiet moment. Your voice is full of affection, full of thanks, full of love, too much for you to even look at him, focus kept on your hands, your fingers laced with his.

"My Felix."

"Always, love," he kisses your forehead.

That night, the only time you are without him is when you end up in the lilac study, wondering if Oliver will even show up after last night broke the tradition. Either way you'd use the time to continue to go through your botany books on the hunt for red, curly, pointy, Australian flowers. You keep seeing bottle brush but something in your heart said it wasn't right. However long you'd actually spend perusing the books tonight would depend on if you had company.

But eventually Oliver does choose to darken the doorway with that hungry-eyed stare you've never seen in the light of day, and you take your time with noticing him. Tonight you're lounging on the cream sofa in one of Felix's shirts, not even bothering to do the buttons up; you've pulled it mostly close for a pass at modesty, considering the only other thing you're wearing is underwear.

"'re you seducing me?" He sounds amused; you're surprised by how quickly he cuts to the chase, but you try not to let it show.

"Is it working yet?" You turn another page of your book before you finally look up, playing almost at boredom. Oliver, barely visible for the lamp light, the gallery beyond him nothing but shadows, huffs a laugh at that, and for reasons you can't quite understand, he drops his gaze. He breaks the moment, the rules of the game. Oliver doesn't look away, he never has before.

"You trying to get me in trouble?"

"Depends on what you consider to be trouble," your smile grows wider as you carefully set your book to the side, fixing your intrigued gaze upon Oliver properly, "perhaps I'm saving you from trouble." In a sense, the more nights you can get him to spend here with you, the less he's falling prey to Venetia's planting herself beneath his window you're sure she's doing, just as she had with Eddie a year ago. At least this time you've learned.

"I think you may very well be the trouble," Oliver looks up, just in time to see your wicked, delighted grin.

"Then I am definitely trying to get you in trouble," you don't even hesitate before firing off the inuendo, smiling wide and proud at your own quick wit. The sight of Oliver's very genuine smile and laugh catches you off guard too; it'd been so long since you'd seen it, you forgot how taken you were with him when he lit up like that. Then, as the laughter died down, Oliver walks in, he sits with you, lets you lean against him.

"You've been saying a lot of..." he hesitates, turning to you. Oliver wears a strange, lopsided smile, but from the corner of your eyes you see something reserved in his gaze as he takes in the sight of you in this moment, "generous things about me." He's too close to miss the way your breath catches. Venetia and Farleigh are dirty fucking snitches, "'s alright-" he tries, but there's clearly some kind of reservation in his voice as he staves off your stammered apology, "knew what I was getting into, didn't I?"

With Oliver's arm around you, you can't help but wonder aloud -

"Did you?"

"I thought I did," he admitted softly, and you tipped your head onto his shoulder, then you feel him shift, feel his lips on your forehead and voice soft, "I think I thought I'd be alright anywhere if I was with Felix." For reasons you try very hard not to think about in this moment, Oliver's words sting.

"Oh," it almost gets caught in your throat; your traitorous heart sinks in your chest for just a moment. Except Oliver gives you a squeeze, holds you tight as he seems to realise his mistake.

"Of course you're a given," it almost salvages the moment, and of course you feel as though you have to act like it does, but there's something tight and unfamiliar balling up in your chest. "Felix loves you," Oliver sounds almost wistful, words coming out more like a faint breath, but perhaps it's this strange new feeling in your chest that makes him harder to read in this moment.

"He loves you too, Ollie," you tell him, forcing yourself to inject some levity into the moment. This time it's you who moves, who turns your face to Oliver, forehead against his as you muster up the warmest smile you can manage, pressing against him, making a show of overwhelming affection, "we both do," of course, your tone says, obviously.

And Oliver actually giggles at that, so it must work. In the next moment he's pulled you into his lap. It's so easy for you to readjust, to fit in his arms, in his space, against him, like it's where you were always meant to be.

"Is that you talkin' or Felix talkin'?" Oliver asks finally when you've got your arms settled around his neck, "I don't mind, I'd just like to know."

"What 'd you mean?" You ask, curious about the wording and it's implications. Oliver visibly hesitates, though he seems more embarrassed for whatever was about to come out of his mouth than anything else.

"Speakin' with Venetia made me realise how little I actually know about you," Oliver says carefully. Almost immediately your expression sours, and a long, exasperated sigh is pulled from you, "she's a deeply confusing woman, isn't she?" He adds almost like an afterthought, and you barked a quiet laugh.

"That is a very kind way of putting it," you offered diplomatically after a beat, before letting go of Oliver and leaning yourself back against the arm of the sofa, considering your next words carefully. His hands come to rest on your stomach, but you're surprised when he does up two of the buttons of Felix's shirt, providing you with a little more modesty. Then, his hands come to rest on your stomach and thighs, warm and unmoving.

"You're a deeply confusing individual yourself," Oliver pushes softly, "when I think about you too much, I realise there's not much to think about, least nothin' you've told me," and you hum noncommittally, looking up at the ceiling. The next words that escape you are from a script you'd thought was long buried.

"Yeah but that's kind of the point; I'm not really meant to matter, or be looked at, or thought about -" the words seem to shock even you, eyes going wide as you look to Oliver. The intensity of his stare has your heart hammering against your ribs as you try to back pedal, "sorry- that's not- I mean- sorry, that's really not, anymore that is -" you didn't even believe that anymore, right? Your place in the world as impressed upon you by your own parents for the first ten years of your life. Surely having spent more time by now with Felix and the Cattons than you ever had with them was enough to rewrite a good deal of the cruel way in which you'd been hardwired.

Oliver reaches out, caressing your cheek with that confident smile he only ever seemed to wear when the sun couldn't see him. He tells you that you matter, with absolute sincerity. Then, expression lightening to something fond, even teasing, he warns you not to let Felix catch you talking like that, that his love for you was the kind that would have him throwing a parade just to prove that self-doubt wrong. It was a nice mental image, if only for a moment. You, Oliver, Felix, not necessarily a parade for you per say, but a mess of colour and joy and music in the city, together and happy and -

"I don't know if you'd want that," Oliver's grin is fading, and finally you sit back up, let yourself be wrapped up in him as he continues to trail his fingers across the edge of your face, down your throat, across your collar, "but then again Venetia thinks you don't even know how."

"How what?" Voice barely more than a whisper, you know he can feel how quick your heart's beating, his hand flat and warm on your sternum.

"How to want for yourself, 'least not anything outside of Felix," he keeps his gaze trained on his hand, heel of his palm pressing firmer just over your heart, "which is why I asked; you said you loved me, is that you or Felix talking when you say that?" And finally he looks at you. That tight, sharp feeling in your chest spikes when he meets your gaze. He looks so earnest, so open, so ready for either answer.

But you stand, leaving both yourself, and Oliver's lap cold, but hoping your smile is warm enough compensation. Except you can hear in his voice that he believes Venetia; she'd confirmed what he'd suspected, it's what he left unsaid the night you'd slept with each other. The only thing you wanted was so easily met; to be wanted, and seemingly content with nothing more outside of Felix. A contented sycophant, easy to please and happy to be used; you knew the world was happy with this being your place in it.

And the more you think about it, the more you think Oliver is too.

"Of course it's Felix," you tell him what you're almost certain he wants to hear. No need to scare him off with the expectations of your own feelings on his shoulders. Oliver watches you for a long moment, simply observing as you smile wider, and hope that it comes across as adoring, "which means of course I do love you too, that's a given, Ollie." The sharp discomfort is scraping at your ribs, more painful with each word, hollowing out your chest moment by moment, so you bid him good night, unable to bare the conversation for much longer.

"Just one favour, by the way, if you could," you add by the door. He makes a noise of intrigue, but you can't even bring yourself to look at him. It'll be another just person looking at a placeholder while they're waiting for Felix to be ready to love them back. Usually you don't mind. Usually it's enough and you can still enjoy their company and have your fun. But they aren't Oliver Quick, "just... please refrain from properly fooling around with Venetia? I know I sound like a hypocrite but," you take a deep breath, smiling wide enough that you don't even have to see Oliver, "it kind of goes back well beyond just you."

The next morning, stopping into the study before you head down to breakfast, you intend to collect the book you'd finally found those red flowers in. Top of your pile, you'd left it open on the very page. But you find that someone has turned the page. Scabious, in full bloom, mocking you, surely.

The botany book lay like a bitter seductress on your desk, left open, pages spread and staring up at you; purple fucking pincushions.

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