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feelmyskinonyourskin · 2 months ago

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Judex, Judicum, Infantem - Chapter 7

(Eventual)Reader x Matt Murdock x Frank Castle

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summary: There's trouble in paradise as Matt finds a good reason to put the suit back on. Things get even more complicated when you get an unexpected visitor.

warnings: AFAB Reader. No use of Y/N. We're starting to get angsty again. Mention of blood and description of injury.

notes: Someone lovely DMed me and let me know they hadn't gotten a notification they'd been tagged in the last few chapters. So I went in an manually retyped the whole tag list. Hopefully, it should be working now (though with Tumblr, who knows) Sorry about that!

w/c: 2,448

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on Tumblr to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platforms I currently post on are Tumblr and AO3. Thanks!*

You weren’t aware of the beauty that was sleeping on silk sheets until you started dating Matt, now cool against your skin as you sat in your bed with your computer propped on your lap. You scrolled through yet another parenting forum, now contemplating if getting your placenta crushed into capsules and eating them was really a health benefit or just a bunch of malarkey.

“I don’t know baby girl, sounds gross.” you commented, hand rubbing at your abdomen. You and Matt had both begun the habit of regularly speaking to the baby and it filled you with delight that she would come out already knowing your voices.

Your 16 week appointment went incredibly well, sonogram finally starting to show something that actually looked like a baby and not a blob to you. You giddily chuckled as you picked it up from the night stand beside you and gave it a glance.

She was gonna be cute. And probably trouble. Just like her dad.

You shook your head at the thought of a mini Murdock running around and went back to your readings just as Matt stepped into the room. You did a double take as you looked up at him, incredibly surprised to see him not in his sweatpants as he was a few minutes ago when you were in the kitchen, but clad in his crimson Daredevil suit.

“Matt, what are you doing? We agreed you weren’t going to look for Frank anymore.”

“I’m not.” Matt said, lips pursed as he fiddled with his gloves

“Well it’s not exactly a kink I thought I’d have, but if you want to let the devil out on me…” you joked laying back seductively, hoping Matt would chuckle with you.

He didn’t.

“Something happened. Remember the Ayala girl?”

“Hector’s niece? Yeah.”

Of course you remembered the tragic case Matt had wrapped up a few weeks ago. Securing the freedom of an innocent man only for him to be murdered less than two days later. It was the exact type of incident that Matt explained to you made him take up the vigilante life in the first place; he used the system the right way for justice and still an innocent person lost to corruption.

“Well she visited me today at work.”

“Is she okay?” you asked

“I don’t know. She said something about her Uncle tracking something before he died. I told her to let the police handle it, but she didn’t want to listen.”

“Okay? What’s that have to do with Daredevil?”

“She just texted me. An address. I think she’s about to do something dangerous.”

“So call the police.”

“No.” he shook his head with a grimace “That did a lot of good with her Uncle.”

“Matt—”

You threw the duvet off yourself and followed him as he headed down the hall. His heavy footsteps echoed on the hardwood floors as he walked away from you with determination. You weren’t about to just let him go out with no information about it.

“Sweetheart, I need to handle this. I’m sorry.” Matt called behind him to you, still making his way toward the balcony with no falter in his step. He retched the door open, letting in the cool night breeze.

“What are you walking in to?”

“I’m not sure.”

“So you’re just going in blindly?”

“I have to.”

“Matt!” you shouted

Your voice practically echoed and the silence that followed was almost as loud, with little other noise around as the city began to wind down for the evening.

It was enough to stop him in his tracks as he turned to face you. You hoped since Matt could now hear the heartbeat, it was coming through strong and clearly. Hoping your baby girl was giving you an extra assist in persuading him to stay.

“What if you get hurt? What am I—” you cupped the base of your stomach “—what are we supposed to do?”

“I won’t.”

“You don’t know that.” you scoffed

“Sweetheart, I can’t argue right now—”

“So I’m supposed to just let this happen? Let you walk into unknown danger and what? You just expect me to be okay with it? You have a family now, Matt!”

“I know. And I love you and I care about you more than anything in the world, but right now Angela is in danger. She’s just a kid and she needs me.”

“In need you Matt. Here. With me and our child. Safe.”

“What if this was our child!? How do you think her Aunt feels right now!? Soledad is probably worried sick!”

You tugged at the sleeves of Matt’s Columbia sweatshirt, wrapping your arms around yourself. The air was brisk from the breeze that kept blowing in as the two of you stood in a stale mate, Matt one foot out the door and you pleading for him to stay. The sigh that escaped your lips was heavy. He was right. If it was your baby in danger you’d want someone, anyone to save her.

“Okay. So, you help her; you find her and save her from the very unknown and possibly dangerous variable and then what? Is this a one time thing or are you back? What happens if you just find more questions than answers tonight and need to keep going out and—”

“Honey, I can’t answer that. Look, I don’t have time for this right now.”

“Then when will you?” you continued to push

“I’m not exactly thinking about you or the baby right now, it’s just about—”

“Oh, I got that loud and clear, asshole.”

Frustration surged in Matt’s veins, apparent by the the tick in his jaw and the way his fists clenched at his sides. Angry that you couldn’t see his point and exasperation that you were resorting to sarcasm and venomous words to make your point.

“I can not live with myself if I just let her go in there and get hurt or die. Deliver those who are staggering to slaughter, for if you do not speak out to warn them then I will hold you responsible for their blood.”

“I’m too tired for the Catholic guilt right now, so cut the shit Matt.”

“Sweetie, this is who I am. I know you haven’t really seen it until now, but it used to be a big part of my life… “ he trailed off

The life before you. The one he was keeping guarded. He stopped being Daredevil for a reason; a reason he wouldn’t fully tell you. But you knew it involved someone he cared about getting hurt. If he cared about Foggy that much, couldn’t he extend the same courtesy to you? Not put himself in harms way to prevent you from getting hurt if something happened to him? If he wanted to raise this baby right, you knew he needed to face the demons of his past and let them go in order to move forward with his child. But he was so unwilling to open up, so stubborn to not let the things that hurt him also hurt you. They were anyway, him keeping closed off only making it worse. Like hot lava bubbling up from a dormant volcano, oozing out to the surface in the form of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

He stripped his gloves off, stepping forward to cradle your face in his hands.

“I was Matt Murdock the lawyer. And I was Daredevil. And I was damn good at both. And I need you to accept that.”

“Matt. I love you. But this is not just something you can spring on me and expect me to be okay with.”

Now? You’re telling him now? You absolute buffoon—

Matt winced, had the audacity to wince, at you finally admitting you loved him. You cleared your throat and continued, trying to calm the still growing rage in your voice.

“If you were planning on going back out as Daredevil, it should have at least been a discussion before it became an emergency situation.”

“You don’t get to decide what I can or can’t do.”

“I’m the mother of your child Matthew! I think I should at least get a say if my baby’s father wants to put himself in potentially fatal danger!”

“Your baby’s father might be Frank, which would be worse in the danger department if we’re being honest.”

Acid in an open wound would have stung less than him bringing that up now. You bit your lip, unable to control the tears that began flowing. Cowering away, you shook your head and stayed silent.

“I love you too.” he finally replied, taking a step towards you and placing a kiss on your forehead “I’ll be back soon. Don’t wait up.”

Then he turned, put on his helmet, and walked out the door.

You’d lost count around hour 3 just how many times you had done a lap around the apartment, pacing anxiously until Matt returned.

‘Don’t wait up.’

What a dick statement. Of course you were going to wait up. Like you could ever possibly sleep being worried sick and watching the clock as the minutes ticked on.

Eventually you were able to at least sit in bed, resuming your scrolling of mommy blogs but not really able to focus on any of the words you were reading in a feeble attempt to distract yourself.

It was almost 2AM when you heard the sliding glass door from the balcony open and shut. You leapt out of bed and trudged down the hall, bare feet cold on the hardwood. Would he be hurt? How badly? Would he still be angry with you?

When you rounded the corner you jumped back at the sight before you. A figure taller and larger than Matt was leaning against the kitchen island, slouched over and grunting in pain. The moon was the only thing lighting the apartment right now and you were having trouble making out the details of the person before you. The only thing clear to you was that it was not Matt who was standing before you bloodied and bruised.

As he stepped forward, keeping a hand against the counter for support, you were able to get a better look at him. Your eyes locked into his and you both stood there silently.

Frank.

His grizzly beard was damp for some reason, droplets reflecting the moonlight coming in through the large windows. He’d grown his hair out since you last saw him, clearly not caring about his appearance as much based on how tangled and unkempt it looked. The way his eyes softened nearly melted you on the spot as he realized it was you in front of him. They didn’t distract you enough to not notice how hollow they sat on his face, whatever he’d been up to in the months since clearly taking a toll. Plenty of cuts and bruises were littered across his cheeks and nose. He looked in an even worse state than you imagined Matt would be coming home in, holding a hand to the side of his neck as crimson liquid flowed between his fingers.

Shit. That’s why his beard was wet. It was blood.

“Baby?” he managed to weakly croak out, before collapsing onto the ground

The reverberation from his body hitting the floor finally broke you from your shock and you rushed toward him, sliding onto your knees to pick his head up and assess.

His neck gushed blood from an open wound, sticky and warm beneath your fingers while you applied pressure as hard you could muster. His nearly unconscious form was boneless as you tried frantically to stabilize him. Heavy in your arms, you struggled to hold him steady and also tend to his injury.

“Matt! Help! Matt!” you screamed into the night as loudly as your voice could manage, hoping he was close enough to hear and come home.

You’d thought a lot about what you’d do if you ever saw Frank again. In the days after he disappeared, your mind wandered into the what ifs. If you ever saw him again, would you be angry? Or sad? Contemplating the outcomes, you figured you’d either scream at him or let your fists do the talking. Or maybe you’d just cry. Or by some miracle by the time your paths crossed again, you’d have healed enough and moved on, totally unbothered by his presence. Would you tell him about his possible child? Or be so happy with Matt that it wouldn’t be worth it?

You never thought it would happen like this. All the hours you’d spent pacing your apartment, verbalizing the things you’d say in one sided conversations with yourself. All the fear, the anger, the sadness, the hurt. It all flew out the window in this moment.

All you wanted to do right now was not lose him.

Frank clearly came here seeking Matt’s help, not expecting to find you instead. Fuck, you wished he was home right now. You wished he hadn’t gone out tonight. You didn’t know the first thing about first aid. There was a baby CPR seminar the two of you were going to attend in a few weeks, but you didn’t think it would possibly cover something like this. With all his years experience stitching up his dad and fixing his own injuries from Daredeviling, Matt was much better equipped to help. You were panicking, not calm in a crisis like he was.

What did you do? Keep putting pressure on the wound and hope Matt got home in time to save him? Leave Frank and risk him bleeding out to find your phone and call an ambulance that also might not get there soon enough? Was it already too late? Would you lose him?

Frank reached up, a hand stained in ruby caressing your face as you stared into his eyes. They fluttered open and closed, fading in and out of consciousness as he grunted beneath you in agony. He looked paler by the second, face draining of color beneath your shaky fingers. The shock was apparent in his face; at the sight of you or at the pain he was in, who was to say? Unable to speak, his mouth opened and closed with gasps as if he were a fish struggling outside of water.

You were losing him.

“Frank. Please, Frank. Stay with me.” you begged

He writhed in your embrace, kicking his heavy boots against the ground in suffering and confusion.

And then he was still.

NEXT CHAPTER

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bluemerakis · 4 months ago

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alsofoundinpeas · 7 months ago

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A Gift of Belonging

Summary: Y/N often avoids family holidays due to her strained relationship with her family, who favors her brother. When Spencer Reid invites her to spend Christmas in New York with him and his mother, she discovers a new sense of warmth and belonging, making it the best holiday she’s ever had.

Requested fic!! 🥳: I was wondering if I could ask for a Spence and Y/N in which Christmas is approaching and Y/N usually spends it alone because she has a complicated relationship with her family that always favors her brother.

Maybe he has plans to go spend it with his mom and because they are in early times in their relationship he didn’t think to invite her, but once he finds out she’s alone, he takes her to meet his mom and they all have a really good time!

I was thinking something angsty, fluffy, and maybe smutty in the end? I don’t know, you’re the mastermind behind these beautiful creations, so whatever makes you feel inspired haha

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Very brief mention of alcohol. Strained relationship with family (repetitive I know). Oral (m!receiving), unprotected PinV sex (birth control is discussed beforehand but said conversation isn't actually in it), creampie (I wince every single time I type that). Fluffy holiday smut!!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

A/N: Reupload because I'm a bingus head and accidentally deleted when editing FORGIVE ME PLS!! I loved writing this request!! Huge thank you to @dalamjisung for the request. I hope you like it :') The song mentioned in the fic is December by Ariana Grande btw, but it's only mentioned because reader listens to it, it isn't mandatory for the fic. I have a few more requests lined up after this one, so as for right now my requests are closed until all of them get posted. As always, please tell me what you think! :) If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends! <3 Thank you and I love you all!!! :) <3

Y/N sighed as she stared down at the text from her mom, re-reading it a few times before tossing her phone to the end of her bed with a frustrated groan.

Mom: Hey sweetie! Are you planning to come home for Christmas this weekend? If not, I completely understand. Honestly, I’m just happy your brother will at least be here. I think he’s bringing his new girlfriend, too, so that’s exciting! He’s always so good about making time for family. But again, no pressure if you’re too busy. I know you have a lot going on!

Her excuses were starting to wear thin, seeing as she had played the flu card for last year’s Christmas party and faked a work emergency to skip Thanksgiving. But the thought of attending her family’s Christmas only to spend the night listening to her brother's achievements, followed by the inevitable barrage of condescending questions about her life, was unbearable. Call her a Grinch or a Scrooge, but the holidays had become her least favorite time of year for this very reason.

Unfortunately, it didn’t even matter if it was a holiday or not. It never changed. Her family had always favored her brother, even when they were kids. She had a never-ending list of chores and rules, while he breezed through life with no curfew and no accountability. Any mistake he made seemed to fall on her, and heaven forbid she stayed out five minutes later than she was supposed to with her friends.

Despite their constant claims that there were 'no favorites,' it was painfully obvious who the real favorite was.

Y/N lay staring at the ceiling, weighing the pros and cons of skipping Christmas this year. On one hand, it would be nice to see her grandmother—the one person who had actually kept her promise of no favorites. But she could always visit her grandmother separately and avoid the hassle of sneaking away just to have a real conversation. On the other hand, her family was already used to being disappointed in her. What was one more excuse? She could always make it up next year.

After what felt like an agonizing eternity of indecision (though it was really only five minutes), she finally decided to skip Christmas again this year and stay home. Her family mostly gave money as gifts now that they were all adults, so she wouldn't be missing much—just a meal (takeout had never let her down) and some forced small talk with extended family (who never really seemed interested in her life anyway).

Y/N: Hey, mom! I’m really sorry, but I’m going to have to miss this year too. There’s a bug going around at work and I’m worried I caught it :(

Her mom’s answer was immediate, and the guilt lifted from her shoulders as she rolled her eyes at the response.

Mom: Poor thing! You just have the worst luck when it comes to holidays huh? Your brother must have taken all the good immune system genes or something LOL!! That’s okay, dad and I will mail your gift and I’ll send you lots of pics. Hope you feel better soon!

After firing off a quick 'Thanks, love you!' Y/N rose from the bed, let out a sigh, and wandered to the kitchen for a bottle of wine.

She’d tried to convince herself that her parents' indifference no longer hurt, but what had dulled into a constant ache over the years flared into a sharp sting during the holidays. No one wanted to be alone at Christmas, but she knew she had to prioritize her peace of mind—and that meant avoiding an entire day spent deflecting passive-aggressive jabs while her brother soaked up all the attention.

The one person who could make her feel better was across the country, tied up with a case. She wasn’t upset with him—far from it. Y/N admired the work he did and the way he dedicated himself to saving people without ever getting the recognition he deserved. Still, it had been over a week since she’d last seen Spencer, and all she wanted was to curl up in his arms and hear him tell her that everything would be okay.

As if the universe had picked up on her tension, a knock at the door startled her, causing her to jump with a racing heart. She froze, eyes darting to the door, considering whether she should quietly move toward the knife block in case a dangerous stranger stood outside. It was barely 8:30, and she hadn’t been expecting anyone.

After a second round of knocks, relief washed over her as a familiar voice called "Y/N? Sweetheart?" She rushed to the door, unlocking it as quickly as she could and flinging it open to find an exhausted-looking Spencer standing on the other side.

“Spence!” Y/N cooed excitedly, wrapping her arms around him tightly before pulling him inside. “When did you get back? I thought you guys wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night?”

Not that she was complaining at all. She loved any time she could spend with Spencer. They’d only been dating for a little over two months, but she’d already fallen hopelessly in love with the sweet genius that she met when he accidentally stumbled into her while in line at their favorite coffee shop (she later found out it was no accident and that Morgan intentionally shoved him into her because Spencer was too afraid to make the first move).

“Technically we weren’t supposed to be, but we ended up getting a confession so it took way less time than we anticipated to finish the case. And with Christmas coming up this weekend, Gideon figured the sooner we got home the better,” Spencer explained with a small, tired grin as he slipped off his shoes and sat his satchel down. “I hope you don’t mind that I showed up, I just really missed you. I tried to call beforehand, but I thought maybe your phone was dead or something...” His eyes caught sight of the wine bottle on the island and paused, arching a brow before glancing back down at her. “Rough night?”

Y/N blew out an exasperated huff of air, nodding as they made their way over to her couch. She cuddled into his side immediately, relishing in the feeling of finally being able to do so. Spencer had been hesitant when they first started dating with physical touch, but once he pushed past the initial discomfort, he couldn’t get enough of her affection.

“Yeahhh. I had to tell my mom that I’m not making it home for Christmas again this year and it just… stressed me out a bit.”

Spencer’s face scrunched in confusion, looking down at her worriedly. “Oh, I’m sorry sweetheart. Are you not feeling good? Or what’s stopping you from going?”

Right. They hadn’t had the whole “I love my family from a distance because they act like brother is Saint Michael himself” talk yet. Y/N nibbled at her lower lip, fidgeting with her hands before sighing.

“I… um, it’s complicated. I just prefer not to see my family around the holidays because they’ve always had this weird favoritism for my brother and as I got older I just decided it wasn’t worth sacrificing my peace for.”

Spencer frowned, nodding in understanding before his face lit up with realization.

“Well, if you’d like, you could join me and my mom for Christmas? If you don’t want to be alone, that is. Not that I’m trying to pressure you into meeting her! I just planned to check her out of the sanitarium this weekend and bring her to New York City since she’s been doing better on her medication. I’m sure she’d love to meet you, and I, of course, love any time I get to spend with you—“ Spencer began, his words tumbling out nervously as his face flushed and his voice pitched higher.

Y/N’s heart skipped at the invitation, her face lighting up into a wide grin as she gently cupped his face, halting his nervous rambling. He met her gaze, and she smiled softly. "Spencer, I’d love to join you and your mom for Christmas—only if you’re really sure you’re okay with it."

Spencer had first mentioned his mother's illness on their third date, explaining himself after abruptly excusing himself to take a call from her nurse. It was also the night of their first kiss—he had started panicking, flustered and trying to explain his sudden exit, and Y/N thought he might cry. So, she kissed him to calm his nerves. Once he’d settled down, she reassured him that it was completely fine, that she understood how important his mother was to him, and that she’d love to learn more when he was ready to share.

That night, Spencer realized, without a doubt, that he was falling in love with her.

"It’s settled then," Spencer said with a grin, leaning forward to kiss her quickly. "I’m so excited to spend Christmas with my two favorite people. I was actually thinking we could get tickets to see The Nutcracker at Lincoln Center—"

Y/N listened intently, her heart swelling as she gazed at him with stars in her eyes, enchanted by his excitement as he shared the plans he’d made for the weekend. Although a little nervous, she couldn’t wait to share Christmas with him and his mom. They continued to plan the weekend, finalizing details between sleepy kisses and small yawns until they finally caved to their exhaustion and went to sleep.

The weekend arrived faster than she expected, and nervous excitement washed over Y/N as she waited for Spencer to pick her up from her apartment. She was packed and ready, excited to meet his mom and see New York City sparkling with Christmas decorations. For the first time in years, she felt something other than dread for the holiday, and she couldn’t be more grateful for her sweet boyfriend because of it.

Spencer had picked up his mom the day before, carefully explaining the plan to her during the drive home and making sure she felt well enough to go ahead with it. Diana was overjoyed at the idea of Y/N joining them for Christmas, assuring him she was feeling fine and could hardly wait to meet her.

For the first time in ages, Spencer felt like he had his mom back, her treatment progressing far better than he'd hoped. All it did was make him even more excited for the weekend ahead, his anxiety easing with each hour spent in the car on the way back to his apartment. It was comforting to open up to her about Y/N and to share what had been happening in his life beyond the letters he wasn’t sure she even remembered receiving.

The weekend turned out even better than Spencer had hoped. Diana and Y/N hit it off so well that Spencer found himself mostly on the sidelines of their conversations, but he didn’t mind in the slightest. It filled him with happiness to see his mom and the woman he was now certain was the love of his life getting along so effortlessly.

They had packed in every Christmas activity they could think of: admiring the lights, sipping hot cocoa, watching The Nutcracker... anything that felt festive was crossed off the list. By the end of the weekend, Diana was almost pleading with Spencer to make Y/N her daughter-in-law on the drive back to the sanitarium. Spencer could only laugh nervously, promising to do his best to make it happen.

Once Y/N got home, she knew she had to find a way to thank Spencer—not only for giving her the best Christmas of her life but also for being the most amazing boyfriend she could ever have hoped for. He was going to come back to her place tomorrow so they could exchange their gifts for each other, so whatever she did, she had to do it then before he inevitably got called in for another case. The real question was: how could she possibly show him just how grateful she was?

With a sigh, Y/N turned on her playlist and settled onto the couch, trying to brainstorm ideas. It felt like the harder she thought, the less her brain worked. After agonizing over ideas for nearly fifteen minutes, Y/N was at her wit's end, ready to settle for a card and a lengthy essay to express her gratitude, when the lyrics of the song playing suddenly grabbed her attention.

Merry Christmas, here I am, boy

I'm the present and you know it, here I am, boy

She sat up suddenly, a victorious grin spreading across her face as the perfect idea popped into her head. She and Spencer had yet to make it past second base, not for lack of desire, but because the opportunity never seemed to align—each time they got close, his phone would ring or something would interrupt, stopping them in their tracks. Tomorrow would be the perfect opportunity to finally take that next step and for her to show her appreciation for the sweet genius.

There was a perfect dark red satin lingerie set at a nearby boutique that would bring her vision to life, but it closed in just thirty minutes. Y/N threw on some clothes, making sure she looked presentable, then grabbed her keys and purse and rushed out of the apartment.

The cashier shot her a glare as she approached the counter, and Y/N internally groaned. She already felt like an asshole for being there so late, but she did still have fourteen minutes to spare before they actually closed. The guilt vanished when she met the cashier’s icy stare, and she grabbed her purchase with a mumbled thanks before she hurried out of the store. Sue her for wanting to look sexy for her boyfriend on Christmas.

The next day seemed to drag on, with Y/N anticipating the surprise she had planned for Spencer.

She cleaned the apartment until it was spotless, setting the perfect mood with scattered scented candles and dimming the lights. The room was softly illuminated by her Christmas tree—one she had convinced Spencer to help decorate at the start of the month—and a few strands of lights she had strung up. All of the presents were ready and waiting to be unwrapped.

Now all she was waiting on was Spencer himself.

Three firm knocks echoed at the door, marking his arrival—right on the dot at 5:00. As punctual as ever. Y/N opened the door with a thrilled smile, eagerly tugging him inside.

"Woah, hey! Hello to you too, sweetheart," Spencer chuckles loudly, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all day, so excuse my enthusiasm,” Y/N said with a soft laugh. “Dinner’s ready if you’re hungry. We can do presents first and then eat, or eat and then unwrap them—whatever you prefer. I honestly could do either, it doesn't matter to me and of course, you're the guest so—”

Spencer grinned as she nervously rambled, her hands gesturing wildly as she listed off options. It was oddly comforting to him that she got just as nervous around him as he did around her. Even though she had quickly become the person he felt most at ease with, a part of him still felt those nerves—after all, she was the most incredible woman he’d ever met, and the thought of messing things up and losing her terrified him.

“How about we eat first and then open presents? Is that okay with you?” Spencer suggested, offering a small smile.

The tension in Y/N's body eased as she returned the smile, nodding in agreement. "That sounds perfect."

Dinner passed with casual conversation, both Y/N and Spencer chatting between bites about everything from the new book she was reading to the latest research paper Spencer had discovered and found fascinating. They ate more quickly than usual, both eager to exchange the gifts they had carefully picked out for each other. It wasn’t long before they were done, clearing the table and loading the dishes into the sink before heading into the living room.

The two of them sat together in front of the tree, feeling as giddy as a couple of kids as they finally began to exchange presents.

Spencer slowly unwrapped his first gift, his eyes softening as he revealed the delicate, intricately designed watch she'd chosen for him—a gift that held both practical value and deep sentimental meaning. He glanced up at her, a shy but sincere smile spreading across his face, and she felt the warmth in his gaze. “This is… perfect, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you. I’ll wear it every day, I promise."

“Always, Spence. I’m so glad you love it,” Y/N murmured, her eyes filled with affection as she watched him. She recalled how devastated he’d been when his previous watch had broken a few weeks ago. Though hers wasn’t as extravagant as his old one, it meant far more to him—because it came from her.

Y/N cherished every gift he gave her: a whimsical coffee mug to add to her collection, a journal with a playful inscription from him that made her laugh—promising she'd have a place to rant about her family when he wasn’t around to listen, a couple of books from her wishlist, and, lastly, her absolute favorite: a delicate locket on a thin chain, holding the first picture they’d ever taken together.

Once all the gifts were unwrapped, Y/N smiled and stood up, holding her hand out to Spencer. He looked at her in confusion but took her hand without hesitation, allowing her to lead him to the couch.

“Keep your eyes closed and stay right here. Your final gift is in my room,” Y/N instructed, a mischievous smile curling at her lips. As soon as his eyes were shut, she darted down the hallway to her room, stifling a soft giggle at the surprise she was about to unveil.

When she came back, she positioned herself between his legs, leaning in close to whisper in his ear, “Alright, Spence… you can open your eyes now.”

Spencer opened his eyes, nearly choking as he took in the sight in front of him. Y/N was standing there in a beautiful lingerie set, the bra designed so that it was a bow that he could untie to reveal her... Just like a present.

“Holly shit,” Spencer breathed, and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the rare curse slipping from his lips. Spencer hardly ever swore, so hearing it from him spoke volumes about how much he liked what he saw.

"So I take it you like it?" Y/N arched a brow, resting her arms on his shoulders.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Spencer stammered, looking up with wide eyes as Y/N climbed into his lap.

Y/N settled into his lap with a coy grin, reveling in the feeling of his hands coming up to grip her waist. She leaned in, brushing her nose lightly against his before softly grazing her lips across his.

"I wanted to show you my appreciation..." Y/N whispered, placing a brief but tender kiss on his lips before trailing kisses along his jawline. "...for giving me the best Christmas ever."

Spencer blinked hazily, her words taking a second to process in his mind as the sensation of her lips now sucking a mark into his skin became the center of his focus. His grip on her waist tightened imperceptibly as his fingers flexed against her warm skin. He swallowed hard before finally mustering up an answer.

"Y-you don't have to thank me, baby. All I ever want to do is make you the happiest you've ever been—"

Spencer's words came out as a squeak as she rocked her hips once against the erection now straining in his slacks. His head fell back onto the couch with a soft thump, a quiet whimper slipping from his lips at the friction. The scent of her perfume enveloped him, a fragrant haze that clouded his thoughts and left him feeling lightheaded, as if he were drowning in its sweetness.

The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down her spine, the sight of his dilated pupils stirring more in her than she was willing to admit. Y/N smirked, repeating the motion to hear the soft noise fall from his lips once more. She lifted a finger to his lips, shushing him before she moved to kneel between his legs.

"I want to, Spence. Please?"

Spencer nodded so vigorously it almost looked painful, his wide eyes locked on hers in stunned disbelief. He couldn't believe this was real... that he not only had her to begin with but that she was on her knees begging to make him feel good. The breath rushed from his body as her fingers trailed up his thighs to the button of his slacks, popping it open while she kept her hungry gaze on his.

His body trembled in anticipation as Y/N dragged the fabric down his legs, tugging them off once they reached his feet and casting them off to the side. He whined as she leaned forward to mouth over his aching cock through the thin fabric of his boxers, his fingers twitching from where they rested beside himself. His breath hitched in his throat as she dragged her nails down the inside of his thighs, a smug grin on her face as she watched him dig his nails into his palms.

Y/N decided she'd teased him enough, placing a kiss on his hipbone before swiftly removing his boxers. Spencer's hips lifted from the couch, jerking toward her mouth instinctively as she wasted no time in leaning forward to lick a thick stripe up the side of him before taking his swollen head between her lips.

"Oh—" Spencer gasped, his eyes struggling to stay open as he watched her begin to swallow his length. "Oh my God, Y/N—"

Y/N smirked around her mouthful, taking him as far into her throat as she could before wrapping a hand around what couldn't fit. She began to bob her head slowly, easing him into the sensation. The feeling of him—hot and hard and filling her mouth so perfectly—had her squeezing her thighs together as she began to move more vigorously.

Spencer writhed beneath her as her mouth and hand began to work in tandem, his eyes fluttering shut despite his efforts to watch her every move so he could burn the sight into his memory for later use. His hips bucked up when she took him into the back of her throat, a guttural groan falling from his open mouth at the gag that emitted from her from the motion. His eyes shot open as he began spewing out apologies, but his words died in his throat as she pulled off of him to shake her head vehemently.

"Do it again," Y/N croaked, taking him back into her mouth and reaching up to guide his hands to her head.

Spencer whimpered pitifully, exhaling sharply before tentatively repeating the motion. His heart nearly fell out of his ass when Y/N moaned around him, encouraging him to keep going. His hips thrust rapidly into her mouth, his eyes squeezed shut now as moan after moan spilled from his lips.

"I-I'm close— sweetheart, please," Spencer groaned, lights flashing behind his eyes as she all but sucked the soul from his body. "Can I— Can I fuck you? Please? Wanna make you feel good, too."

Y/N moaned loudly around him at that, pulling off of him with a slick 'pop' before nodding vigorously. She was drenched, the sounds Spencer made having turned her on more than most men had in the past with their entire bodies. She hurriedly climbed into his lap, not even bothering to take her panties off and instead pulling the fabric to the side as she lined him up at her entrance.

They'd previously agreed that since they were both clean and she was on birth control they'd skip using a condom. They just never had the chance to actually get on with it... until now, anyway.

The sight of her swollen lips and watery eyes had Spencer captivated as his hands automatically found their home on her thighs, rubbing gently as she eased herself down onto him. If someone had told him six months ago that he'd ever be lucky enough to experience this—having the most beautiful woman he'd ever met as his, riding his cock like she was made for it—he would have laughed in their face. But now, all he could do was sit back and watch her in awe as she took every last inch of him into her core, speechless as he marveled at the sight. His brows pinched together as her walls enveloped him, his mouth gaping open as she bottomed out with a loud moan.

Y/N's head tipped back as a moan wrenched its way from her throat, her hips moving in small circles as she adjusted to the stretch of him inside of her pussy. She had never felt so desperate for someone before, but she wasn't surprised. It was Spencer—the man she admired more than anyone. The man who treated her like she was everything, simply for being herself. The man who reminded her every day that she was worth more than she’d ever believed.

Neither one of them was going to last long, a realization they both came to as she lifted her hips and dropped them down into his lap as she began to ride his cock. But that was okay. They had all night to make each other feel good.

“How does that feel, sweet boy? Hm?” Y/N panted, falling forward to rest her face in the crook of his neck as she rocked against him with frantic, needy movements.

All Spencer could do was whine loudly as he clung to her, planting his feet on the ground and moving his hands to cradle her back as he began to rut up into her. He was borderline delirious with pleasure, the feeling of her walls clenching around him driving him mad with the need to make her fall apart in his arms. The movement served to drive him repeatedly into her G-spot, the both of them crying out and latching to each other as Y/N trembled above him.

"So good," Spencer finally grunted, moving his hands up to hastily unwrap the bow restricting his access to her breasts. His lips latched onto her right nipple, sucking and nibbling as his hand came up to pinch her neglected bud. "You're so fucking perfect, sweetheart." He mumbled against her skin, laving over the pert bud and groaning.

Y/N cried out, her hands tangling into his hair as she rode him harder. It was almost feral the way they moved together, needing each other in a way words couldn't describe. The couch creaked beneath their movements, but she couldn't care less. She only cared about making the man underneath her feel the best he ever had.

Her walls began to clench around him as she whimpered into his shoulder, signaling her impending climax. Spencer slid a hand down from her breast to instead rub at her clit, lifting his head to capture her lips in a passionate kiss. It only took a few circles of his skilled fingers before Y/N was chanting his name into his mouth like a prayer, her eyes squeezed shut as she came hard around him. Spencer's orgasm was almost simultaneous with hers, the sensation of her walls squeezing his cock triggering his climax almost violently as he pumped into her with soft sobs.

Their chests heaved as they slumped against each other, caressing each other with gentle touches as they caught their breath. Once Y/N could sit up, she lifted off of his softening cock with trembling legs, a giggle spilling from her lips as he whined in discontent. She placed a lingering kiss on his lips, effectively shushing him before she stood from the couch to go get a rag.

When she came back, Spencer reached for her with needy hands, wanting to feel her against him once more. They tended to each other with soft murmurs of praise and gentle kisses, their love unspoken but evident in every touch and gesture. Once they were cleaned (and Spencer had all but shoved her toward the bathroom so she could pee to avoid getting a UTI), they stumbled into her bedroom and into her bed.

It was in Spencer's arms, as he drifted off to sleep, that Y/N finally understood just how special the holidays could be—made all the more meaningful by the sweet genius she was fortunate enough to call hers.

REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

#Spencer Reid smut #Spencer Reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid fluff #Spencer Reid x reader #Spencer Reid x y/n #Spencer reid x fem!reader #Spencer Reid x self insert #Spencer Reid x you #criminal minds smut

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lc-holy · 1 year ago

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Conférence Masterclass 808 (Translation)

I've taken the liberty of translating the conference that took place last year with the writing director of Miraculous (Sébastien Thibaudeau). It was only made public when someone posted a video of the conference a short while ago.

In this conference, Sébastien Thibaudeau will talk about the creation of Miraculous and his work on the series. He is joined by Chloé Paye, a new scriptwriter working on Miraculous season 6.

Sébastien talks a lot and repeats himself a bit, so the summary can be a bit confusing.

I strongly advise you to go and listen to the video if you understand French. There are a lot of details I'm going to leave out, and Sébastien is very funny.

Photo belongs to mlbfanfr on twitter.

Please be respectful in comments or tags. If you want to debate on things related to this conference, please make your own post. I apologize if there are any mistakes, I'm French and I'm not fluent in English.

-12 years ago, Sébastien arrived at Zagtoon, a studio that was just starting out and had yet to produce and broadcast any series. The producer (Jérémy Zag) and Sébastien hit it off and decided to start working together. Zag decides to give Sébastien total freedom over his projects. Sébastien then decides to put the spotlight on scriptwriters, because in this profession they are unfortunately poorly paid and never stay on the same projects.

So they produced a cartoon called Kobushi. A little-known series that did rather well, even if it didn't stay on the "Gulli" channel for long. The scriptwriters and producer were happy with the end result, as it was produced in a very short time.

Jeremy Zag then proposed another project, which he thought was quite good, but which he was unable to sell to broadcasters. At the time, the project was called "Ladybug". No one was interested, as the project was aimed more at an adult audience than a children's audience. Sébastien had to make sure that the project could be broadcast on Disney and TF1.

There was only a "trailer" also called "Ladybug" (but you'll find the video under the title Ladybug PV) animated by Toei animation. At the time, Sébastien had not yet been hired by Zagtoon. It was Jérémy Zag who convinced Toei animation to work with them (no mean feat, since Toei animation doesn't work with anyone).

So Sébastien started working with Thomas Astruc (the man who wrote and created the "Ladybug" project). At first, he didn't want to work on this project because he found it complicated. Thomas wanted to make a series for adults, but at the time, it was very complicated to make a cartoon for adults. What's more, they didn't have enough money to take on such a project. Sébastien finally agreed, but there were some changes to be made, which Thomas accepted.

-What Sébastien appreciated most in this project was the romantic comedy, the love square between the two main characters.

To meet the requirements of the cartoon industry, "Ladybug" had to be set in a neutral universe, in other words, in an imaginary country or the USA, but Zag, who loves Paris, declared that the cartoon had to be set in Paris.

In the end, Thomas Astruc's entire project was discarded, leaving only the love story between the two heroes and the city of Paris, where the story was to take place.

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-Sébastien explains how he writes Marinette's first dialogues: He says he talks a lot in real life, so he writes Marinette like him. She says out loud whatever she's thinking.

For Chat noir, he makes him tell his father's jokes. Something TF1 doesn't accept. The TV channel went so far as to refuse to validate the Bible (a collection of information on the series and episodes) until it had removed the sentence: “Chat noir makes jokes”. Sebastien has therefore removed the sentence, but will continue to make Chat noir tell jokes.

-The writing director's job is to get the producer, creator and broadcaster to agree. The series broadcast on TF1 and Disney are very different. TF1 wants series whose story can be told in a single episode, unlike Disney, which wants series whose story spans several episodes.

Sébastien and TF1 agree that Miraculous will be a series with one story per episode, a "Formula Show".

He cites the example of Dora the Explorer episodes, where every episode is the same: Dora goes on an adventure from point A to point B, she has to find 3 clues, then she meets Swiper, she sings a song to make Swiper go away, she uses the talking map to get from one place to another, then Dora manages to get to point B and the episode ends.

This episode format is used for children, to give them a reassuring framework, as they build themselves up through repetition. That's why series like Dora work so well with young children.

So Sebastien sold the Miraculous series to broadcasters as a formula show. A person gets angry, is akumatized, then marinette transforms into Ladybug then frees the person from the akumatization and… The End.

It's also for this reason that Marinette tries to confess her love for Adrien in every episode, but is unable to do so.

But he tried to go against what he had planned with TF1, by slipping little extra stories into certain episodes. Audiences were receptive to these slightly hidden stories. The TV channel even asked Sébastien if there really were hidden things in the series, but he denied everything. Thanks to the positive reception from the public, TF1 agreed to develop the characters of Marinette and Adrien and flesh out the universe a little more.

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-Once the bible is written, they have to write a script. But first Sébastien, as writing director, needs to know the mood of the series, and to do this he calls on Thomas Astruc, the series creator. Thomas is a great fan of classical painting. A single painting can tell a complex scene with lots of detail. He wants the episodes of miraculous to be like these paintings, there will be very few shots, but in a single shot a lot will happen.

-Sébastien explains that one of the things Thomas wanted to convey in the series was emotion. They didn't want to do what a lot of children's cartoons do, which is to beat the bad guys and win at the end of the episode. They wanted to tell kids that it's normal to have negative emotions. We can also become better people, learn from our mistakes and so on. It also reassures TV channels by setting up scenes that are repeated in every episode: people get angry, people akumatize then people deakumatize, end of episode...

Once the TV channels had been reassured, they set about writing a script.

-Sébastien asks Thomas to write the ending, as they're not sure the series will work. They also wondered what the aim of the series was, and what they wanted to say to the children. The two of them sat down in an office and wrote the ending, which turned out to be just the end of an arc. He even adds that now that they've written a lot more, it's important for them to write in advance so that everything is clear to them.

-The first season was written by 19 authors, from home. He found it interesting that the series was written by several different authors, even if some of them didn't quite understand the premise of the series. One episode that Sébastien particularly appreciated was written by two “autrices” (I think it's weird to say “two female authors”, so I'll use the French word): the refletkta episode, with the story of Juleka who couldn't get into the photos. (Note that all the episodes were proofread by Sébastien and Thomas).

After that, they kept a few people on to work together on the scripts for subsequent seasons.

Sébastien explains that he keeps a close eye on the production of the episodes, to make sure that everything that goes into the picture is as faithful as possible to what they've written in the script.

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-The kwamis exist thanks to Toei, who wanted funny little animals to sell plush toys. So the scriptwriters had to find a way to integrate kwamis into the story.

-(Again, Sébastien advises people to check out the Kobushi series if they can still watch it somewhere, or ask the leaker who leaked the whole of season 5 to give them the episodes (that's a joke, of course)).

-Sébastien talks about the Ikari gozen episode, which could have been a total failure because the storyboarder didn't fully understand the scenario. Sébastien asks Zag to redo the storyboard, which will add 10 weeks to the episode's deadline. The storyboarder admits that he's always done storyboards mechanically, without worrying whether the episode is good or not, whether the jokes are funny or not. Eventually, the episode was redone by the same storyboarder, resulting in the episode we all know today.

- They still have a lot to tell with Miraculous, to the point where they're wondering if they'll have enough seasons to tell everything they want to tell. Sebastien says there will be a season 6 and 7, and probably a season 8 and 9.

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- Chloé Paye met Sébastien when she was looking for an internship. She had never worked in animation, and knew nothing about Miraculous. She tells us how the scriptwriting team works. Each time, all the scriptwriters in the room have to be convinced of the script. They can sometimes spend hours on details to get everyone to agree.

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- The driving force behind the series is that there must always be a secret between Marinette and Adrien. The lovesquare can never be broken, otherwise there's no series. Sébastien knows that some people are worried about this. Will they continue the lovesquare for another 4 seasons or more? How will they evolve? Sébastien says not to worry, they know where they want to go.

-It takes them 14 to 16 months to produce an episode, but it's often much longer due to unforeseen circumstances. And they don't work on one episode at a time, but on several at the same time. One episode takes a long time because of the 3D animation.

One of the things that's complicated with Miraculous 3d animation is that they can only display 3 characters at a time on screen, whereas the series requires them to display many more characters. It's also very difficult to correct animation errors, as this takes a lot of time.

-The TV networks were very surprised by the success of miraculous. They didn't think adults and children alike would watch the series. The TV channels were a little confused because they usually make series for a specific age group, but since miraculous had people of all ages watching, they weren't sure what to do.

- Sébastien says he's very happy that miraculous inspires a lot of people to create things, like writing fanfiction, however he's not interested in it because he doesn't want to be influenced by certain fans who would love to see certain things in the series.

- Writing direction also means paying attention to how the characters speak. They all have their own way of speaking. For example, Adrien will never say "j’te parle", but rather "Je te parle".

- During the writing process, the writers sometimes act out scenes to make the dialogue more natural. This is what happened with the episode "Gang of secrets". They felt that, with the success of the show and the pressure it was generating, they needed to write something to relieve their stress. So they wrote about Marinette and the enormous pressure she was under to keep all her secrets. The final scene, in which Marinette tells Alya that she's Ladybug, came naturally when they performed it together.

#miraculous ladybug #ml writing team #Conférence Masterclass 808

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spookazem · 1 month ago

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yes please do ramble my ears off i wanna hear about it please-

OKAY HI! so i'm not the best at explaining things and my wording might seem off at times but i think i should preface by saying telamon definitely was not the best parent. a lot of stuff was absolutely his fault, and i'd imagine that him being a deity could have partly been a reason as for why 1x's upbringing was so different. in my eyes, telamon saw them as more of a creation than his own blood and flesh, something he thought he knew like the back of his hand; he created them, so how would he not? down to what 1x was feeling, thinking- they were the spitting image of telamon. and if anyone knew telamon best, it was. well. telamon. perhaps it didn't register to him that just maybe, 1x was their own sentient being with their own personality, emotions and wants.

1x, in my headcanons, just wanted to be acknowledged and heard. never taken seriously by telamon, they felt very outcasted. most of the things they were taught by telamon weren't things they needed to know that would help them in the long-run, and telamon was also, at the time, very absent because of work. i think that they were very sheltered, probably even isolated, and didn't have anybody to talk to. no outlet or anything. this, overtime, led to very poor coping skills, with no idea how to regulate or manage their emotions. i think you know what this eventually leads up to. on top of this, there was always that nagging fear of failure and not being good enough in the back of their mind. they were the creation of a deity- would telamon settle for any less than perfect, or whatever he had set his standard to? 1x wanted to equate to something, anything at all that made them worth it.

when telamon took on the form of shedletsky, i only think it got more complicated from there. the whole reason telamon changed his identity was to run away from his problems / past, or to stall time to eventually fix it. being hired by builderman and then eventually falling in love with brighteyes would've been a huge wake-up call for him, and thus became the end of an era and the beginning of trying to rectify what he had done. 1x didn't see shedletsky as their dad, or their creator. their creator was telamon, so who was this newfound persona that he had conjured up out of the blue? despite this, shedletsky no longer taking on the role of telamon meant he had more time to spare for them. this would've been a good thing, if 1x didn't spite him for not being there earlier.

i would type more but gooooodness i feel like this is long enough maybe !!! also did some doodles to add to this ....

but thank you for listening if u actually read all of thsi. i don't normally type thought-out headcanons so my wording is probably definitely a little iffy but i hope you enjoy it nontheless !!!

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steviewashere · 1 year ago

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Baby Blanket

Rating: General CW: Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abandonment (as I think that's what it would technically be even if Steve is an adult at this point) Tags: Post-Canon, Future Fic, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Sick Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steve Harrington Has a Complicated Relationship With His Mom, Baby Blanket, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Eddie Loves Him So Bad, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Sad Steve Harrington, Cuddling & Snuggling For @steddieangstyaugust Day 15 Prompt: Childhood (apologies that I'm late, but this idea hit me very last minute on the 15th, oops!) Also, I didn't mean to describe Linus's (from Peanuts/Charlie Brown) blanket, but I sorta did?

🌡️—————🌡️ He’s careful about inserting the thermometer into Steve’s mouth. Even as the aforementioned guy coughs around it, jostling the little glass thing, nearly knocking it straight back down to the floor. But he’s prepared to keep it from crashing this time. No way is he going out to the store—again—to replace the damn thing.

“Breathe slow through your nose, sweetheart,” Eddie breathes, demanding lightly. “I know it’s hard to do right now, but we won’t get an accurate reading if you spit this thing out.” He cups his palms under Steve’s chin just in case, all too riled at the thought of having to be the catcher on the field. But it just ends up being a precautionary thing—as Steve, though rolling his eyes, does exactly what he’s told.

It’s a slow going process. The mercury inside working up, up, up as the time ticks away. A minute passes and Eddie knows that Steve is suppressing coughs. His eyes have gone watery and his cheeks, already flushed, glow a deeper and brighter terrible red. There’s got to be a huge wad of snot stuck half past and around the block in his right nostril, the feeble attempts at sucking in air are just that—feeble. And the deepest tell to Steve’s state is the awful, wet, raspy rattling croaking from his chest.

Inwardly, Eddie raises his fist at whatever god allowed the creation of the flu virus. And he shakes that fist for causing that damn virus to spread.

His watch beeps, two minutes up. And he gently pries the thermometer from Steve’s overly moist mouth, unlocking the hacking of his lungs, and the spray of his spit, and the miserable attempts to cover it all up with his elbow. Not like that would do anything, Eddie bitterly thinks, I already had this shit last week.

103 degrees Fahrenheit.

“Shit,” Eddie mutters. He sets the thermometer onto the coffee table. Reaches out for Steve’s shoulders and forces him back down onto his right side—half flopped already on the sofa, just needs to get his legs tucked back underneath him. And he pets a shaking hand over the exposed, goosepimpled, and overheated skin of Steve’s bicep. Usually, this muscle tank he’s got going on would be hot, but now it’s just…bleh. “Listen,” Eddie whispers, “if your fever doesn’t break by tomorrow morning, I have to take you to the hospital, okay?”

Steve gives a weak whine. Eyes closed, mouth twisted, shivering. “I don’t wanna,” he petulantly protests; but that’s not going to work on Eddie. Not this time, at least.

“I know,” Eddie murmurs, “I know, baby. But I’m serious this time. You’ve already been sick a while longer than I have. And you’re shaking like a leaf. And though you finally were able to keep down some crackers and soup—and water, thank god—you’ve barely had anything to eat. I’m just”—he sighs—“I’m worried, Steve. I’m worried this is something more than just the average flu.”

Another weak little sound, this time something like a sniffle. And when Eddie gets a clear look at Steve’s face, no longer buried into the soft throw pillow under his head, his heart begins to fracture. Tears streak Steve’s already ruddy, terribly warm cheeks. And his lips are quivering. And his eyebrows are quirked in an uncomfortable twist.

And Eddie hates this.

“Baby?” He calls to Steve.

“S-sorry,” Steve chokes out, “I don’t feel good.”

He brings his hand off of Steve’s bicep, instead cupping the back of his head. “Okay,” he softly says, “you don’t need to be sorry, baby. But thank you for telling me how you’re feeling. Can you tell me what doesn’t feel good? Maybe I can help fix it?”

For a long moment, Steve doesn’t say anything. Instead, he gets the last of his tears out of his system, lets Eddie hold him along his greasy hair, and continues to shiver through his whole body. Finally, he whispers, “Can you stay and…can you cuddle with me?” He doesn’t look Eddie in the eyes when he requests it. Doesn’t dare drag his sight off the loose threads of the throw pillows, strings that Eddie promised he would sew back straight when they were both feeling better. Steve takes another raspy, deep breath that physically pains Eddie to even hear. And then he tacks on, softer than before, “My mom used to when she still loved…” He sighs.

There’s not much to say to that, other than Eddie immediately and already agreeing. Because a cuddle with his boyfriend is as easy as breathing air for him. But they still haven’t touched on the sore subject that is Steve’s parents. Or Steve’s childhood, for that matter.

It’s not like there’s much reason to. Not when they’ve got a life outside of Hawkins now and have their own apartment and Steve hasn’t spoken to either of his parents in roughly three whole years. Not when they’ve learned to take responsibility for each other—both in the duty of making sure the other is safe and healthy, and in the sense that without the other, one of them just wouldn’t be. And it’s never time to talk about Steve’s parents when all they’ve done is push him aside, leave him second best to their work and social lives, and when they finally paid attention—they realized that having a certain type of kid (a word that they don’t repeat, an f word) hindered all the “work” they’ve done for the family they have.

Not that they’re family.

But they tried to act like one at some point.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers, “let’s get you to our room, okay? You want me to get anything else before I slip into bed with you?”

Again, Steve takes a moment of silence. Then, “I stole one of my mom’s blankets when we moved in here. It’s in the hall closet. Can I have that?”

“Yes, baby. What’s the pattern on it?”

Quietly, Steve answers, “My baby blanket. The blue one. It has my name embroidered on it.”

“I’ll grab it, I promise. Now, let me get you to bed and I’ll be with you in just a second.”

He easily and carefully picks Steve up from the couch. Not exactly light, but not heavy either. And shuffles the two of them down the hallway to their bedroom. Tucks Steve under just the top sheet, no comforter. Pushes hair away from his forehead and back behind his ear. Leaves a little kiss to his right cheek, the heat radiating onto Eddie’s lips.

Then, Eddie grabs what he needs: an ice pack from the freezer, a cold bottle of water, the container of cough syrup, and some Tylenol. It’s the baby blanket that’s harder to get. Not because it’s buried in the back of the closet. And not because it’s simply not there.

But it’s the way it lays between Eddie’s hands that really gets him.

It’s a pale blue. Something close to periwinkle. Has a light layer of fuzz and lint, as if it’s hardly been washed over the years. Too precious of cargo to run through the washing machine, and too hard to take away for a hand wash when Steve probably needed it all the time. The edges are frayed—strings loose, some of the stitching completely missing, a few tears that would never be sewn up to the original corner it’s meant to be. There’s a couple small stains on it, most likely from being dragged or even dropped in dirt. In the bottom right corner of the fabric is a name embroidered in off-white floss: Steve. Though, upon closer inspection, it appears one of the letters is missing. The only thing left in its wake is the shadow of what should’ve been an ’N.’ Like maybe it had been altered at some point.

The size of the thing pulls at Eddie’s heart strings, too.

Not a big one—like the quilt his mama made when he had turned three, though it wouldn’t fully cover him until he was ten (when she wouldn’t see him use it, but he tries hard not to think of that. Tries.). It’s not medium, either. No, this baby blanket is the perfect size for a baby; a newborn baby.

Underneath Eddie’s right index finger, he feels a soft tag on the back of the blanket. And when he flips it over, he spots exactly that. A tag. Not with care instructions like some of those store bought blankets—pre-determined with a name. No, it’s a screwy kind of tag. Made from obvious silk, scrap fabric, off-white, too, but yellowing from old age. And in a black, inky scrawl, it reads:

‘For you, my little prince. For my heart. I love you always. -Mommy’

And he didn’t want to cry, but he’s close to bursting with the need to. So, he shoves that little bit of emotion back inside, puts the blanket in the crook of his left elbow, and carries his haul back to their bedroom. Where he finds Steve in the same position: curled up on his left side, hands tucked under his chin, legs bent and ankles crossed, the top sheet pulled all the way up to his wrists, eyes glazed and looking at the empty left spot of the mattress where Eddie should be.

He puts the ice pack on the back of Steve’s neck, even if he’s met with a slight hiss and a half-assed wriggle away. But, thankfully, the fight can be put off because Steve stops trying to get away. To that, Eddie internally relieves a sigh. Twists the cap off of the bottle of water, but places it on Steve’s bedside table for him to reach later. The cough syrup and Tylenol go to Eddie’s table. But the baby blanket goes immediately to Steve, who takes it with quick, healthy movements.

Eddie can only lay himself under the top sheet, melting and softening at the sight of Steve bringing the blanket up close to his face, tucking one of the torn and frayed edges to his bottom lip. He runs the old fabric on his dry mouth, almost like he’s smearing kisses along the thing.

“Thank you,” Steve tiredly breathes.

Laying on his right side, Eddie has full access to Steve from where he is. He reaches out a gentle hand to the side of his boyfriend’s face, caresses his skin tenderly, and then pulls him close between his shoulder blades. Not quite tucked into Eddie’s warmth, but enough that they could share body heat. But he does tangle their legs together, just to give them contact, just to satiate some of what Steve needs.

Steve scoots even closer, though. Closer than how they should lay considering he’s got a temperature that nearly warrants a hospital visit. But Eddie lets him lay his head on his shoulder. Lets him puff warm air onto his neck. Lets him take.

“Eds?”

He hums questioningly.

A hard, yet slow intake of breath. “I miss my mom,” Steve admits quietly. So quietly, Eddie almost doesn’t hear him. But he does. Damnit, he does. “She’s not a bad person. She’s not…she’s not what my dad made her to be.”

“I know,” Eddie can only say, “I know, Stevie.”

“She love—s me.”

Eddie throws his left arm over Steve’s waist, brushes his hand over the small of Steve’s back. “Yeah?” He asks softly.

“Mhm,” Steve answers, “I know it.” Eddie can just feel the tickle of the baby blanket brush him. Like it’s being pulled even closer. “She made this for me. And she…she used to tell me stories. And she took care of me when I was sick.”

He has to bite his tongue, even as his fingers betray him—as they squeeze Steve at the utterance of those words. Because he knows better than to point out the ‘was’ in those sentences. He knows better than to make a point that Steve’s mom hasn’t even bothered to try and keep contact. Even when she was given a phone number—“For emergencies,” so Steve had said.

Though, that makes Eddie wonder if it was for emergencies at all.

Makes him wonder if it really meant, “Call me every once in a while. Don’t be a stranger.”

He can’t tell Steve, delirious and sick and sad Steve, that his mom is effectively a stranger now. Can’t do that. Can’t be the one to tell him that his mom is basically dead. And the evidence of that is her absence.

He can’t do that.

“Oh, she loves you so much, baby,” he lies.

Steve nods. His hair scraping the underside of Eddie’s jaw, dirty and heavy and prickly. “She does,” he agrees. Then, he goes silent again. His fingers running over the blanket, feet rustling under the top sheet, skin on skin, nasally breaths through a stuffed up nose.

“Doesn’t she?” Steve asks later, quiet and low. Unsure.

🌡️—————🌡️

#steddieangstyaugust #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #angst and hurt/comfort #sick fic #sick steve harrington

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love4ng1e · 8 months ago

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Beginners guide to manifesting!!

By love4ng1e 𝜗𝜚

Requested by @limitless180

You asked for techniques, but Imma give you the whole pack because i'm cool like that. I'm going to keep it simple so you don't overcomsume. I said this was going to take a day or so, but never mind because I manifested time to make this.

I did a separate post on some of those stuff, but this is it all together. This is the only post you need.

─────── ༺ ❦︎ ༻ ───────

1.0: What is manifesting?

By simple definition manifesting is getting what you want. There is no need to make it any more complicated.

2.0: How to manifest?

There's multiple ways to manifest and there's no wrong or bad way.

I am a master manifestor, so I'll be honest and say that I do absolutely nothing to manifest except simply just acting like a master manifestor. I'll still give you ways I used that worked for me when I was a beginner, and that works for other people, too.

2.1: Robotic affirming.

Robotic affirming is repeatedly repeating any affirmation of your choice. What that does is reinforce that you have your desire and then plays out in your 3d (I will talk about the 3d a little farther).

It's very important to persist when it comes to this technique. Your affirm until it is factual in the 3d. You do not take no for an answer. It has no choice, but to manifest.

You repeat the affirmation any time. Regardless of what you're doing. As much as you want/feel necessary. Before falling asleep and first thing in the morning are both very powerful times. If you tend to forget, you can set alarms.

If this gets tiring to you, please switch techniques. This isn't for everyone.

2.2: Subliminals.

Subliminals are hidden affirmations under music/sounds. These affirmations directly bypass the conscious mind, directly to the subconscious mind (I also will talk about that a bit farther).

There are plenty of subliminal channels out there, but not all of them are trustworthy.

Good ones are:

I want it, I got it > link (she's my personal fav)

Cee > link

Baejin Cafe > link

Moza Morph > link

Kottie > link

Eve > link

Enchanted Workshop > link

Crystie > link

The best way to know if a subliminal channel is trustworthy is to read the comments. If there's none, I would stay away.

You can listen whenever you want. Headphones/Airpods are recommended.

2.3: Vision boards.

You can use pinterest for that. You simply make a board full of pins of what it is you want to manifest. For example, if you want a cat, you make a vision board full of cats. After that, you visualize it anytime you want. You can mediate while visualizing.

2.4 The law of assumption/loa.

The law of assumption/loa, also just called the law, was popularized by Neville Goddard, It focuses on your belief system. The core idea is whatever you assume to be true will manifest in your life.

Assume the feeling of wish fulfilled - Instead of focusing on attracting something external, you convince yourself that you already have it internally. That belief shifts your reality to align with that assumption.

Step 1: Identify what you want.

Step 2: Assume it's already yours. Feel and act as if your desires is already yours.

Step 3: Persist in the assumption. Even if your external reality doesn't reflect it yet, hold on to the belief until it manifests.

3.0: The 3d and the 4d.

There's the 3d and the 4d. The 3d is your physical world/external world. The 4d is imagination. Imagination is creation. Manifestation happens in the 4d.

The 4d is the only thing you need to focus on. Nobody cares about the 3d. The 4d is where everything happens, and then it shows up in the 3d. Therefore, circumstances do not matter.

Also time does not apply in the 4d so do not wait for your desires. It is already yours.

3.1: The conscious mind and the subconscious mind.

This is my personal take on the conscious mind and the subconscious mind.

The conscious mind is the main part of your brain. It has rules and uses logic as its main principle. You live in xyz country, with xyz people, you go to xyz school, whatever.

The subconscious mind is more hidden. It's sort of like a blank canvas. It's influenced by the conscious mind. Whatever you get it to believe will show up in your reality. Logic is not its main principle, so nothing is impossible or absurd.

You do not need to convince the subconscious mind to manifest, but it can be helpful.

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I hope I could be of help! Much love.

"Imagination is everything. It is the preview of life's coming attractions." - Albert Einstein.

─────── ༺ ❦︎ ༻ ───────

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sirenium · 10 months ago

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Hello! I saw your post about TMA/TME being another binary and it being intersexist. I genuinely want to understand why you think so because the way I’ve seen it being used wasn’t meant to create another binary. It was just for people who experience transmisogyny to have a term for themselves. It’s not based on your agab or your sex. You don’t have to be (amab) transfem to be tma. Plus, in the spaces I’ve seen it being used, it’s understood that being tme/tma can change. One’s relationship to the term can be complicated. I’ve shared my point of view so if it’s okay, I’d like to understand yours.

I don't know how else to tell you this, but any framework that's essentially oppressed/not oppressed, at least in the way it can easily get used, is eventually going to char intersex people in the desire of perisex (and, let's be honest, widely white) trans people to come out on top in the oppression olympics. even if some people can actually acknowledge us for once, there are others who act like only perisex trans women can be 'TMA' and to hell with everyone else... except those who happen to be 'AMAB'. I've actually seen an intersex person in favor of it admit that it's completely based on what you were born as.

'"...maybe intersex people who were assigned female can be tma" literally NO THEY CAN'T the whole thing about transmisogyny is that it's based around your assigned gender'

that is the direct quote. do you see how this gets intersexist? intersex people assigned female at birth can be affected by transmisogyny, but some people don't want to think so because then their viewpoints explode. you say someone's experiences with TME/TMA can be complicated but I've seen more than enough people water it down to 'AMAB only', so whether or not it was not intended that way in its creation, it is still at risk to be used as a weapon to try to push everyone into gendered and often sex based boxes which, say it with me, hurts intersex people. it happens too much to just be coincidental.

if you want to listen to more intersex people about this, I suggest looking at this post (link) as well as this one (link). I'm tired of perisex trans people acting like us saying anything is such a fucking affront to them (/nay); they cover up their intersexism with cries that the person calling them out on it is simply 'transmisogynistic' and I'm tired of it. We're never listened to and used as a talking point when it suits perisex trans people if ANYTHING, and when we dare have a back bone about blatant intersexism in the trans community, perisex trans people lose their minds because we dared not stay in the shadows while letting the perisex people rule the conversation.

#tme/tma #intersexism

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aldryrththerainbowheart · 4 months ago

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What do you think of a D fic where reader finds out in passing that D only loosely keeps track of his passed years and doesn't know his birthday, soooo reader decides at some time to make it his bday and get him a first ever present? Maybe something small and goofy to play down how obviously sentimental the moment is 🥹

Anon this is such a cute and funny idea. I genuinely enjoyed writing this. Something about putting this gloomy-ass mf from this super dark and dangerous universe into cute situations makes me titter.

"...And that's how I found out not to mix blue yaki moss and fire water. Ugh... I saw Pixies swarming around me for hours."

You grimaced when you recalled the memory and looked at the dark rider beside you. That same neutral expression was present on his face that was always there. D's not a talkative type. You found that out as soon as you two met. But you could tell he was always listening, always remembering everything you said to him. However, he wasn't as keen to add anything new to the conversation. So that's how you learned to fill out these silences with your own chattering. People always told you that you ran your mouth too much and never shut it, so this arrangement with D suited you more than enough.

"Speaking of booze, we've been traveling for almost a year and I've never heard or noticed the date of the year most sacred from you." You leaned towards him with feigned conspiracy in your eye.

He only offered you a brow raised in question.

"Your birthday of course!" You grinned at him, "Don't tell me you're one of these types who doesn't celebrate them. Next thing you'll tell me you don't believe in anniversaries." You threw this bait in hopes of preparing fertile ground for bringing up the anniversary of the day of your first meeting.

A strange shadow passed over his face, but just like a spring rain, it was gone the moment it appeared. "To have birthdays... one must be born, isn't it?"

"Erm..." Your brows pinched at this unusual question.

"If I'm never born, there are no birthdays to be celebrated."

The air felt colder than usual. You didn't understand what he meant, but the undertones of… something, clung to those words, making you want to backpedal. "Well, yeah, technically. But everyone celebrates the day they appeared into the world, right? Even those who… well, who aren't exactly born in the traditional sense." You fumbled, trying to soften the edge of the conversation.

He was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Then, he just shrugged. "Birthdays are a human construct. They assign value to the passage of time. For a dhampir, time is… different. A single year is insignificant. To celebrate its passing is… pointless."

"But… it’s about you! It’s a celebration of your existence!" you protested, genuinely perplexed.

"My existence is... complicated. The details surrounding my creation are best left undisturbed." There was a finality in his tone that you knew not to breach.

You deflated, feeling the bubble of birthday cheer slowly deflate. "Okay, okay. Point taken. No birthday talk." You tried to sound cheerful, but a little knot of disappointment tightened in your chest. D was incredibly important to you, and the idea that he dismissed his own existence so readily… it stung.

You dropped the subject, but your mind was racing. Pointless? You’d show him pointless! Everyone deserved to be celebrated, especially someone like D who, despite his stoic demeanor, had saved your life more times than you could count and cared more than he'd like to admit.

You wouldn’t let him wallow in whatever angst-ridden, immortal-being pity party he was throwing himself. No, you were going to throw him a surprise birthday party, whether he liked it or not.

It took weeks of careful planning, whispered conversations with some of the more… unorthodox allies you'd made along the way. A witch named Agatha, a gruff werewolf who surprisingly enjoyed baking, and even Dynus the giant helped with decorating. Well, tried, but you appreciated the help anyway. You kept it all secret, meeting in hushed tones in taverns and abandoned ruins, plotting the ultimate surprise.

Finally, the day arrived. You managed to lure D to a secluded clearing under the guise of investigating a potential vampire nest. You had even convinced Left Hand, the symbiotic entity residing in his left hand, to play along.

"Wait here," you told him, feigning seriousness. "I sense something unnatural. Stay vigilant."

He nodded, his hand already resting on the hilt of his sword. You slipped into the clearing and took a deep breath.

The clearing was dark. Too dark.

Suddenly, everyone yelled, "SURPRISE!"

The reaction was… less than ideal. D, expecting an ambush, reacted instantly. Without a word, he unleashed a volley of wooden needles, piercing everything with deadly accuracy.

Screams erupted, but not of pain. More of shock and dismay.

The champagne bottle Agatha had been holding shattered against a nearby tree, spraying bubbly liquid everywhere. The balloons, painstakingly blown up by the werewolf, popped with loud, startling bangs. And the black tart cake, a surprisingly delicious confection made with rare nightshade berries but decorated to look like a rather menacing hedgehog, lay impaled by at least three wooden needles.

Agatha yelped, clutching her arm. "My vintage champagne!"

The werewolf growled, glaring at D. "You ruined my cake!"

Dynus scampered behind a tree, which did not much hiding considering his side, whispering. "My decorations..."

And you just stood there, frozen in shock as a thin red line ran straight across your nose. A parting gift from a needle barely grazing your face.

D stood frozen, his eyes wide with disbelief and… was that a hint of mortification? He looked from the ruined party to the crestfallen faces of your friends.

He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a strangled, "I… I thought…"

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Yeah, well, that's what happens when you try to surprise a vampire hunter with a surprise birthday party. Lesson learned."

The silence was thick with awkwardness. You could practically feel the judgment radiating from Agatha and the werewolf.

Then, D did something completely unexpected. He bowed his head slightly. "My apologies," he said, his voice low. "I… was not expecting a celebration. Thank you… for the thought."

He cautiously approached the ruined cake, carefully plucking out one of the needles. He examined it for a moment, then took a small bite of the tart. His expression didn’t change, but he swallowed.

"The… cake is… acceptable," he said, his voice almost a whisper.

And somehow, that was enough. The tension in the clearing eased. The werewolf grumbled good-naturedly as he began cleaning up the popped balloons. Agatha, despite her initial horror, was now regaling everyone with tales of her crystal. And Dynus, emboldened by D's assessment of the cake, emerged from behind the tree and started salvaging what he could of the decorations.

The party was ruined, yes, but something else had also been created. A memory, a moment, a shared experience that transcended the awkwardness and the near-lethal needles.

And you knew, looking at D as he carefully ate another bite of hedgehog cake, that despite the disastrous start, he wouldn't forget this birthday anytime soon. Maybe, just maybe, you had managed to chip away a little at his stoicism and let a little bit of… joy… in. Even if it came with a healthy dose of wooden needles.

#vampire hunter d #vampire hunter d fanart #vhd #vampire hunter d x reader #vampire hunter d x you #vampire hunter d fluff #vhd x reader #vhd x you #this took so long to finish #im really sorry #enjoyed writing it tho

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stinmybubs · 1 year ago

Text

"Do It For Us." Pt.4

AN: I LIED SHE IS IN UA CUZ SHIKETSU IS TOO STRICT AND SHE NEEDS CREATIVE FREEDOM.

Summery: quirkless and weak, two words treat have defined this girl for too long. She can be useful to her friends, she can finally carve out a way into the hero life. From the sidelines. But…Izuku has a quirk? When? How? He’s a liar….

M. Izuku x AFAB! Reader x B. Katsuki

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3

Being an inventor had opened your eyes, so many possibilities with creating things you realize heros will need. Some quirks can’t be regulated without support items which means you would be a vital part of history!

And some quirks weren’t hard to replicate. In a way you could research quirks and make your own. You had so many plans and ideas to share, especially after taking your first step in your classroom.

You felt your heart racing, transferring a month into school was stressful, everyone already knew each other and probably had clicks.

The support course, you were able to branch off after your main classes into the little indoor laboratories or whatever they’re called to create. Of course of of them were taken, two people in one garage.

Of course you were lucky enough to have one more spot so you didn’t have to walk across the entire school to get to an empty one. The teacher had told you that your partner will be a girl since of your record.

You nervously approach the lab, a box of blueprints and tools in your hands and you push the door open to see a girl with a big smile on her face laughing maniacally while creating her creations.

“My babies will be perfect! After I showcase these babies they’ll have to recruit me and buy my precious babies!” The pink haired girl cheered holding one of her ‘babies’ in the air.

You simply sneak into the room, making your way to the long desk across the room. Surprisingly it was empty, you thought since she was alone she’d take up the whole space.

“Hiya!” You felt a hand suddenly on your shoulder making you scream. “Oh my god!” You drop your box on the desk turning around to see the pink haired girl who had grime all over her face smiling at you.

“I was told a female transfer student will need space! So I kicked the guy who was in here outta here!! Of course I wanna work with a girl! We can create precious babies together! By the way the names Mei Hatsume! Wanna see some of my babies!? Oo what’s in here!” The girl was spouting so much you couldn’t even comprehend anything she was saying, everything was happening so fast.

It kind of reminded you of Izuku.

“Oh! That’s just my blueprints…I wanna see if I can replicate complicated quirks maybe even see if you can like I dunno…change some? An example would be if Mount lady could control her size! It would be super useful especially when navigating a large city with cramped roads. Mount lady would-“ you cut yourself off as you saw the girl listening intently, you face flushing realizing you were rambling like Izuku normally would.

“That’s a brilliant idea! Me and you are gonna get along just fine! You’re also just in time for the sports festival! It’s literally in 2 days!” She cheered helping you set up your side of the room.

Mei was a doll, you loved her bright energy and her ability to create was grand! You two spent the day going over blue prints and possible tools you could bring to the sports festival.

This is where you heard that class 1-A was the most popular class right now, the hero course. That’s where you could assume where Bakugou and Izuku was, well either 1-A or 1-B.

“Yeah that Bakugou guy is a real snob!” You flinch at the name, currently you were fetching some history books with a fellow classmate to stock up in your home room class.

“Yeah should’ve known class 1-A would be to egotistical. Only a select few get into the hero course.”

Class 1-A huh? You thought, spacing out at the thought of visiting Bakugou. He’s only a few halls away, you could totally just pop in. But we’re you ready?

“Ah!” You didn’t know what was happening, one minute you were walking with a stacks of books the next you were falling. Turns out a whole group of students starting bombarding the halls.

“What the hell!?” You look around, picking yourself up noticing the group of students making their way down the halls. “They late for class or?”

“Nah, they’re checkin out class 1-A, not only did they survive a real villian attack but in the sports festival they can switch you into the hero class if they see you fit for it. Meaning some kids, gonna get moved out.” Your class mate stated, helping you pick up your books that you had dropped.

“It’s not like I wanna get in so…-“ your class mate continued talking while you stared down the hall. Thoughts racing through your mind. You hadn’t seen Bakugou in months.

I wonder how he’s doing…

I’m just not ready.

The days before the sports festival past quickly, you told mei that you didn’t think you could participate in the sports festival due to your anxiety. She understood right away and told you she will represent your babies at the festival in your steed.

Mei was such a sweet girl, she always knew exactly what to say to you and how to make you feel better. You felt so lucky.

You watched from the area your class was assigned, you were basically the only one there as all the classes walked into the large stadium. You heart raced, you immediately could see the two you longed to see the most.

They haven’t changed. You smile watching as the classes line up to listen to the hero Midnight announce the rules and who’s going to sing the pledge.

“Bakugou Katsuki!” The skimpy suited hero yelled, unexpected. You thought that Katsuki would be the last person to represent a class, due to his very aggressive behavior. You simply watched as he walked up into the podium, hands stuck in his pockets.

“I just wanted to say. That I’m gonna win.”

Oh my god…

Your jaw drops and you cover your mouth, trying to hold your laughter in. God damn it Katsu! Honestly you should’ve known he’d do something like this, his bold confidence was something I’m you used to admire. Come to think of it you were doing fine seeing him.

MaybeI am ready…

But you just didn’t want to risk it, ruining your own life after another episode, you don’t think you would ever recover from another episode. Especially after finding your calling.

As the games went on, you watched the first event intently, seeing Bakugou fighting for first place gave you a rush of your own. You couldn’t help but be internally rooting for him.

Until you saw Izuku flying past the the two boys fighting for first place. Your eyes widen, like in slow motion you saw the boy you admired all your life. Izu..

You stood up in your chair, now you had no clue who to root for! Woah! Izu is so smart…he used the bombs to propel himself in front of the rest of them. He always was the smart one, you know instead of a hero he couldn’t taken the support course. With that brain he could make fine equipment for hero’s.

Your smile fades, how did he get into the hero course..? Only the best of the best, with quirks can get in…

Before your mind begins to race, you quickly calm yourself down, settling back in your seat to continue watching the race play out.

As the games went on, the Calvary battle gave you a good laugh watching Bakugou fly around and angrily yell at his teammates.

You smile as both your childhood friends made it to the finals, Bakugou was fighting a cute girl! And Izuku was fighting a todoroki. Well the only fights you were interested in paying any attention to, you kind of spaced out for the rest of the fights until theirs came.

Well of course you had a very good laugh when Mei toyed with that glasses guy!

Finally it was Bakugou’s fight, of course you were voting for him. Watching as he basically bullied the girl, her quirk…they said it was gravity right. Yknow if I had it I would. Then you realized what she was doing, looking up to see the broken pieces of the stage floating above the stadium.

I fucking love her. You thought excitedly, you kind of hoped this would work, the girl was tirelessly charging herself at your blonde haired friend. Hearing the crowd booing Bakugou broke your heart, not only for Bakugou but the fact that they’re totally underestimating this girl!

One of the announcers lectured the heros booing him, as the rocks came falling down, it was an amazing sight. Woah! The hero course is so…amazing. But with one blast Bakugou countered her attack basically ending the fight there after the girl collapsed due to exhaustion.

You felt a hand land on your shoulder startling you as you realize it was just Mei. “Did you see our babies Y/n! They did so good! Don’t worry if any agencies ask about them I’ll let them know you helped me too! And of course some of them are your design.” She cheered giving you the biggest hug as you watch Izuku step out onto the stage.

You tuned out the world during this fight, there was no way he was going to win. Especially without a quirk. Your memory remembered the time where he told you that he had a chance to get in. Does that mean…? No…so was he not quirkless? Did he find out he had one?

So he wasn’t like you?

As the fight when on, he managed to counter every attack which made your heart sink. Confirming your thoughts as you watch his bones break with each powerful use of his quirk.

He had a quirk? When? Since when did he get a quirk?

You didn’t know how or when. All you knew is that he wasn’t like you anymore, he wasn’t quirkless. A weakling it be pushed around all your life, a defenseless bug to be squashed underneath everyone’s feet.

Or was he just lying…did he lie about not having a quirk? Laughing behind your back all these years as he pretended to be your friend? Your alley? Your only hope? Your mind raced with thoughts you didn’t even know you had streams of tears rushing from your eyes down your face, Mei calling out your name.

Since you weren’t budging, staring at the fight as she Mei quickly rushed you out into a waiting room. “Is everything okay Y/n!?? What happened?” You snap back to reality, just breaking down in tears.

You felt like a fool. You felt so betrayed, your heart felt so broken in that very moment. You couldn’t be here anymore, you couldn’t.

“Did you hear?”

“Yeah some girl from the support course was in tears over this fight.”

“Heard it was a quirkless transfer.”

“I wonder what that was about.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes at the bumbling rumors going around the students, watching as Izuku and todoroki fought.

“Her name I think was.. Y/n L/n?” He immediately perked up, turning to the class that was sitting above them to try to listen closer. She must’ve saw Deku usin that stupid quirk. What a fuckin idiot. Katsuki clenched his fist, getting out of his seat to fines you.

He needed to see you.

At least one more time.

AN: maybe this will be a long term series I keep cutting off the romance 😭 IM SO SORRY I LOVE YOU GUYS Xoxo Stinmybubs

#mha x reader #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #mha fanfiction #mha writing #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha angst #bakugou headcanons #izuku midoryia x you #izuku angst #izuku midoria x reader #izuku x reader #mha izuku #deku angst #deku x reader

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obsessivestar · 6 months ago

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please for the love of god I crave a Ted x reader fluff of him teaching u how to edit smth and it’s just him being patient and it’s just sweet and happy live u Star u a pos

Patience is Key-framing

A Ted Nivison x Reader fluff fic

Just a small lil' one shot because you asked so nicely ♡ (literally made me laugh when I woke up)

//Warnings: Mentions of/implied anxiety, cursing, other than that this is pure fluff \\

Enjoy!

You had decided to try out this whole "content creation" thing after Ted's best friend Tucker had been telling you about the GameCube video he had been working on. It seemed like a fun little side hobby to help keep the creative juices flowing and you had quite an easy time with the script writing and filming of it all. Now, you figured you'd have an easy time editing it. Ted was nice enough to allow you to use his computer to edit and you've made little edits on your phone before. How complicated can it be?

You open up the editing software Ted had recommended, start a new project and you're hit with...way too much. Way, waaaaay too much. Why is there more than one bar at the bottom? Why are there two screens? What the fuck does 'Farlight' mean? No clips in media pool? THAT'S where the clip goes? What the fuck is the other square for then? What the hell are these icons? Wait why is the player over there if the clips go here? This isn't like my phone at all, how the hell does Ted use this? 'Export Metadata???'

You're hit with so much at once, it's difficult to focus on one thing. You end up in this sort of stunned state where everything in front of you seems a whole lot bigger than it probably is. Suddenly your fingers are sort of shakingly hovering over the mouse and keyboard, confused little 'Ah's and 'What's cutting out of your nervous voice. There's nothing here that makes sense to you. Absolutely nothing. It's way more overwhelming than you thought it'd be. Maybe you should use what's familiar...

"Your hand's supposed to be on the mouse, babe." Ted comes into his room with two bottles, yours and his, topped off with some fresh water from downstairs. He comes and stands next to you, giving you a gentle smile.

"How the fuck do you use this?" you ask with a shaky chuckle, placing your hand on the mouse to begin curiously clicking around. You're trying not to look as freaked out about this software as you are, but jesus fuck, what does ANY of this mean? "I'm not makin' any sense of ANY of this.."

"I did tell you to wait.." Ted tilts his head at you with a knowing smirk, his brow perking up in a sort of 'I told you so' way.

"Okay--I didn't think you meant 'don't open the software', asshole. I.." You narrow your eyes at him, giving him a shaky huff. How were you supposed to know this software was going to look like...this?

"Okay okay, that's on me, it's alright.." Ted knows you don't mean to snap at him. You can see it in his eyes, he knows you're overwhelmed. He reaches up to lightly pet the top of your head in an attempt to calm you down. "I'll help you through it, alright? I'll talk y--not like that--but I'll talk you through it."

A soft smirk spreads along your lips, slightly leaning your head away from his hand. "Don't pet me, it's patronizing.." you comment in a sort of snarky tone, crinkling your nose at him.

"No it's not." Ted let's out a snort. "You're just still thinkin' about me talking you through it."

"Your words, not mine."

"Oh come on. You spend too much time on Tumblr."

"They've got some interesting shit to say about you!"

"I'm sure they do, now let's focus. M'kay? Phone down now. Tumblr thoughts go away."

"Stop talking to me like I'm 5."

"It's calmed you down, hasn't it?"

"....Alright--"

Getting rid of all other distractions, you fully focus on the screen in front of you, listening to Ted as he teaches you the basics of how this software works. He helps take your attention away from anything you won't be using and keeps you focused on what you already know from using your phone. You hate to say it, but the friendly little teaching tone he uses with you is...kinda helpful. You hate it, but it's helpful.

"So let's drop a video from a clip I made the other day. You're gonna go up to File, hover over Import...yep, and click Media."

"What's Pre-conformed EDL?" You cut in, tilting your head. "What's that supposed to--"

"Ah ah ah, doesn't matter. I don't even use it. Click Import. That's where we get the videos."

So that's what you do. You click Import, find the video clip and double click. It brings the clip into the box on the left, way up in the corner. Oh!

"Oh, so this is like...where you keep all the clips?" You ask, feeling like a light has clicked on in your head.

"Yeah, like if you had more than one." Ted replies with a gentle smile, giving you a nod. "Keeps everything organized.."

That actually makes sense.

"Now, if you want to edit a clip, you just draw it down here, where all these white dial lookin' things are..."

When you follow Ted's instructions, the clip that you had selected now shows up in the right box as well as showing the timeline at the bottom, just like how it would look in the editing app on your phone. It's starting to look exactly like you're used to! Even some of the buttons on the bottom are starting to look familiar. Cut, Edit, Color..

"Oh shit, wait, so...if I wanted to cut this..." You slide the timeliness over a few seconds ahead and right click, but you don't see an option to cut that part of the clip. You furrow your eyebrows and glance at Ted, quietly signaling him for help.

"What, are you trying to cut the clip? Like to turn it into two?" Ted asks, standing at bit closer to you to get a clearer look at the screen. "OK, so to do that, you click the scizzor icon over here, and then you'd right click what you want to delete.."

You follow his instructions once more, and it all happens just like he said it would. There's a little green line in the timeline showing exactly where you cut the clip, then you right click, delete the right clip, and boom. That easy. You let out an excited little gasp and wiggle your hands in joy. You're understanding now! You're getting it!

"There ya go! That's good!" Ted praises you with a single clap, shooting you a proud smile.

"Ok! Ok ok ok, I'm getting it.." you let out a thrilled little laugh, placing your hands back on the keyboard and mouse. "It's a few extra buttons, but I'm getting it.."

"Oh yeah, you get used to it, honestly." Ted admits with a little nod, fluffing up the front of his dark hair. "Eventually you can learn to use the keyboard's controls once you know how everything works; everything that you need, at least."

"Keyboard controls?" You turn to Ted, tilting your head a little.

"Like how you can use Alt F4 to close a page, or Control F to search for a word."

"Ohh! Oh that's cool!"

"I know! It is cool!"

Suddenly, something that was easily overwhelming you on your own has become fun with Ted's help. He guides you through every step of turning this one minute of gameplay into a proper clip. He teaches you how to separate game audio and microphone audio so you can hear his commentary clearer, he teaches you how you zoom in and out smoothly, how to add text and how to key frame in other photos and shots to emphasize a moment in the gameplay. Once he got you to focus on re-learning what you knew from your phone editing apps, you were able to ignore everything else in this software that confused you before and focus on what you've learned! You eventually get good enough to go ahead of Ted's instructions, clicking down on the timeline to cut a few seconds of silence from the game audio with relative ease.

"There ya go! And the clip is done!" Ted takes a step back and holds his arms out triumphantly, giving you a proud grin. "That's it! Now you just do that with all the clips you've got from your video! You did good!"

"That's crazy.." You smile back at Ted before looking at the monitor again, looking over the editing software that had overwhelmed you so much before. You still had a lot to learn, but you knew enough to be able to do most of the editing on your own without having to ask any new questions. You kinda hate to admit it, but Ted is a good teacher. He did goto film school, after all.

"Thank you." You turn your chair to face Ted, giving him a cute little bashful smile. You can tell he's proud of you. You're proud of yourself, too.

"Not a problem at all, babe.." Ted slips his hands into his loose pockets, giving a little shrug and a warm smile. "It was overwhelmin' for me too, everything new takes a little time to learn. I'm glad you were okay with me helping you. Makes me happy too."

God, he's just so...

You can't help yourself. You move up off of his chair so you can wrap your arms around him in a big hug, almost trapping his hands in his pockets with your tight grip. He let's out a gentle little chuckle, slipping his hands out of his pockets so he can return the hug, his long arms able to wrap around my whole body. He smells nice...

"...Ted?"

"Mhmm?..."

"...Can you pet my head again?.."

"Yes I can.."

#ted nivison #ted nivison x reader #ted nivison x you #ted nivison fanfic #ted nivison fluff

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fatuismooches · 11 months ago

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Imagine foxtorre framing Dottore and the segments lmao its two birds with one stone: Dottore gets in trouble (vengeance mwahuahuahua—) and foxtorre gets attention!

Please, envision this: Foxtorre and Dottore, for some peculiar and absurd reason, gets into a scuffle. Foxtorre being an absolute gremlin, is climbing all over Dottore like some oversized roach crawling, just spinning around his torso and scratching at whatever he could.

Dottore finally gets his scruff, and pissed off as he is— hurls foxtorre across the room and the creature crashes on some empty tanks making this resounding metallic clanking around the lab.

And of course, reader walks in right at that second :)

Unfortunately for Dottore, he severely underestimated the intelligence of the creation he threw to the side ages ago. If he knew it had the capacity for something like revenge, he wouldn't have let it roam free for so long... And even now, it's far too late to even try and train it - it only listens to you, much to the segments' discontentment. More importantly, you also only listen to Foxttore if there happens to be other parties involved. Namely, Dottore. It makes the Harbinger want to chuck the thing into the most remote part of Snezhnaya. But he can't, of course. It's one of his weaknesses, that stems from his bigger weakness - you.

Foxttore getting on his nerves is nothing new of course, he's found that his clothes occasionally have holes and chew marks, the food you left for him eaten clean by the creature, important papers stolen to use as a nest/blanket... oh boy, the list goes on. He's even gotten bitten by him. (How was his teeth so sharp? It rivals his own!) So it's really no surprise when things escalate eventually. I mean, have you seen the glares the blue creature gives his creator? And then the puppy eyes it gives to you? It's scary.

Despite Foxttore's build he surprisingly puts up an agile fight. Or maybe Dottore's clothing is just so complicated it's easy for the creature to yank on things. Regardless, it's all too easy for him to uncharacteristically lose his patience from how much this creature has foiled his plans and stolen your time from him. Does he feel bad? No. Does he feel annoyed at the mess he'll have to clean up? Yes. Speaking of mess- oh no... well, now there were two messes he had to deal with, considering your abrupt presence.

"Here I thought you had another accident, but I find you subjecting my beloved to such harsh treatment? How could you, Dottore?!"

Needless to say, for the coming days, the creature is happily perched on your shoulder while you cross your arms dramatically and loudly hmph at him whenever you see him. Dottore takes the time to focus during this uninterrupted period while hoping you get over it soon.

#smooches talks #dottore love notes <3 #once again i love foxttore being a lil fucker AN OVERSIZED ROACH IS TOO FUNNY #he knows what he's doing and i truly love him for that #also i find it funny my foxttore fic got that much notes?? even more than my bday fic

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honnelander · 2 years ago

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I CAME AS SOON AS I SAW THE POST

can we get a little snippet of go fish!reader maybe reading Pride and Prejudice aloud to Zoro after he had been struck down by Mihawk, like how Nami did, and Sanji over hearing and just staying by the door to listen to her read or something? i think a little blurb like that would be so cute

AHHH CUUUUTE!! i modified this a bit to have it fit into the overall story's timeline. instead of Zoro being struck down by Mihawk, he's sick and bedridden. thank you for this :))

here's go fish!Sanji listening to you reading:

masterlist

"Ohhh Zoro," you quietly squealed, trying your best to keep your voice down from disturbing a very ill and bedridden Zoro from waking. "Are you ready for this? Oh my god, this is another one of my favorite parts," you gushed, sighing dreamily as you put your very loved and well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice on your lap before hurriedly picking it up again to continue reading aloud to your friend in his room.

"I'm in love with you, most ardently," you read, voice quiet enough and full of wistfulness.

As you continued to read the story, your voice going up and down in excitement as you read the scene aloud, Sanji could hear your quiet gushing from the hallway. He was carrying a small tray of food, two bowls of his special homemade chicken soup sitting right in the middle, one for Zoro and another for you since he knew you'd spent all afternoon reading to the sick swordsman and figured you must be hungry by this point as well.

With careful steps, he silently stood right behind the doorway as he listened to your soothing voice bring the words that were printed on the page of your favorite book to life with a small smile on his face. The blonde cook closed his eyes for a minute, letting the sound of your voice wash over him as he admired you without you ever knowing.

He leaned his shoulder on the doorframe right outside of Zoro's room, gently resting the side of his head against it as well, as his mind wandered for a second, getting lost in the story.

Apparently, it was the part in the story where Mr. Darcy was confessing his love to Elizabeth, but as he listened further, he realized that it wasn't the end of the story where they both confessed their feelings mutually, it was more in the beginning where Mr. Darcy's sentiments were one-sided and Sanji couldn't help but feel a sort of kinship with the fictional man.

While the situation he was in with you wasn't as dramatic as Jane Austen's creation (if there even was a 'situation', he thought dejectedly), the feelings he had for you were certainly real and very complicated.

Was he in love with you? He wasn't entirely sure, but he did like you, much more than a friend should. He had feelings that he only had for you, and no one else. Sure, he's come to love the rest of the crew and Nami too, but none of them could make him feel the things that he only seemed to experience with you.

Suddenly, he wondered how he would confess these sentiments to you one day. Would he pull a Mr. Darcy and just walk into your room one night, spilling out his heart's desires for you in a single breath because if he didn't, he might not have the courage to tell you otherwise? Telling you the thoughts that consistently plagued his mind, trying to sort them out aloud in front of you because they were driving him mad like poor Mr. Darcy? Or would he plan something out and take his time? Wait until he understood what he felt because he 'wanted to get it right'?

Sanji didn't know, it was too soon to tell... but what he did know was that if he stood out there loitering any longer, the soup would get cold and the chef in him would rather die than serve you something like that.

Coincidently, it seemed like the chapter had just ended, you letting out a lighthearted sigh as you softly commented to Zoro, "Ok Zoro, now wasn't that chapter just... extraordinary?"

"It certainly was, Missus," Sanji commented cheekily, suppressing a smile as best he could as he walked into the room.

"Oh! Sanji!" you gasped as your hand quickly covered your racing heart. "Jeez, you scared me." You watched as Sanji placed the tray of soups onto the nightstand. "Sorry. I, uh, didn't realize I was reading so loudly I attracted an audience," you said, your cheeks heating up slightly at the thought that Sanji had been listening to you for who knows how long.

"'Sorry'?" Sanji repeated, a slight frown on his face momentarily as looked down at the tray, glancing at you over his shoulder. "There's nothing to be sorry for, my love." Once the tray was secured on the nightstand, he fully turned to face you, his hands in his pockets as he put on his most charming smile. "Now," he started smoothly, "I'm starting to think that maybe I should get sick so you can come and read to me in bed all day."

Sanji's smile only grew as he watched your face become even more flushed at his words.

You laughed slightly, eyes darting away from his as you asked, "Don't you mean when you're bedridden?"

There was a long pause, the silence becoming deafening at your question. You could feel the tension in the room become thicker the longer that Sanji stayed quiet. Your hands started to feel slightly clammy as your heart rate picked up.

You swallowed. "You know, instead of 'in bed'... since you'd be sick and everything?" you asked finally, as you mustered up the courage to look back up at Sanji from your chair.

At his expression, your heart skipped a beat. Sanji was still looking at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief (and sincerity?) and another emotion you didn't understand, a soft smile on his face. You couldn't help but feel like Sanji knew what he said and that he had said it on purpose.

His crooked smile only deepened. "Sure," he agreed simply. "When I'm sick and ill, and completely bedridden." He blinked, inhaling a small breath as he looked down at his shoes for a moment before looking back up at you, a small questioning look in his eyes as he quietly asked, "And you'd do that? Come and read to me all day?"

"Of course," you answered without hesitation, frowning slightly at Sanji believing that you wouldn't do for even a moment. "I would do anything to help you feel better, Sanji."

Now, between the two of you, it was pretty obvious that Sanji was the smooth-talking flirt, with you never really outrightly flirting with him in the conventional sense, but wow, you might as well be labeled the biggest flirt in his mind because your kind, thoughtful words and gestures never failed to make his heart flutter and knees go weak.

And the way you would look at him, time and time again, whenever you would gently reassure him that yes, you did indeed care about him and that you never truly forgot him... it was enough for him to feel his heart nearly explode.

There it was again, your kind, thoughtful, and beautiful expression on full display for him as you looked up at him through your lashes.

And just like that, Sanji's fears were completely washed away.

He let out a slight laugh, turning his face to the side, his blonde bangs facing you to try and hide the very faint blush on his cheeks. "Aw, you're too kind to me, Missus." He looked back at you, his rosy glow fading slightly, however, his smile was still bright. "Thank you."

At seeing Sanji happy, you were happy. You returned his smile and with a slight teasing tone you said, "But I'll only read to you if you promise to read to me when I'm in bed, sick and completely bedridden."

The blonde chef laughed lightly again, partly because of your now little inside joke, but because the thought that you even had to ask him if he 'would ever do that for you' was completely absurd. Of course he would. He would've been reading to you from the moment you were awake and not feeling well, all the way until you were sleeping, and even then he would continue to recite the pages of the book you loved aloud while you slept, so your dreams and subconscious mind were filled with the sound of his voice well into the night.

Sanji would do anything for you. And you never even needed to ask.

But he didn't tell you all that, not wanting to freak you out with his intense train of thought, so he simply said, with a small smile and twinkle in his eye, "Consider it done."

From Sanji's right, the sound of bedsheets rustling caught both of your attention.

Zoro groaned, gingerly opening his eyes as he pulled his blanket closer to himself. "Ugh... waiter? What are you doing here?"

Sanji looked down at him, a hint of concern on his pretty features as he replied, "Ah, Mosshead, you're awake. I, uh, thought I'd do a little room service and bring some soup for you and y/n."

At hearing your name, Zoro opened his eyes again. "Y/n?" He slowly turned his head towards you. "What are you-" he started to ask but when he saw the book on your lap he groaned and covered his eyes with the crook of his elbow. "Oh don't tell me- you've been reading that garbage to me while I was sleeping this whole time?"

But you weren't offended by his question. Instead, you laughed. "If you mean masterpiece then, yes. You're right. I had just gotten to the good part too!"

Zoro shifted in his bunk, getting comfortable. "Well, by all means, keep going," he deadpanned. In a more sincere tone he said, "I haven't slept this good in a while." But then, with a ghost of a smile, he added, "Your book is so boring it puts me right to sleep."

"Hey, a win is a win," you laughed joyfully. You looked up at Sanji for a second, wanting to share your little moment of happiness of Zoro wanting to continue reading with him.

But Sanji was already looking at you, eyebrows raised in surprise and a disbelieving closed-lipped smile on his face. His smile only grew at seeing the happiness you radiated, his eyes scanning over your face. "Well, in that case," he started as he made his way towards the door. "Let me excuse myself then. I wouldn't want to get in the way of your storytime, Mr. Mosshead."

As Sanji left the room and stepped out into the hall, he could hear you giggle at his 'Mr. Darcy' joke while Zoro grumbled, a sweet sense of satisfaction coming over him.

But before he went back to the kitchen to start on tonight's dinner prep, he loitered outside of Zoro's room again, leaning against the doorframe like he did moments earlier, out of view, so could listen to you read once more for a bit, a small, wistful smile on his face.

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#sanji x reader #opla!sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #sanji x you #opla!sanji x y/n #opla!sanji x you #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece fanfiction #go fish! au #black leg sanji x reader #black leg sanji x you #one peice live action

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