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furorem-yandere · 16 days ago

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Back at it again with my “The Invitation” questions I’m so sorry-

I’ve been curious about Jack’s parents. If they were still alive, what would their impression of Sunshine be? Would they approve of her?

From 💀

Haha don't be sorry! I like getting asks for Invitation!

I think that Mama Shine would just love Sunshine. She's reminded a bit of her husband back when they first met I think, so she feels a bit affectionate for her instinctively. Sunshine would absolutely be wary of her, given her history Moms not being good (her own and Ian's). So she's on her best behavior at first, but would probably snap at her a lot, then feel bad and try to make up for it by working hard (like how she did with Jack). I see Mama Shine as having the kind of dominating kind of positivity that Jack and (especially) Jane inherited, so Sunshine would probably be a bit overwhelmed? I think they'd find some even ground though, particularly with loud music and physical activity. They're both pretty intense personalities, so they would be the type that start a game of pickup sports at the beach or the park and then get WAY too into it, yelling at each other. Then on the way home they're both like "that was fun :) same time next week?" Tbh I think that Jack is very much a mama's boy, so he'd definitely be encouraging Mama and Sunshine to get along, even though Sunshine would be resistant in the beginning. Eventually though, once she gets to know Mama Shine, she absolutely would kill for this woman, and the feeling is entirely mutual. Overall, I see her as a big supporter of her son's feelings for Sunshine the most. I think Mama Shine was a big romantic, and probably always hoped he'd end up with one of the Crew, but after seeing how sappy Jack gets for Sunshine, she definitely tries to play matchmaker for them. Mostly just small stuff like Uh oh, I got tickets to a spa resort for a couples only retreat, but Papa and I can't go this time because of Made Up Excuse! Why don't you kids go have fun in our place? ;) This would be incredibly effective on Sunshine, who hates when things go to waste. She'd be infuriated because she absolutely knows what Mama Shine is doing and cannot for the life of her find an excuse to shoot her down. Mama is absolutely super smug about it, and it's unbearable.

Papa Rise on the other hand would probably be really protective of Jack... Sunshine and Jack are sort of mirrors of Mama Shine and Papa Rise, and I think he and Sunshine would have a little bit of a "She's In Love With the Boy" type of dynamic at first where he doesn't think that Sunshine is good for Jack. Mama Shine would be on your side, saying, "She reminds me of you, when we first met," and he'd be kind of grim and reply, "I know, that's the problem." It took him a while I think to learn how to be a good friend and then husband to Mama Shine I think, so when he sees scruffy little Sunshine that has zero trust and all the sharp teeth, he's like Yeah no... You are not good enough for my boy. His general energy about the whole thing is absolutely that of a beleaguered parent who's child wants to adopt the hyper-aggressive dog from the shelter and not like... the friendly labrador next to it. Or at least he is, right up until Sunshine starts getting protective of Jack and shows she's ready to throw down to protect him. He sees Sunshine threaten a guy at knifepoint to protect Jack and he's like... "So mijo, when are you proposing?" Sunshine on the other hand, trusts Papa Rise immediately upon meeting him. Real recognizes real. Guy absolutely gives off the vibe of all the snooty art majors she dealt with in college so he's familiar, plus he generally gives off the vibe of "they'll never find your body", so she actually would kind of admire him. She doesn't understand sign language (yet; she has Jack teach her later and yes, she absolutely does the classic horny vs hungry mix up), but they communicate through expressions and wordless actions. Absolutely are on the same page 100% of the time. They have the same sort of gallows humor, and like the same types of horror/mystery media, so they get along very well after the initial hiccups. Absolutely form an alliance that creates a scary dog aura so strong that people start giving the family a wide berth in public. She picks up his mannerisms unconsciously, and they both get a little weirded out when they get mistaken for a father/daughter duo by strangers. Give each other a weird look and step away from each other. "Yeah, I don't actually know him, he's just a weird old guy that follows me around-" "I won her at the bowling alley because the sword was too much-" type of energy.

Sunshine would absolutely have a full breakdown the moment either of them refer to her as their daughter in any way. She's never had any kind of parental care in her life, other than Biggie, maybe. Probably has a full blown sob session in the shower after Mama Shine affectionately ruffles her hair and tells her she did a good job. She'd be really anxious about being a member of the family since the only family she ever had she's either had to take a lot of space from to have a healthier relationship (Biggie) or been betrayed by (Ian). Sunshine would probably make some casual comment about how they weren't actually her parents, and they'd reply with how she might as well be, especially if her and Jack get married. She minorly freaks out, but eventually with time she'd start to call them Mom and Dad casually.

#ask #furorem speaks #swwsdj #sdj #the invitation #my writing

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ruinedbylanadelrey · 2 years ago

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King of Your Heart

Chapter 16 "I wanna be the king"

summary: All that Frankie has ever wanted to be was your everything. After years of being best friends one phone call changes everything between the two of you.

inspired by The King by Sarah Kinsley

warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, age gap (reader is 28-29, Frankie 38-39), friends with benefits -> situationship, Frankie isn't a dad (yet), jealously, best friends with benefits, reader is toxic, reader wears makeup, reader has long hair, it's the last fucking chapter, so many taylor swift references, fluff, husband!frankie, smut, pregnancy (not reader), angst, courthouse wedding, no y/n, pet names, possessiveness, triple frontier boys, Tom is dead, reader is a flirt

an: i think i will be deleting this fic from tumblr at the end of the week. so read up while you can all because of this message<3 but thank you all for reading. i loved this ride of a story, i appreciate all my supporters. here's the fucking happy ending everyone wanted, i rewrote this last chapter 3 fucking times because i just didn't want everyone to hate me anymore than already do. i had a whole other author's note for the last chapter but nevermind.

inside the world of king of your heart

playlist

series mainlist | main masterlist

taglist: @hiroikegawa

It's been 6 months since Frankie popped the question after you and him had sat down and talked out everything you both have done to each other and then talked about little Morales on the way. Frankie offered you the chance to leave but you held his scruffy face in your hands, staring into his deep brown eyes, and said "Frankie, I want you and everything that comes with it." Frankie smiles, his eyes crinkling, and starts to tear up. Your heart soars when he nuzzles his face into your palms, breathing in your sweet scent and the warmth of your soft skin.

A wedding was out of the picture when you and Frankie decided to start looking for a bigger home for your growing family. You and her buried the hatchet and will do everything in the best interest of everyone's baby. You offered to take her to the doctor's appointments because you told her that the baby is just as much yours as hers.

Spending so much time with her created a nice acquaintanceship. The only stress you had was getting ready to welcome a human into the world. There were days when it was painful to be around her since she was living out your dream. Pregnant with Frankie's baby. You thought it was a sign to never have kids, just put it in the back of your mind. Frankie would come to the appointments when his job allowed him.

"I have a feeling it's a girl," she rubs her belly and looks out the window while you drove to the appointment. You smile and nod in response. "I have the same feeling," it was nice to agree and not have any fight behind it. You all agreed for it to be a surprise to find out the sex of the baby.

When the baby shower came around your emotions got heavier, especially when it was of her family and all of Frankie's family too. You felt like the black sheep of the party, sticking out like a sore thumb, no one talking to you besides Mari and Charolette. Frankie's mother was doting on Vanessa and Frankie. You had to remind yourself to keep a smile on your face and just enjoy being around your new family. It was also like a housewarming party since you found the perfect house. But the guys weren't there and Frankie had only stayed for an hour before leaving all the ladies with each other.

He slinks out of the living room to the kitchen, finding you mixing more punch and staring into the crystal bowl with the red liquid threatening to spill over the edges.

"Mama is looking for you," Frankie comes up behind you and wraps his strong arms around your waist. Your stirring comes to a halt, and your muscles tense up Frankie kisses your head and rubs your shoulders. He knows you've been on edge lately, he knew your mind was racing about what his mother wants to talk to you about. "Okay, I'll see you later, baby," You say, turning around to face him in his plaid button-up and slacks. You lay a sweet kiss on his cheek then sliding out of his arms.

The talk with his mother went a little like this, "I know you love him and he loves you but you're keeping a family apart." you sat there and nodded at everything she said. She wasn't wrong, you knew she was right, watching Frankie become a less angry person as the due date grew close and he was sweet with Vanessa. You didn't feel kicked aside at all through the months until now sitting in the mess of the aftermath of having over 30 people in your home. A glimpse into your future, with the birthday parties and holidays. Left cleaning other people's mess with Frankie god knows where.

You dismissed what his mother said, never bringing it up to Frankie. You know better than to play with fire. It was a Friday morning when you woke up next to Frankie waking up for work. The ache in your chest is suffocating as you stare at your future husband probably thinking about her and the baby instead of you and how you were right there next to him. You felt like a stranger in your own home. Frankie looks at you and smiles with his boyish grin.

"Let's get married today," Frankie rolls and hovers above you, caging you in with his arms. He looks down at you, seeing you with a shocked expression. "R-Really?" You sit in a rush, almost smacking into Frankie, he chuckles and nods, sitting up with you in the middle of the bed. Your arms wrap around his neck and you smash your lips against his. You rush out of bed and pull Frankie along with you. Frankie starts the shower with you kissing his shoulder blade and hugging him. Anticipation sat in your tummy, the day has finally come and still the ache rests on your chest.

You pull out the dress you picked for this day, a short off-white dress with puffy sleeves. You didn't need to be at the courthouse until 1 pm, took the few hours you had left to write the vows. Frankie disappears to the bedroom while you sat at the white desk. The pen was slipping from your grip, and the sweat from your palms collected when you wrote the last line of your vows. Sealing the papers in the envelope, smoothing out your dress before walking out of your office

Frankie heard your heels click on the hardwood floors that you demanded when you and him were looking for houses. He quickly folds the papers in half, shoving them in the envelope. He heads down the stairs and meets you in the living room.

You were looking at your reflection in the TV, and you turned around to see Frankie wearing the white dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top, no tie, black slacks. His dark brown hair was effortlessly styled with a brush through his hair with his fingers. He kept his scruff and mustache, your heart swelled at the sight of him. You smile at the memory of you pestering Frankie when you first became friends, you had gifted him clothes for his birthday telling him 'It's okay to invest in nice clothes'.

You and Frankie stand in front of each other with the envelopes behind each other's backs. When you had dreamed of your wedding day you always imagined it with people buzzing around you but just being you and him in the home you bought together was perfect. No one was there.

Just you and Frankie. You have him. He's here to stay and so are you. Frankie's brown eyes rake up and down your body, he admires how the dress flairs out and stops just a bit above your mid-thigh, displaying your thighs, and the way you had your hair pinned back with a bejeweled hair clip, he takes in the fact that you had on a full face of makeup, the way the beige colors of the eyeshadow bring out the color of your eyes, and the eyeliner drawing his attention to the eyes that made him a lovesick man.

"Mrs. Morales, you look like a true princess," Frankie makes the first move, stepping towards you and wrapping his free arm around your waist. The soft giggles from you made his heart beat a little faster.

"Thank you, Mr. Morales. You look dashing," Your hand slides up the dress shirt, feeling his warmth come through the cotton.

He looks like a husband, a husband who loves you and all your craziness. You tilt your head to look up at him, slotting your lips to lock with his. One last kiss before the one that seals everything together.

You stand in the cold courtroom along with many other couples, varying in age, race, and gender. You liked how everyone was in their worlds. Frankie was trying to text the guys about the events of this morning, trying to arrange a little something for you, just a surprise. You looked at Frankie who had his back to you, wondering what was eating his attention.

Your names were called, Frankie quickly shoves his phone into his pocket. He takes your hand in his and squeezes it as you approach the judicial notary. The basic ceremonial vows were repeated by Frankie first, "I, Francisco, take you" with your name leaving his lips made you melt into a puddle, ", to be my wife. In this moment, I promise before these witnesses to love you and care for you all of our days. I accept you with your faults and your strengths, even as I offer myself with my faults and my strengths." he choked up and pushed down the sob that was coming up.

Frankie was grateful to have you become his wife. He was emotional over the fact that you still want him after all the bad things he has done in service and not in service. You still want him even for his PTSD and addiction, you know everything and still want him as your lifelong partner made him realize that he doesn't have to live in fear or darkness anymore.

You raise your right hand and take a deep breath, "I," you cringe a bit when your legal name leaves your mouth, it was hard to say it because you don't identify with it, you are Princess ", take you, Francisco, to be my husband. In this moment, I promise before these witnesses to love you and care for you all of our days. I accept you with your faults and your strengths, even as I offer myself with my faults and my strengths." You were zoned in how Frankie's eyes dilated when you said the word 'husband' and how the smirk on his face became smug.

The officiant said the famous words, Frankie practically sweeps you off your feet, dipping you back and your arms wrapping around his neck like this morning in bed, his lips greedily find yours, pressing them together with sweetness and dominance. The taste of your lip gloss and his wintergreen mint was left in your mouth. Frankie pulls away and puts you back on your feet. You took a second to regain your stability from the kiss and the fact you wore heels. "Let's get out of here," Frankie whispers in your ear.

When you walk out of the courthouse and stop at the top of the stairs outside. This is it, you are married to him. It's done. You're a wife now. Frankie's wife. He is yours forever. You both look at each other and take a deep breath at the same time. The day has been nothing but perfect, waking up next to him, the first words to come out were 'let's get married today', sharing a hot shower with you giving him a blowjob then him fucking you with so much lust in his thrusts, you both taking time out of the day to write your vows to each other to be read later, now here you are married to him.

"I love you," Frankie and you say at the same time. The sun right above the two of you, Frankie cradles your cheek in his hand, tilting your head back so he can see how angelic you look as his wife, so soft and submissive, not angry anymore. His beautiful princess is finally his for life. "I bought you something, it's at home and there's another surprise waiting for you," Frankie says, scooping you bridal style and going down the stairs with you in his muscular arms.

"My husband already bought me something, how sweet, and has a surprise for his wife. So doting." You tease, running your fingers through his hair while he carries you to the truck. He opens the door and gently sets you in your seat. You turn your torso to grab his Standard Heating Oil hat and smoosh down his curls, "There. Now you look normal," You caress his beard and kiss his pouty lips. He smiles and winks at you before buckling you in.

The drive home was you trying to pull Frankie's surprise out of him. You were antsy and just wanted to get home and rip his clothes off. When you pull into the driveway, you see candles along the sidewalk leading to the gate of the backyard.

You chuckle and walk with Frankie to the backyard to find everyone at a round table with candle sticks in the center of the table. Everyone you love so much, Will and Charolette, Pope and that chick he met at Will's wedding, Benny and Mari, and then Vanessa. She was there with a smile and her pregnant belly carrying your baby. Frankie nodded at her and then ushered you to your seat, your plate next to on your left Benny and Frankie on your right.

Once you were all seated, exchanged congratulations Benny stood and held his glass of champagne.

"This day has been a long time coming since the night Princess almost punched me in the face," soft laughs broke out around the table, you nudged his hip with your elbow,

"She met her person and Catfish met his. I think we can agree that when they were together that it was hard to watch, Fish c'mon you should've kissed her the second you met her," Frankie rolls his eyes and brings your chair closer to his,

"What I'm trying to say is that we all love you guys and that it's about damn time you tied the knot, To...friendship," Benny sniffles back his tears and raise his glass, 'To friendship' everyone murmurs. You drink the gold bubbly and set the empty glass on the table.

It was beautiful to see your friends celebrate you and Frankie. You felt the closeness you've always yearned for. No one judges the other person, everyone just knows and minds their business. Your eyes flickered to Vanessa talking to Pope's girl, they were talking about kids.

Pope was half listening when he looked over at you watching Vanessa. He couldn't make out the aching look on your face. You thought about how everything was so juvenile just months ago and now you both have made the effort to forget the past. You admired how she came here to celebrate you and him. She was enjoying herself and it was comforting that you have grown up.

The night was coming to an end when you started to fall asleep while dancing with Frankie. Everyone said goodnight and one more congrats your way. Closing the door and turning to see Frankie already unbuttoning his shirt and shoes off with the bottle of champagne in his hand. You bite your lips drinking in the unholy image in front of you. He's delicious and wants you.

"Now I was promised a gift from my husband," You stalk Frankie, your hands roaming his waist and going up his chest and shoulders. Frankie looks down at you through his lashes and smiles with a nod. "Go sit on the bed, change into the set that was a gift from the girls, and I'll bring out your gift." He commands, your breath hitches in your throat, and his low voice is almost a growl.

You scurried up the stairs. You walked into the bedroom with the white box wrapped with a black bow across it. Your fingers rubbed the soft silk ribbon against your skin. You take off the top of the box to expose the black satin nightie that was sheer lace at the cups of the breasts, and black lace thong to wear under. Expensive lace, not itchy, woven delicately. You loved how satin was cool along your body, you love how it's hugging your hips and stopping just at where Frankie will be worshipping you.

The door opens, Frankie with a velvet box in his hand and the unopened bottle of champagne. You sit on your knees at the end of the bed, Frankie stands in front of you after he sets the bottle down on the bedside table. "I know you, Princess. I want you to wear this pride, not because I want to own you but because I love you for you and you love me" Frankie is staring into your soul, you know what he is saying. He opens the box to the necklace, with the dainty 'F' initial pendant pulled taut and will rest where your collarbones meet.

"I trust you," you stated, with no hesitation. He whispers 'Turn around', you face your back to him, and he gathers your hair to push out the way. His lips gently pressed to your skin, taking in your sweet scent and how your peach fuzz felt against his scruff. He clasps the necklace together and lays a kiss on your pulse point. Your skin heated down your body, the intimacy was healing your angry heart. You feel up your body to feel out the necklace and remember the 'F' between your fingers. "Thank you for this, I want this," you reassured Frankie, knowing he was doubting himself up to this moment.

Frankie pressed you down against the mattress, muscle memory took over as you arched your back and raised your hips. His calloused hands, slide up your thighs, taking handfuls of the soft flesh of your ass, spreading your cheeks, giving him a peek at your pink pussy in contrast to the black lace decorating your cunt. Glistening with your slick you've been producing all day.

Frankie groans when strings of your arousal connect the slutty thong,

"Fuck baby, have you been this wet all day?" Frankie brings his face to your cunt. His tongue licks up your slit, tasting slight orange from the mimosa you've been sipping all morning and how your tang mixed heavenly with it. Your musk mixing with the perfume you spray on your thighs was intoxicating to Frankie.

"Yes," you hiss out when he spreads you out more, just looking at how your hole flutters around nothing, aching to be filled. His fingers slide up and down your slit collecting your juices. You shudder at his teeth grazing against your skin, his tongue licking around the bite.

"How should I make my wife cum? By my fingers, or should I eat your yummy cunt? Maybe just stuff you full with my cock and fuck you into the bed?" Frankie pushes his middle finger into your pussy, you whimpered feeling his finger fuck in and out of you slowly.

"'M, fuck you with my fingers then my cock," Frankie mumbles into the fat of your thigh, focused on how your pussy was swallowing his fingers, he curls them hitting your g-spot, and your body lurches forward a bit from the instant pleasure you were wavering in.

"Fuck! Frankie, baby right there!" You hummed out, fucking yourself back on his fingers, his thumb pressing against your clit, a gush of slick ran down his hand, and Frankie licks up the slick. Your walls clenching rapidly around his digits.

Your thigh trembled uncontrollably, as your juices sprayed onto your thighs, the sheets, and his arms.

"Baby you feel so good," you slurred out, high off of the white-hot pleasure running through your body head to toe. Frankie kisses your ass once more before slowly retracting his fingers from your core. You hear the zipper of his pants and the rustling of clothes hitting the ground, Frankie climbs on the bed and taps your hip to flip over.

"I want to see your beautiful face when you take your husband's cock for the first time," Frankie's words were about to make you cum without him touching you. He pushes your thighs to your chest, and in one swift motion, he thrust his thick aching cock into your dripping core. You looked him right in the eyes, your mouth opened moaning from how full you feel when he's inside of you, and the pressure from being in the mating press.

Frankie rests your calves on his shoulders as he sets a fast pace, the tip of his length hitting your cervix, and his mouth kisses around your ankle, his tongue all over your legs. His deep groans turning into growls with each thrust.

His eyes gaze down at the necklace and his initial resting on your throat. "You're mine forever," Frankie leans down and sucks the thin skin on your neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark. Your hands pull on his hair, bringing his mouth to yours, his mouth opens inviting you in, the taste of champagne and your tang in his spit made you crave more of Frankie.

It was messy and hungry. Your salvia on his tongue, he spits into your mouth when you moan out when he lets go of your legs, letting fall open naturally, his pace slows down. He rests on his elbows next to your head, holding you in place, gazing at how fucked out you looked with his saliva coating your lips, your makeup running down your face, the lingerie wrinkled and covered in sex.

"I love you, princess," he whines, feeling his cock pump his seed into your womb, your legs locking him in place. "I love you, fish" you cried out when your orgasm floods you, consuming you when you could feel Frankie's warm cum mixed with yours, trickling out of your cunt that could handle so much.

Panting fills the silence and you pull Frankie to your chest, letting him rest, skin to skin. You want to rip out your chest and let him live inside of you forever. Your soft hands rub up and down his back, your nails lightly scratching his skin. Frankie could feel the chemistry of your hormones bring him closer to your soul. He loves it. You smell heavenly and look like a smoke show. His wife. His best friend.

You both relax, heartbeats slowing down enough for you to get under the covers, not worrying about the mess of your love on the sheets and between your thighs until tomorrow. Frankie pops open the champagne and lets you have the first sip. Life is good for once. You have him. He's yours.

The vows:

'My dearest friend, Francisco Morales. You have been my whole world since the night we met. We clicked right away, everyone assuming we were dating. Our friends pulling me away from you at the first party we went as friends, they asked if we were dating. I said no and then I was told we should date. I thought they were crazy. Years later I am writing these vows to be married to you. Before you, I was perfectly fine with being on my own, and you broke down all my walls. You made me better. You have been the person I've been waiting for. The king of my heart. Frankie, I am the luckiest woman in the world to have you worship me and my love for you. I know the road to this day was not easy, but you made it with me by your side. We've been to hell and back with each other, you have proved time after time that you will love me for me. You're a mansion with a view, I need you to know that you are wonderful in and out. I love you with my entire heart. Our love has been delicate but now it's long-lasting. I am ready for the next chapter in our lives. I am ready for our little baby on the way and the many more we will have together. I swear on my life to love you under any condition, any time, any where. I swear to be loyal and surrender all my fears to you. I swear to be your one and only until our last breaths. Thank you for loving me when I was so hard to love. No one was ever or will ever be worthy of my love, passion, or my heart. Ever thine, ever mine, ever ours.'

'My best friend,' your full name etched into the white paper, 'the title that you only hold. You stole my heart and never gave it back. It always been yours to keep. When you first walked into my life, I knew that I would fall hard. Your smile grabbed my attention. I love how you love me and our friends. I never wanted to be with another person so badly until you, Princess. When you chose me as a best friend I was thought I could die a happy man. I will always be yours. Everything is about you and I wouldn't want change it for the world. You're magnetic, I am drawn to you. You are my enchantress and I am perfectly fine to be under your spell for the rest of our lives. My sweet baby, I love you more than anything on this earth. I was never excited about life until I met you. Princess, everything that has happened has made me want to be the very best man for you. I want to be the king. I will be. I am the king, with you as my church, religion and everything I believe in. I swear to put you first, I swear to make things right, I swear to cherish our time together. I swear to love you and worship you every day. 'Til death do us part.'

hi guys thank you for reading. let me know if you want an epilogue. thank you again

#frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fluff #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x f!reader #pedro pascal #frankie morales angst

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multi-lefaiye · 2 years ago

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SALVATORE INKTOBER 4. THREE BRICKS SHORT

Anna Burke (1913-1976), formerly Anna O'Malley, was Leslie's mother, a second-generation Irish-American immigrant whose family was heavily involved in organized crime, specifically a local street gang called The Emerald Devils. Though Anna was never directly involved with the family business, she supported it however she could. When she was 16, she was betrothed to a family friend's son, Neil Delaney. However, Anna instead fell for Westley Burke, a handsome construction worker with scruffy cheeks and a dazzling grin. He was interested in her for her, not for her family's power or wealth, and she quickly became captivated with him. The moment she was able, she ran away with him, leaving her family behind to start a new one with the man she loved. Unfortunately, things didn't quite go according to plan. Shortly following the birth of their fourth child, Leslie, Westley disappeared. When Anna received the fateful phone call telling her not to look into her husband's death, her life quickly spiraled out of control. Suddenly, she was left to care for four children alone. Over the following years, Anna did what she could to support herself and the kids, finding work at a local factory. As time went on and her work wore her down, she was left near-constantly exhausted, bitterness and anger seeping into her every step. She began resenting her lot in life, wishing she'd never followed her heart to be with Wes and had instead stayed with her family. More than that, she began to resent her children. She continued to care for them, sure, but she could never quite escape the feeling that her life would be better if she didn't have to worry about them.

posting this one a day late, but here's the fourth entry in my personal inktober challenge! today we meet salvatore's mom, a completely normal and well-adjusted woman /hj

anna is a character that's really interesting to me, and there's a lot i wanted to say about her that i decided to leave out for now. i'll explain in more detail once we get to other characters :3c we're finally starting to get to characters who had more of an impact on sal's life, haha!

and now, the taglist <3 (ask to be added or removed):

@skitzo-kero @anexor @jezifster @transmasc-wizard @lychniscitrus @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @astral-runic @invaderskoodge @lesbian-apple-yogurt @moonflowerrss @approximately20eggs @kingkendrick7 @chaieyestea @rosesandartss @lower-ones-eyes @albatris @presidentquinn

#Multi's Artwork #inktober 2023 #inktober #salvatore inktober #teehee <3 #this one was really fun- i love what i did with the shading here

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lpham2525 · 3 years ago

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If you give a man a cardigan...(Part II)

EXT. DAYTIME. FRANKY’S TOBACCO STAND.

FRANKY: Whoa, Loid, you’re not in a suit this time! Or a trench coat. I never thought I’d see the day when you would step out in public dressed so casually.

LOID: I assume you’re referring to the cardigan?

FRANKY: If that’s what you call that baggy, oversized sweater, then...yes.

LOID: I didn’t expect it, either, but it’s so comfortable that I’ve taken to wearing it everywhere, even work.

FRANKY: Is that all it takes for you to dress more casually? Something has to be comfortable?

LOID: Well, that and YOR keeps giving me a certain look every time she sees me in it...

LOID: It’s also exceptionally cozy. Do you know what it’s made out of?

FRANKY: Let me guess...

FRANKY: Husband material?

LOID: Funny...that’s what Yor said.

FRANKY: That’s because you left the tag on it like some mindless idiot. Man, you’re really losing your touch, Twi—I mean, Loid.

LOID: What?! I would never be so heedless as to...

LOID: *frantically twists himself into a knot, looking for a tag*

LOID: Have I really lost my touch?! Or have I taken after my handler, leaving the tags on clothing like some kind of indiscreet—

FRANKY: It’s over here, you dummy.

FRANKY: *yanks a tiny piece of paper off of LOID’s cardigan*

FRANKY: *peering closer at the tag*

FRANKY: Hmm, you know what? Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this isn’t really the tag, after all.

LOID: *snatches paper from FRANKY’s hand*

FRANKY: Hey, I was still reading that!

LOID: *squinting as he reads the tag*

LOID: Husband material: 30% kindness, 25% respect, 20% supportiveness, 15% attentiveness, 10% cooking skills, 5% waku waku, and...100% oblivious.

LOID: What the—?! This is handwritten! And suspiciously familiar...Not only that, but whoever wrote this does not understand percentages...Although strangely enough, everything is spelled correctly...

LOID: *narrows eyes*

LOID: Wait a minute...

LOID: *zips away from FRANKY’s tobacco stand and makes a beeline for home, leaving a smoking trail in his wake*

FRANKY: Okay...it was good to see you, too, buddy.

FRANKY: So...how long do you think it will take him to realize you’re not at home?

ANYA: *popping up from behind the tobacco stand*

ANYA: Knowing Papa...less than 30 sec—

[From far away, FRANKY and ANYA hear a distressed, frustrated scream of ANYAAAAAA!]

ANYA: Oh, I under-emulate Papa.

FRANKY: It’s ‘underestimate’, kid, but I gotta hand it to you, the fact that you were able to sneak that onto your dad’s sweater without being detected? That’s some real stealthy spy work you did there.

ANYA: So Anya is real spy now?!

FRANKY: *pats ANYA’s head*

FRANKY: You’re getting there. You know, you take after your father more than I expected, even if you two aren’t actually related.

ANYA: You don’t have to be related to turn out like someone, you know, Uncle Scruffy?

FRANKY: I know, kid. And I see you made good use of that dictionary Loid got for you. From what glimpse I got of the tag, you spelled everything right.

ANYA: Nah, I was looking through Papa’s files and he had one called ‘Vetting Wows’. It had most of those words in there.

FRANKY: Guh! That, uh, probably wasn’t for you to see...

ANYA: *shrugs*

ANYA: Then maybe he shouldn’t put his files in the square behind the wall behind the cabinet behind the plant where I hide my candy peanut snacks.

FRANKY: Wha...? They even hide things in the same places?! They really are more alike than I thought...

ANYA: The funny thing was, he wrote Mama’s name over and over in the file, and he drew all these hearts and smiley faces next to them.

ANYA: Maybe he and Becky learned the same secret code?! One day, I’ll crack it and I can write super-secret spy codes with hearts and smileys!

ANYA: Anyway, thanks for helping me with the fractions, Scruffy-head.

FRANKY: Uh, sure thing. You know, it would have added to 100% if you hadn’t slipped in the 5% waku waku in there.

ANYA: I know, but Papa is very waku waku so I couldn’t leave it out.

FRANKY: *laughs*

FRANKY: That’s probably what gave you away.

FRANKY: That and your handwriting...

FRANKY: By the way, how did you manage to tack the tag onto his sweater in time for Yor to see it? I thought you were going to do it right as he was walking out the door.

ANYA: I did do it right before he walked out the door.

FRANKY: Does that mean she said ‘husband material’ before the tag was even on there?!

ANYA: I guess so, but Mama thought Papa was husband material from their very first date. That’s why she asked Papa to marry her.

FRANKY: Wait a minute, you’re telling me that your mother, the one who’s so nervous she has a hard time even touching your father...was the one who proposed to him?

ANYA: Yeah. Why? Was she supposed to wait until the second date or something?

FRANKY: There’s so much about these people I don’t understand!

YOR: *rushing to the tobacco stand*

YOR: Franky! Thank you so much for watching Anya. I completely forgot that I needed to pick something up from the drugstore.

YOR: I have a rush job tomorrow night so it’s actually more poison for my weapons but...I couldn’t really take Anya along to buy that...

ANYA: *aghast*

ANYA: So that’s why I couldn’t come with her...

YOR: I’m all done now so we can go home, Miss Anya. Here’s some money for your trouble, Franky.

FRANKY: *holds up his hands and shakes his head*

FRANKY: This time, the babysitting is on me. Besides, we had a lot of fun...

FRANKY: *winks at ANYA*

FRANKY: Didn’t we, Miss Anya?

ANYA: *nods vigorously*

ANYA: We sure did! Uncle Scruffy was teaching me fractions!

YOR: Oh, you were?

FRANKY: Well, technically percentages, but it’s more or less the same thing.

YOR: I’m so glad to hear that! If it’s not too much trouble, we’d love to have you continue teaching Anya. You’d be welcome at our house anytime.

FRANKY: Trust me, it’s my pleasure. And who knows? Maybe I’ll come over sometime this week. Apparently, Loid’s got this new sweater he keeps raving about...

YOR: Oh, the cardigan? Yes, it does look very good on him.

FRANKY: *waggles eyebrows*

FRANKY: Knowing Loid's taste, I bet it’s made out of some...irresistible material, too...

[FRANKY and ANYA exchange looks.]

YOR: Huh?

FRANKY: Nothing, just something I was mulling over. Here, I believe this belongs to you?

FRANKY: *picks up ANYA and holds her out to YOR*

ANYA: *squealing with laughter since FRANKY is also tickling her*

ANYA: Mama! Save me from evil Count Scruffy!

YOR: *takes ANYA into her arms*

YOR: I’ll save you, Princess Anya.

YOR: *bows to FRANKY*

YOR: Thanks again, Franky.

[FRANKY waves goodbye to them. YOR and ANYA leave for home.]

ANYA: Mama?

YOR: Yes, Miss Anya?

ANYA: What makes someone a good husband?

YOR: Oh! Erm...

YOR: What do I tell her?! I’ve only ever had one husband! And we haven’t even been married that long! I also don't know other married men that well so it’s not like I can compare them!

YOR: *stumbles for an answer*

YOR: Well, what DOES make someone a good husband? I’ve never had to think about it before, but since I only have Loid as an example...

YOR: *flashes back to the Eden Academy interview*

YOR: A good husband is someone who stands up for you.

YOR: *flashes back to LOID whispering her that she didn’t have to kiss him in front of YURI*

YOR: A good husband is someone who respects when you have limits.

YOR: *flashes back to LOID’s comments about YOR’s “massages” *

YOR: A good husband is someone who...who accepts you as you are.

ANYA: Is that why you chose Papa?

YOR *without thinking*

YOR: Yes, that is exactly why I chose him.

YOR: Wait a minute, that IS that why I chose LOID. All this time, I kept telling myself that I chose to marry him so I could keep my real job...but in all that’s happened since, I’d almost forgotten that this was the real reason I chose to marry him at all.

YOR: *shakes herself*

YOR: Well, we’re home now so why don’t we see what your Papa is...Anya?

ANYA: *drooling on YOR’s sweater*

YOR: Oh, she must have fallen asleep while I was deep in thought.

YOR: *freezes as an agitated LOID zooms down the stairs and skids to a halt in front of YOR, his face pinched and his finger pointing accusingly at...a sleeping ANYA*

LOID: Dammit! She’s foiled me again!

YOR: Loid? What are you...?

LOID: I...! She...! Arghhhhhh!

YOR: *holds a finger up to her lips*

YOR: Shhh, she just fell asleep. I’ll carry her up as gently as I can.

LOID: *slumps forward, defeated*

LOID: I’ll get dinner started.

YOR: I forgot about that. A good husband is someone who knows when to be gentle.

YOR: *glancing at LOID's cardigan as they walk up the stairs, a recent memory coming back to her*

YOR: And when to be firm.

#spy x family #franky franklin #loid forger #anya forger #yor forger #loid x yor #twiyor #loiyor #incorrect quotes

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loopy-froots · 4 years ago

Text

Childhood Friends

Brahms Heelshire x afab!Reader

Author: @loopy-froots

Word Count: 3261 (WOW wtf…)

Slight request by @leahromanof : small age gap (Brahms is 26-28 and the reader is 20)

Summary: The Reader grew up very close to the Heelshire family, as their parents were business partners with them. However, after the fire incident, Brahms and the Reader took some space from each other. While the Reader knew Brahms was still alive, they didn’t know under the circumstances he was. When a sudden tragedy strikes their family, the Reader is left with no home. The Heelshire family offer their home with welcoming arms, but much has changed between all of them since they have last seen each other.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, swearing, slasher x reader, smut, virgin/unprotected sex (masc and fem), abusive parents (fem), insecurities (on both parts), slight age gap (6ish years?), a slight size kink (if you squint?), etc.

Author’s Note: I wasn’t too sure what to write for the age gap so I hope this is good enough!!! I also threw in a lot of personal needs I’ve been having, so I hope y’all don’t mind! Feel free to let me know your thoughts!!!

~~~

*2nd Person POV*

You couldn’t believe this was happening. You were finally going to see your beloved childhood friend, Brahms Heelshire, again after close to ten years of separation. You wished this was not under these circumstances, as you never intended to cause your family such turmoil.

“Y/n! Come in, why don’t you?” Mr. Heelshire exclaims as he opens his front door. He must have seen you walk up their driveway. You can see Mrs. Heelshire inside, but she shares a concerning expression. Trying to brush it off, you step inside and am greeted by the warmth of the house. It was a terribly chilly winter day, and the walk there exhausted you.

“Come, dear! Let me get you a cup of tea to warm you up! You look rather frozen!” Mrs. Heelshire snaps out of her funk and laughs al0ng with her husband. Their jovial attitude makes you feel rather welcomed and loved.

“I cannot thank you enough, Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire… I… I’m terribly sorry that this all happened… especially so suddenly…” You look down with embarrassment.

“Nonsense! We’re always happy to have you, Y/n! Our home is yours!” Mr. Heelshire smiles at you, but you get a somewhat urgent vibe from him. You’re not sure how to feel about it, but you figure since they’re being ever so kind you were in no position to question.

“Now, dear… why don’t you tell us exactly what happened… Perhaps we may help with your parents’ situation?” Mrs. Heelshire gently suggests, but you shake your head in disagreement.

“Unfortunately, I’m not sure that’s possible… you see, I recently came out to my parents as non-binary… they’ve never been overly supportive of that kind of stuff, but I knew I couldn’t hide myself any longer…” You explain shamefully.

“Oh my… that is a rather difficult predicament, hm? However, we want you to know that we fully support you… in fact, our own Brahms considers himself genderfluid,” Mrs. Heelshire shares, which honestly makes you feel less alone.

“Really? I… I had no idea… Thank you, but speaking of which… where is Brahms…? Does he still live with you?” You wonder.

“Oh, um… yes… he does, but he’s grown to be rather… timid… so he doesn’t always come out when people are visiting…” Mr. Heelshire explains swiftly, and you try to understand. You don’t fully know what he’s been through, so who are you to judge his social anxieties?

“That’s alright. Well, I just hope he knows how excited I am to see him again…” You confess, causing a surprised reaction from the Heelshire couple.

“Really? Well, that’s certainly wonderful! I’m sure he'll become more open to meeting you after he gets used to you being in the house…” Mrs. Heelshire states with a gentle smile, and you nod your head in agreement.

With that, you are then taken on a tour of the house. You’re shown areas you can and cannot wander to, and you mentally note each location that’s off limits. You’d never want to make the Heelshires uncomfortable, despite how curious you were. They show you to your room, which you immediately recognize as Brahms’ childhood room.

“Oh wow! This looks exactly how I remembered it!” You giggle.

“I’m glad you’re fond of it still, as Brahms insisted you take his room for your own… comfort…” Mr. Heelshire shares, but something tells you he’s not entirely being honest. However, you ignore the feeling bubbling up in your stomach.

“Well, feel free to unpack your things dear. As we mentioned before, we are planning on going on a trip within the next few days. So it will be just you and Brahms for a while…” Mrs. Heelshire reminds you, and you shiver slightly for some reason.

“Oh, yes… Well, I hope the two of you enjoy it!” You politely respond.

~~~

“Goodbye, dear! And remember, follow the rules and you’ll get no trouble from our dear Brahms!” The Heelshires bid you farewell and leave in their cab. Closing the door, you sigh in relief.

“Alright, follow the rules… I can do that… it’s the least I can do since they were so kind as to let me stay for a while…” You motivate yourself.

“Y/n…” A sudden familiar, childlike voice echoes through the house. You looked around to see who it came from, but you saw no one. It had to be Brahms, right? Who else could it have been, but where was he?

“B-Brahms?” You sheepishly call out. You hear no answer and suddenly feel quite stupid. Maybe you just heard the shifting of the house or imagined someone was calling your name?

“Alright, focus… first things first, making some lunch… hopefully he’ll come down to eat with me…?” You hope. You could’ve sworn you heard another childish giggle somewhere, but you try to shake the skittish feeling building up. You quickly make whatever you feel like for lunch, desperate to finish so that you can call Brahms down to eat.

“Um, Brahms? I… lunch is done… if you want some?” You yell throughout the house, but you hear no answer. Finally feeling defeat, you turn back to the kitchen and notice that one of the plates of food has disappeared.

“How did he get to it without me noticing?” You ask out loud. Every instinct within you tells you that something was wrong, but you tried your best to give the man some time to adjust to the new living situation.

“Y/n…?” In the middle of eating, you hear a now more adult version of the voice you heard earlier. You drop your fork in surprise and frantically look around for the source. You then see a tall and scruffy looking man standing at the end of the dining room. He was holding the plate that is now empty, and you figure that must be Brahms. He was very odd looking, in all honesty. He wore a porcelain mask that resembles the type of little dollies you used to keep as a kid.

“Oh, um… h-hello, Brahms…?” You try to be friendly towards him, despite the creepy feeling you got from him already. However, him not answering causes the suspicion to form again.

“Um… did you enjoy the meal I made for you?” You try to spark a conversation, but Brahms nonverbally nods in response.

“That’s good! I’m… glad…” You smile awkwardly at him, but his masked face remains expressionless. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, and Brahms notices the tense state you’re in. He begins to step closer to you, and sets his plate on the table. Sweating profusely, you wonder what he’s doing. He steps closer and closer to you until he’s directly in front of you. While you sit, he towers over you. You’d never admit it, but he’s very intimidating. However, you try your best to be polite.

“Is… everything alright, Brahms?” You ask innocently. He just stares at you, though, never saying a word. When you were about to get up and try to walk away, he grabs your arm and pulls you into him.

“B-Brahms…?!” You exclaim as he squeezes you in his broad arms. He’s rather warm, but trembling. Your heart relaxes when you realize he only wanted a hug.

“Y/n… nice to see you again…” He finally peeps out. Your cheeks heat up, but you lean into the embrace. The two of you just hold onto each other for a few moments, enjoying each other’s presence.

“Good to see you, too! I was worried you were upset with me for coming back after such a long time…” You try to pull away and look him in the eyes, but his grip keeps you there.

“Mm, no… not upset… lonely…” He breathes into your ear, sending a chill down your back. He was… lonely? That makes you feel bad… really bad… how could you leave him like you did after the incident?! It wasn’t completely your fault, as you parents were the main reason you stayed away. They told you what a dangerous person Brahms was, and they forbid you from being influenced by him in any way.

Additionally, your parents never liked how fond the two of you seemed towards each other, despite the slight age difference you had. Brahms was only six years older, and to you it didn’t matter for terms of friendship. However, your parents saw the attraction Brahms had towards you right away. As children, it only developed into a little crush, but the older the two of you got the more obvious it became, to the adults at least. You seemed quite oblivious to his attempts to woo you, as you had just thought he was being friendly.

“I…I’m sorry, Brahms… I should’ve… I wish I’d have… I’m sorry…” Tear well in your eyes as you look down from his gaze. Your focus then shifts to the ever growing bulge in his pants that you hadn’t noticed before.

“It’s alright… happy you’re here now…” Brahms strokes your hair with his free hand, and he leans into you. You feel him stroke your neck with his nose, seemingly trying to get a reaction out of you. Completely frozen, you felt unsure of what to do. All of the sudden, your head’s ideas clicked and made you realize the years of yearning he’d been doing for you.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t still have feelings for the boy you grew up with. You always admired how protective he was of you. You never admitted your affection towards him, though, as you thought he might react negatively. To you, the age difference acted as a barrier, but to him, it seemed he didn’t mind in the slightest. All he’s ever known was his love for you, despite the age gap. However, is this still the same boy as before? You probably barely knew him anymore. Then why were you getting so flustered over this simple interaction?

“Brahms?” You look back into his eyes with a curious glint. What was he planning with you?

“Hm?” He nonchalantly answers.

“Are you…?” You start, but then feel too embarrassed to finish.

“Yes,” He agrees without needing you to explain. You feel him jerk his hips into your stomach softly, desperate to get some friction between the two of you. As intoxicating as he was being, you still felt unsure of your stance with him.

“I’m not sure I want to… I mean, this is so soon… don’t you think?” You try to reason mainly with yourself to try and stop this from happening. With that, Brahms stops and pulls away from you with a pout.

“No?” He questions with sweet eyes.

“I… yes…?” You try to stand your ground with yourself again, but it’s no use. Brahms’ heartfelt pleading turns you to putty in his hands.

“Please?” He begs. With that, you finally agree, and he’s onto you. Groping all up and down your sides, front, and back, he feels every inch of your body as if he’s desperate to find something in you.

“Brahms… wait…?” You stop him again, realizing you hadn’t seen his actual face yet. You politely ask him to remove his mask, but he visibly slumps.

“Why…? You… don’t want to see me…” Brahms insecurely explains, but you shake your head.

“I do! Please…?” You whine as he continues to feel up your back. Brahms hesitates slightly, then agrees. With that, he slowly removes the porcelain from himself. This leaves his bare, burnt, and uncertain face into your view. You’re unsure of what to say at first, as your feelings are conflicted. However, you quickly decide to go with what your heart felt.

“You’re so handsome, Brahms…” You confess with a sheepish smile. He doesn’t respond, though, almost as if he’s debating what to say as well.

“Mm!” You moan through a sudden kiss he placed on your lips, making Brahms smile to himself in the kiss. He loved the way you reacted to his touch. He quickly realized you were feeling the same towards him, and that gave him the confidence to continue. You rapidly grew a certain heat in your pelvic area, but the feeling was still unfamiliar to you. Only on the rare occasion did you allow yourself the pleasure, but you felt guilty for it every time.

“Slut… whore… useless daughter…” Your parents’ past words radiate in your head, and a panic washes over your body. Brahms senses your inner conflict again, and stops once more.

“Y/n…?” He gently asks to see if you’re alright. Tears well up in your eyes as the guilt of disappointing your parents consumes you.

“I’m sorry, I just… my mom and dad would be so upset… I just feel so… lost…” You admit, and Brahms wipes your cheeks with his calloused hands.

“Mm, screw them…” He chuckles darkly.

“But…” You try to argue, but he shushes you instead.

“They’ve never been good to you, Y/n…” Brahms shares, and it confuses you at first. They’ve always given you food, shelter, and anything else a child would need.

“But they… they mean well…” You try to reason it out, but he still disagrees.

“I’ve been watching, listening to how they treat you your whole life, Y/n… the way they scream at you, gaslight you, disappoint you… that’s not love… that’s abuse…” Brahms whispers with a broken heart for you. The pain of realization hits you, but you try to muffle your cries with your hands over your mouth.

“I’m so sorry… I know how hard it is… but I… I want to love you… really love you…” He kisses the top of your head sweetly. His words fill your heart with hope that you might not be miserable the rest of your life.

“Really…? I mean, I would love that… but I don’t want to force you into anything…” You self doubt yourself.

“Absolutely. I mean, hell… why do you think I was doing all of this?” Brahms wonders, and you suppose he’s right.

“Yeah, true… I’m sorry, I just feel bad… but thank you, I’d love to… y’know…?” You admit with a shy grin, which he immediately returns.

“Good,” He smirks and kisses you again. This time, the kiss was much more desperate for the sweet result. Brahms shows no mercy for you this time as he begins biting your lips. Your little gasps invoke a strong sense of pride within him. He was making you feel this way, and he alone would make you feel good.

“Hm,” His deep voice rumbles in his chest. Your eyes flutter open and shut, unsure of how to go about this situation. Squirming around awkwardly, you then feel Brahms grab your waist as he lifts you up and onto the table.

“Ah! Brahms...?!” You yelp in surprise.

“Take off your shirt, Y/n.” He demands, already sliding his hands underneath. You timidly follow his instructions, removing your shirt and bra from your body. Brahms looks down from your face and onto your breasts. He adored them, so he ran his hands over them as he gave each nipple a cheeky pinch.

“Oh, Brahms…” Your eyes close in bliss, but he snaps your attention back to his eyes.

“Look at me,” He suggests sternly.

“O-okay…” You do as he wishes and stare deep into his icy eyes. He’s tender and gentle, but he still makes you feel so small next to him.

“You’re so pretty, Y/n… I’ve always loved you…” Brahms brushes a stray lock of hair out of your face, giving him a better view at your beauty.

“I have loved you for the longest time, too, Brahms… I just never knew how to tell you…” You try your best to express your feelings, but your past experience with doing so has never been easy for you. Each emotion you shared ended in an argument with your parents.

“I’m so glad… please…” Brahms pleads, leaning his forehead against yours. He didn’t have to finish for you to understand what he wanted.

“C’mere…” Your sudden burst of trust hits the two of you like a train. Brahms roughly attacks your neck with his lips and teeth, nipping at all your sensitive areas. Exploring each and every inch, he scopes out which areas you like best.

“Mm, Y/n…” He whimpers, rubbing his needy cock against your body. You had neglected it for far too long, and you wanted to give it some love too.

Lowering your hand down to his member, you stroke him through his pants. Pre-cum leaks from his tip and soaks through his underwear slightly. His moans fill your ears with sweet misery. The lack of being inside of you was killing him, but he wanted to take things slow for you.

“Ah, Y/n…! Please! I’ll be a good boy!” He begs you to allow him entrance, and you agree. Instantaneously, he pulls his clothes off and prepares his painfully hard cock to slide into you.

“Oh! You feel… so tight…!” He didn’t tell you, but this was his first time as well. The first feeling of being inside of someone, especially when that someone is you, was the best feeling he’s ever felt. He couldn’t help himself but pump in and out of you. He tried his best to go slow, but his selfish excitement got the better of him. However, you were far from upset by this.

“Ah! D-don’t… stop…!” You plead with him, and he obliges. Slapping his body into yours in a rhythmic motion causes you to quickly feel that coil in your stomach tighten around him.

“F-fuck…! You’re gonna make me…!” As quickly as it started, your love making ended. The two of you came together simultaneously, and everything felt perfect to you. However, Brahms felt a wave of guilt.

“I… I’m sorry… I wish I had lasted longer… and I shouldn’t have pressured you into this…” He goes on and on about all the things he could’ve done better, but you then stop him with a chaste peck on his lips.

“You were perfect. Thank you,” You lovingly look into his eyes. He searches for any sort of regret, but when he finds none he settles into your arms.

~~~

MY REQUESTS FOR DRAWING AND WRITING ARE STILL OPEN!! FEEL FREE TO SEND AN ASK/MESSAGE WITH YOUR IDEA!!

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mnoxsk · 3 years ago

Note

Can you make Franky franklin x male reader??, It's just that- i want to see more of him on some romantic scenario and also fluff (╯︵╰,) it's hard to find some post like this and the only account that i can actually trust was you (˘･_･˘)

You can always take some rest before making some requested post and also thank you.. i hope you upload more post!! :]

Ofc! This main account started with Franky Franklin and it'll always have Franky (and in my heart <3)! I'm really happy that you trust me and I'm also glad that you understand that I myself do need rest aswell! ^0^

"𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘰!" (Franky x Male!Reader)

Genre: Fluff/Scenario

-As Franky puts on a white suit and fixes his hair he wonders why he’s here again. He can’t seem to remember so he asks Anya who’s fixing his flowercrown. “Anya, why are we here again?” “Did you forget Scruffy?! It’s your wedding! How could you!” “Ah no I was just asking since I want to hurry up...” He’s visibly confused but can’t help but slightly smile. He wonder’s who it is.

-Once Franky makes it to the front of the church, he can see everyone he knows in the seats, Loid, Anya, and Yor included. The music cues and sees that it’s someone who he knows too well, a man who he can’t help but fall in love again, you in a wedding dress. He even can tell it’s you because with the music speeding to you speed walking to the front, both in embarrassment and excitement that you’re getting married by him.

-He can’t help but smile widely from how adorable you try to hurry up the process however doesn’t mind at all because he’s just as enthusiastic as you are. Even when you get to the front and the people are saying their remarks you seem to sway side-to-side in a quick pace while gesturing your hands to the crowd to ‘hurry tf up’!

-Franky scans the dress and can’t help it’s perfect for you. The white roses attached to your dress, the vines connected to the roses, and minty green drapes make you look more perfect than what you already are to him. Anya smirks at Franky, slightly teasing him because she was the one who designed his dress and Franky’s suit.

-Do you Franky Franklin, take him to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do you part?" “I do.” He widely smiles as the crowd cheers before coming to the abrupt stop for his part. When it comes to you, Franky will always do it for you, for love. He even sees you smiling too.

-Do you choose him to be your partner in life, to support and respect him in his successes and as well his failures, to care for him in sickness and in health, to nurture him), and to grow with him throughout the seasons of your life together?" “I d-!” Before you could finish what you were going to say a sudden earth quake hits and the Secret Police slam open the door and immediately gun shot’s sounds echo the church, from the Police, to the church guests with even Anya holding a gun with a silencer attack each-other.

-Franky than sees you pull out a pistol, hidden from a part of the drape on the dress and start shooting at them aswell. “Franky-darling! Do me a favor and put the ring on my hand!” You reach your left hand to him so he can fit it in your ring finger. As he was about to do it you told him, “Remember Franky, I love you!” Smiling gently at him he responds, “I love you too!” Once he was about to put the ring in all the way he wakes up.

-Opening his eyes, he sees you facing him but still asleep yet can’t help but think he hears you say “I love you...” while you’re sleeping. He then turns his body to face his nightstand, opening it to grab a black box. Opening it with a wedding ring inside.

-”Maybe someday, we’ll finally be able to finish our vows, my love.”

#franky franklin #franky x reader #franky x male reader #spy x family x reader #spy x family x male reader #spy x family scenario #spy x family fluff #sxf scenario #sxf fluff #sxf x reader #sxf x male reader #sxf franky #anime #mlm

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scuttle-buttle · 4 years ago

Text

What's One More?

WC: 3204

Rated: M

Tags: brief mentions of crime/mental illness/child abuse and neglect/substance addiction/theft, fluff, family dynamics, mentions of aging, mentions of difficult pregnancy, softness, anxiety attack

🧠

The harsh vibrating of a phone on the nightstand breaks your slumber. Still half asleep you toss your arm back to thump against your sleeping husband's side. With a groan he answers. You try to settle back into your pillow and the warmth of the blanket. Whoever has the balls to call at this hour has another thing coming - but later because your priority is going back to sleep.

He can't have been on the call more than fifteen seconds before he sits up in bed suddenly, turning on the bedside lamp; his movements grab your attention. You roll over. The light blinds you and you rub at your eyes to adjust. You can't make out what's being said. Looking at the clock to see that it's barely 4 am you know something bad has happened. Quietly you slip out from the covers.

Making your way down the hall you peek into your daughter's room, grateful that she's still fast asleep. Her soft snores punctuate the calm. Your nerves abate knowing she’s safe. By the time you get back to the bedroom Laszlo is up and getting dressed. "What's going on?"

He doesn't answer at first. You wait until he's finished buttoning his shirt to ask again. "Sara was called to consult on a triple homicide case - she's asked for me to come down to the police station. I don't know much yet, but it's something involving a young boy and she wants me to speak with him."

“Did he…?”

“No. He was not directly involved, that much we know.”

You nod, leaning against the door frame. This wasn't the first time that Laszlo had been called in by law enforcement and social services to assist with children and teens that needed psychological help. He had become more active around the time you graduated with your doctorate. After Sophia was born Laszlo helped fund an after school program for kids that focused on support for mental health and behavioral issues. He was so passionate about being able to help these kids. But it was never at this ungodly hour. "You'll call or something when you know what's up?" you ask through a yawn.

"Of course, Bärchen." He gives you a chaste peck. Gently he guides you back towards your bed and sits you down. "Go back to sleep, there's no need to worry. I love you." With that he left.

Your sleep is fitful with him gone. You worry over things that you aren't even aware of, over who is hurt, over how severe a situation it could be to have been called in the middle of the night, over the poor boy that needs Laszlo’s help. When your daughter tiptoes into the room around 6 you welcome her into the bed with open arms.

"Why are you up, baby bug?"

"Where's Papa?" She climbs up on his side of the bed and rubs his cold pillow. On her face is a deep frown.

"He had to go help some very important people early this morning. He'll be back to see you soon, I promise."

"I miss him. He always helps me with my shoes."

You can't help the smile that crosses your face. "I know, baby. But it's still early so let's take a nap before we have to get ready, hmm?" The two of you snuggle under the covers. With her curled into your side you do find rest, even for the short time before your alarm chimes.

The day moves sluggish as you wait for word from your husband. Little work was to be done today at the museum, so there wasn't much to keep your mind off the wondering. You considered calling. You considered texting. But you knew that when the time was right he would let you know. No news is good news, you think.

Finally the day came to a close. You picked up Sophia and stopped by the store on the way home to grab supplies for dinner. She insisted that she carry one of the bags inside - little miss independent that she was. “Careful not to drop it, okay? Use those muscles of yours to hold the bag tight.”

“Mama I know, I help Papa carry all the time,” she explains matter-of-factly.

The townhouse is quiet as you begin to unpack. You do a quick glance into the dining room and parlor to no avail. "Laz, honey? You home?" A few seconds later you hear movement from the stairs.

Your husband rounds the corner into the kitchen, swooping down to scoop your daughter into his left arm, peppering her face in exaggerated smooches. Her giggles light up the room from the dim atmosphere. He perches her on his hip. “How was your day my little dove?”

“So good Papa - I practiced my counting today at school. I can get the biggest in the class! Mommy said I must be the most smartest," she prattles on.

“Wunderbar!” he praises her before turning to you. “I didn't hear you come in." Laszlo kisses you.

Pinning him with a look you say "you also didn't call me today? You said you would and I've been worried all day."

Sophia crosses her arms and harrumphs from her father's hip; "me too Papa." He quirks an eyebrow at her before speaking.

"Yes… there is something I wished to speak with you on but didn't think it was suitable for the phone." You raise your own brows but continue to put away groceries. "I do not wish to discuss certain aspects of the case in present company-" he nods towards Sophia minutely "-but we do have a houseguest for the foreseeable future."

"Oh?" Your brows dip in confusion. This is not what you were expecting.

Laszlo peeks around the doorway and calls out "Stevie, would you come join us in the kitchen please."

Stevie? You don't know a Stevie...

A moment later a lanky boy with scruffy dark blond hair shuffles into the room. He can't be anymore than 15. His clothes are too big on him and his shoes are worn beyond belief; nevertheless he gives you a slight smile. “This is Stevie Taggert, he’s going to be staying here with us in the guest room for now.”

“Good evening Mrs. Kreizler,” the boy says nervously, his voice cracking.

You spare a look at your husband before turning to the teenager with a smile. “Ah, no need for that, kid. You can just call me by my name instead. And welcome to our home. You like spaghetti?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Awesome! And I’m certainly not old enough to be a ma’am,” you give him a wink. You set up a pot to boil the water for the pasta. Laszlo excused himself to spend some time with Sophia, leaving you and Stevie in the kitchen.

He clears his throat behind you. “Would um… is there anything I can do to help?”

"I would love that, thank you."

The two of you get to work on making dinner. Stevie doesn’t say too much, but he is very polite and does his best to be useful. Once the food is nearly finished your family has returned ready to eat. You send Stevie and Sophia to set the table.

“Should I be worried?” you ask Laszlo quietly, watching the doorway the two left through.

“I don’t think so. I just felt that I would rather he have a familiar face to adjust with instead of being placed in a group home like many end up.”

You study his face. “You’ve taken a liking to him haven’t you?”

“Well…" his face reddens at your question. "He reminds me a bit of myself when I was his age.” The conversation is cut short by the kids returning.

The rest of dinner and the evening goes smoothly. You make it a point to not bring up any questions that could trigger the teenager, especially before you’ve spoken with Laszlo about the situation at hand. When Stevie nearly eats his weight in pasta you say nothing, wondering how long it's been since he's had a good home cooked meal. He insists on helping clean up the dishes afterwards. Without even knowing what the boy has gone through your heart aches for him.

You set him up in the small renovated basement downstairs while Laszlo puts Sophia to bed. Handing him one of your husband’s old Harvard t-shirts to sleep in you tell him “I’m sorry you’ll be down here by yourself, but if you need us for anything don’t be afraid to come get us - no matter what time it is, okay? And if you get cold there’s an extra blanket right here for you. I know it's July but….” you shrug. “Tomorrow after I get home from work we can go to the store and get you some stuff to use, some more clothes, that kinda thing.”

“Yes ma’am.” At the teasing look you give him his ears burn red with his mumbled “right sorry.”

“Alright Stevie. We’ll see you in the morning, sleep well.”

Laszlo is in bed reading when you enter the room. Nothing is said as you ready yourself for bed. Slipping under the covers you face him. He sighs and closes his book.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call. I became caught up in the day and only arrived home with Stevie maybe half an hour before you did.” He sighs a second time. “Most of the case I cannot talk about, but what I can say is he was living with his mentally ill father, whom was also an addict. He missed the last few weeks of the school year and has been regularly stealing food to get by. He has no other family. I just… it didn’t feel right to let him process his experiences away from someone properly trained to deal with these sorts of things, in addition to how traumatic entering foster care at his age can be. I spoke with those in social services and was granted temporary custody until we find another more permanent solution.”

“Of course.”

He takes hold of your hand. “You aren’t upset with me?”

“I mean it would’ve been nice to have a bit more warning… but I get it. He can stay as long as he needs to. He’s a sweet kid,” you reassure him. “I told him that I would take him shopping after work tomorrow, so if you could pick up Soph from preschool that would be great.”

“Perhaps instead we can all go? I was thinking that I would bring him to the university with me so that he’s not alone all day. You could get her and then we could meet somewhere, get dinner afterwards?”

You lean closer to him to curl around his arm and rest your head on his shoulder. He always thought so much about others, especially children. Laszlo had such a heart of gold and it honestly left you in awe of just how much he was willing to give so that others could find peace and happiness. Like the older he got the more he had to give. The thought warms you. “How are you literally the best person I know? And to think you used to be so worried about being able to be a good father and now you’re the best of all of us.” He huffs a little as you nuzzle into his chest.

“I have you to thank for that, Bärchen.” He drops a kiss to your head. “But it’s getting late and I’ve been up all day. We should get some sleep.”

Soon after you're both dreaming.

___

Stevie had been with you for three weeks. It only took him a few days to start to settle in, and you discovered that he was quick with his wit and far smarter than he let on. He was a little bit of a sarcastic smart-ass at times, but all in good nature. He was endlessly entertaining. Laszlo sat down with him almost everyday to talk about what he was feeling, the things he experienced, and ways to deal with the loss of his family. Already you both saw improvement.

Even Sophia got on well with him. Most teenage boys wanted nothing to do with little kids, let alone a 4 year old that loved playing 'spaceship barbie'. But not Stevie. On his fifth day you'd found him sat on the floor playing with her and going along with her childlike imagination. When she insisted he play the barbie that needed saving he went along with it, high pitched voice and everything. He even encouraged her to pick up her toys before bed - a feat you and your husband struggled with at times. It struck you how much Stevie became a big brother of sorts to her.

Laszlo grew even more fond of the boy. He wasn't really one for TV, but every evening he sat and watched some show on Netflix about racing with the teen and didn't complain once. Laszlo had tried to explain the role of adrenaline in racing drivers as a psychological function, but Stevie just brushed it off and said it was the driving so fast that made it "cool".

The two did bond over an unlikely subject - punk rock. When you got home from work two weeks into his stay and heard the music blasting in the parlor you worried someone had broken in. Whipping into the room you saw Laszlo in his chair tapping his foot to the intense guitar and singing; Stevie nodded along to the music as he held an old album cover. It didn't take long for Sophia to start jumping along to the music too.

"What is this?" You yelled out over the bass - you couldn't recognize it and it clearly wasn't English.

"Die Toten Hosen, a band I listened to growing up in Germany. Stevie found the record and asked to listen."

"Listen? I think you mean blow out your eardrums!" Even with needing to shout to be heard you had to laugh at the situation. How your husband had a secret love for German punk you'll never know; yet you would never let him live it down.

And when Stevie came and woke you both up in tears three nights ago you made him hot chocolate while Laszlo sat down with him. He confessed that he had never been treated or cared for like he was in your home. How he wished he could stay because he felt wanted. Your heart broke for the boy. To be so young and so lost, craving someone to simply be there for him.

Yet everyday he grew more open. He broke out of his shell. He had goals and ambitions; he wanted to amount to something bigger than he had thought he ever could. It almost shocked you at how much fire was within him.

At how much he fit in with your little family.

At how it was like he was meant to be there.

___

Laszlo was oddly quiet when you got home. Sophia had run off to find Stevie, and you tracked your husband down to his office. He listened as you talked about your day for a good ten minutes; he said almost nothing the whole conversation.

You move closer to him. Placing the back of your hand to his forehead you check to see if he's feverish or sick. He didn't feel warm. "Laz, are you feeling okay?"

He gently pulls your hand down and leaves a kiss on your palm. "The department of social services called this morning to inquire about what we want to do with Stevie. This would be the third time they have asked."

He hadn't mentioned it to you at all that they were calling already. "Okay. What do you think we should do?" You pause for him to continue.

"I told them I would need to speak with you before any further decisions were made regarding him…" His fingers tap against the wood of his desk. "I'm not sure I have an answer for them. Nor for you." He swallows. "I'm afraid of what might become of him should he go into the system. Or that he will not get the support he needs given his past. Any option involving allowing him to stay for a bit longer is a commitment I won't make without your full support, of course. I could never ask that of you." As he speaks you can hear the frustration pouring from him, feel the irritation radiating through the room. "I refuse to give up on him- I- I just don't have the answers on what to do without them hounding me and he deserves better than this, dammit."

"He does… Do you remember on your 50th birthday, what you told me?" Laszlo looks up at you confused. "You said that you had wished you were ten years younger so you had the energy and time to do all of it again. That if you were younger we would've had a whole gaggle of kids - brothers and sisters for Sophia."

"Wishing I was younger doesn't make a difference in helping Stevie-"

"Laszlo - let's adopt him." Your words stop him in his tracks. You had decided not to have any more after your daughter was born. Laszlo was nearing 50 and the pregnancy had been hard on you. But regardless you knew that you both had the means and the love to give another child, probably five or ten more children if you really wanted to. So why not start with one that's already wormed his way in to the family? "I've seen how fond you are of him already. You've taken him under your wing as if he was your own. And how good he is with Sophia? Hell I couldn't ask for a better older sibling for her - and she loves him already. And honestly, Laz, I do too."

"You think we should adopt Stevie?"

"I think we should ask, yeah. He deserves a good home and a strong father figure that's going to put him first. He looks at you like you hung the stars, Laszlo. He needs us, and truthfully I think we need him. So yeah - what's one more added to this little shindig we've got going for us?"

"Have you-"

"-thought it through? Yes. Completely."

You can see the smile he fights to hold back. "We should call tomorrow and see what the protocol is for stating our intent to adopt and getting the paperwork."

"Um…" You shuffle your feet. Nose scrunched, you confess "I may have already called them. On the way from work I asked about what would need to be done if we wanted to pursue that route, but since they already know who we are from you working with them for years it can be fast tracked." You pull him out of his chair to stand before you. "All we have to do is say 'go'."

He has no hesitation.

"Go."

Laszlo doesn't hold back his smile or his laughter as he spins you around his office floor. You're certain your children downstairs can hear your giggles.

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams @that-one-fandom-kid @hb8301 @fandom-princess-forevermore @foggycandywitch @creme-bruhlee @andy-rocks @nonamec0s @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @uncomfortablebagel @rachelicouss @wisia02

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sylvienerevarine · 3 years ago

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Fic: A Night At The Theater

You guys remember Falura, the slave girl who the Nerevarine has to find as a bride for an Ashlander chieftain? I love her and have decided she and my Nerevarine, Sylvie, are besties. So I have written about them.

(Tagging @bravelittlescrib for being foolish enough to encourage me)

Life in the Ashlander camp was far from luxurious, but Falura had grown to love it. She loved the warm, cozy interior of her yurt; loved the children tossing their guar-hide balls back and forth on sunny days; even loved her new husband the chieftain, who was rather pompous but at heart a very kind man. It wasn't the easiest of lives, but it was far better than slavery.

The Zainab camp was remote, without much excitement save for wild animals and storms, and Falura was prepared to spend the rest of her life settling village disputes, raising children, and never being surprised.

Until Sylvie came back.

It had been months since Falura had seen the red-haired wood-elf- and back then, Sylvie hadn't yet been the legendary Nerevarine, the hero of the province. She'd been a scruffy adventurer desperate to prove herself as the fulfillment of all those ancient prophecies.

Still, she had delivered Falura out of slavery and into her peaceful new life, and in doing so had established herself in Falura's mind as the greatest hero of the era. Since then, Sylvie had slain the evil Dagoth Ur and become beloved by all... and yet here she was, back in Kaushan and Falura's yurt, behaving as though nothing had changed at all.

"Falura, Kaushan, darlings," Sylvie said, plopping down on one of the bedrolls. "It's been too long, hasn't it? You have no idea how much I've missed you. I can see things are going well here- I always knew you two would be a wonderful couple."

"Always an honor, Nerevarine," Kaushad said, with gruff fondness. "Can't say I thought we would see you again."

"After all the help you gave me? Why, they couldn't keep me away. And Falura and I grew so close on our journey that I simply had to check on her."

"So... what have you been up to since your great adventure?" Falura asked hesitantly. Great adventure was putting it mildly, but Falura didn't quite feel up to saying since you killed the devil.

"Oh, I've been here and there," Sylvie replied. "Traveling, exploring. Been spending quite a bit of time in Mournhold lately."

"And what's in Mournhold?"

"Shopping, mainly. And doing a bit of work for the royals," Sylvie said vaguely. "But mainly the shopping. The clothiers there are fabulous."

She dragged out the a in the last word: f-aaa-bulous. Falura was never quite sure if Sylvie's posh accent was real or affected. She'd asked once, to which the Nerevarine had responded: "Darling, you think I know? I have no memory of my education."

(Sometimes, Falura wondered if Sylvie's amnesia was somewhat affected as well. Being a polite lady, she had never asked.)

(Nor did she ask about Sylvie's new scars, none of which could have come from shopping.)

"But never mind me," said Sylvie, after a brief pause. "In fact, I came here to see if you'd like to go to the theater."

"The theater," Falura repeated slowly.

"In Vivec, specifically. Apparently Crassius Curio- he's a Hlaalu lord, you won't know him- has written a play about little old me," said Sylvie, as though all of this was perfectly normal. "He's an old friend, sort of, and I felt I simply had to support him. The play's called Saint Sylvie Moon-and-Star, which apparently some people find sacrilegious, but knowing Crassius it'll simply be ridiculous."

"It does sound like fun," said Falura hesitantly. "But it's quite a long journey, and I hate to leave my husband..." She cast a questioning glance at Kaushad, who looked highly amused.

"Oh, go on, old girl," he said. "No harm in your having an adventure now and again. Go show those Vivec snobs we've got style in the Ashlands as well."

Sylvie clapped her hands together delightedly. "It's settled, then," she declared. "This is going to be such fun!"

Saint Sylvie Moon-and-Star was to be performed in Vivec's newly-constructed theater, established in the Hlaalu canton by Lord Curio himself. It was by far the grandest building Falura had ever been in, and as she and Sylvie settled into their plush red seats, she was torn between awe and homesickness.

The curtain rose on a mock prison cell, where the heroine languished on a bed waiting to be freed. The actress playing Sylvie was rather shorter and plumper than the Nerevarine herself, but she'd managed the iconic hairstyle: short, red, dramatically flipped up at the ends.

"That's got to be a wig," Sylvie murmured. "Still, it's a nice one, so I'm not offended."

All seemed well for the first hour of the play, as Player-Sylvie fought ancestral ghosts and charmed ancient wizards. The mood changed abruptly, though, when Player-Sylvie encountered Adamantius Hlasko, a licentious nobleman whose vote was necessary for Sylvie to become Hortator.

"And how, my sweet blossom, do I know you're worthy of being our Hortator?" Adamantius asked Player-Sylvie, who seemed smitten with him. "Such a delicate creature as yourself may not be up for such a hard task."

"Why, sir, you underestimate me," said Player-Sylvie. "Just on the way here I slew ten ghosts and six bone-lords!"

"You know," said Adamantius, "some call me the bone-lord."

Player-Sylvie giggled and blushed. "And why do they call you that, sir?"

"Ah, my little duckling," Adamantius replied with a leer, running a finger down player-Sylvie's cheek. "If you wish to become Hortator, I would be more than happy to show you."

Falura let out a shocked laugh, which she cut short at the sound of an irritated huff next to her.

"I am going to kill that man," Sylvie growled, her accent suddenly sounding much less posh.

"I assume that's not what really happened?" Falura asked cautiously.

"Of course not! That son of a blighted rat, doesn't he know I have a reputation to uphold? It was bad enough that Crassius insisted I kiss him in exchange for his vote. If people thought I seduced my way into becoming Hortator..." Noticing annoyed looks coming from nearby spectators, Sylvie let out a quiet noise of frustration and shook her head. "Never fear, Falura, I will be avenged."

The play came to a close an hour later, the curtain closing to thunderous applause. Sylvie seemed to have perked up by the play's ending, which depicted her slaying the villainous Dagoth Ur after cheerfully saying "So long, darling! No one's going to miss that hideous mask."

"I don't think I did say that in real life- I was much too frightened," she'd confessed in a whisper. "But I would have if I'd had my wits about me."

As the curtain fell, Falura wondered if Sylvie had forgotten her vow of revenge. She received her answer when a man, barrel-chested and brown-bearded, raced up to the two women in the theater's lobby.

"Crassius," Sylvie said with a tight smile. "Well, well. How very nice."

"Sylvie, dumpling!" Crassius exclaimed. "How delightful that you could come to our little play. I did try to stay as true to your marvelous story as possible..." He was cut off with a loud thwack, as Sylvie's Wraithguard-gloved fist met his cheek.

"Splendid writing as always, Crassius dear," Sylvie said with a bright smile, while Crassius was still groaning in pain. "Care to get dinner, Falura?"

#morrowind fic #my writing #morrowind #elder scrolls

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atlafan · 5 years ago

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Part One - “Call me Jane.”

a/n: here’s part one of nanny!H, I’m very excited about this series. I’m not sure how many parts it’s going to be, so please don’t ask lmao. Once I know how many parts it’ll be, I’ll make a master post for it. I’m just too excited not at least share the first part because Harry is just too cute in this! Feedback and reblogs are super helpful, and keep me motivated, especially when it comes to writing series. (not proofread) You can support me here if you’re able!

Warnings: none...for now

Words: 4.1K

Pairing: Harry x OC (Jane Watson)

Master Post

Harry found himself in a real bind. He was twenty-six years old, had an early childhood education degree, and the daycare he worked at was going under. He had just been promoted a month prior too, how could things go wrong so quickly? Times like this he really hated that he stayed in the states. Childcare services weren’t nearly as fucked up back home. His dream was to save up enough money to open up his own pre-school at some point, but it was really tough.

There was this weird stigma that if adult men wanted to work with babies and toddlers then that made them a pedophile or something of the sort. That wasn’t the case with Harry. His minor in school was psychology because cognitive development intrigued him. He also loved babies and little ones. He loved watching them learn and discover.

Only now, he was without a job in an already struggling field. He and the other employees weren’t exactly given a big notice before they were told the business was going under. Harry mostly felt bad for the parents of the kids that had to find new child care centers. He knew he’d have to compete with his co-workers for any available jobs, and he knew they were bound to find places before him because they were women. It was their fault, and he knew it. He was experiencing a prejudice that they must face all the time.

He looked into Care.com, but none of the jobs on there seemed like long-term gigs, and he didn’t want to just be a glorified baby sitter. He figured if he could find a well paying nannying job, he could do that for a bit until finding a job at a new facility, or even set up his dream pre-school. During his search on Indeed, he saw a position for a live-in nanny – jackpot! Live-in meant long-term, and long-term meant lots of money. It also meant he could get rid of his apartment and not have to pay rent for a while. He clicked on the ad that was posted only a couple of weeks ago.

Live-in Nanny Needed for Help with Eight-Month-Old

Minimum requirements:

· Bachelor’s in either early childhood education or elementary education

· At least two years’ experience working babies/children

Three professional references required

Applicant is subject to thorough background check for the safety of the child and mother.

Other tasks as needed include:

· Cooking

· Light cleaning

· Grocery shopping/running other errands

If applicant is selected, they will be paid a flat rate of $1600 bi-weekly, will live in “in-law” section of the house, and a car will be provided for them. A resume, cover letter, and three professional references may be sent directly to [email protected]

After reading everything over, this seemed like Harry’s best bet. Some of it seemed a little too good to be true, but this was a risk he needed to take right now. He just hoped the position hadn’t already been filled. That night he spent some time updating his LinkedIn, making sure all of his privacy settings were up to date on all of his social media, and then wrote out a resume and cover letter. The last part was his least favorite because he knew a proper resume and cover letter had to be curated to the specific job, and it made things all the more tedious. By the time he was done, it was late. He didn’t want to seem unprofessional, so he waited to send the email until the next morning.

Subject: Nannying Advert on Indeed

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Good morning,

My name is Harry and I’m interested in the nannying advert you’ve posted on Indeed. For the last four years I’ve been working at P.B. & J.’s Child Care Center, and was recently promoted to team lead. Unfortunately, the business itself couldn’t remain afloat, and I was laid off.

Attached are my resume and cover letter. I’d be happy to provide the three references if I end up being considered for the position.

Thank you for your time and consideration,

Harry

Treat People With Kindness

He closes his laptop with a satisfied sigh after proofreading his email ten different times before he hit send. He takes a sip from his coffee, and sits back on his sofa. Now all he had to do was wait.

There was radio silence for two days. Harry was starting to think he would need to keep job hunting. He had bills to pay, and the last thing he wanted to do was ask his parents for help. They already looked down on his profession as it was. If he had his own car he’d become an uber driver or something, but he didn’t so he couldn’t. Then, by some stroke of luck, at 4:55PM on a Thursday, he gets an email from the address he had been hoping to see pop up.

Subject: Re: Nannying Advert on Indeed

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Good evening Harry,

My name is Jane Watson, thank you so much for your application. My apologies it has taken me a couple of days to get back to you. I am usually more responsive, but things have been a little crazy at work as of late. Upon further review of your resume and over letter, I would like to offer you an interview this Saturday at noon, if you are available. I can be flexible if that day and time do not work for you.

If you are able to come, and are still interested in the position, I ask that you please bring your references with you. I will want to call them right away. I am sure you can understand me wanting to thoroughly look into you before letting you into my daughter’s life.

I look forward to hearing back from you soon.

All my best,

Jane

Harry responded to her right away, he didn’t care how eager he seemed. He told her Saturday at noon worked great, and that he would definitely have his references, and anything else he needed to provide. She emailed him back an hour or so later with her cell phone number and address. For the first time in a while, Harry felt like he could breathe again. He knew it wasn’t a done deal that he’d be getting the job, but he was being given a chance, and for that he was thankful.

He wanted to make a good first impression on Saturday, so he made sure to wash his hair in the shower, and use his good mousse so his hair would look more orderly. He shaved to give himself that clean and sleek look, this was not a day to appear scruffy. He knew he didn’t need to be overly dressed up, but he also knew that you’re supposed to dress for the job you want and not the job you have. He irons a pair of tan slacks and pairs it with a blue button up. Not to brag, but his bum looked great in these slacks, and it was giving him all the confidence in the world. He puts on a floral tie, just to show a bit of his personality, makes sure his nail polish isn’t chipped, and makes sure all of his rings are looking shiny. He takes an uber out to Jane’s house. It was in a gated community, which he was expecting since he looked up the house beforehand. He wondered what she or her husband did for work to live in a place like this. Or perhaps she inherited the home? Either way, he was excited.

He thanks the driver, and knocks on the door as he was instructed to do. A woman with silver hair that was up in a nice bun opens the door.

“Hello, you must be Mr. Styles.” She smiles.

“Yes, hello.” He smiles back.

“I’m MaryAnne, please come in.” She steps aside to let Harry in.

“Thank you.”

“Miss Watson is just pumping, but you can wait for her here in her office.” She leads Harry down a corridor where he meets a grand double door. MaryAnne opens them and shows him inside. “Make yourself comfortable, dear. Can I get you anything? Coffee, water, tea?”

“I’m all set, but thank you very much.”

The woman nods and leaves him in the room alone. He stays standing as he didn’t want to assume where he should be sitting. There was a gorgeous desk with two chairs on the other side, but there was also a small round table with four chairs around it in the corner. She clearly held a lot of meetings here, or so it would seem. To pass the time he looks over her bookshelves, scanning over what she might be into. She seemed to be into fiction, but he had never heard of any of the books on some of the shelves, or the author. She had several by the same person. Before he could look further, he heard the clacking of heels on the hardwood floors approaching him.

Everything stopped when she walked in. Jane had her hair up in a flowing ponytail, a white blouse covered her top half, he notices that the first few buttons were left undone, probably to help with her pumping, and she had a black pencil skirt on that just came to her knees. She was short, and a little voluptuous, not that Harry was checking her out.

“Hello, Mr. Styles, I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” He goes to stick his hand out for her to shake, but she walks around him and sits down at her desk. “Please, have a seat.”

He swallows and sits down.

“Y-you can just call me Harry if you like, Mrs. Watson.”

“I’m a Miss not a missus.” She says as she takes out a folder with a few sheets in it and a pen. “It says here you graduated Summa Cum Laude from Lesley University. That’s an incredible place to get a degree in education.”

“Thank you, I got a pretty decent scholarship, it was my reach school. I minored in psychology as well. I did my practicum hours at a daycare center that specialized in caring for children with disabilities. So, I’ve worked with all sorts of children. I prefer working with infants and toddlers, though.”

“And why is that?” She looks at him, clicking her pen, ready to take notes.

“Well, I just have more fun with them, to be honest. I like watching them discover new things. My favorite thing to do while working in the baby room at my last job was working with the babies on their tummy times. It was always rewarding to watch them get stronger. I feel like I just bond with them better.”

“I need to ask you some personal questions since this is a live-in position.”

“Of course.” Harry nods.

“Are you in any sort of relationship with anyone?”

“No, I’m single.”

“Have you ever been arrested, or do you have any sort of criminal history?”

“No.”

“I’m not one to judge, I think everyone deserves a second chance, I just have to ask these sort of things.” She says.

“I don’t have a criminal record, Miss Watson.”

“History of drug use?”

“I smoked a bit of weed when I was younger, but I don’t anymore. An edible once in a while, maybe, but never when I’m on the clock.”

“Just marijuana?”

“I’ve done shrooms a few times, but nothing other than that. Stupid kid stuff.”

“Again, not judging. I’d prefer you don’t have any drugs in the house, unless they’re for medical use. I know edibles can be prescribed by doctors for anxiety and whatnot.” Harry nods at that. “What about alcohol? You’re twenty-six, you must enjoy a drink after a long day.”

“A glass of red once in a while, sure.” He nods. “But I’m not really a heavy drinker, I never have been. I’d say if anything I’m a social drinker, but you watch me carefully at a party you’ll notice that I nurse the same drink.” He smirks.

“I’m the same way. A little bit of a buzz is fun, but anything more can be a bit scary. I actually cannot remember the last time I had a real drink.” She looks off in thought.

“Well, can’t you drink now that the baby’s here?”

“And have to succumb to a pump and dump?” She scoffs. “No way, that would be a total waste. It’s torture enough to sit there while a machine sucks the milk out of my-“ She stops herself. “Sorry.” She shakes her head. “Anyways, your resume was impressive, and you were quite articulate in your cover letter. You’re the only candidate I’ve invited for an interview.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She nods. “I really wanted someone with experience, not someone fresh out of college looking for a place to live. You’d really be okay with living here?”

“Honestly, you’d be doing me a favor. My long-term goal is to either have a daycare or pre-school of my own someday. Not having to pay rent for a while would really help me save up for that.”

“That’s an incredible goal to have, Harry.” She smiles, impressed by his ambition. “What questions do you have for me?”

“I just want to clarify, your daughter is eight months?” Jane nods. “And what’s her name?”

“Lilly.” Jane smiles.

“That’s a beautiful name.” Harry smiles. “Why exactly do you need a live-in nanny?”

“I work a lot.” She sighs. “And I’m a single mom. I want her to always have someone here that she can depend on and feel comfortable with. Sometimes my work drags me out in the middle of the night, or I have to take a phone call at an odd hour. I just want someone else here in case I can’t be if something comes up.”

“So, her father’s not in the picture?”

“No.” Her features sour a bit. “He doesn’t even know she exists to be perfectly honest with you. I found out I was pregnant after we broke up, and I decided not to tell him about her. He was a deadbeat moocher, he would have been useless.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but thank you for telling me. May I ask, how old are you?”

“Twenty-nine, does that matter?”

“No! No, I was just more so curious. You seem pretty successful to be in a home like this. In the advert, you stated I’d be given a car as well, that’s not exactly cheap.”

“You’ll be given access to one of my cars.” She says. “I’m not giving you a car, make no mistake about that.” She smirks. “I’m an author, a successful one.” Harry tries to think if he’s ever heard of a Jane Watson before, but he’s coming up blank. “You’ve never heard of me because I have a pen name. If it’s all the same, I don’t really want to share it with you. Not yet, anyways.”

“Sure…wait…are you offering me the job?”

“Not quite. I’d like you to meet my daughter. I want to see how she interacts with you.”

“I’d love to meet Lilly.” He smiles.

“Great, before we do that, do you have more questions?”

“Yes, who’s MaryAnne? Is she, like, a maid or housekeeper?”

“No.” Jane laughs. “She’s my personal assistant. I usually answer the door myself, but pumping took a bit longer than usual.”

“When did you publish your first work?”

“When I was twenty.” She smiles. “I was still in school, and I decided just to self-publish. It took off, and a few companies reached out to me. I eventually got an agent, and the rest was history. I’m a fast writer, I’m able to churn out more projects than most people, and for whatever reason they keep becoming hits. One of the reasons I travel a lot is that a couple of my works are being turned into television shows, and working out those contracts is a lot. I want to be a part of the process to make sure the stories are told correctly.”

“That’s incredible!”

“it is.” She nods. “I never thought I’d be a television producer, but here I am. I don’t really want Lilly around all that, so there’s another reason for having a live-in nanny.”

“This may seem like a silly question, but will I have time off?”

“Oh my goodness, of course! The salary is negotiable as well. You’ll have weekends off, as well as all bank and national holidays. You’ll also earn vacation time and sick leave like at any other job. You’ll be given a benefits package as well, if you need health insurance.”

“You…you provide stuff like that?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“I’ve just never heard of a nannying job quite like this before.” He blinks. “It feels too good to be true.”

“I’m just a firm believer in compensating someone properly. I believe in investing in the people you have.”

“Right.” He swallows. He almost starting to feel like he was going to be her sugar baby or something, but he obviously knew that wasn’t the case. “You asked me about my dating life, what about yours?”

“I’m also single. Lilly is my top priority, and then comes my work. I’m completely fulfilled as is.” She stands from her desk. “Come, I’ll give you a tour of the house, and of the in-law space, and then you can meet Lilly.”

“Okay.” He stands up and follows her out of the office.

She shows him the living room, which felt more like a study. There was an entertainment room with a huge flat screen, deluxe loungers, a pool table, and bar. She shows him to the kitchen which was equally as extravagant. She brings him upstairs to show him all of the bedrooms.

“This is Lilly’s room.” Jane says proudly.

“it’s beautiful, I love the light purple.”

“So do I.” She says. “My room is down the hall, don’t think you need a tour of that.” She laughs and they head back downstairs. “Here’s the inside entrance to the in-law, but there’s also an exterior entrance you can use…or if you have guests over.” Harry’s in awe of the space. It was larger than his apartment. “It’s a one bedroom flat essentially. There’s a full bath en suite, and there’s a half bath over there. Open concept kitchen and living area. It’s fully furnished as well. Feel free to decorate it however you like. I just ask that this space stays yours. There’s really no reason for you to bring Lilly in here, you know?”

“Sure, yeah. This is amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it. Let’s just hope Lilly like you.” Jane smirks, and they head back to the main part of the house, and into Lilly’s playroom. She was sitting with MaryAnne in a large rocking chair. “M, you can feel free to go back to your office if you like. Harry’s going to get acquainted with Lilly.”

“Of course.” MaryAnne stands up with the baby, and hands her over to Jane.

“She has an office here too?” Harry asks.

“Of course she does, and one of the guest rooms upstairs is hers to use when she needs it.” She kisses the top of her daughter’s head. “Lilly,” she coos, “I have someone I’d like you to meet.” She gestures for Harry to take her, and he happily does so.

“Hey, baby girl.” Harry coos. Bright hazel eyes look up at him in wonder. He lets her latch onto his index finger. “It’s so nice to meet you.” He looks at Jane. “She’s precious, Miss Watson.”

“Isn’t she?” Jane beams. “She’s really been enjoying her bouncy, and messing around with her blocks. I have some CD’s I like having her listen to as well. Oh! We did a paint with pudding night as a sensory play thing, it was a hoot.” She chuckles.

“Those are great, aren’t they? Very stimulating, and it teaches the child that sometimes messes are okay.” He looks down at Lilly and smiles. “May I sit with her in the rocking chair?”

“Please!” She gestures to it, and she sits down on the loveseat in the room. Harry sits down with Lilly, cradling her carefully. He adjusts her so she’s able to stand on his lap. She bounces herself and giggles. “Look at that!” Jane exclaims. “I love it when she does that.”

“She’s awfully sweet.” Harry smiles, and then he looks at Jane. “How much do you feed her?”

“I give her roughly twenty-four to thirty-two ounces a day. You’ll know how hungry she is or isn’t in the moment. I’ve started giving her pureed butternut squash, mashed bananas and strawberries, she’s got that puffed baby cereal as well. I’ve also started giving her ground chicken in really small doses just to get her some protein, but right now I’ve mostly been sticking to fruits and veggies. You must know a lot about what foods to give a baby?”

“I do.” He nods. “You’re still producing that much milk to give her daily?”

“I’ve almost been wishing I’d dry up. I get so sore somedays.” Jane sighs. “But I figure it’s good for her to have it while I can still make it. I’m not opposed to formular or anything…but I like bonding with her in that way. I got rid of her baby acne by rubbing my nipple on her skin, it was like magic.”

“It’s certainly a trick of the trade.” He smirks at her. “I remember learning that in one of my courses, and I was amazed. You all are super humans.”

Jane watches Harry play on the ground with Lilly for a bit. Harry was already so wonderful with her. Harry starts to smell something, and so does Jane.

“Think it’s time for a diaper change.” He chuckles and picks her up. “Would you like me to change her?”

“Yeah, I’d like to see you do it.”

He brings Lilly over to the changing table, and lays her down.

“I know you’re all warm and cozy, but I need to disrupt that for a moment.” He says to the baby girl who was babbling and blowing little spit bubbles, totally unbothered. Harry unsnaps her onesie, and lifts her legs to detach the diaper. His eyes widen at the type of diaper that’s on her. “You cloth diaper?” He looks at Jane.

“It’s better for the environment.” She shrugs. “There’s a trashcan for the…um, poop, and there’s another can for the diapers. I give her a regular diaper for bedtime just because it’s easier to change her in the middle of the night and in the morning, but daytime I use the cloth diapers.”

“Makes sense to me.” Harry disposes of everything, and grabs a few wipes to clean Lilly up. She took a powerful stinky.

“I blame it on the pureed peas.” Jane laughs.

“It doesn’t even phase me anymore, honestly.” Harry says as he gets a little baby powder on her. He grabs a spare cloth diaper, and gets it on her. He snaps her onesie back together and lifts her up. “There we go, good as new, darling girl.” Lilly blows some bubbles at Harry, and blows some back, making her giggle. Jane beams at the two of them.

“It’s about time for her afternoon nap. Would you like to put her down?”

“I’d love to.”

Harry carries Lilly upstairs with Jane. She flips on Lilly’s white noise machine, and makes sure her favorite blankies are in the crib. Harry sits down in the large chair in the corner of the room and starts to rock her gently, giving her soothing rubs. Jane watches as Lilly’s eyelids start to droop. She fights it at first, but Harry continues to soothe her until she’s out like a light. He carefully stands up and sets her down into her crib. The two back out of the room quietly, and make their way down the stairs.

“Let’s go back to my office.” Jane says, and Harry follows her there. Once they’re both seated, she starts speaking again. “Well, the job is yours if you want it.”

“Really?” Harry felt every worry from his life leave his body.

“Yes.” She chuckles. “You’ve really impressed me, and I think Lilly’s quite taken with you already. I’d love to have you as her nanny.” She takes out a few forms. “May I have your references? The background check will take about a week. How soon could you start after that?”

“Right away, honestly.” He hands her a sheet with his references.

“Here are the tax forms you’ll need to fill out, a form for direct deposit, and some information on your benefits. You can get everything back to me by the end of next week.”

“I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity, I’m so excited. I can’t wait to get started, Miss Watson.” He stands to shake her hand, and she stands as she takes it.

“Please, you can call me Jane.”

#love's divine #love's divine part one #call me jane #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles series #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x oc #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #nanny!Harry #nanny!H #nannerry

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mariacallous · 3 years ago

Text

It is 3.30pm and Suna Hamanawa, 25, is doing what she and dozens of other Afghan mothers do most days: whiling her time away on a park bench in Viktoria Square, a scruffy plaza in central Athens, as her children play around her. Like almost every other asylum seeker, she is relieved to be in Greece.

“We’re better here, we’re safer here even though me and my husband and our first little one [initially] spent 10 months in Moria,” she says, screwing up her face at the memory of the notoriously overcrowded and fire-ravaged refugee camp on Lesbos.

“But every day, in its own way, is a fresh hell. The Greek government does nothing. It just keeps saying ‘wait, wait, wait’. And that’s what we do all day, every day. Wait for our papers, wait for our travel documents. Wait for freedom.”

A year after Afghanistan’s fall to the Taliban, Greece continues to be the first port of call for thousands of people fleeing the country’s worsening humanitarian crisis. After Ukrainians, Afghans account for the second-largest group of asylum applicants in the EU and by far the biggest in Greece, where more than 37,000 – more than a third of the total number registered nationwide – have filed asylum claims.

Hamanawa, who arrived in Lesbos with her husband, Mohammed, in a dinghy from Turkey in 2018, waited four years to become one of the estimated 28,500 Afghans to secure refugee status – a protracted period of legal limbo that is vastly at odds with other refugees, not least those from Ukraine.

In a recent report, the International Rescue Committee (IRC) chronicled Afghan refugees’ difficulties in Greece and the serious impact on their physical and mental health.

Of the 192 Afghans monitored by the organisation’s mental health teams between April 2021 and March 2022, about 97% had reported symptoms of depression, while 50% had considered suicide, the IRC report said.

“Many Afghans fleeing conflict and persecution in their own country think their troubles will be over once they reach Europe … This is simply not the case,” says Dimitra Kalogeropoulou, the IRC’s Greece director.

“Instead, people face the stark reality of violent pushbacks from Greek borders, months or years living in fear of being sent back to Turkey or Afghanistan, where they could face untold horrors, extended periods trapped in prison-like reception conditions, far from towns and cities and an alarming lack of support to begin rebuilding their lives,” she says.

For the estimated 70,000 Ukrainians who have sought refuge in Greece, it has been a different story. After Russia’s invasion on 24 February, the EU moved quickly to issue a temporary protection directive to safeguard the rights of people desperate to leave the war-torn country.

Although relatively few Ukrainians have headed to Greece, the reception they have received there has been unusually warm, with senior officials often referring to the newcomers as “real refugees”.

It was vital, said the IRC report, that Afghans were also guaranteed access to full and fair asylum procedures and given “dignified” support with accommodation and integration.

“While the Greek government has welcomed refugees from Ukraine, by efficiently registering them, issuing legal documents and allowing immediate access to employment, Afghans in Greece, alongside other asylum seekers and refugees, continue to be isolated from the Greek society in which they seek to rebuild their lives,” the report’s authors wrote. “Even after receiving status, refugees have limited integration support.”

The biggest barrier for Afghans claiming asylum is the Greek government’s controversial decision to label Turkey a “safe third country” for people not only from Afghanistan but also from Bangladesh, Pakistan, Somalia and Syria. The decision has prevented thousands of people from being able to explain why they need international protection.

“We’ve been here for four years,” says Khorshid Ahmadi, 26, as she plays with her children in Viktoria Square. “My family’s request for asylum has been rejected three times. They keep saying we should return to Turkey, even if Turkey doesn’t take anyone back from Greece.”

As a result, she says, neither she, her husband nor their five children have legal status or any right to housing or cash assistance.

Greece’s centre-right government insists it pursues a “tough but fair” migration and asylum policy. Accusations of pushbacks – despite overwhelming evidence – have been strongly denied. But keeping asylum seekers at bay remains a priority. In September, the migration minister, Notis Mitarachi, noted that the country had blocked about 50,000 migrants from entering Greece in August alone.

Amid renewed tensions with Turkey, the public order minister in Athens claimed last month that every night about 1,500 people gathered at the land border with Turkey were attempting to cross as a result of Ankara’s policy to “weaponise” migration and push asylum seekers into Greek territory.

As one of Europe’s most southerly states, Greece was the main entry point for more than 800,000 Syrians when the refugee crisis first engulfed the continent in 2015. After the adoption of a controversial pact aimed at stemming flows between the EU and Turkey in March 2016, the influx dropped steeply.

As patrols have been reinforced, with the help of the EU’s border agency Frontex, the number has fallen further in recent years, particularly arrivals on the north Aegean islands facing the Turkish coast, where most asylum seekers at the height of the crisis were located. The decline prompted the Greek prime minister, Kyriakos Mitsotakis, to boast last week that smuggling networks had been largely cracked.

International bodies have echoed the IRC in rebuking Athens for resorting to tactics of brute force to keep asylum seekers out.

Concluding a 10-day fact-finding tour of Greece in June, Mary Lawlor, the UN special rapporteur for human rights defenders, accused the Mitsotakis government of creating a “climate of fear”, not only for refugees and asylum seekers fleeing poverty and persecution but also for groups defending migrants’ rights on the ground. Illegal evictions of asylum seekers at land and sea borders had become a general policy in Greece, she said.

Last week, Mitarachi insisted the government would continue to replace open-air camps on frontline islands, such as Lesbos, with barbed-wire encircled “closed controlled” access centres, and would push ahead with plans to extend a border fence along the Evros land frontier with Turkey.

Mohamad Mirzay, Greece’s Afghan community spokesperson, who arrived in the country in 2006 at the age of 14, says: “Every day, we hear from families back home of Afghans being lost at the border.

“One of our biggest problems is that a lot of young Afghans whose asylum claims are rejected get into drugs, a problem we are now trying to address as a community. It’s all so very hard. Very few want to stay here, they don’t want to endanger their future. For sure, you could say, Ukrainians get very different treatment.”

Sofia Kouvelaki, who heads the Home project, an NGO that supports unaccompanied minors, said: “Ukrainian refugees have proved a point. In Greece, and in the EU, they have shown that if we want to integrate we can, and if we want to welcome people with a human face we can do that too.”

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honestsycrets · 4 years ago

Text

Say Your Piece II: Heart Breaker

❛ pairing | hvitserk x reader, hvitserk x ?

❛ type | double triple? shot, mistakes were made au

❛ chp summary | after the reader says she doesn’t want hvitserk; he makes a bad decision. it gets worse from there.

❛ tags | plus size reader, verbal arguments, extreme social anxiety, extreme body insecurity, drinking, hateful words, illustrator hvitserk x writer reader, mention of infidelity, shame, OCs, sexual frustration, blackmail, cheating mentioned, verbal abuse, sexual blackmail, poor communication? it’s more likely than you think. tags to be added.

❛ request | So Hvitserk request (you a asked for it 😂) Remember the Little Lovers event and the self-conscient plus size reader who didn’t want to have sex ?Well I didn’t get the sex lol. I want my Hvitserk to show a woman how her body is enjoyable. Thank you 😊 for @alicedopey

❛ sy’s note | i’ll eventually get you your sex scene, DAMN IT.

He wakes with a blaring headache caused by a stream of fresh morning light against his soft cheek. He pulls his arms around you-- or, what he thought was you, as the moment he does so, he knows it’s wrong. Where soft folds and overflowing breasts were, he finds thin limbs and small breasts.

It’s not your body-- he realizes all at once. The high rise apartment that overlooked the city wasn’t, either. It was the fruit of an accomplished older woman, whose many books hovered on a white shelf beside a white bed. Everything in the room holds the same pure standard. He flings himself from the bed, his naked ass colliding with a nightstand. The items ripple over the surface and settle into new positions. The woman pushes up, dragging the painfully monochrome white fluffy sheet to cover her flat chest.

“Hvitserk?”

Erika, in all her sharp-eyed glory, stares right back at him. Vomit spins up his throat, incited by the affection by with her eyes considered him. Hvitserk scrambles over the perfectly plain hardwood floors, upchucking up what’s left of his agitated stomach after his pathetic night out on the town.

“Hvitserk!”

Her spindly hand is at his back. Ordinarily, she was a comfort in your absence. That despite her pushing, and pushing, and pushing to get your name off “his” book, she would always be there for him in ways that a lover could not. Author-illustrators make so much more than being an illustrator alone, she reminded him. Her considerate words now feel like measured steps against his relationship. Her touch rips his skin into gooseflesh. Hvitserk works his shoulder away, his knuckles becoming white around the bowl.

“You drank too much last night.” it’s a non-question. Obviously, if he were here, he had. He groans his miserable response into the toilet bowl, wishing he could smother himself in the water, as it would be a better punishment than anything his girlfriend could do to him. “I’ll make you some coffee.”

Her steps become distant echoes. When he finishes and cleans after himself, he starts his search for his clothes. He picks them from a singular pile, draws them back on, and reaches for his phone. It bleats a miserable eight percent battery life.

“She didn’t call if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Ericka stands in a silvery slip; although he’s not sure when she put on some clothes. She hands him his cup of coffee and takes a seat on her “divorce couch”, a plain grey chair that she scammed her ex-husband out of. As she sits there, all long limbs, and purposefully sultry clothes-- the guilt strikes him.

Hvitserk takes a sip of bitter, burnt black coffee. She’s never been a great coffee maker but her heart is in the right place. It wouldn’t feel right to snuff her. After all, he probably spent the night before buried in her cunt.

“You called me to pick you up at the bar last night. You were so drunk all you wanted to do was lay on my chest,” Ericka pulls a sheer black kimono over her thin collarbones. His eyes fall on her hands. “I told you she’d break your heart. Women like that-- once they get over a certain weight-- they aren’t emotionally available to do anything but eat. It consumes them.”

“She ain’t like that.”

“If she’s not like that, then why did you have sex with me? Be honest with yourself, Hvitserk. Your needs aren’t met with her. That’s why you needed me.”

His mouth runs dry. Like he’s been chewing on his regret as if it were paper. He couldn’t remember the night before. It was like a bad memory he never wanted to recover. Hvitserk glances down to his cup as he sinks onto her bed.

“It was an accident,” he glares at the surface. “I- You know I can’t be with you, right? You’re--”

“Old?” she asks. He’s never cared about something as simple as that. Twelve years his senior or not, it wasn’t an issue.

“It’s not that. C’mon Erika, you know I don’t give a shit about age. She’s my baby girl.”

“You’re going to stay with her? A woman like that?”

“Like what?” Hvitserk sets the coffee on the nightstand as he snaps at her before he could bite it back. He knew what she meant. Erika’s long ranging sigh reminds him of Aslaug. How tenderly her hands would wrap around him even though they were truly tainted with alcohol perfuming off her breath.

“I’ve been your agent for years Hvitserk. We go through this every time you find a girl. This oen is by far the worst. She doesn’t care about you. Look at all that work you did for her yesterday. The pendant you bought her. The work you’ve put into her books! You even pick up all the food she eats. She won’t go outside of her house and you still expect that she’ll suddenly become this fat trophy wife on your arm.”

“Just because she’s fat don’t--”

“It isn’t about the fat, Hvitserk. How many times does she have to show you, or tell you for you to get the picture through your stupid head, huh? She doesn’t want you! And you have the balls to call me a fucking accident.”

“Erika--”

She leaps up from her chair. Hvitserk sucks in a hard breath and tries to find sense through the nonsense, looking through his phone. Erika was right. You hadn’t sent a message. Not in his texts, not on his social media. More egregiously, he spots a new post. Ericka’s hands fold over his, pushing him back to sit on the bed. She slides over his thin hips and takes a seat on his empty lap. It was painfully simple, painfully domestic, and painfully wrong.

“Let me tell you what I’ve learned in forty years,” Erika whispered in his ear. Her thin lips move, gliding like butter in his ear. “If someone doesn’t want you, there’s nothing you can do to change that.” Her fingers comb through his hair, like slimy tendrils. “But I’m here.”

Hvitserk tips his head nack, gazing at the ceiling. Her palm caresses his scruffy jawline to drag his attention from the ceiling to her soft blue eyes, a painless depth, if only he would listen to her words. Hvitserk shifts her back on the bed, loitering around her waist with a supportive hand on the base of her back.

“I know you care ‘bout me. I just-- need some time, okay?”

It doesn’t slip him that she’s scowling as he walks out of her home. There was someone he could count upon, when things were difficult, his phone buzzing in his palm reminded him of that.

“Hey, Ivar.”

Or, maybe not.

“You fucked her?” Ivar stopped chewing his pastry, ambling his head one way then another, laughing against himself. He took his mug of properly brewed coffee to his lips. Hvitserk regrets agreeing to meet him at the cafe. “What were you thinking sleeping with your agent?”

“I wasn’t thinking! I was drunk--” Hvitserk set his hand to his forehead. He has no appetite as he cycled through what he had done, searching out the moment that he called Erika. He fails to locate anything but quiet sobbing behind the neck of a beer bottle and a distant, squeamish feeling of fingers down his nape. “I think she took advantage of me.”

Ivar sets down his cup of coffee, picking up a fork and knife as he leaned over the table, lips punctuating each word.

“Yes, well, I am sure that will go over with your girlfriend well. I’m sorry, I slept with my skinny, well-established agent who has been wanting me to get rid of you. That bitch has been after you for years. What do you think she will do now? She won’t let you go.”

“She understands,” he reflects at the monochrome crowd. His plate is full but has gone cold with his lack of appetite. Normally, this was the place he came with his brother to binge breakfast and muse about women. Ubbe wouldn’t care about his issues: he never had time for anyone but himself. Not really. Ivar scoffed, gazing into the foot traffic flitting by their cafe.

“Tch, I’m sure she does. She will probably break up with you.”

He bobbed his head.

“I think she already has.”

A normal man would come to beg.

But Hvitserk draws in the deep quiet of the park. With only the barks of dogs, the giggles of children, and the occasional frequency from couples watching movies in the park, it’s a place of solace by the small pond.

He starts with an outline of Xiao’s small face. It’s a rough outline, budding and ready to be kissed with by watercolours. Soft pinks like petals of peonies droop in his photo. He must have blended this shade wrong. Line after line that he sweeps, he weeps. His phone jingles in his pocket and his heart tightens around his chest like a straight jacket to someone in an insane asylum. He must be going crazy-- if he too can no longer paint.

“Where are you?!” you boom on the other end of the line. Hvitserk fumbles his phone, suckling in a breath. Had Ivar told you? No, his brother wouldn’t. Not Ivar. He was never a gossiper.

“In-- in the park?”

“What has gotten into you? You could have at least texted me to tell me you were okay. I was worried sick!”

You? Worried sick? This wasn’t the you from yesterday. The one that pelted out how selfish he was for craving intimacy. The one that told him that all he wanted was to sexualize you. As if he were some sixty year old pervert with a camera in hand to click a picture of under your beautiful pastel skirts. Hvitserk sets the brushes into his cup of water and sets aside Xiao’s painting to dry.

“Hvitserk!”

“I’m here,” he blurts out. “I didn’t think you’d care. You didn’t call.”

“Like I didn’t I call you all night.”

Something cracks, deep in his belly. With all the days of work he’d done for you and you alone, he forgot himself in the mix. He jerked his phone back, frantically looking at his phone app. No recent calls meant what they meant. When he finds nothing, it only thrusts him into a further rage.

“Bullshit,” he belts out. “You didn’t. You didn’t care about me last night. You never fuckin’ do.”

“Hvit--” he turns off his phone. There was a sliver of a moment in which he regrets that on the basis of last night. Maybe you rejected him, but he wasn’t an idiot. A man simply didn’t cheat on his girlfriend because she said no.

He packs up his bag and heads toward the football field. It’s time to play football.

He smashes Ubbe on the field. If he wasn’t at peace with being an illustrator, maybe he could have been a ballplayer. Flipping the ball from foot to foot with Ubbe on his trailing his tail was fun, but watching him try and miss as he thwacked the ball on its net was even better. Unlike Ubbe’s well-proportioned body, he’s all long limbs and quick feet. Just the right combination to slip out of Ubbe’s grasp. Well, that was, until Ubbe tackled his ass onto the blades of grass, sending the both of them rolling through the grasp.

“Bro, really?!” Hvitserk laughs, dropping back onto the grass. The skid marks on his clothes would be unreal.

“If I can’t catch you,” Ubbe heaves, digging his hand into his pocket. He finds his phone there, vibrating with messages from Torvi: probably. Hvitserk shoves his arms behind his neck, drawing out breath after ragged breath.

“Wanna go eat?”

“Na,” Ubbe shoves himself onto your feet. “Your girl is here.”

His what? Ubbe rushes off. A sinking feeling came over his clammy hands. He opens his mouth to beg him not to go, to take him along with like he used to as a child. He’s terrible at making up and hours ago, he’d hung up on you. His lips press together, soothing himself with the false pretense that-- no, it would be fine. If you didn’t apologize, perhaps neither would he.

He finds you on the other side of the soccer field, fashioning his favorite sundress. There’s something glamorous about its corset bodice and its draped sleeves that left him breathless. He wills down his terrible arousal, drawn to the pendant he bought you nestled between your large breasts. You wait for him by his things, pulling the rim of a broad pale hat and looking down at beautiful chunky nude heels.

You’re beautiful and terrifying all in one. He regains himself enough to make his legs solidify from the liquidy mass they were seconds ago. He might feel much like a newborn calf falling over himself to get his things, but perhaps he looked better than he felt. Women like sweaty, stupid men, right?

“What are you doing here?” he picks up his things. “I thought you didn’t like to be seen in public.”

“You hung up on me,” you hold his tablet flush against your dress and offer it out to him. He takes it and secures it back in his bag. “I had to come to find you.”

“Yeah? I’ll bet.” Hvitserk wills down the painful throbbing behind his joggers, pulling his bag to obscure the pain he was in. The sooner he went home, the sooner he could jerk himself off without the overwhelming guilt of being, as he was, a whore. Why couldn’t he stay mad? He wanted to stay mad! “You look... nice. Never seen you looking so nice. What’s the occasion?”

“You like it?” You pull out the skirt and stop to do a twirl that he curses himself for stopping for. Normally, his girl wouldn’t even go outside. Who was this? He’s aware of others watching-- the fat girl in a flashy dress. “I wore it for you.”

“Yeah, I do.” He moistens his lips, his voice raspy and thick. “Looks like an angel.”

“Does that mean you’ll come back home?” You reach out for him. Your soft hands winding around his well-corded arm. He realizes then, the confidence in which you carried yourself masked the desperation in your hands. They trembled over his bicep. “I’ll be good, I promise I won’t yell at you again like that. I wouldn’t even be mad if you-- you found someone else to fuck. I know you-- I know you need it. If you can’t get it from me, I can wait on the side. As long as you’re not in love.”

“Hey,” he softened, settling his hand atop of yours. He stops midstep, turning on his high tops on the sidewalk. He takes your hands and listens waits for your outpouring of emotion. Traffic passes by him. They speak in hushed whispers. “Hey, hey, hey. Baby girl wait-- that’s not -- what are you talking about?”

“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to yell at you like that but you were pushing and pushing and wouldn’t stop! I didn’t know what to do. I want to have sex with you,” you squeeze his fingertips. “But you don’t know what it’s like to be fat, old virgin.”

He was trying to listen. He really was. The moment you spoke that word: that v-word, his mind went blank and numb. You’re still talking long after he’s stopped listening. Hvitserk sucks in a breath: it sends him into a flurry, pursuing the bone of your virginity long after you’ve stopped talking.

“What do you--” his lips twitch, drawing in a smile. “--mean a virgin?”

“I haven’t had sex-- I… I wanted to--”

His girl-- a virgin. He wants to smile, if not for the knowledge of the other night, waking up in Erika’s itchy sheets. Hvitserk knows that he has to tell you, he only doesn’t know how. You’re talking again.

“What did you say?” he asks.

“I want you to do it,” you answer. “Right now. Just forgive me.”

He about drops, a moistness coming over his mouth that he can’t-- exactly-- help. His palms feel just as hot, sweating as he pulls them free from yours. Clearing his throat, he slips his hand against the small of your back.

“Na, let’s… let’s take it easy. We’ll talk ‘bout it later.”

He wants that virginity.

But logically, oh woe is he, he knows it’s not really right to take someone’s virginity if they’re not all there. You’re not all there because you don’t know of that night. It’s like, consent, right? Bad consent was just jerking your ankle like some Viking and dragging you into bed with him. If he was going to do it, he told himself, you had to know what he’d done.

It was a slip-up.

Hvitserk finished another drawing for his new book independent of your input. It was a children’s book about good bodies-- because as he looked at your good body, he was reminded of Ericka’s cruel words. He wanted to do better for lil kids.

“Hvitserk, your phone is ringing,” you said pointedly from across the room where you sat like a madwoman. Your frantic papers sat nestled around a basket of shared chicken he made for lunch.

“Huh?” Tapping over, he recognizes Erika’s photo, planting a kiss on his cheek on his first big break. She had been the first one to really believe in him. It was a long time ago now, he reminds himself to change that to something more… suitable after last night. He gestures his fingers at you. “Thanks, baby girl.”

He answers the phone. The moment he does, he hears Erika’s flat voice snaking into a hiss. It’s a noise that he hasn’t heard. Not in all his years of having her as his patient agent.

“You’re with her, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m uh-- with Ubbe.” He throws you a glance. You tilt your head, he shakes his, and that’s the terrible loneliness of holding a secret. “Erika--” Hvitserk sighs, parting his lips to talk. She shushes him with such severity that he thinks she’s trying to lop his head off, too.

“Break it off.”

“What?”

He steps outside and leans against the cold metal door separating the high-rise apartments from, well, the outside world. He expects to see her standing out there. All he finds are the many cars parked on the street and the stillness of movement. It’s too quiet. The whistle of the wind through the street chills him.

“I know you’re with her. I can tell her for you if you’d like.”

“No. Don’t--” Hvitserk sighs, searching for the words in the silence. “I don’t think you understand. We worked through it.”

She laughs something from deep in her belly at him.

“I wasn’t asking. Either you do it— or I’ll make you do it. You obviously don’t know what’s best for yourself. Why else are you fucking around with some--” He collapses on the stairs, cradling the phone to his ear as she goes on. “Don’t think I won’t expose her for what she is. A thief.”

“She’s never-- Why the fuck are you doing this?”

“You told me you would take care of it. Something you’ve failed to do-- I should have known you couldn’t do it. ”

“If this shit is about yesterday--”

“I’ll give you one more chance to break it off if you come over tonight.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” There’s a pause on the other line. Then a chuckle. A long winded, painful chuckle. He should have known better. That night-- calling it an accident wasn’t exactly tolerable for a woman like Erika. She wasn’t the kind of woman who could be easily ignored.

“If that’s what I have to do.”

He chokes out a sob. Ivar was right. She wasn’t going to let him go.

“Fuckin’-- fuckin’ fine.”

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dramaqueeenamby · 5 years ago

Text

Waves: The Dinner

A/N: Not a single soul asked for this, but I couldn’t shake the idea, so here we are. Let me know if you like Waves content where the twins are older or naw.

Words: 3.5K

Warnings: None

TAGS: @babe-im-bi @notacamelthatsmywife @missyperle @queenoftheworldisdead @tashawar @valkryienymph @letsshamelessqueen-m @liquorlaughslove @lettytheletdown @hello-therree @missdforever @mani-lifes @toni9 @koko-michelle

Waves

“You ask him.”

“Me?”

“No. Doggy. Yes, you, dummy.”

Elysha ignored the insult and settled for her initial follow-up question. “Why me?”

“Because he likes you better.”

“Bullshit,” she scoffed, reaching to steal one of Emmett’s pretzels. She scowled, however, when he snatched it from her and swallowed it whole. “Creep.”

“Lee, you know the rules.” The twins neglected to hide their surprise when Christopher sauntered into the kitchen, a faux stern expression on his face. “No bullying each other when the other person can hear it.”

While Elysha smirked, Emmett rolled his eyes and muttered, “told you.”

Christopher chuckled and walked to the fridge, leaning over to pull out the pack of meat he’d pulled from the freezer the night before. “So, I take it you don’t want us to go to the dealership this weekend, eh?”

As Emmett’s eyes lit up with excitement, Elysha groaned and crossed her arms. “Papa, that’s not fair. Why is it he gets a new car and I don’t?”

“Because your brother held up his end of the bargain, while you, my beautiful little girl, did not,” Christopher reminded, handing the meat to Emmett who placed it on the counter and waited for his dad to reach him the rest of the ingredients. He checked the time on his Apple watch and mentally cursed. Damn, it was already time for dinner.

Elysha was seconds away from pouting and stomping. “Papa, I saved up money, too.”

“Yes, you did,” Christopher agreed, closing the fridge with a bottle of beer in one hand. “And you spent it all on a pair of boots.”

“But they were Gucci!”

“Good luck driving Gucci to school next week.”

“Shut up, Emmett!”

“What did I just say about bullying?” Christopher lectured as he instructed Emmett to hand him the stainless steel skillet. “Not when the other person can hear it.” A beat. “And you’ll be driving your sister to school, mate, so don’t be too smug.”

Elysha rolled her eyes and caught the way Emmett nodded his head in their father’s direction, eyes widening to convey the unspoken but urgent message.

Do it now!

Clearing her throat, she sauntered over to the counter where her father was starting to prep, hopping up, and earning a sideway glance.

“You’re lucky your mom’s not here,” he murmured, failing to tell her to get down. “Alright, what is it and how much is it gonna cost me?”

She shrugged casually. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Christopher wasn’t even trying to hide his disbelief. “Elysha, do I need to call our lawyer?”

“Papa,” she interjected with the sweetest smile that she could muster. “Emmett and I were wondering, if, well-” She took a deep breath while playing with her fingers. “We want to invite two people over for dinner.”

Christopher looked over at the meat. “How much do you think they’ll eat?”

“Not tonight,” Emmett interjected. “Maybe this Friday?” He took a deep breath, scratching the back of his neck. “And it’s not just any two people, dad. It’s….the two people we’re talking to.”

Deep down, Christopher knew what his kids were trying to tell, err, ask him. However, if he wasn’t anything else, he was stubborn and could play the hell out of the obtuse role. “Jesus, all the people you have in my house for parties and you mean to tell me you two only talk to two of them?”

“No, papa, he means talking to, as if, ya know, dating.” A beat. “And mama said this is her house, you’re just a renter.”

“What? When did she say--never mind.” He could come back to that. One problem at a time. “So, why invite them over for dinner? Why not just throw another party you think your mother and me won’t find out about?”

Emmett ignored the sly remark about the parties. His dad was right. “Because we actually want you guys to meet them.”

Christopher carried the bowl over to the sink, turning on the faucet. “Is that so?” He saw the kids nod out the corner of his eye and asked, “have you asked your mother about this?”

“Not yet,” Elysha answered. “We figured we’d ask you first since you actually do all the cooking.”

“And because we were also hoping you could ask her for us.

“See, push long enough, and the truth always comes out from you two.” As the twins exchanged nonverbal communication, Christopher pondered their question. In the long line of expensive and wild things his kids had requested over the years, this was relatively tame, and it would cost nothing. Nothing monetary, at least. “Fine. Friday at 5. I’ll talk to your mother.”

“Seriously?” Elysha didn’t want to give him time to rethink his answer. Hopping off the counter, she gave him a tight side hug. “Thank you, papa. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled dismissively, seconds before Elysha buzzed out of the kitchen to call Jason and tell him that they were on.

“Thank you, dad.” Emmett kept it brief, squeezing his dad’s shoulders while sliding his phone out his pocket to see if Madi could Facetime when Christopher called out.

“Where are you going, mate? It’s your night to help me fix dinner.”

“But--”

“Unless you want to switch shifts with your sister, so you clean and she helps.”

He could have put up a fight, but considering Christopher had already agreed to both the dinner and talking to Summer for them, Emmett realized he had to pick his battles.

“What do you need me to do?”

------

“What are they even doing dating in the first place? They should be focused on school.”

“Babe, they’re straight A Honor Roll students.”

“Well, then, their sports.”

Summer sighed, securing the silk scarf around her edges. “Both are captains.”

“Work with me here, Elsa.”

She looked at him through her vanity mirror, eyebrow raised. “You want my help?” Standing up, she sauntered over to her husband, placing her arms around his waist. “Let it go, Kristoff.”

“Summer, our children are in the middle of a teenlife crisis. This is no time for games.”

She rolled her eyes and pushed him away, going to remove the decorative pillows from their bed. “Most parents would kill to have their kids let them know who they’re dating--”

“They’re not dating them. They’re talking.”

“--Our kids are inviting them over just so they can meet us, and you’re upset?” Hearing it aloud made her laugh. “Baby, people are dying. Find something else to grow gray hairs over.”

Christopher paused, watching her peel back her side of the blankets and climb in. “That’s low, swimming pool. Even for you.” A beat. “Maybe they’re being blackmailed.”

Summer sighed as he finally joined her in bed. She moved her body across the mattress, pressing herself into his side as he wrapped his arms around her. “You need a hobby.”

“How can I enjoy life when my children are suffering?”

“Oh my god.” Summer sat up in the bed and forced him on his back, climbing on top of him, hands restricting his wrist. “Christopher, the kids are alright. You, however, I am starting to worry about.” Any trace of humor depleted as she frowned while caressing his cheek, fingers playing with the hair of his beard. Scruffy Christopher was always her favorite. “Our babies are growing up, babe. We can’t stop it, no matter how much we may want to. We just have to be there for them, be supportive of them, so long as they’re not hurting themselves or anybody.” She moved her index finger to his mouth to silence him. “You will be fine, sir.”

He sighed, gently moving her hands up and down her sides. “How can you be so calm about this?”

“Oh, I’m imploding on the inside,” she admitted casually, lowering herself so her lips grazed his. “But, I’m also an EGOT winner, baby.” She moved her mouth to his ear, giving a slight tug with her teeth. “I can fake anything.”

Summer yelped when he switched so that his body was over his. “Not anything.”

------

“This is a bad idea. A terrible idea.”

Emmett looked over at Madi who was currently looking into her compact mirror, applying another unnecessary layer of mascara. She caught him looking and motioned to the road. “Focus.”

Emmett rolled his eyes and reached over, placing a hand on her lap. “Would you relax? They’re going to love you.”

“That’s easy for you to say. They’re your parents.” She leaned her head against the car window, mindful of her bun. It wasn’t easy fighting box braids in a bun, and she surely did not have time to do a redo. “You don’t get it. Your parents are….you freaking mom is….she’s my idol. She’s every little black girl’s idol, and now I’m just supposed to walk up to her, extend my hand, and say, ‘Hi, Mrs. Hemsworth. I worship you. Also, I’m dating your son.”

Emmett shrugged. “Sounds good to me.” Madi reached over and shrugged him when Emmett grabbed her hand and brought it to her mouth. “I promise it’s going to be fine.”

She sighed, leaning back and looking at him while she gently asked. “How do you do that?”

He chuckled. “Do what?”

“Make me feel better so easily.”

Emmett smiled and winked. “I got my daddy’s charm.”

Madi smirked and lowered the armrest. “You also have his car.”

Emmett sucked his teeth. “I’m getting mine soon.” She laughed. “I’m serious.”

“I’m sure you are, baby. I’m sure you are.”

------

“Are you insane, Elysha?”

She sighed, switching out her textbooks. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

Jason’s eyes nearly doubled in size as he stared down at her. “Your dad is going to kill me. That’s the big deal.” Elysha laughed, checking the time on her watch. Being late for class was a pet peeve of hers. There was no excuse. “Oh, I’m glad you find my upcoming murder funny. Why don’t you just livestream it, too?”

“You are completely overreacting,” she sighed, shutting her locker and keeping her hand flat on the locker. “My dad isn’t like that. He’s super chill.”

“Chill?” He repeated her term while accepting the books she handed him so that she could adjust her uniform top. “I’m sorry, but have you seen your dad? He’s freaking huge.”

Sighing, she relieved him from the books after being satisfied with her tie. “Okay, and?”

As she began to walk, Jason kept the same pace with her, lowering his voice so that the other students couldn’t overhear. “Wait, are your uncles going to be there too? Fuck. I’m so screwed.”

While she understood his concern, she couldn’t help but find the whole thing humorous. Everyone seemed to believe her dad’s size meant he was a holy terror when it was the complete opposite. “Jason, my uncles are even more chill than my dad. Trust me.”

“On your mom’s side too?”

She laughed. “Oh no, they’re all crazy.” Elysha placed her arm around his waist when he moved his around her. “No, I promise my parents are going to love you, and that includes my dad.”

“I’m the first guy you’ve ever introduced to them, huh?” Her silence didn’t help. “Even better.”

She stopped walking, forcing him to do the same. Naturally, people walked around them, no one wanting to interrupt one of the “it” couples on campus. “Look, Jason, if you don’t want to do this, then you don’t have to. I just-I just wanted you to meet my parents, because I want them to know about you.”

“Stop,” he interrupted, shaking his head and cupping her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I just, I really like you, and I just-I want to make the best first impression that I can.” He dropped his hands, taking hers in his. “I want them to know how crazy I am about their daughter.”

She smiled, looking down to hide her bashfulness, only for him to bring his finger under her chin. He matched her smile. “What time do you want me to be there?”

------

“They’re here!”

Summer and Christopher shared a look, his sigh of exasperation forcing her to walk over to him, placing her hands on his chest. “Be nice.”

“I’m letting them in my house, aren’t I?” Summer slapped his arm, forcing him to relent. “Fine. I’ll be fair. For now.”

“There will be no embarrassing stories or threats of violence issued, do I make myself clear?” Summer wagged her finger and turned away, purposely switching her hips, hiding her smirk when her husband slapped her ass and whistled.

“Mama! Papa!”

“Coming,” Summer called out, speeding up her pace as she made her way out the study and down the hall, allowing a kind smile to grace her face as she was met with her children and their friends.

Elysha was the first to speak, clearing her throat. “Mama, this is--”

“Jason,” she guessed, withholding her laugh when Elysha seemed surprised, while Summer pointed to the tall young man with striking green eyes and dark brown hair that grazed past his ears. Strangely enough, he reminded her of Christopher in some of the family albums she’d been shown during one of the many family dinners with her in-laws.

“I told you I have eyes in the back of my head.” Jason gave a nervous laugh that prompted her to take it easy on him. He seemed terrified.

Finally, he spoke, giving a weak clearing of his throat.. “Yes ma’am. It’s so nice to finally meet you.” Elysha cleared her throat, reminding him about the flowers in his hands. “I’m sorry. These are for you.”

“Thank you.” Her smile widened as she sniffed them. “Gardenias. One of my favorites.”

He seemed relieved by that information, prompting her to turn to the young wide eyed girl who also looked as though she was close to passing out.

Emmett took advantage of the opportunity to introduce Madi. Summer smirked when she saw he had his hand on the small of the young lady’s back. “And mama, this is-”

“Madi.” Again, Summer was correct and almost offended by the surprise on their faces. “Do ya’ll not believe me when I tell you that I know everything?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “It’s so nice to meet you as well--”

“--Madi.”

“--I love you.”

They spoke at the same time. Summer laughed and placed her hand on Madi’s shoulder who was clearly mortified by her unintentional confession.

“I mean--I don’t--I mean, I do, but….” Madi shut her eyes and quietly murmured, “I’ll just shut up now.”

Summer shook her head, never once dropping her friendly smile.

“You both need to relax. I promise you have nothing to be nervous about.” She nodded in the direction of the dining room. “Come on.” Summer guided the four to the room, stepping aside to allow them to enter while she turned around to direct them to their seats when Christopher finally decided to make his presence known.

“Sorry about that.” He rubbed his hands on the towel in his hands before tossing it over his shoulder. He approached Madi first. “Madison?”

She was clearly awestruck, eventually shaking her head to accept her handshake. “Please, call me Madi, Mr. Hemsworth. It’s so nice to meet you.”

He waved her off and smiled. “Chris is fine.” That smile dimmed when his eyes landed on Jason. “Hello.”

Elysha grabbed his hand, giving a light squeeze. “Papa, this is Jason.”

“Nice to meet you, Jason,” Christopher forced, squeezing Jason’s hand tighter than necessary but just enough to get his message across. “You play any sports, mate?”

“No. I mean, yes--basketball.” He swallowed deeply, remembering something else. “I also surf as well, Chris.”

“Mr. Hemsworth will be fine,” he corrected.

Summer rolled her eyes and shoved him. “Pay him no mind. Ya’ll sit down and make yourselves comfortable.”

“I’m sure you already have, though.” Christopher joked, earning a glare from Summer. “Come on, babe. No one throws a party like the twins.” A beat. “Speaking of, I’d say we could give you a tour, but I’m sure you both already know your way around.”

“Ignore him,” Summer interjected, shooting him a glare. “He’s still upset that you kids are able to throw a party better than we ever could when we were your age.”

That seemed to alleviate more of Jason’s nerves. “You used to party, Mrs. Hemsworth?”

“Boy,” she laughed. “If you don’t call me Summer.” Elysha smiled up at him, giving him a slight squeeze of his hand. “And what do you mean used to?”

Madi was also fully invested in the conversation, her fangirling almost impossible to contain. “You really are even nicer in person.”

“Don’t be fooled. It’s all an act.” Christopher interjected, walking over to pull the chair out for her. He noticed how Jason did the same for Elysha, and of course, Emmett with Madi.

“Ignore him. He’s actually hired help.”

Summer and Christopher shared a look as he rolled his eyes while murmuring. “Cute.” Sitting in his own seat, he jumped into the questions. “So, kids, tell us about yourselves.”

Madi and Jason shared a look when he told her to go first. Again, something else Christopher noticed.

“Well, I’m a junior, an only child, and my dad is in the Navy--”

“So, your family is stationed here?” Summer surmised.

“Yes ma’am.” Christopher and Summer exchanged a look, but unlike the previous ones, this was not a warning from wife to husband. This one was of silent concern. Madi wasn’t an Australian native. She would eventually return to the states. Both mother and father quietly wondered if that was something Emmett was taking into consideration.

After briefly discussing the shared commonalities of having active duty family members, Christopher turned the question back to Jason. “And what about you, young man?”

Summer contained her sigh at the way his eyes widened before he tentatively spoke. “Well, sir--”

“Chris is fine.”

Both Summer and Elysha looked over at that last statement, Summer with a smirk and Elysha with a small smile. Chris looked at his daughter and shot her a wink.

Jason, to Summer’s happiness, seemed thrilled by the stripping of the formal address.

“I, well, my family is originally from Melbourne--”

“Melbourne native, eh?”

“Yes, sir. My, uh, dad got a job up here when I was eight, and we’ve been here ever since.”

“Any siblings?”

Jason chuckled. “Believe it or not, two. I’m the middle child.”

“Nothing wrong with that.” Christopher shrugged. “I’d say we’re the best.”

“Elysha and Madi.” Summer stood up and nodded to the kitchen. “Help me prepare the toss salad.”

“Yes ma’am.” Elysha also stood up and shot a reassuring look to Jason while Emmett gave one to Madi as well. As soon as the ladies were in the kitchen and the swinging doors shut, Summer released a sigh of relief. “Finally, that was too much testosterone.”

Madi laughed. “You and Mr--Chris are really nice, Summer.”

Elysha nodded and playfully bumped Madi with her hip. “Told you they were chill. Even my dad is being surprisingly nice to Jason.”

“Ladies, trust me, if Chris didn’t really like either of you, he would let you know. He’s just giving Jason a hard time because Elysha is his little girl. He’s always going to be protective.” She reached the bowl to Madi while speaking. “Just how I’m protective of my little boy.” Madi’s smile dimmed. “So you can imagine how proud I am to see his amazing taste in women.” She winked and laughed when Madi placed her hand over her chest.

She straightened up and spoke truthfully. “I really do like Emmett, Summer. He’s….he’s amazing.”

“He’s a jerk.”

“Shut it, Elysha,” Summer warned with a small head shake. “You know, Madi, you should join Lee and me on one of our spa days.”

Her jaw dropped. “A-are you serious?” She looked at Elysha who seemed just as thrilled by the idea of a spa day with her mom and good friend.

“Of course, and Emmett told me you’re in theater with Lee, so if you ever need any advice or have any questions, I’m always available.”

“I’m going to pass out.”

Summer laughed and gave Madi a side hug. “Welcome to the family, Ms. Madi.”

Just as Elysha and Madi shared excited squeals, Emmett stuck his head in the door.

“Mama, ya’ll almost done?”

“Boy, don’t rush us.”

He lifted his hands in surrender. “Sorry, mama, it’s just that Uncle Liam is here--”

“What?” She interrupted, hand on her hip. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“I don’t know, but dad just asked Jason how he feels about weekly, random drug tests.”

“Christopher!”

#chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth fanfiction #chris hemsworth fanfic #chris hemsworth x black!reader #chris hemsworth x reader #chris hemsworth x black!oc #fic: waves

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foodieforthoughts · 5 years ago

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Show Me the Light - Part 2

Summary: Myra King, recently moved to Minneapolis and is a newly appointed sports teacher at Southern Cross High School, wanting to live life away from the big city of New York. On the first week of her arrival she (almost) crashes into Detective Walter Marshall which leads to his and her life being intertwined there on. It is not your regular meet-cute story but rather a tug of war between two people from opposite spectrum of life.

Pairing: Walter Marshall x OFC

Word count: 2030

Warnings: Mention of suicide, triggered panic attack, mention of choking

A/N: I have finally gotten back to this fic and it has gotten DARK! After writing the first part, I had no idea how I wanted to proceed. But I have figured it out now and I am so excited for this one. Bringing back our sexy, grumpy Detective back! (No beta, so please don’t mind the mistakes)

| Part 1 |

Title: Show Me the Light - Part 2

Myra tapped her feet while looking around the police station. The two officers who had brought her there had already taken her statement. She was done with work on her side and since she didn’t actually hit anyone, the only charges she had against her was of driving above the speed limit. Myra should have been allowed to go, but grumpy detective Walter had asked for her to be held until he arrived.

Myra sighed angrily and looked at her watch. This is fucking ridiculous! I’m late on my second day at work.

One of the officers from earlier, Officer Grant, walked by her with a folder in his hand. She stood up quickly and stopped him in his tracks.

“I need to go. I need to get to work.” She hissed, not caring that she was talking to a person from the law.

“Miss, Detective Marshall has asked you to wait. So, you need to wait.” He bluntly replied and walked away.

Myra huffed and sat down in her seat. She rubbed a hand over her neck, the zipper mark hurt when she spoke. The person who had caused her the pain was nowhere to be seen. She had no idea what he wanted from her. Maybe an apology? Her mind also drifted towards the thoughts about her bike. She worried about the extent of the damage and if it was even left repairable.

If only grumpy detective could get here already.

The door to the station opened, bringing in a rush of cold air inside. Myra pulled her jacket close around her body and watched as the man himself walked in through the door. Walter had a frown on his face as he ruffled his head of dark curls to dust the snow off his hair. Myra noted yet again how the sweater stretched over his huge frame and still managed to look warm and snug. His arms looked big and strong with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow which made Myra think about how easily he had lifted her off the ground.

A very deep, primal instinct inside her urged her to think about how it would feel if he lifted her for completely different reasons, possibly even ending with them in the bedroom.

What the hell? She shook her head. She was confused how her thoughts had drifted to dirty shenanigans in the bedroom when she was actually angry at the hunky man.

“Come with me,” Walter instructed her, walking towards the section of the station that housed the offices.

Myra followed behind him, crossing her arms over her chest. “I have not killed anyone. I don’t know why I need to speak to a detective.”

She only heard Walter grunt as she stared at the vast expanse of his back. It was only now that she was noticing how tiny she looked in front of him. She was at least a foot and a half shorter than him, maybe even more if only he would stand up straighter. She frowned looking at his hunched shoulder, almost advising him to correct his posture.

Inside his office, Walter walked to sit behind his desk. “You may sit.” He said, his whiskers moving with his lips.

Myra was taken aback by his English accent and wondered how she had not noticed it before. Probably I was too caught up in admiring his body. She rolled her eyes at herself and pulled the chair to take a seat. She crossed her arms and her legs, annoyed at him and herself.

“You could have hurt someone today.”

“But I didn’t.” Myra shot back. “I don’t understand. I have already been slapped a fine for over speeding and I’m going to pay it without fail. So why am I still here?”

She watched as Walter’s upper lip twitched to form a scowl. His eyebrows knit together as he let out a slow breath through his nose.

“I wanted to apologize. I’m sorry for being…rough. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did.” He spoke calmly, choosing his words before speaking them.

Myra wasn’t expecting Walter to acknowledge his actions, much less an apology for it. She felt the red marks on her neck prickle, reminding her how easily he had held her in place. She blinked a couple of times and tried to disregard the slight feeling of arousal itching near her core.

“Apology accepted. Is that all? Can I go now?” She almost stood up, only to be stopped by Walter again.

“Are you hurt? You skidded along the asphalt. I don’t know if you got any medical assistance.” He looked even more apologetic now. Myra actually had no idea if she had suffered any injury. No blood was oozing out from any part of her body, so she was alright in that department.

Hopefully no internal injuries either.

“That’s okay. I am fine. What happened to my bike though?”

Walter fished out his phone from his pocket and scrolled through it. Myra remarked that the scowl and the knit eyebrows were Walter’s only facial expressions. He looked up and showed her his phone with the display showing her bike on a trailer car.

“They took it to the pound. You can pick it up from there.”

Myra nodded and zipped her jacket close. She saw from the corner of her eyes that Walter was staring at her. “Is Faye your daughter?”

“Yes.”

Myra smiled at him as his face brightened with the mention of his child. “She’s really good at soccer. A little more practice and I’m hoping she’ll make the team.”

The smile that appeared on Walter’s face, nearly took Myra by surprise. For some reason she assumed he didn’t smile a lot, owing to his line of work. But it wasn’t an expression that didn’t compliment his scruffy face.

She gulped, feeling her cheeks warm with admiration for the man. “See you around, detective.” She muttered before swiftly walking out his door.

***

Walter observed silently as Myra walked herself out the door. Her black hair cascaded down her leather clad back and swayed as she sauntered out of his sight.

He had not anticipated to lose his control when he had stormed out of his car. But his little baby, his daughter, had come inches from getting hurt. He absolutely couldn’t keep his cool when it came to Faye.

But when he saw that the person whom he had pulled up by the collar was a woman, he had instantly regretted giving in to his rage. He had watched her cough on the ground as she tried to regain her breath. His hands had tingled with the feel of clutching her by the neck so easily.

Walter looked down at his calloused hands as he thought back on Myra struggling to breathe in his grasp. In absolute horror, he realized he had actually enjoyed it.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Walter wondered if chasing behind criminals was turning him into one. He shouldn’t be getting pleasure from someone’s suffering, but it somehow fed his excitement and pushed him to hate himself more than he already did.

A knock pulled him out of his contemplation. He found Officer Grant with a stack of folders in his hand. “You asked for them?”

Walter nodded, clearing his throat and indicated the officer to place the folders on the desk. “Is Harper here?”

The man placed the stack on the table. “Not yet.” He informed before striding back out the door.

Walter pulled the folders towards himself and opened them one by one. He had been summoned for hearing on a suicide case. The woman who had killed herself by hanging, had been a rape victim. Walter had been the case officer for it. For months they had tried to find the accused behind the heinous crime, but the clues had always led to a dead end.

After his wife’s suicide, the husband had in turn filed a complaint against Walter and his investigating team regarding ‘negligence’ for which Walter had to appear in front of the court tomorrow. The husband of the deceased believed it was the lack of support from the police and their inability to provide his wife justice that had pushed his wife to take such a drastic step.

Walter opened the file and saw the pictures of the crime scene which showed the women hanging from the end of a rope. He stared at it, noting the limp body and it’s unmoving limbs. He thought about how he had failed the woman. She could have had a long, happy life with her husband. But it was his inability to do his job that had taken a soul away.

Walter quickly put it aside feeling dread beginning to seep inside his heart. He felt worthless and inadequate for having not solved the case. Like a tic set on alarm, his hands began to tremble. Walter felt his heart begin to race as his breaths started coming in short. He felt his chest tighten and an unnatural chill take over his body.

Leaning over his desk and clutching at his chest, Walter tried to even his breathing. He closed his eyes as the images of all the blood and gore that he had seen throughout his career flashed before his eyes. He could feel his heart getting crushed as the muscles constricted around it. Just like his therapist had advised, Walter took in deep breaths through his nose.

He had been told to think about happy memories when an attack came over him. So, he thought about Faye. He thought back on the feeling of intense happiness he had felt when he had looked at her tiny, newborn face. He smiled through his ordeal as Faye’s laughter ringed in his ears. He could feel the attack subsiding as he thought more about memories from Faye’s childhood.

Somehow, Walter’s mind pictured Myra’s face. The smile she had thrown his way before she left, warmed his heart. He thought about the frown on her face as she had sat in front of him and how it actually made her look cute. He wondered how she could be feisty yet look adorable as she demanded answers from him.

Walter let out a long, shuddered breath as his trembling stopped. He let go of his chest, heaving a lung full of air as his muscles relaxed. He sat back in his chair, gulping as his throat had gone dry.

The panic attacks had become more frequent since the whole case with Simon and his brother. He had feared so deeply for his daughter’s life and had come so close to dying himself, that the trauma from the case had stuck around. With the horror filled nightmares disrupting his sleep and his days sometimes interrupted with a sudden panic attack, Walter felt drained. He was seeking help, but medicines could only provide temporary relief.

He stood up from his chair and downed a glass of water before making his way out towards Commissioner Harper’s office. Without paying much attention to his surroundings, he bumped into Rachael as he turned the corner towards the main area.

Walter watched as Rachael stumbled back from the impact. She looked up at him, her cheeks went pink as she averted her gaze. With her eyes on the floor, Rachael walked away without looking back at him.

Their attempt at giving the relationship a try had gone down like a shit-show. With his instability and his liking towards certain kinks in between the sheets, had pushed Rachael away from him. Walter hated that he had possibly lost a friend, but the lost chance at forging a romantic relationship did not faze him. When he had reflected on their relationship, it appeared he had only been seeking her out as a companion, a comrade.

Despite all the interpretations in front of him, he still felt terrible about wasting her time. With a sigh, Walter looked away from Rachael’s retreating figure and headed towards Harper’s office instead. He already had his hands full with the case, he did not have time to mull over broken relationships.

Or establishing new ones.

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you-cant-spell-subtext-without · 5 years ago

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Sigh. It’s quiet today, so I guess it’s about time to talk about 12x06: Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox.

This is an episode without Cas, so clearly it revolves entirely around Cas (I'm kidding, but only a little bit). It’s also a bottle episode and a meta writer’s wet dream, so excuse me while I nerd out - this is a long one to unpack, and I have spent too much time doing it for you. That’s ok because, as Sam says:

DIVE IN AFTER THE CUT BUDDIES!

The Asa montage is where we start.

Asa is a Dean mirror. The parallels are pretty clear - he’s a scruffy rough around the edges hunter, Mary is the reason he got into hunting, he wears a ton of flannel, etc. If you remain unsure, the writers throw this in at the very beginning in the montage of Asa’s life as a hunter So That You Know:

Bucky: Hey, you know they make new cars, right? Asa: I don’t want a new car. This is my lucky car.

***Canadian!Dean confirmed.

Shaine Jones may also be the Canadian Jensen Ackles.

I don’t make the rules ok?

Back in the US, the boys surprise Jody with a visit.

In case you forgot the episode prior to this one:

Side note: domestic Jody gives me life.

We’re clearly supposed to see how Jody is a mom figure for the boys, and it feels nice for them to have that, especially since Mary is Taking Some Space. Their entire dynamic warms even my cold black soul.

[romantic scene of a couple silhouetted against a sunset while sweeping music plays on Jody’s TV. The couple kisses.]

DEAN

[his mouth full of pizza] Jody, you watching some kind of chick flick here?

JODY

Well, Dean. I’m a chick.

Kim Rhodes YOU ARE A DELIGHT. A side note - I know this exchange is supposed to be funny, but I feel sad for Dean (who clearly is a rom com chick). This is a perfect example of Dean struggling to present some fabricated image of heteronormative masculinity that’s not the heart of who he actually is. His surprise that a “badass sheriff chick” can also enjoy rom coms makes me fucking upset.

ALSO:

Anyway, Asa has passed on and the boys tag along with Jody to the wake in support.

SAM

Yeah, no, Jody. We… we know you’ll be fine, but… you know, we never go to hunter gatherings, outside of bars. Dad always said they were trouble, so…

DEAN

Yes, you’d be doing us a favor if you let us tag along.

***more receipts that John Winchester was an isolating abuser. They could have at least had a normal HUNTER life and friends who hunted.

SAM

That is a big house. [Music continues playing, coming from inside the house now]

***We now establish one “theme” of the episode.

JODY

Family home. Asa was just a guy.

AKA pretty brutal implication that Asa didn’t have a family of his own.

Speaking of implications:

[Jody removes her coat and the three of them begin mingling. Dean finds his way to the kitchen and a cooler full of beer] DEAN

No label. Well, that’s a red flag.

****LOL WHAT THE FUCK IS THE REASON****

....

GIRL SEND HELP

Enter Bucky, who is actually (SPOILER!) the villain of the episode.

Do all hunters just walk around with this manly flannel/weird symbolic necklace combo? Looking at you Bucky and Dean.

Dean is surprised to find that people know who he is:

But doesn’t seem to have an issue with it until -

***Someone who just bragged the entire five hour car ride about killing Hitler shouldn’t be this concerned about what people are saying about him right?

Or is he thinking it may involve something he isn’t comfortable sharing - since apparently there are things Dean doesn’t feel comfortable sharing as established by the prior couch conversation with Jody? Hmmmmmm...

***Compare the expressions. The “you’ve died four times” response is the same as the smug/proud “I killed Hitler” face. The reaction to the “stories” is the “hey this is my personal business” reaction Dean had to Sam’s Japanese erotica art form comment. He is thinking specifically about something personal.

I wonder what it could be.

I don’t think any one had to teach Max Banes the art of seduction, but also thank you.

Also, manifesting Dean being raised by Max and Alicia’s Cool Witch Mom instead of John Trash Winchester. Because that’s what we’re supposed to think here, correct? Two sibling hunters usually present a brother mirror.

Worth noting Sam’s surprise that witches can also be hunters. The John Winchester Bigotry Brain Rot runs deep. (GOD the Sam-witch thing would have driven him crazy I LIVE FOR THAT).

Dean escapes to Asa’s office/room and proceeds to go through his things.

[Dean is in Asa’s office and finds an angel blade mounted on blue velvet inside an ornate glass-lidded box. He opens it, reaches in and pulls out the angel blade, comfortably spinning it in his hand when Sam walks in.]

SAM

Hey.

DEAN

Oh, hi. This is a real Angel Blade. I mean, this guy was legit.

***that’s weird, why does Canadian!Dean have an angel blade? We haven’t heard anything about angels yet, and it wasn’t in the opening montage. Hmmmmmm, I say. Hmmmmmmm...

***Sam is also concerned about The Stories They Tell

This one particularly:

Honestly I don’t know why he’s THAT surprised that people know he was possessed by Lucifer? Didn’t he start like multiple apocalypses? That’s something people tend to be in the know about. Anyhoo.

DEAN

Yeah. Apparently we’re a little bit legendary.

SAM

Yeah, but, I mean, so was Asa. Then a hunt went bad, and he ended up hanging from a tree, alone in the woods.

DEAN

He died on the job. No better way to go.

SAM

You really believe that?

DEAN

Yeah. What, you don’t? I mean, come on, Sam, it's not like we're in the “live till you're 90, die in your sleep” business. This? [Dean points at Asa’s hunting wall] This only ends one way.

***Insert deep internal screaming about 15x20 here***

It’s Jody’s turn to be uncomfortable as we find out she and Asa were more than just friends and everyone knew it and Said Things About It and Told Stories About It.

HMMMMMMM...

Dean is surprised that Jody not only enjoys rom coms, but ruggedly hot men. Another thing they have in common.

As Dean comes to terms with the idea that Jody can be a mother figure and also a human person with a life and her own feelings and needs and thoughts, enter the person whom said lesson is actually about:

This is a Kim Rhodes Facial Expression stan account now.

So cute how Jody knows immediately that Dean is not okay. Time to reach:

JODY

Huh. Is that why you spent the entire ride up here telling me in extreme, excruciating detail how you killed Hitler, but, uh, you neglected to mention the fact that your mom is back from the dead?

***look, it’s another Dean doesn’t like others knowing personal information parallel!***

DEAN

Yeah, no big deal.

JODY

That’s a lie.

DEAN

JODY …

JODY

Look, maybe this isn't my place, and this is epic stuff, but

JODY

Yeah. Because what if I’ve changed. What if they changed? What if it just didn’t work out the way I wanted? If you wanna talk about anything

***Killing Hitler used yet again to show Dean doesn’t care about oversharing hunting stories, but he doesn’t like for people to know personal ones. Also, Jody mentions her son and her husband. Her family and her romantic partner.

Dean wasn’t just reunited with Mary this season. He was also reunited with Cas, after saying goodbye to him at the end of Season 11 when he headed to what he thought was going to be his death as the Amara-bomb.

So, this conversation isn't just about Mary (the “anything”). It’s also about Cas (the”...absolutely anything”).

Mary chats with Mama Fox and more Points Are Made about hunters not getting to have a “normal life” or family:

MARY

I saved his life.

LORRAINE

[scoffing] What am I supposed to say to that? After you, Asa got so… Hunting was his whole life. He never married. Never had a family, kids. And now… enjoy the wake.

***sending Mary on a guilt spiral about Asa (mirroring her other guilt spiral about hunting as a life for her own sons)

Speaking of mirrors:

BUCKY

And Asa loved that Jeep. Fuses were shorted, fuel line was busted. Ah, he didn’t care. He’d just roll up his sleeves, he’d get right to work.

Time to learn about today’s Big Bad.

BUCKY

Jael. He’s a crossroads demon. And he hangs people. It’s his thing. Snaps their neck, slits their throat. He’s a real piece of work.

***Wait a second. Jael is a demon? Don’t...angel’s names usually end in “el” in SPNverse?

Samandriel.

Uriel.

Gabriel.

Raphael.

Gadreel.

Castiel.

HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM.

Anyways the demon [questionable] killed Asa and now everyone is trapped and also In Grave Danger.

BUCKY

Exactly. Right, so five years later, Jael– he came back, and he came for Asa.

JODY

How so?

BUCKY

Asa was seeing this woman, right? She had a kid.

LORRAINE

Marlene.

BUCKY

Yeah, Marlene. Jael got into her. It didn’t matter that he was killing people, he wanted Asa to know it was personal. He gets off on it.

***that’s so weird, didn’t someone else in the show start seeing a woman with a kid -

what a sexy little coincidence.

oh and didnt a supernatural being come back right around that time too -

HMMMMMMMM. No killing though. That’s the difference between angels and demons, I guess.

(meanwhile Dean has been drinking alone outside - as he does, and is realizing he can’t get back in)

HI QUEEN

Also, this immediately took me to

this show isn’t fair.

****sob break****

Jael Posession 1:

So curious how there are two siblings and then one gets possessed by something Satanic and the other one is good at seducing men.

SO FUCKING CURIOUS.

Jael Possession 2:

Elvis. Random. Though he was the guy who brought up the Stories Sam Was Surprised Were Circulating -

He was also oddly interested in it. Methinks Elvis thoroughly enjoyed the Jael possession.

Bilie gets Dean back in the house. The words “one-time deal” are said a lot of times.

BONUS: Jensen why are you so pretty:

The hunters get to work, and I live for Max Bane’s pentagram aesthetic.

MAX

I like a Fifth Pentacle of Mars. It’s got more character.

***TBH, same.

Jael possession 3:

****Kim Rhodes is even better when she is playing evil.

JODY/JAEL:

I had so hoped you’d kill your mom. Wouldn’t that be a riot?

[Mary draws the angel blade and charges at Jody. She cuts Jody’s arm before Sam wrestles her away.]

SAM

No! Mom!

MARY

What are you doing?! She’s a demon. We kill demons.

******WOOF MARY - I REPEAT TO YOU THAT THE JOHN TRASH WINCHESTER BRAIN ROT RUNS DEEP.

Also did you immediately flash back to this with me?

Gets me thinking that Dean’s feelings for Cas are made twice as complicated by the fact that he is also a supernatural creature. Another Reason Why John Winchester Would Disapprove.

****Just as he would Disapprove of Sam Being Possessed By the Devil and all that (never forget he told Dean to kill him because of the whole made unclean by demon blood thing).

Right on cue:

JODY/JAEL

Oh, I have heard so many stories about you Winchesters. And I desperately want the Lucifer thing to be true.

***Stories again. Jael proceeds to go into Stories That Are Dark Personal Shameful Secrets:

JAEL

As for the rest of you, I have been inside your heads. I know all about you. For example, the twins. Too frightened to tell anyone that they actually came to say goodbye to their daddy. Or the grieving mother who hated the fact that her son was a hunter so much she’d hide his gear, she’d sabotage his Jeep, anything to keep him from hunting. Not that it worked. Could’ve tried harder, huh?

[She gestures at her own face] And this meatsuit you all seem to care so much about. She actually fantasized about a life with Asa. Can you believe that? Like that worthless man–

***HMMMMMMMMM

[Bucky gets off the floor and sneaks up behind Jody/Jael]

BUCKY

Shut your filthy mouth.

[Jody/Jael grabs Bucky by the neck and forces him to his knees]

JODY/JAEL

And you. Bucky. Brave, brave Bucky. I was there that night. Tell these nice, stupid people what you did. Tell them what you took from me. Asa was mine.

***Excuse me? THIS IS GETTING VERY...subtextual. A dark timeline supernatural being/hunter relationship [ending badly because demons only know how to take, consume and possess]? ...Asael? CURIOUS.

They chant the exorcism, a different hunter doing each iteration (beautifully done)

and send Jael back to hell, but not before Bucky shares his Shameful Story - he’s the one who killed Asa.

Elaboration:

BUCKY

Asa, he was just all– he was just always so stubborn. Look, we were in the woods. [We see the scene play out as Bucky describes it] Jael, he… he was taunting him. Asa wanted to chase him, but he didn’t have the angel blade. I said, “Let’s go back.” He called me a coward, and he shoved me, so I shoved him back, and he fell. He hit his head. Asa? I didn’t mean to do it. But it was a mistake. Asa. Asa? An accident. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do. Asa hated that damn demon so much that I just…

DEAN

Oh, you thought people would buy that Jael killed him? So you hung your best friend to cover your own ass.

BUCKY

What are you gonna do to me?

ALICIA:

Tell everyone, every hunter we meet. They’re gonna know your name, Bucky. Know what you did.

MAX

You like stories. This is the story everyone’s gonna tell about you. Forever.

***Shameful Stories that Define You, what a theme. Also, definitely a supernatural being potentially having some subtextual feelings for Canadian!Dean. Hmmm.

***Funeral pyre and side discussion about how Asa did have a family, and children, and a potential supernatural sidepiece.

In conclusion, Supernatural is a love story. Thank you for watching this dark timeline/Canadian dub. You’re dismissed for the day. Go eat bacon.

#destiel #spn #spn meta #spn analysis #spn fandom #spn family #hellers #hellerism #supernatural season 12 #spn 12x06 #celebrating the life of asa fox

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