#I would say only dream would do this but lemonade is always going along with her no questions asked | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rosie-b · 1 year

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True Blue

Chapter 4: A Stylus Girl (8269 words)

The Evillustrator raised his hand to draw out a weapon, but suddenly, he froze.

His hand was empty. There was no stylus for him to draw with.

“Hey, Evillustrator!” a voice called out from the boat floating aimlessly down the Seine. Marinette stood on the deck, tied to the railing and holding the stylus high in her free hand. “This is what you get for manhandling me and hurting my friend!”

You can read the whole chapter below or on AO3!

Marinette had never thought her first date would be with a mind-controlled villain, but here she was, taking a ‘romantic’ boat ride down the Seine with Hawk Moth’s newest akuma.

At least the Evillustrator isn’t following any special instructions from Hawk Moth right now, Marinette thought gratefully as she adjusted the gold-tipped rose she’d placed behind her ear. If I had to fool two people into thinking I like Nathaniel back instead of just one, I think I’d crack under the pressure.

Looking out over the Seine from the boat’s deck, Marinette rested her hands on the railing and gazed across the water at the people along the shore, wondering if they had noticed her boat’s unusual captain yet. He wasn’t as obviously akumatized as Stoneheart had been, but his light purple skin and bold costume were obviously the work of Hawk Moth, weren’t they?

“Would you like anything to drink, Marinette?” Nathaniel’s voice interrupted Marinette’s thoughts.

She gingerly turned from the railing to return Nathaniel’s gaze and tried to ignore the unnatural ice that she found there.

“I can make anything you want, even draw up a completely new drink, just for you!” the Evillustrator offered. His enthusiasm didn’t match her memories of the quiet boy she’d known in school.

Marinette forced a smile onto her thin lips. “Thanks, Nathaniel, but I’m okay for now.”

The Evillustrator was crueler than she’d thought at first. She’d asked him to erase the mountain in Adrien’s room, and he had, but with no warning, leaving Adrien and Chat Grise to fall down from the ceiling’s height. She hoped he wasn’t hurt. She was tentatively confident that Chat Grise wouldn’t have been hurt by that fall, either, but she didn’t know for sure how much protection her suit offered.

She hoped they were both okay.

She hoped that Chat Grise and Golden Bug would come soon. They always knew just what to do, exactly what object the akumas went into, exactly how to break them and win the fight.

The Evillustrator frowned. “Are you sure? I’ve been dying to test my new powers out and see how far they’ll go. I could make you a mocktail that tastes like it has real alcohol in it, or lemonade that changes colors as you drink, or anything else you or I think up! What do you say, Marinette? I want this date to be perfect,” he said earnestly.

Marinette suppressed her flinch before the Evillustrator could see it.

“Nathaniel, there’s a violet shadow around your eyes,” she said, trying hard to keep the bitterness out of her tone. “You’re still akumatized. Do you really think any date could ever be perfect like this?”

The Evillustrator scoffed. “Me being akumatized doesn’t change who I am, Marinette. As long as we care for each other, that’s what matters most, isn’t it?”

Marinette brushed a speck of dust off the boat’s railing. “If that’s what matters most, then why worry about whether I want a drink right now or not? Let’s just enjoy the ride, Nathaniel. Maybe we could head below deck and watch the Seine flow around us. You could make the hull invisible, like you did with the chariot we rode off in. It would be just you and me,” Marinette offered.

“That sounds nice,” Nathaniel said, the shadow around his eyes lightening a little. “And very romantic. But being here, dating you, is only part of my dream, Marinette. I want more than that. Come back to school, Marinette,” Nathaniel whispered, and his eyes gleamed as he stepped closer to her, ignoring the way she backed into the rail of the boat. “Alya can only do so much to stop Chloe’s bullying. That rich brat is still the most powerful person in school. And maybe you being there wouldn’t change that, but it would make everything so much more bearable! Why did you let that bastard Agreste get to you? Were we, your friends, not enough to keep you at school just a little longer? Don’t you even care a little about us? You’re not even old enough to become M. Agreste’s apprentice anyway, Marinette! He’s probably just using you for free labor, and you’re letting him and his son take advantage of you! So listen carefully, Marinette: You need to come back to François-Dupont before it’s too late. There’s no—”

Nathaniel fell onto his knees and clutched his head as Marinette gaped at him, her eyes wide in horror as the shadow around his eyes darkened, and a glowing butterfly outline appeared over his face. Marinette reached out, her hand shaking, waving her fingers through the glowing light delicately. Nothing happened.

Then Nathaniel reached out, grabbing her hand in his and squeezing it like a vice.

“If you won’t date me, will you at least come back to school?” he begged, a wild, desperate look in his eye.

Marinette tried to free her hand from his grasp, but found he was too strong for her. His stylus dug into her palm as he gripped her, and she knew it would leave a mark.

Panicked, she cried out, “What do you mean, if I won’t date you? I’m on a date with you now, aren’t I?”

Nathaniel let out a low, dark chuckle. “Oh, but we both know you’re smarter than that, Marinette,” he said in a voice that didn’t quite sound like his own. “You’re using yourself as bait, aren’t you? Staying out in the open so long, making sure everyone can see us together and report our location to the ‘heroes,’” he spat out, “Then trying to distract me by suggesting we go under the deck and watch pollution pass us by in the water. Meanwhile, Golden Bug and Chat Grise would arrive above deck, and I wouldn’t notice in time to do anything about it! Oh, you’re smart, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” the Evillustrator said with a bark of a laugh, “But Hawk Moth is smarter, I’m afraid. So you want to be the bait, huh? Wouldn’t that leave you a bit too tied up to ruin my plans?”

Switching the hand that was holding her prisoner, the Evillustrator used his stylus to sketch something on his tablet. A rope appeared in the air, and the Evillustrator quickly tied it around Marinette’s wrist before she could free herself from his grasp.

Although her heart pounded so hard and quickly that she was afraid it would fall out of her chest, and her fingertips were beginning to go numb, Marinette didn’t stop struggling against her captor. But the Evillustrator was already securing the other end of the rope to the railing.

“I wouldn’t fight back, if I were you,” he said in a cool voice, catching Marinette’s wild punches with both his hands. Again, the stylus dug into her palm. “Who knows what kind of fish will bite if you fall into the water.”

Stepping away from the railing, the Evillustrator raised his head and looked into the distance with his fists clenched at his side.

“I can see you, you know,” he called out. A zipping noise followed by a metallic clank reached Marinette’s ears, and she whipped her head around to see what Nathaniel saw.

“Taking innocent civilians hostage is never the right move, Hawk Moth!” Golden Bug called out as he stood on the riverbank, ready to challenge the Evillustrator. To his left, Chat Grise was shooing curious bystanders, one news van, and Alya Cesaire away from the area.

“Does it count if they volunteered for the role?” the Evillustrator jeered. Tugging Marinette’s rope until she stumbled back from the railing, he scowled at the heroes as they readied their weapons for a fight. “Let’s make this easy, shall we? You already lost to me once. Just hand over your Miraculous, and Marinette won’t get hurt. But if you refuse to, well!”

He jerked the rope again and Marinette fell to the deck, her vision greying at the edges as her breath caught in her throat and lost itself on the way in and out. A violent shudder ran through her, and she cursed herself for ever leaving the safety of Adrien’s room. Surely Chat Grise would have found a solution eventually, right? She could have cataclysmed the mountain, and then at least she and Adrien would have had a pile of ash to cushion their fall instead of the hard floor. The fight could have been over by now if she hadn’t had this dumb idea!

“If you think we’ll give up our Miraculous to some guy who’s willing to tie up his date, then you’re out of your mind,” Golden Bug growled. “Release Marinette now and maybe I’ll stop Chat Grise from cataclysming that grin off your face!”

“I guess I don’t make as good of a bait as you thought, Hawk Moth,” Marinette said quietly, her voice growing stronger as she accepted that she’d done all she would be able to. She’d made the right choice, or at least she’d done the best that she could. And the heroes had never failed yet!

They need to save Nathaniel, she thought solemnly as she watched Nathaniel leap off the boat with a growl, summoning a sword to strike out at Chat and Golden with. The boy who’d endured Chloe silently with her would never have acted like this on his own. This had all turned out to be Hawk Moth’s doing in the end.

“You just don’t want to let me save Marinette from the Agrestes!” the Evillustrator howled as he leapt backwards to protect himself from the heroes’ attacks. “You want me to be lonely and friendless again! You’re letting Chloe win, you’re letting all the genteel win! They’re a plague on Paris!” he cried in anguish.

“All of them, really? That’s quite an extreme view,” Golden Bug shot back as he threw his yo-yo at the akuma.

The Evillustrator raised his hand to draw out a weapon to defend himself with as he dodged, but suddenly, he froze.

His hand was empty. There was no stylus for him to draw with.

“What?” He gasped and spun around, looking on the ground to see if he’d dropped it during his maneuvering, but there was nothing there. Meanwhile, Golden Bug threw his yo-yo again, successfully wrapping Nathaniel in it like a fly caught in a spider’s web.

For some reason, Golden Bug looked almost starstruck as he gazed across the river at Marinette. She blushed nervously as Chat Grise smiled and used her pole to vault onto the deck.

“If I may?” she asked in that quiet voice of hers, an approving look in her eye.

Marinette barely managed to nod as she handed the stylus off to the holder of destruction, and her blush deepened as she took in the hero’s appearance up close. Chat Grise had wide brown eyes, jet black hair with green tips, and thin green piping like stripes along the sides of her black suit. She was strong, stylish, and sure of herself as she cataclysmed the stylus, releasing the akuma.

As the boat and the rope faded from existence, Chat Grise grabbed Marinette and leapt to shore, not even getting Marinette’s shoes wet as they landed safely by Golden Bug, who had caught the akuma and was releasing it in its white, purified form.

Instead of waving the butterfly off like he usually did or asking the formerly akumatized Nathaniel if he was okay, Golden Bug turned his grass-green eyes on Marinette, and his brows knitted together nervously as he clipped his yo-yo back on his waist and stepped towards her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, sincerity in every word and swimming in his eyes, and Marinette felt her heart skip a beat.

“I- I’m fine,” she stuttered out, a blush strong on her cheeks.

Nathaniel groaned weakly as Chat Grise helped him up from the ground, where Golden Bug had pinned the Evillustrator during the fight.

Golden Bug’s eyes peered anxiously into Marinette’s own. “Are you sure? That was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do,” he said, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck anxiously.

Then his eyes flashed angrily. “And it was also the dumbest! What if the Evillustrator had caught on to your plan? What if Chat Grise wasn’t able to get you to shore in time? What if the akuma wasn’t even in the stylus?”

Marinette couldn’t help herself. She smiled as the hero spluttered his upset concerns at her.

“I had faith in you,” she said simply. “It’s something I’ve learned always pays off, when it come to you and Chat Grise. It’s hard to find someone like you two, someone who you can really depend on to have your back through thick and thin. I’ve never really had that kind of person before, but both of you are willing to be them, not just for me, but for all of Paris. Helping you just a little by finding the akuma was the least I could do in return.”

Golden Bug’s jaw had gone slack sometime during Marinette’s short speech, and a blush was staining his cheeks, too, now.

“You still should be careful,” Chat Grise muttered, brushing her bangs out of her eyes as Nathaniel, still dazed, leaned on her shoulder. “We can’t have your back all the time. And you need to have a back for us to protect it.”

Golden Bug’s jaw shut with a snap. “Right! What she said! We can’t protect you if you’re too dead to protect,” he scolded, taking Marinette by the arm and marching her off in the direction of the Agreste mansion. “Well, we could still protect your body, I suppose. But that’s just too grave of a situation for me to think about,” he said with a shudder.

Marinette held back a laugh as the city’s hero stumbled over a curb he hadn’t seen in time.

“Hey, how do you know where to take me? Did Chat Grise fill you in on the action you missed?”

Golden Bug froze, getting his bearings after his near fall. “Uhhhh yes, she did,” he said uncertainly. He nodded, once and then once more, firmer this time. “Yes. You take classes with Adrien Agreste, right? That’s what the model said, at least. Do you like studying with him?” he asked, anxious to avoid talking about his little stumble, apparently.

Marinette grinned. “Yes! He’s like an unfair amount smarter than me, so he always finished his work first, which is annoying, but he’s so sweet and nice about it,” she gushed, spreading her arms expressively and twisting her neck so that she could look up at Golden Bug as she walked. He listened attentively, a light flush covering his cheeks.

“Don’t tell anyone, though,” Marinette continued, twisting her hands together as she kept walking, “but he’s not going to be homeschooled for much longer. He’s going to start attending François-Dupont,” she said proudly.

“O-oh, really?” Golden Bug’s voice cracked mid-sentence. Marinette smiled.

“Yep! Once we talk to his father, he’ll be joining the other students. It’s like we’re switching places,” she giggled.

Then a shadow crossed over her eyes. Golden Bug looked questioningly at her.

“I really abandoned Nathaniel and the others, didn’t I,” she said glumly. It wasn’t even a question. The stone dropping down in her stomach was an answer on its own.

Golden Bug swallowed, reaching out and hesitating like he wasn’t quite sure what to do. He settled for resting his hand lightly on her shoulder.

“I don’t think so,” he said gently. “You did what was best for you, and that meant switching schools. But you’re happy, right?”

Marinette nodded, her eyes shining as she looked up at the hero timidly offering comfort to her, a stranger who’d endangered her life recklessly, risking the outcome of his fight, and then started talking about her own problems, like he didn’t have enough of his own to worry about. He really is amazing, she thought as she wiped her eyes and sniffed once or twice.

“Then that’s all that matters. You can still keep up with your friends, you know. I... might not know how strict M. Agreste is, but I’m sure you can convince him to give you some free time for a friend date if you can convince him to send his own son to public school. And hey, you’ve already helped us beat an akuma, which I’m still not over, by the way. You’re pretty awesome, Marinette. Don’t beat yourself for having your talent recognized and taking advantage of an opportunity like this.”

Marinette felt her cheeks warm slightly as she looked at Golden Bug in awe.

“Thank you,” she said, stunned by the sincerity in his voice as he spoke about her talent. And had he sounded impressed by her plan to defeat the Evillustrator?

Golden Bug looked away with a flush. “Well, we’re here,” he said, gesturing to the mansion’s gates with a flourish.

Marinette blinked. “Wow,” she said. “We were much closer than I thought!”

Golden Bug smiled. “Well of course, I would never have made a princess like you walk all the way across the city! If the mansion were further away, we would’ve swung here on my yo-yo, instead.”

Marinette’s cheeks heated further as she imagined how that would look, her pressed close against the hero’s lithe body as he carried her across the city, the sun reflecting in his gorgeous green eyes...

“Well, thank you!” she said abruptly, shaking herself. “Sorry for unloading on you back there. I wasn’t planning on bugging you, I swear.”

Golden Bug blinked once and then smiled. “You didn’t bug me at all, Marinette! But do know what does?”

Marinette frowned in confusion. “What?”

Golden Bug’s smile grew into a predatory grin. “Aphids,” he said jubilantly.

Marinette blinked.

Golden Bug’s smile faded slightly as he waited for her to get the joke.

“Get it? Because ladybugs eat aphids? And I’m wearing a ladybug suit?”

“Is that what it is?” Marinette asked politely, even though she already knew the answer.

Sighing, Golden Bug drooped over, head and arms dangling dramatically near his knees.

“Well, I tried,” he said, and Marinette giggled at his theatric display.

At the sound of her laughter, Golden Bug straightened up with a hopeful smile.

“Ah, so you do get my jokes! I’m hilarious, right?” he asked playfully.

Marinette shook her head as she stifled the rest of her giggles. “Only sometimes,” she teased. “You’re too full of yourself to be funny all the time.”

Dramatically raising a hand to his brow, Golden Bug declared, “If the lady insists, it must be so! But we don’t have the time to talk about my bold personality any further. Your teacher and that Agreste kid must be waiting for you, right?”

Marinette winced. “They probably are,” she agreed.

Golden Bug nodded and took a deep breath as he looked at Marinette solemnly. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. Have a good day, Princess,” he said sincerely.

Then he dropped to one knee in front of Marinette. She raised her eyebrows in surprise, and he gently took her hand, the one which had been tied to the railing of the boat, in his. As a ruddy blush covered Marinette’s cheeks, Golden Bug pressed an almost reverent kiss to her knuckles, staring deep into her eyes as he did so. A shiver ran down Marinette’s spine, and she stared back at the boy kneeling in front of her, unsure of just what was happening.

In an effort to return the conversation to some semblance of normalcy, Marinette stammered out, “Day you good too!”

Although she was hyperaware of her misspoken words and the blush on her face, Marinette couldn’t look away from Golden Bug as he stood up and stepped back from her. He squeezed her hand once before letting go of it and shot her a teasing yet affectionate smile as he prepared to leave.

“Bug out!”

With a quick salute, Golden Bug swung off on his yo-yo, away from the mansion.

Marinette stood still in front of its gates, her hand half-raised as she watched the hero vanish behind the city buildings.

“Marinette!”

A voice came from behind her, and she jumped as she recognized Nathalie’s voice coming from the security panel on the gate.

“Oh! Ms. Sancoeur,” she exclaimed nervously, walking over to the camera peering at her with its red eye. “Sorry for missing the start of lessons, I got a bit tied up,” she giggled, and fought the urge to slap herself.

Ms. Sancoeur hummed. “Well, since Adrien missed the start, too, and because you were just held hostage by an akuma, I would say that it’s okay,” she said, and Marinette wondered if this was her attempt at being humorous.

“Uhh, thanks,” she said uncertainly. The gate cracked open, and a rustling sound came from the security panel.

“Hurry inside, Marinette. We found something in Adrien’s room when we went to check on him after the akuma struck, and I think you and I should talk about it.”

Something in Adrien’s room?

Marinette struggled to remember what she’d been doing before the akuma struck. She’d been with Adrien, of course, going over— the slideshow! As long as it hadn’t been destroyed by the akuma attack, it was open to the presentation she’d drafted up. And if Nathalie and Gabriel saw it, then—

It wasn’t good, to say the least.

Marinette walked into the study room like a prisoner on the way to the scaffold, scratching her hand absent-mindedly. What if she’d just ruined Adrien’s chances of going to public school with her childish attempt at a persuasive slideshow? She’d still had the code names up!

At least she hadn’t had anything criticizing of Gabriel’s parenting style for him to discover, she thought glumly as she halted in the center of the study room and looked up to meet Ms. Sancoeur’s stern gaze and Adrien’s nervous grin.

“H-hello,” she said, and swallowed hard.

“Ms. Dupain-Cheng,” Ms. Sancoeur said in acknowledgement. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are that it was the Gorilla and I who found your laptop, and not Ga— Mister Agreste?”

“You call him that, too?” Marinette asked, and squeaked as Ms. Sancoeur’s gaze hardened.

“Yes, but that’s beside the point. You want to try to convince M. Agreste to let Adrien go to school through a PowerPoint? I told you, he’s not going to listen.”

“No, you didn’t!” Marinette shot back, her heart pounding in her chest. “You said that trying might not not work. Your words,” she said proudly.

Adrien twitched.

“Listen, I don’t want to be a bother,” he said hesitantly. “I already ran away once, and Father still said no. If it’s going to get either of you in trouble, then let’s just forget about sending me to François-Dupont.”

Marinette crossed her arms. “Nonsense!” she cried. “You’re not bugging either of us—” curse you, Golden Bug! “ —and even if you were, it’s practically my job as your friend to make sure you’re happy. And you’ll be happier at school than you are here, so,”

“So?” a deep voice came from behind Marinette. She froze in place, eyes widening as her jaw locked itself in place.

Slowly, she turned around to face Gabriel Agreste, who was looking down at everyone in the room with a pinched expression.

“So, we were wondering how you feel about aphids,” she tried, and flinched in fear and surprise at her own words.

Adrien’s face flattened, and he stepped forward, standing beside Marinette as she faced his father with a horrified look of embarrassment.

“It was my idea,” he said, glancing back at Nathalie, who’d stepped sideways to hide the laptop as she bumped its power button. “I wanted to try asking you about enrolling in François-Dupont. Marinette was just boosting my confidence and repeating something I’d already told her.”

“That you’d be happier at public school than safe inside the mansion?” M. Agreste asked in a voice that, aside from being stern, was devoid of emotion. “Even after Hawk Moth’s rise, even as François-Dupont has become the most targeted place in Paris? You still want to leave the safety of home, Adrien? Are you sure,” he asked, and the light from the windows glinted off his glasses.

Adrien swallowed. “Well, it’s not exactly much safer here,” he said, and then snapped his mouth shut as a flush took over his face. He took a half-step backward, looking up at his father in fear. He grimaced and set his jaw. “Marinette was just attacked,” he said. “I was just knocked off a magic mountain and fell ten feet down without warning. If it wasn’t for Chat Grise, I could easily have been hurt. Marinette, too,” he said, looking at the girl with concern. “Do you really think it’s safer for me here, Père?”

Gabriel raised a single eyebrow as he looked down at his son in surprise.

“Ms. Dupain-Cheng has really convinced you, hasn’t she?” he asked. Adrien opened his mouth to defend her again, but Gabriel raised his hand, cutting him off. “Fine, if you want to go so bad, then I presume you have the papers somewhere?”

Adrien floundered, blinking and tilting his head almost imperceptibly as he stared at his father.

“Uh, yes, well, not exactly, but I do have them! Or the school does,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “Chloe had her father speed me through registration, so you don’t really have to do anything, just go to the school and sign to make it all official.”

M. Agreste pushed his glasses up and hummed consideringly, looking at Marinette out of the corner of his eyes. She held herself stiff and tried to look polite and hopeful without letting the fear she felt leak out into her body language.

“All right, why don’t we all head over together, then?” he asked after a moment. “You, Nathalie, Ms. Dupain-Cheng, and me. I’ll sign you up for classes if you want it... son. Make yourselves presentable; we’ll leave as soon as classes finish at François-Dupont. Ms. Dupain-Cheng, what time would that be?”

“3:38,” she recited promptly. She’d spent the last two years staring at the clock in school and waiting for that time to come, after all. She was probably going to remember it for the rest of her life.

“Such an arbitrary time,” Gabriel sniffed. “That leaves us just over an hour. Nathalie, please call the chauffeur to drive her home for a shower. Golden Bug didn’t cast his Lucky Charm today,” he told Marinette with distaste. “You still smell of the Seine, and it’s not proper for someone representing the Agreste household. I expect you to be rid of the stench by the time we arrive at the school. You'll be giving Adrien a tour of the building, since you know it best.”

Turning around, M. Agreste left just as abruptly as he’d come.

__*__*__*__*__

There was a time, not long ago, when Marinette had thought she’d never step foot into the halls of François-Dupont collège again. Now, as she walked through its doors with Adrien Agreste, his father, and her primary teacher, a distinct sense of wrongness settled in her bones. She didn’t belong here, not after voluntarily leaving school and her classmates behind.

Adrien’s hand brushed lightly against hers as he walked next to her.

“Are you all right?” he asked in an almost inaudible whisper.

Marinette twisted her head around to look at him.

Adrien met her eyes with a concerned look, his eyebrows drawn together in a way that seemed to ask her to trust him with her secrets, no matter how dark they were.

Stupid model training.

Marinette tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and moved a little closer to Adrien as they moved through the halls, M. Agreste and Ms. Sancoeur having taken the lead.

“Just feeling a bit anxious,” she whispered back to Adrien. “It feels weird being back here.”

Adrien nodded. “That makes sense. You know, they could have found someone else to give me a tour of the building, you know? If you knew it would make you uncomfortable, you shouldn’t have had to come.”

“Your father thinks I’m the one who convinced you to sign up for school,” Marinette replied. “If I don’t at least show you around so that you’ll be ready for class, what kind of message does that send? I’m vouching for François-Dupont’s safety; I should be able to handle a quick tour through it.”

“What are you two whispering about back there?” Gabriel called in a stern voice.

As his voice echoed through the hallway, the few students who were lingering around suddenly stopped staring at the strange family making its way through their school.

“I asked Marinette where we should go first for the tour,” Adrien responded promptly, his shoulders shooting up into a poised position.

“Hmm. And what did you tell him, Ms. Dupain-Cheng?”

Marinette felt her cheeks heat up as she floundered for a reply.

“Oh, uh, the gymnasium sounds good, since every class uses it. O-or the chemistry labs, because there are a lot of those, but they’re all pretty similar!”

“Very well, we shall begin our tour with the chemistry labs.” Gabriel clasped his hands behind his back as the group reached the principal’s door. “Did you let M. Damocles know that we’re coming, Nathalie?”

Ms. Sancoeur adjusted her glasses and tapped something on her tablet.

“Yes, as soon as the trip was announced, sir,” she confirmed.

“Then he will be waiting for us. After you, Nathalie,” Gabriel said, and pulled open the door.

As predicted, M. Damocles was waiting for the group, clicking a pen against his desk as he watched Marinette and the others enter the room and take their seats with an expectant look on his face.

“Good afternoon, Mister Agreste! And company,” he said with a nod.

He sat back in his chair, which creaked loudly. Gabriel frowned and tilted his head.

“So, you’re here to sign Adrien’s papers? I would say it’s a little late in the school year for him to join our school here, but I presume you’ve been keeping his education on schedule, right?”

“Adrien receives only the best lessons possible,” M. Agreste shot back in a cold voice. “You will find him to be ahead of the other students, not behind.”

M. Damocles clicked his pen twice. “All right, sir, I meant no harm by asking a question! Well then, if we’re ready to move on to the signing—”

Suddenly, he stopped talking with a frown.

“Are you also here to sign Marinette up again? Her parents should be here to do it all properly, and anyway, I don’t have the right papers for her.”

“Ms. Dupain-Cheng is only here to give Adrien a tour of the building. After that, she’ll return to the mansion, where she is receiving an education of the same caliber as Adrien’s in the past.”

M. Damocles raised his eyebrow as Marinette wiggled nervously in her chair, the farthest one from the principal’s desk.

“Really? If she’s going to give Adrien a tour — and I suppose I trust her to do that, even if usually it’s the class representative’s job — then the two of them can start their tour while you sign the papers. It works out very well, because the adults need to have a little chat afterwards! No worries, Mister Agreste, it’s just about classroom expectations, school rules, and such. Boring material, but I’m required to go over it.”

Adrien peered around Ms. Sancoeur at his father.

“May we be excused now?” he asked, a hopeful shine in his eyes.

Gabriel sighed.

“Very well. Begin with the chemistry lab, as planned, and don’t waste time,” he said with a hard look at both Marinette and his son.

Marinette gulped as she stood up.

“Yes, sir,” she said.

M. Damocles cleared his throat as she walked to the door.

“You’ll need Adrien’s schedule,” he said, shuffling the papers on the desk as he searched for it. On finding it, he held the schedule out to Marinette, who took it with a quick “Thank you,” and turned back to the door.

“Mind what M. Agreste said, now,” M. Damocles said, barely holding back his amusement as Marinette fumbled to open the door without wrinkling the delicate paper of Adrien’s schedule while he stood helplessly to the side. “No funny business on the tour.”

“No funny business,” Adrien repeated with a smile as Marinette finally got the door open and took an energetic step out of the office. He closed the door behind him as he followed her.

Marinette practically flew down the hallways, going much quicker than she had when M. Agreste was leading the group.

Adrien easily caught up to her.

“Where are we going after the chemistry labs?” he asked curiously.

“Whatever’s closest,” Marinette responded, pausing mid-stride to look down at Adrien’s only slightly wrinkled schedule. “Although it looks like you’ll only be in two classrooms. And you have Ms. Bustier,” she said in surprise. “I would have had her this year, too. Your having Ms. Bustier means Chloe has her, too,” she realized with a gasp. “Maybe taking M. Agreste’s offer was the right choice, after all!”

Adrien lightly bumped his shoulder against hers. “Of course it was,” he said, his expression friendly but vulnerable as he looked at Marinette. “It’s what led to us meeting! And without your help, how would I have convinced Père to let me go to school?”

Marinette offered Adrien a smile. “I’m sure you would have found a way,” she said warmly.

Breaking eye contact abruptly, she turned and gestured to an innocent-looking wood door. “That’s your chemistry lab,” she said. “You’ll have physics, chemistry, and math with Ms. Mendeleiev here, but most of the day you’ll spend with Ms. Bustier. Her room is up three doors, on the left.”

Marinette pointed at the door to Ms. Bustier’s room, and Adrien wandered a little up the hallway to glance at it.

“Got it,” he said. “Are there any other rooms you can show me while we’re here? Chloe said that there was an art room; did you used to go there a lot?”

Marinette shrugged. “Not as often as some of the other students, but yes, I did love the art room here. M. Monlataing is a great teacher! And art club is lots of fun, although I don’t think you can fit it in on your schedule.”

Adrien smiled ruefully. “Probably not, though maybe it’s for the best. I’m nowhere near as good at art as you are! Still, I did always like making crafts with my Maman.”

Marinette looked sympathetically at Adrien. “Well, let’s go to the art room, then! Maybe you’ll get to visit it someday. Your father can’t keep you busy forever! It’s just up the stairs — over this way.”

As they climbed the stairs, the sound of laughter and loud voices faintly reached their ears, and Marinette slowed down, pausing halfway between floors. Adrien looked up at her questioningly, but she didn’t seem to notice him.

“There must be an art club meeting,” she said in a low voice. “Alix will be there, and Rose...” Marinette swung her head around to face Adrien. “Do you think Nathaniel will be there? I never got the chance to talk to him after his akumatization today, when Golden Bug had purified the akuma. He said I’d abandoned him,” she said with tears gathering in her eyes. “I left him and everyone I knew here at school! What if he doesn’t want to see me?”

Adrien swallowed and took her hand in his, running his thumb over the back of her knuckles. “I don’t think you abandoned them,” he said. “And didn’t Nath want to go on a date with you? I think he won’t mind seeing you again. It’s more likely the opposite,” he said, his eyebrows furrowing as he spoke.

Marinette relaxed. “You’re right,” she said, reaching up to wipe under her eyes. “He wants to see me; that’s what made him get akumatized. I just need to be brave.”

“You’re plenty brave, Marinette,” Adrien said with a smile. “We haven’t had a chance to talk about it, but that stunt you pulled in Nath’s boat today? I saw it all. On TV, of course! You were amazing. It scared me to death,” he said, running a hand through his hair with a laugh.

Marinette smiled. “To death, really? I’m surprised your father hasn’t killed me for it yet. Well, next time I save your sorry hide from one of Hawk Moth’s akumas, I’ll be sure to warn you first,” she teased.

“Ha-ha.” Adrien rolled his eyes as they started moving up the stairs again.

As they neared the top, a pair of loudly stomping feet began their furious descent down. But when the feet’s owner saw who was coming upstairs, they promptly stopped, dropping an easel on the stairs. It slid down a few feet and stopped, face-up, displaying a collage of pictures, all of them featuring one Chloe Bourgeois.

“Adrikins?”

Marinette’s stomach churned, and she gripped Adrien’s hand like she was hanging on for dear life.

“Chloe? Are you in the art club here?” Adrien asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “I never knew you were into that kind of thing.”

Chloe huffed. “Well, I am, but those imbeciles won’t let me join their stupid clicky-thing! They say that I’m uninspired. Well, I’m inspiring! My face is the most inspiring face in all Paris, next to yours, of course, Adrichou. They should be lucky to have me in the same room as them! But instead, they wanted to focus on cheering Nathaniel up, and— oh. I didn’t see you there. Why are you holding my Adrikin’s hand? Let go, you’ll contaminate him,” Chloe said with a huff, rushing down the stairs and trying to pry Adrien’s hand out of Marinette’s.

Adrien only tightened his grip on her. “Chloe, this is Marinette. I understand that you’ve met before, under circumstances which should have been more pleasant. And I think you should apologize for what you did to Marinette in the past,” he said firmly, moving his hand away from Chloe’s when she tried to grab it.

Chloe pouted, crossing her arms and jutting out her lip in the most ridiculous manner. Marinette tried to breathe.

“Adrikins, why would I need to apologize to Dupain-Cheng? She hasn’t said anything bad about me, has she?”

Adrien frowned. “Marinette told me that you bullied her, as well as other students, for years. At the very least, I think you should apologize for that if you want to keep being my friend. We’re going to be in the same class together this year, thanks to Marinette, and I’d really like it if you two could make up. There’s no reason to hang on to the past, is there?”

Adrien looked appealingly at Chloe and then Marinette. Marinette looked at him in disbelief. He squeezed her hand reassuringly while Chloe lowered her eyebrows and stared at Adrien’s display. She huffed and put her hand on her hip while behind her, Sabrina ran up with three heavy cans of paint and one golden frame.

Chloe looked back at Sabrina, then Marinette, and finally Adrien. A smile slowly grew on her face.

“I guess I can make up with Dupain-Cheng,” she said casually. “It can’t hurt, after all. Though I’m sure she still smells of the Seine from her little trip earlier today. Not a good look, volunteering to be akuma bait just for a date. It makes you look— well, anyway, you’ll do better in the future, I’m sure,” she hastened to say at Adrien disapproving glare.

Marinette’s jaw tightened. She looked up at Sabrina, who looked back at her with wide, confused eyes.

Suddenly, Chloe clapped her hands together. “Oh! Adrikins, you haven’t met Sabrina, have you?”

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I—”

“Perfect! I’ll go off to a private room with Marinette, and we’ll apologize to each other while you and Sabrina stay here and meet and greet and all that. Be nice to her, she’s just a policeman’s daughter, and you know how poor people are!”

“Actually, I—”

“Ta-ta! Have fun, Adrikins. Mwah!” Chloe blew him a kiss and rushed down the stairs, grabbing Marinette’s wrist as she went. With no choice, Marinette let go of Adrien’s hand and followed Chloe downstairs, looking back at Adrien with a pleading glance. He shot a helpless look back at her, and before she could do anything more, Chloe was shoving her into an open janitor’s closet.

Standing just outside of it, Chloe frowned in disgust.

“Since when do you have the right to talk to my Adrikins?”

Marinette felt a bug crawl on her hand, and she looked down as she tried to scratch it off, but nothing was there.

“I don’t need your permission to talk to my friends, Chloe,” she said, keeping her voice as even as she could. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and her fingers felt sweaty. The lights in the janitor’s closet flickered.

“You need my permission for everything, Dupain-Cheng. Or have you forgotten the lessons I drilled into you? It took so much work, too. Years of it — and you still need to be reminded that you’re nothing compared to me, it seems. So let me say it: You are nothing. You’re lower than the worms under this school, and your only purpose can come from serving me, like the obedient doll that you are. Understand?”

Marinette could feel her pulse jump in her wrist. “I don’t need your permission,” she said, her voice a bit stronger this time. “And I don’t need your ‘lessons.’ And compared to you, I am stronger, braver, and more talented than you ever were. Don’t you know why I left school? It’s the same reason I was with ‘Adrikins,’ as you call him. Gabriel Agreste offered me an apprenticeship. And I took it,” she said with satisfaction as Chloe gasped, scandalized.

For a few seconds, Marinette was able to calm down. She was okay now; she’d left Chloe’s bullying behind. And the others were fine, too, since the Goldenblogger had apparently broken Chloe’s influence over them.

Then a laugh burbled out of Chloe’s mouth. It started out as a trickle and built into a river of laughter, an ocean, wiping Marinette’s last shred of courage away and whisking it into the sea of Chloe’s pride, where it drowned.

“You think that changes anything?! All it changes is who you work for, Dupain-Cheng. Instead of me, you chose Gabriel Agreste. Well, I don’t see how it makes any difference, you being my lackey or the Agrestes’. You’re being put back in your place either way. And how much use can M. Agreste have for you, anyway? What does he say to you, ‘Be a good girl and fetch my sketchbook for me?’ Oh, it’s too perfect! And to think that you really had me worried for a second there. But Adrien will never see you as his equal. You’re just a servant, Dupain-Cheng. Exactly as you should be.”

Chloe stepped back from the closet, smirking as she turned to walk away with a confident swing in her step.

“Have fun cleaning the Agrestes’ lampshades,” she called back mockingly. Her laughter echoed in the janitor’s closet.

Then she was gone.

And Marinette stayed where she was, frozen by Chloe’s words. The light flickered in the closet again, and she shuddered in the flash of dark. There was an ant crawling over her foot, and a spider on her arm. She couldn’t brush them off, though. Their tiny legs kept moving over her skin, taunting her. Laughing at the baker girl who thought she was mightier than them.

“-Dupain-Cheng? Where are you?”

Gabriel Agreste’s impatient voice shook Marinette out of her frozen silence.

“I’m here,” she said, stepping out of the janitor’s closet. She winced as M. Agreste turned around and saw her.

“What on earth are you doing there? Never mind. It’s time to leave. I’ve had enough of this place,” M. Agreste said distastefully as he headed toward the exit. “There is no one here with any functioning cells left in their brain. Adrien and Nathalie are waiting in the car, Ms. Dupain-Cheng, and once we get in with them, we are leaving this place behind. You made the right choice in leaving here. Adrien will be sick of public school in less than a year.”

Marinette stumbled as she tried to catch up with M. Agreste. He glanced back at her but did not stop.

“Try not to be surprised, Ms. Dupain-Cheng; my son is far too perfect to fit in here. He’ll be more comfortable at home. Surely you can see that.”

Marinette swallowed and braced herself against the wall as she gingerly walked behind M. Agreste.

“I see,” she said softly.

The car ride back to the mansion was quiet. Adrien kept glancing guiltily at her, as if he wanted to ask her something. She didn’t have the energy to answer whatever it was.

As the car pulled into the driveway, only Marinette and Gabriel unbuckled their seatbelts. She looked at the others in surprise.

“Nathalie will be taking Adrien shopping for school supplies,” Gabriel explained curtly. “He doesn’t have the right kind of water bottle or notebooks yet, let alone a book bag. He’s never needed one before, so Nathalie will have to select one from an appropriate brand for him. Now, come on,” he urged, and Marinette got out of the car. Immediately, the Gorilla began to back the car out of the driveway.

Adrien waved goodbye as he and the others drove off. Marinette barely raised her hand in reply. As the gates shut after the car, M. Agreste stood with his hands clasped behind his back, frowning deeply.

He turned to Marinette.

“I need some time to wipe the memory of that school from my mind; it was frankly disgusting. I’m going to Emilie’s statue and work on some designs. Bring me my sketchbook from the mansion. It should be in the atelier.”

Marinette looked up with furrowed brows. “What about the rest of my training hours? Did you get my schedule from Nathalie?”

M. Agreste clicked his tongue dismissively. “I won’t require any more of your help today. Once you’ve brought me the sketchbook, you may go.”

He turned and headed to the small rose garden past the steps, where a statue of his wife rested in the shade.

Watching him go, Marinette stood helplessly by the long staircase leading up to the mansion’s doors. With a resigned sigh, she began to climb up them, taking each step slowly and with caution. The world was less stable than it usually was. She could swear that the sun’s light seemed to be flickering. She reached for the handle of the door. Her hand twitched as a phantom spider crawled over it.

“I don’t see how it makes any difference, you being my lackey or the Agrestes’. How much use can he have for you anyway? Be a good girl and fetch my sketchbook for me! Oh, it’s too perfect!”

Marinette gripped the door tightly and pushed it open. The floor was steady. The lights were on.

Her hand still itched.

“Adrien will never see you as his equal. You’re just a servant, Dupain-Cheng. Exactly as you should be.”

Marinette entered the mansion with the stinging sound of Chloe’s laughter in her ears.

A tear rolled down Marinette’s cheek. She brushed it off without noticing that she was crying.

“She’s not right,” Marinette whispered to herself. A hiccup pushed itself out of her throat. “She’s just being mean because she found out that Adrien and I met, and she didn’t know about it. I’m better than what she said. After all, M. Agreste himself offered me this apprenticeship!”

But it wasn’t a real apprenticeship, was it? It was just early training, just an offer to take private lessons and help Nathalie and sometimes M. Agreste with afterwards. It was mostly her, doing the chores of a famous designer.

It was just an excuse for the Agrestes to claim Marinette’s talents before she had the chance to decide for herself what she wanted to do with them.

Marinette pushed the door to the atelier open.

She’d get out of this funk eventually, even if it hurt now to have these thoughts in her head.

Chloe’s words were just jealous lies. Adrien and M. Agreste saw Marinette as more than a lackey or a servant! They called her talented. They wanted to hear her ideas. They could touch her and not worry about ‘poor people germs’ contaminating them. She was wanted and respected here!

Marinette furiously brushed the last tear from her eyes and scanned the room for the sketchbook M. Agreste had asked for.

She didn’t see it anywhere yet, but over by the glass easel he normally used, something was off. There was something unusual.

The safe door was open.

Marinette hadn’t known they had a safe.

#bluewing au #rosie-b writing #ml fanfic #ml au #kwami swap #miraculous ladybug #ml leak free #miraculeakless

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ferylcheryl · 1 year

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“Ploughman’s Lunch”, in which Evie Little, student at an exclusive all-girls college in the English countryside in 1960s, runs into graduate student and unrequited love object Thora Jopson and her particular friend one night at a certain establishment in the nearby village.

I may finish this and post the full work (probably with some explicit sexual content) on ao3 but for now this feels good where it is and I wanted to share it.

“It’s not what it looks like.”

It’s true—she hadn’t followed them here and she certainly wasn’t going to tell on Thora Jopson about what she’d seen her doing. But damn it if Evie Little doesn’t feel like she’s lying, that old reflexive guilt blazing in her cheeks and thickening like a fist at the base of her throat.

“I did see you,” she continues hoarsely. (Hard to talk with the stranger’s brawny forearm pinning her against the grimy wall of the ladies’ room.) “On the bus up. But I didn’t—”

“I know you saw me on the bus,” Thora says with a small, cool smile. She’s set her clothes aright and lit a cigarette. Evie’s never seen her smoke, but she’s not surprised to see she does it with the same spooky, effortless grace with which she does all things. As she does all things. “You said hello to me.”

Evie nods gratefully. “Yes. You remember.”

“Of course.” Her tone pleasant, precise. “You’d errands to run. I’m just surprised, Ms. Little, that the course of your errands would bring you here.”

“I—please let go, ma’am—I can’t—”

The stranger laughs and releases Evie. She’s a solid-built butch, somewhere between forty-five and fifty, gap-toothed and pock-marked yet strangely compelling nevertheless—a rough charm. Her laughter is only slightly kind.

Thora studies Evie as she catches her breath, calculating. Evie’s scared she’s breathing funny, because that’s what she always does when she has to think about it, has to exist as the focus of another’s perception. It’s very hard. And Thora, goddamn her, is so beautiful Evie feels chastised by it.

“What do you want in a place like this?” She asks at last.

“Ah, don’t be cruel, lass,” the stranger says in a low, sodden voice. Murmurous, a trace of a brogue. “I’m betting she’s here for the same reason you are.” She looks Evie up and down and up again, brow cocked. “I say we buy her a drink.”

The promised drink is a shot of well-whiskey at the bar, one for Evie and one for Frankie (that’s her name, Frankie, this friend of Thora’s), then a couple more. Thora sips lemonade through a red-striped straw, brows lifted in cool amusement. Evie’s not accustomed to any of it—not the burn of the drink in her throat and chest, not the buoyancy it lends her, nor getting to look so freely and for so long at Thora. She lets herself be carried along by it, lets herself bloom into conversation, though sticks as always to the most careful small talk. Faces float out of the crowd, acquaintances mostly to Frankie, are introduced, disappear. Evie has eyes only for Thora.

Yet when Thora asks her to dance, she shakes her head—a startled refusal. For one thing, the whiskey’s turned her step weak and wild and she’s afraid of Frankie besides. Afraid, or—a swift stung something flicks across Thora’s face before she reaches for Frankie instead, and as she watches Frankie, handsome despite a kind of bearish stoop and shuffle, lead Thora into the crowd, Evie realizes she needs Frankie too. Not that she wants her the way she has wanted Thora for three falls and two summers now, Thora the kind of cool shining loveliness she dreamed of before she’d even met her—but there must be some thrust of will involved here, something of more spine and specificity of intent than Evie’s own mute self-consuming or Thora’s… well… who knew what went on behind the unseelie green of those eyes? That was what Evie loved. The immeasurable competence, the engine and the spark so deeply buried beneath the force and fineness of its action.

Thora’s bright white blouse helps Evie track them in the crowd, track them into a corner alongside the low, shallow stage where the band plays its swelling unremarkable music, where, half hidden by a congregation of empty chairs and cut off by the chance whim of architectural angle and the hulks of other bodies, Evie watches Frankie maneuver Thora against the wall, watches her slide her broad, freckled hand up Thora’s skirt, watches them kiss, watches the little quick motions of Frankie’s thin-lipped mouth as she murmurs whatever into Thora’s ear, and Thora nodding, hesitantly at first as though in a dream then more decisively… Frankie’s hand who knows where now, Thora’s knee raised to permit Frankie whatever fumbling about, Thora’s mouth opening around a laugh, even her teeth impeccable and bright like something storebought new. Then they both look at Evie, through the dim and the crowd and the music they see her, and she sees them, and immediately she understands.

She maneuvers to her feet and goes to them.

Frankie’s hands are rough and her fingers calloused and in the brief glare of light in the corridor of her flat—her thumb pressed into Thora’s cheek as she kisses her, skewing the corner of her mouth back from her teeth, and she in turn unlocking the door to the older woman’s flat without even having to look—Evie can see oil beneath her nails. It does not deter Evie because it evidently does not deter Thora, who, once they are inside, boils water for tea and assembles of the mean supplies of Frankie’s bachelor’s pantry a kind of late-night ploughman’s lunch: a squat jar of piccalilli, coarse mustard nearly gone, last scraps of roast beef and some crumbling McVities.

Evie abstains but gratefully accepts tea, which, heated into life on a dingy hotplate and served in three mismatched cups, tastes stronger and more perfect than anything. She’s quite drunk, she realizes, laying her head on her crossed arms. Frankie makes a sweet little sound, sort of sarcastic and fond at once, and then there are fingers in her hair, combing through the roots, massaging the skin beneath. As though she’s a housecat. Evie knows it’s Thora by how good it feels, a soft harmless scratching at the door she is closing behind her as she sinks into sleep.

#the terror #f/f fanfic #edward little #Francis crozier #Thomas Jopson #Joplitzier but they’re lesbians

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survey--s · 1 year

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529.

Anything you’re looking forward to this month? Well, the month is nearly over now but I guess the long weekend even though I’m working for most of it lol.

What’s the current temperature? It was around 16 degrees but it felt colder because of the wind.

Have you or would you ever forage for mushrooms? I have done, yeah.

What’s something you dislike about spring time? I LOVE spring for the most part. The only thing I don’t like is how changeable it is and how hard it can be to dress for the weather.

What’s your favorite lollipop flavor? Raspberry or apple. I also loved the chocolate and vanilla Chup-a-Chups. Can you still get those? lol.

Are you into gardening and what do you enjoy planting? I love the idea of plants and flowers but being honest, I’m too lazy to maintain any kind of garden lol. We just have a lawn and a patio in the garden.

What’s some flowers you find to be pretty? Sunflowers, cherry blossoms, roses, jasmines, lily’s, orchids.

Would you say you’re easy to get along with? No.

Who did you last hold hands with? Mike.

What sounds help you sleep? Silence or white noise are both fine for me.

Do you have a loud or more soft laugh? I think it depends on the circumstances.

Tell me your best pick up line. I can’t say I really have any lol.

What’s a song that reminds you of warm weather? Smile by Lily Allen.

Do you have any interest in fairies? I mean, I don’t believe in them but I used to love reading books about them and I quite like the whole aesthetic of fairy doors and flower crowns.

What’s the last refreshing drink you had? Ginger Ale.

Do you name your plants? I don’t have any plans.

Do you like to dip your fries in a frosty or ice cream? Yeah, I always do that when we get McFlurry’s.

Do you prefer staying in cuddled up or going out for a date? Both are nice, it depends on the weather and my mood lol.

Cookies or brownies? Cookies.

What is something you are proud of? My business.

Are you a fan of musicals? Yeah, some of them. I used to watch loads when I was younger but admittedly I haven’t seen a new one in a while.

Do you like lemonade? Do you add anything to it? I love Pimms and lemonade, or raspberry or rose lemonade. I’m not really a huge fan of it by itself, to be honest.

Are you more of a fast talker or do you talk more slow? I’m definitely more of a fast talker.

Is there anyone who makes you smile no matter what mood you’re in? My dog.

What is something that is quick to cheer you up? My animals, food, sleep.

Have you ever stargazed with someone? Yes.

If you were royalty, what would you like to be addressed as? I’m good.

Are there any foods you could eat daily and never get sick of? Potatoes in some form or another.

Are there any things coming up that you have to travel for? Not immediately, but I’m off to Manchester in October to see a play.

What was a time when you have laughed so hard you cried? Today at a message Ella sent me ha. I’d just dropped her dog back after his walk and she messaged me saying she’d gone to kiss him but he had pee on his head LOL. Dogs can be so gross sometimes.

Plan a good day. A nice lie-in, a dog walk on the beach with Mike, followed by brunch somewhere, then a drive up the coast for a day out.

What would you do with $10,000 right now? Buy a new laptop, buy a new car and go on holiday.

If you had to create an alter ego for yourself, what would they be like and what’s their name? Nah, I’m good.

What’s one of your biggest accomplishments today? Doing four dog walks.

Do you believe in reincarnation? why or why not? No. It’s a nice idea but I just don’t believe it’s possible.

What relative are you closest with? My mum.

Do you have any recurring dreams? Yeah, most definitely. I also have dreams that follow on from each other night after night, lol.

What last had you startled? A loud noise.

What emotion have you experienced most lately? Happiness.

Let’s say there are no obstacles preventing this.. What would you do for the rest of your life? Travel the world and then get ALL the animals.

What last made you feel proud? My business and how well it’s doing.

What’s an odd phobia someone you know has? I heard of someone who had a fear of cotton wool.

What did you last search online? A kind of flower I didn’t know the name of.

Do you have any ghost stories you’ve experienced? Nope.

If you were to be a food, what would you be and why? One with a long-life that isn’t eaten, lol.

When did you last dust your home? Saturday.

If you could pick an age to stop aging at, what would you choose? My thirties have been great.

#survey #surveys

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longhomes · 2 years

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Sparkle quotes instagram

#Sparkle quotes instagram professional#

#Sparkle quotes instagram free#

#Sparkle quotes instagram crack#

Either way, you'll probably want a few clever or cute 4th of July Instagram captions to go along with your patriotic photos. Or perhaps you'd rather gather everyone in the backyard to jam out to a playlist of your favorite patriotic songs (especially you Bruce Springsteen fans). Maybe you plan to throw a beach barbecue with your favorite grilling recipes. No matter how you choose to celebrate chances are you're going to take a few good Instagram-worthy photos in between.

"God bless America, my home, sweet home.Everyone loves a birthday party, especially one for America! The 4th of July is such a special day for more reasons than you can count, but if we had to start it would be the food, friends, family, fireworks! 🇺🇸.

"The greatness of America lies not in being more enlightened than any other nation, but rather in her ability to repair her faults." - Alexis de Tocqueville.

"Where liberty dwells, there is my country." - Benjamin Franklin.

"Liberty is the breath of life to nations." - George Bernard Shaw.

#Sparkle quotes instagram free#

"This nation will remain the land of the free only so long as it is the home of the brave." - Elmer Davis.

"Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country." - Peter Marshall.

"One flag, one land, one heart, one hand, one nation forevermore!" - Oliver Wendell Holmes.

"With freedom, books, flowers, and the moon, who could not be happy?" - Oscar Wilde.

It must be sung together." - Gerald Stanley Lee

"Patriotism is not short, frenzied outbursts of emotion, but the tranquil and steady dedication of a lifetime." - Adlai Stevenson.

"America, to me, is freedom." - Willie Nelson.

"Who ever walked behind anyone to freedom? If we can't go hand in hand, I don't want to go." - Hazel Scott.

"Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country." - John F.

"Freedom is nothing but a chance to be better." - Albert Camus.

"America is another name for opportunity." - Ralph Waldo Emerson.

"Freedom lies in being bold." - Robert Frost.

And these are things worth fighting for, worth devoting our lives to." - Ronald Reagan

"We’re blessed with the opportunity to stand for something-for liberty and freedom and fairness.

Patriotic Quotes for 4th of July Captions

"Own the night like the fourth of July.

"Dreams can grow wild born inside an American child." - Phil Vassar.

"Raise a glass to freedom, something they can never take away." - Hamilton.

It's cities and farms, it's open arms, one nation under God. It's a man on the moon and fireflies in June and kids sellin' lemonade.

"It's a high school prom, it's a Springsteen song, it's a ride in a Chevrolet.

"Brought to you courtesy of the red, white, and blue." - Toby Keith.

Loves Jesus and America too." - Tom Petty

"We’re the kids in America." - Kim Wilde.

"Our love was made in the U.S.A." - Demi Lovato.

"I thank God for my life, and for the stars and stripes." - Zac Brown.

"She was an American girl." - Tom Petty.

"We'll put a boot in your a**, it's the American way." - Toby Keith.

"I’m just living out the American dream." - Madonna.

"You could say we've always been red, white, and blue." - Lynyrd Skynyrd.

"It’s a party in the U.S.A." - Miley Cyrus.

"This land was made for you and me." - Woody Guthrie.

"Look around, look around, how lucky we are to be alive right now." - Hamilton.

"On second thought, I do like to brag.'Cause I’m mighty proud of the ragged old flag." - Johnny Cash.

"Born in the U.S.A." - Bruce Springsteen.

"Just another American Saturday night." - Brad Paisley.

It's not the 4th of July until I'm holding a hotdog.

My dietary request for your Fourth of July BBQ is wine, please.

Sorry, can't hear you over the sound of freedom ringing.

#Sparkle quotes instagram professional#

Trying to apply for a professional Fourth of July party crasher position.Pretty sure I was a sparkler in another life.

#Sparkle quotes instagram crack#

Did you hear the joke about the Liberty Bell? It'll crack you up.

I like my beer cold, my coffee black, and my tea in the harbor.

Why are there not any knock-knock jokes about America? Because freedom rings.

#Sparkle quotes instagram

0 notes

finelinevogue · 3 years

Note

Can you expand on that topic of Harry buying that island for Y/N to conserve like you touched upon on the 73 questions thing you wrote please?

oooh yes!! i didn’t think this would be something that people would bring up but i’m excited to talk about it!! enjoy;

oli - 4, felix - 3, belle - 3 weeks

“What about this one?”

The same question Anne and Harry had been repeating for the last two hours. Neither Anne or Harry could decide on an island that they both thought you would absolutely love - an island that Harry would buy somewhere new for you to conserve and protect, for future family vacations and eventually potentially even retire to, whenever that day may come.

He had originally thought about purchasing a large plot of land along the coastline of Italy, because it had always captured a special place in Harrys heart. He loved the people, the culture, the weather, the food and he loved you when you’re bathing in the Italian sun. The boot-shaped country was the one in which you and Harry had spent your first holiday together. It was where you’d had your honeymoon. It was where, you’re pretty sure, that Oli was conceived. It held so many precious memories, so you both thought it time to make the country more permanent in your lives and purchase a house over there.

Unfortunately, due to coronavirus, Harry wasn’t able to physically go anywhere and house, or island, hunt - especially with a 3 week old baby. Belle had been born on October 2nd and she was an absolute angel - as happy as can be. Oli and Fix were currently looking after her, whilst Anne and Harry sorted through the mess of trying to organise the gift of a lifetime for you. Luckily you were out with a friend, shopping for baby clothes and a little something for yourself, for the day so Harry could complete his surprise in secret. Harry already held property in Malibu, New York, Japan, London and Manchester. He, until recently, had an apartment in San Fransisco, but he never used it and so the money that he got from selling that was going to be spent buying an island for you.

He always remembers one of the first conversations that he ever had with you and it was about how you wanted to change the world. You’d answered “I think i’d buy my own island and start conserving the planet one bit of land at a time, until I save it all!” Now obviously you were being very optimistic and silly with your dreams, but that’s all you thought they’d be - dreams. Harry was willing to make them a reality though. Okay, perhaps not world domination but he could start small and give you the thing you’d dreamt of even as a little girl.

“Mum—” Harry sighed, knowing he would reject it just like all the other ones she’d picked out for being either, too small, too big, too dangerous, too humanised. He didn’t care about price, he just wanted to get it right. He looked over to her computer, seeing what she’d found and brought up on her screen. “Shit, wait…”

This was it.

“Mhm?” Anne smiled knowingly.

“Give me details.” Harry asked her, pulling over his notepad and pen to jot down key information. He wasn’t planning on buying today, but he was planning on making inquiries so if he thought something needed negotiating then at least he’d have the information to hand.

“Okay, um,” she looked over the screen. Harry had only seen glimpses of the the island from the photos but even now he was fully invested in it, “it’s in Phuket, Thailand. Minimally developed on. 110 acres, but you know…”

“Could lessen due to climate change, yeah.” Harry noted and looked to his mum to see if she was continuing or not.

“They are allowing an income potential so you could build and make profit from it. Then again the island itself is $160 million so it’s going to be 7018 before you even start making a profit.” Anne joked, but Harry sighed. “What, love?”

“$160 million.” Harry pondered, thinking whether this is all worth it. It’s a huge investment and potential waste of money, but it was for you.

“You’re a near billionaire Harry. What else are you going to do with all your money? You could build back half of that money just from releasing a new album with no promotion. Imagine if you released a documentary or something too. You work hard, Harry, and you will continue to, so is it so wrong to treat yourself to something nice?”

“It’s not for me, though.”

“Well then, there’s the question you to need to ask yourself.” Harry looked at his mum quizzically before she responded. “Is Y/N worth it?”

Well that was a stupid question.

“Looks like Y/Ns getting her island after all.” Harry grinned so wide, feeling so happy that he was doing this for you. You deserved this so much. Yes it was a bloody huge investment and risk, if Harry was being honest with himself, but you were ridiculously worth it. So much so that he would have bought the island even if it were double that price. Harry sighed in relief and slouched back on the chair, thinking about how happy you’re going to be when you find out. Obviously there was so much paperwork and calls that needed to be made, so it was going to take some time, but to see your face at the end of this was going to be so worth it.

“Cuppa tea then?” Anne asked, slinking out of the chair and standing up.

“Yeah, go on—” The sounds of rattling keys and the front door opening broke Harry’s sentence, making him look up at his mum in panic. Time had flew by so quickly that he’d not even realised you could’ve actually been home anytime now.

Shit, you were home.

“Quick mum, help me hide all this. Wait mum, you’re going to have to sneak out the back because Y/Ns going to have too many questions otherwise!” Harry shot up from the kitchen table and started to gather bits of paper and close the laptops down. Luckily Harry was using his work laptop and Anne had brought her own so they didn’t have to worry about clearing browser history.

“What and you can’t just say you were hanging out with your ol’ mum?” Anne asked, laughing as she packed up her stuff because she knew just how demanding and stubborn her son was.

“I love you and call me when you get home safely okay?” Harry asked, chivying her out of the back door quietly and pecking her cheeks in thanks for everything she’s done for him today.

“Alright. Love you!”

Okay, act normal Harry.

“Mummy!” You heard Oli shout from the other room. You furrowed your eyebrows as you entered the house, dropping off your shoes and bags at the door before heading into the living room, where you knew you’d find the kids.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, looking around the room to see everything was in order. In fact, your heart melted at the sight of the siblings. Oli was sat upright against the sofa and had his baby sister laying on top of his stomach with hers, and Fix was sat just to the side of them - patting his sisters back rhythmically. It was a sight for sore eyes.

“Baby Belle just smiled.” Oli beamed brightly and you smiled back at him. Even though it was slightly irrelevant of him to shout for you because of this, you couldn’t help but awe over the fact the siblings were so loving for one another.

“Did she now?” You took out your phone to take a few pictures of them. “Smile again for mummy then, all of you.” You giggled as Fix pulled the cheesiest smile and Oli did his signature smile too - no teeth and raised eyebrows so high to the sky. You even caught a golden photo where Belle was slightly smiling too. “Are you okay in here still?”

You didn’t want to feel like you were abandoning your kids, because you would never, but you needed just a day to yourself to rejuvenate and help overcome the post-natal depression slowly. As much as you so very much loved them, it was hard for you sometimes. Belle was going to be sleeping for at least another hour, so you weren’t too worried about her. Oli and Fix were ever so sensible too, simply watching Teen Titans on Cartoon Network whilst they babysat their sister. You were only a shout away if something were to happen, which made you wonder where Harry was.

“Yes mummy.” Fix nodded his head whilst keeping his eyes glued to the TV.

“Everything all right in here?” Harry’s voice came from behind you, but you’r felt his presence a lot sooner before that. He stood behind you, peering into the room to check everything was in order.

God, you’d missed him today.

“Yeah, Oli tell daddy why you called me.”

“Baby Belle smiled daddy!” Oli retold the story just as animatedly as the first time, but keeping as still as he could so not to disturb his sister.

“Did she now? You must’ve made her happy then.” Harry slunk one of his hands around your waist and squeezed the pudge that had situated there. He absolutely loved the way you’d become curvier after giving birth. He said it gave him a bit extra of you to love on, to which you always cried at the words because he never failed to make you feel so beautiful.

“I try daddy.”

“I try too.” Felix added, obviously wanting his dad to know he wasn’t not helping in taking care of Belle.

“Good boys. Proud of you both.” They both smiled after their dads words, “Now you both behave and look after Baby Belle whilst I go make mummy a cup of tea okay?”

“But come back, daddy.” They both replied and you gave them a final warm smile, before making your way to the kitchen to make a warm, milky, beverage.

“Nice day?” Harry asked, following you into the kitchen. His hand was placed lowly on your back and guided you into the room.

“Lovely, thanks. Just missed you all.” You sighed and turned around to kiss him in the middle of the kitchen. Your lips moulded to his perfectly and he tasted so sweet, you probably so sour from your lemonade you’d had earlier.

“Miss you always.” Harry murmured against your lips and then pulled away, not before giving you and extra peck though.

You walked over to the kettle and switched it on, whilst Harry collected the mugs from the cupboard you were too small to reach. He picked out one with the letter H on and one with the letter of your first name on, knowing that you’d drink from each others letters as always.

“Been busy today?” You asked, dropping teabags into the cups and leaning against the counter side as you waited for the kettle to take its’ boil.

“Kinda.” He smirked to himself, trying to dodge that question and any others you might have about the day. “Glad you’re back home though.” He walked to you and cupped the back of your head lightly, guiding your face up to his.

“Thank you for being my home.” You smiled at your cheesy comment and then lead your lips to his again.

“You are a dream, my love.” Harry said, looking deep into the eyes he could fall in love with all over again.

Just as you were about to touch lips with his you heard the wails of your tiny daughter and sighed in sync. You chuckled as you flopped your head onto Harry’s chest. As much as you wanted to stay and soak up all the love he was about to give you, your children were a priority - especially a crying baby.

“Well, your dream will have to wait hun.” You patted his chest before walking out of the room, Harry watching you go before whispering ever-so-carefully under his breath.

“But yours won’t.”

145 notes · View notes

gucciwins · 4 years

Text

Weeping Willow

Harry sends his wife for a girl’s night, and their five-month-old baby falls sick.

Word count: 5,093

A/N: i am no expert on babies (unless it’s my almost two-year-old niece) but i have it on good authority this does bring down fevers. This was written for @tbslenthusiast dadathon. i hope you love it. xx

___

It's a Saturday night, and Harry tries his best to convince his wife to go out with her friends for a nice dinner while he cares for baby Willow.

Their five-month-old infant. The sweetest little girl to grace the earth in Harry's opinion.

He's never felt a love like this, a never-ending love for his child. He swears he has never been more in love with his wife, his twin flame, for giving him the greatest gift he will ever receive.

She's standing there cradling Willow in her arms as she begins to drift off to sleep. Humming a song she hasn't shared with Harry. Something special between mother and daughter. As much as Harry hates to admit it but their daughter is a momma's girl at heart.

Willow feels that extra protection from her mother; he gives her all the cuddles and kisses, but there is no more special bond than when Y/N holds her close to her heart, and Willow settles down in seconds. When she is breastfeeding, Y/N tells her the stories of her childhood and when Harry and she were first dating.

It's the irregular sleep schedule that Y/N has never once complained about.

Harry wakes up at the oddest of times when he stretches his arms out to reach for Y/N to pull her close to his chest only to find her missing. More time than not, he'll find her at their windowsill, Willow getting her night time meal as Y/N gazes at the moon softly singing Lolo a lullaby that was once sung to Y/N. The moonlight bouncing off her skin made her look eternal as if she weren't real, and Harry just imagined up this life.

But she is real, and she is all his, and their daughter is theirs.

As a kid, this was the life he dreamed of, never knowing if it would come true or not. He will never stop being grateful for all he has in life, full of love.

Harry is brought out of his thoughts when Y/N addresses him.

"I don't know, H. She's a little warm." Y/N stands there, the back of her hand gently placed on her baby's forehead before moving it to Willow's cheek. She smiles down at her sleeping baby.

Harry sighs, extending his arms for her to hand him their small baby. She shakes her head, taking two steps back.

Harry chuckles because he knew this would happen, but he forgot how stubborn she could be.

She's wearing Harry's lilac robe, her hair curled, and makeup is done. He made her do a red lipstick because he missed it. It's one that Gemma gave her that's smudge and transfer free. Meaning he can kiss her with it all night long without his lips turning red.

"Willow is fine. Maybe she passed some gas."

She rips her gaze from Willow and shoots him a glare. He puts his hands up in defense.

"If she starts feeling sick, you know the crying won't stop. She likes it when I soothe her."

"She's my daughter too. I can take care of her and soothe her just as good."

She kisses Willow's head, slowly continuing to grow brown curls just like Harry's. "I know you can, but there's this motherly instinct telling me not to go."

"My husband instinct is saying that my wife should go out to dinner with her friends for a nice dinner and some wine." Harry rebuttals.

"I don't drink." She mutters into her baby's head as she adjusts her to lay on her chest as she sways side to side.

"Well, then go crazy with the strawberry lemonade."

She sighs. Harry knows she's close to giving in.

Her clothes set out in bed, ready for her to throw on. Harry chose her outfit, and he's proud of it. Camel-tone flared fitted trousers, a black fitted v-neck, and a double-breasted twill blazer to tie the look. Her black Gucci 'sucker' boots waiting for her at the door to be slipped on then head out the door.

"If I go, you have to promise to text me every hour."

"Half hour if you really need it." He counters.

She shakes her head, no. "If you do that, I'll be home by the second text."

He nods, happy she agreed to go. She needs this no matter how much she had been fighting it.

"Alright, Lolo, I'm going to leave you with your Daddy for a few hours. I hope you don't miss me too much. I'll make up for leaving you with cuddles for the whole night, munchkin."

Harry's eyes well up, always in awe at the relationship between his wife and their daughter. Their beautiful five-month-old daughter who Harry, thinks is growing too fast. She's still on the small side, but the doctor assured them she was doing good.

Y/N placed her in the crib that Harry put together with Gemma's help, who wanted to be involved with as much as Harry would let her.

She stirs a little, but Y/N pats her chest softly, calming her down.

"I'm going to go get dressed. Turn on the baby monitor, please?" She points in the direction of it.

"On it, love."

She walks out and gets dressed quickly, knowing there's a reservation, and she doesn't like arriving late. Harry meets her downstairs baby monitor in hand as she stands boots safely on her feet.

Harry shamelessly checks her out. He almost begs her to stay after seeing how good she looks, but he knows she needs this.

"Text me when you get there." He wraps her in a hug, not wanting to let go just yet.

"Of course."

She pulls back, looking up at him before leaning in to peck his lips three times; she walks out the door, bag in hand, when Harry tugs her wrist, turning her around connecting his lips with hers. It's a short passionate kiss, Harry's tongue fighting for dominance. She lets out a small moan. Y/N, let's Harry be the one to pull back, not at all wanting to break the kiss.

Harry smirks as he sees the dazed look in her eyes. "Just so you know what you have waiting at home for you."

"You menace." Harry leans on the door as she walks out. "I love you, H."

"And I love you."

Harry watched as she drove away before going back in and heading straight to the nursery, where his darling Willow is still sleeping.

"Just you and me, Lolo," Harry whispers as he sits in the rocking chair and lays back to rest his eyes. It's like they say when the baby sleeps, he does as well.

____

Harry wakes up when he hears a small sneeze. He peeks at Willow, but she still has her eyes closed. He picks up his phone to check how long he slept and is shocked. It was only twenty minutes; he felt like it had been much longer now, feeling a bit more energized.

He sees a text Darling and opens it,

I've arrived safely.

I miss you both so much already. xx

Harry can't help but smile. He misses her already. He might always be playing music in the house that fills the silence, but Harry only does it because she sings along to each song no matter how bad she can butcher the lyrics to an unknown song.

She fills the home with warmth and love.

I love you! Lolo is still sleeping. Have a lovely night. xx

Harry sat in the rocking chair, just gazing at his daughter. Her cheeks were a little red, but he thought she might be a bit warm. He unwraps the blanket, just watching her stretch out her small fists.

Willow slowly blinks her eyes open, a small smile on her face when she sees her father looking down at her.

"You up, Lolo? No more sleep, I'm guessing."

She continues to stare at Harry before turning her head to the door. Harry knows she's waiting for someone to come in. After a few moments of no movements, Willow looks at Harry, giving her a small smile.

"Waiting for your Mum, I know. She'll be back later; for now, it's you and me."

Harry reaches in to pick her up, gently shushing her, not wanting her to start crying. He walks down the stairs slowly, the fear of tripping down the stairs more present than ever with his baby in his arms.

Harry sits her on the couch, a pillow propped up on the back to help support her back, and grabs her stuffed bunny that was left on the coffee table. It's her favorite toy to play with at all times.

Willow sets it in her lap, not at all looking at it, eyes on Harry. He sees her eyes begin to well up, and he knows the tears are coming. He scoops her up gently, letting the bunny fall to the floor so Harry could soothe his baby.

"My Willo baby, no tears. You know it breaks my heart." He begins shushing gently. Gemma swears by it watching Alice do the Ss in New Amsterdam. Y/N does it too, her grandma teaching her that when she helped watch over younger cousins.

This settles her for a second, resting her head in the crook of Harry's neck as he rubs a hand gently down her back. "Good baby, Momma would be proud of us." He knows he made a mistake once she lets out a loud wail.

He can only assume the word Momma did it for her.

His phone alarm begins to ring, meaning it's the hour update, and if he doesn't check-in, she'll call, and if he doesn't answer, she'll worry even more and drive herself more. He does not need that happening.

Harry will not let her call; he'll send a sleeping photo of Willow to Y/N to keep her calm because he can do this. He can tend to his child alone. She's half of his DNA; why wouldn't he be able to.

His Mum always told him babies cry for three reasons: dirty diaper, sleepy, and hunger. He assumes she's hungry. Has to be, her diaper doesn't feel full, and she also doesn't smell.

As Harry goes to the kitchen, he stops at the fridge. He sees all the magnets that Y/N loves collecting when visiting a new country, state, or city. Her favorite being the Trevi Fountain. Tells her every time she sees it, she can see Harry down on his knee, tears in his eyes and heart wide open for her. Safe to say it became his favorite as well. Right under it is a yellow sticky note "Just in case xx Dr. Harp" The phone number of Willow's pediatrician.

Y/N really is the best, but he knows that he has everything under control, or at least he keeps telling himself that as Willow continues her crying, no amount of words calms her. He'd also call his Mum before the pediatrician, who would only end up calling Y/N.

"Mummy left your milk in the fridge; now, all we have to do is warm it up."

Willow's cries go quiet for a second at what Harry can only think was at word milk. He can do this.

They don't bottle feed her as often, both preferring her to breastfeed directly from Y/N. Harry encouraged her to pump milk because Y/N has complained over too many milk stained shirts. It has helped her tremendously. A few times, when Y/N was too tired to get up, he offered to warm the milk to feed Willow. Y/N knew how important it was for Harry, so she allowed him and began pumping more for Harry to help provide her during the day.

He gets a bowl and fills it with hot water, then places the bottle in. He knows it should be a few minutes, he begins singing to Willow. He sings her the song he wrote for his sister, which holds meaning to Y/N now, finding a connection that makes them feel at peace when hearing the song. As Harry gently sings 'Sweet Creature,' he sees her settle, nose runny from the tears, he grabs one of her clothes that Y/N keeps in the kitchen. Truth be told, she has them spread all over the house to have one on hand when necessary. He wipes the snot then drapes it over his open shoulder. He checks the temperature, able to hear Y/N scold him in his head for wanting to skip the step.

"Lolo, going to go sit down, and then you can begin eating." She blinks up at him, her green eyes unfocused, refusing to settle on one place of his face.

He sits and adjusts Willow to cradle her in his arms. He does a final temperature check on his wrist and is happy with the outcome. He slowly brings it up to her lips to startle her, and she latches on after a few seconds.

Harry leans back on the chair, releasing a long sigh. He feels victorious, even just for a moment.

The phone on the couch seat next to him displays a text:

I love you both. xx

He's in the clear.

Harry sings Willow the first song that pops into his head, well he mainly hums as she has her eyes closed and a fist clenched on her blanket and the other tucked in. He pulls the bottle away once he sees no more movement. He wipes the outside of her mouth very carefully to not disturb her.

"Willow, Angel, I need to burp you. You shouldn't even feel it." Harry likes warning her; he knows she understands.

He's done relatively quickly, settling her back in his arms to let her sleep. Harry would love to turn the television on, but he settles for staring at the angel in his arms.

Harry frowns when he sees Willow's eyes flutter open. She sleeps longer after eating.

"Lolo, it's barely been ten minutes. That's not enough for a growing baby. You need to grow up to be strong, just like Momma."

Willow lets out a small cough. It startles Harry, not having heard the sound before. He gently picks her up and begins patting her back, soothing her as she calms down.

Harry thinks back to the phone number stuck on the fridge but shakes the thought away because one cough is not enough to make a call, especially this late at night.

He is now slowly walking in front of the couch, trying to get her to fall back to sleep. It's not working.

It starts off in small whimpers before turning into loud wails.

This is not good.

Harry tries his best to place his baby's cries, but it does not sound familiar. He isn't calling Y/N; worrying her is not part of tonight's plans, but there is someone in mind who will always answer him. Without thinking twice, he goes to favorites and picks the second person.

"Hello love, how are you?"

He's greeted by a calming voice, but it does nothing to soothe the pounding in his heart. "Hi, Mum." Harry isn't even sure she heard with Willow's loud cries.

"Is something wrong? Why is little Willow crying? Where's Y/N?" Anne is quick to jump in.

"Today was her first girl's night out that I was insistent she go out to even though she didn't want to, but she should be back in the next hour or so." He addressed that question before jumping into the most important one. "Willow coughed then settled down before bursting into this cry. I've never heard it before. It's not her hungry one because she ate half an hour ago, and her diaper is clean." He lets out a sob he didn't know he was holding back.

"Oh, dear, right. First off, is she hot? warmer than usual."

Harry pulls her back, face scrunched up, nose full of snot. He places the back of his hand on his forehead, and it's burning. "Yes, she's warm. But couldn't it be from the crying?"

Anne sighs, worried for her son, but this is parenthood having to see your child get sick and old help them through it. The first time is always the worst, but each time after that still breaks your heart. "No love, check her temperature and call the pediatrician. Tell her the symptoms, and you can go from there. Right, hang up, call Y/N, and the pediatrician in that order."

Harry agrees to get her off the phone and to make the call right away. Anne knows Harry well enough that he will skip one important thing she told him to do, so she takes it upon herself to get it done.

He heads upstairs, sitting the still crying Willow in the crib as he searches for the thermometer he knows Y/N keeps next to the wipes for emergencies. He is quick to take off her shirt as gently as one can be and sticks it under her armpit as he waits for it to ring as he dials Dr. Harp.

There is an answer on the third ring, just as the thermometer beeps.

"Dr. Harp, hello, it's Harry Styles, father of Willow Styles." He says in a rush.

"Yes, Mr. Styles, what can I do for you." The doctor's voice is kind, and it calms Harry knowing there's a professional helping him.

"Well, my daughter slept about ten minutes before waking up after eating, and that isn't normal for her. She had a bit of a cough and has not stopped crying for the past twenty minutes now. She's burning up Doc. The thermometer says 103F. Shit, I meant 39C. My wife's family got us a fancy thermometer that gives us both numbers." He feels the need to explain a hand on the back of Willow's head, trying to calm her down as well as himself.

"Well, it seems it could be a common cold. There is not a lot to do, except keep your baby drinking milk. Mrs. Styles is still breastfeeding, correct?"

"Yes."

"Okay, it's important to keep her hydrated and check with her through the night. To bring down the temperature, a lukewarm bath would help as well as a humidifier because, from the sounds of it, she is a bit congested."

Harry nods along to everything she is saying, repeating it back. "Thank you so much, Dr. Harp."

"It's no problem; if the fever doesn't break or gets higher than 40C, then I suggest you head straight to the hospital." Dr. Harp says her goodbyes as he picks up Willow and heads to their bedroom, taking her into their bathroom.

He looks around, not sure what to do first that he misses the sound of the door opening and closing as well as footsteps up the stairs. It might have also been Willow's crying.

Willow lock's eyes with Y/N over Harry's shoulder, stopping for a second, causing Harry to gasp before she starts up louder than before for not being in her mother's arms.

"Willow, darling," Y/N smiles at her daughter, cheeks red and nose snotty but still her beautiful baby.

Harry feels like he can breathe properly now that she's home with him. His missing half home, finally feeling complete. He does feel awful for not calling her right away, but he swore she was having a good time.

Harry hands over Willow to Y/N's waiting arms watching as she cradles her close, pressing repeated kisses to her daughter's brown hair. Willow instantly clenches a fist onto her necklace, not that Y/N minds, but Harry feels guilty for depriving his daughter of her mother. It was his fault she was out tonight.

"How'd you get here so quick?" Are the first words Harry thinks to say.

Harry thought she'd be mad at him for not calling, but all he sees are her kind and gentle eyes he fell in love with.

"Anne called me to update me, but I was already ten minutes from home. I had dinner but got it to go having that nagging feeling you needed me. Anne called it mother's intuition, but" She breathes in Willow's smell, Harry finding it endearing how she always says she smells amazing like peaches. "I swear I could feel how distressed you were. I thought you were having a bad time, so I got you ice cream and brought home a meal we could share."

He leans against the sink, a small grin forming on his face. "I did always tell you we were soulmates."

Y/N steps further into the bathroom, heading to the tub to get the water-filled. She sits on the toilet, letting it fill before dipping her hand in from time to time. It feels a bit less than halfway before she closes the tap.

"Doctor's orders were getting the temperature down, right?" Y/N asks Harry, and he nods. "Well, in the lukewarm bath, she goes." Y/N fakes as if she is going to place Willow in before hugging her to her chest once more. "I'm only playing." She boops Lolo's nose.

"Your momma thinks she's so funny, Lolo." Harry rolls his eyes at her, not at all, hiding the love behind them.

"Get in the bath with her, H." Y/N has successfully undressed Willow, giving her kisses all over, causing Willow to let out a small giggle.

Harry near tears now. "That's the first time she laughed this entire night."

"Honey, listen. She hasn't gotten sick before. It's okay, we're learning." She reaches a hand up to cup his cheek, and he leans into it eagerly. "We are learning together." He nods as she pulls her hand away. "Now, do I need to undress my other baby as well?"

He smiles. "You're welcome to, but I got this." He slips off the black shirt and grey sweats, leaving on his briefs.

The water is perfect. Not that he expected any different because she does everything with extra care and love for Willow. He's glad to have her as his life partner and mother of his child and future children.

He slips in, sitting down, letting Y/N gently place Willow on his bent knees. He cups her head, gently sinking himself lower. She hands him a cloth, and he looks at her, eyes wide.

"Wet it, rinse it a bit, then just sponge it around her."

He nods but doesn't move to receive it. Y/N moves forward, dips it in the water, and squeezes it leaving a bit of water. She gently gets Lolo's back patting before moving down.

"Thank you." He says and accepts the cloth.

Y/N makes her way to the bedroom. "You're leaving?" He questions, causing Willow to look at her as well.

She laughs at her two loves, both wanting her close. "Going to turn on the humidifier. It's going to be good for her and her congestion. Then will get you both a new change of clothes before coming back. Is that okay with you both?"

Harry looks down at Willow that still has her eyes on her Momma. "What do you think, Lolo? Think we should let Momma take care of us." He hums as if hearing her response. "She said not to take too long."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Harry settles in, Willow moving her hand in the water, intrigued by the ripples allowing Harry to rinse her. He feels good, feels great, and can honestly help her and no longer cry about it.

Y/N knows he needs this but hopes she isn't feeling too awful about leaving Willow when she got sick for the first time.

For all, he knows she could be crying in their bedroom or, even worse, the nursery where he can't hear her.

But that's what Harry is here to remind her what a fantastic team they are and how she saved the day like always. He's proud of her just as he knows she's proud of him.

____

It's twenty minutes when Y/N walks back in. Now dressed in grey sweats and an old white shirt that Willow loves to cling on. She approaches, and Harry raises Willow so that she can wrap her in the yellow towel.

"My munchkin smells so good." She kisses her cheek. She turns to look at Harry with a smile on her face making him smile back. "Shower, I'm going to dress her, and then I'll bring your clothes in."

"Okay, love."

Harry drains the water before turning on the showerhead, letting the warm water wash away the stress in his body. He doesn't take too long, wanting to cuddle his two girls all night long.

Walking out, dressing in the warm clothes that she must have thrown in the dryer for him knowing how he likes to be warm after a long night. He smiles, slipping the shirt over his head, slipping on the black sweats with no need for briefs. Turning off the bathroom light, closing the door, he sees Willow lying on Y/N's chest.

"How is she doing?" Harry paddles over, hovering over Y/N to kiss her forehead, doing the same to Willow.

"Better, the temperature is at 98."

Harry smiles, glad she's under three digits again. She looks sweet dressed in a bodysuit with small bumble bees all over. Y/N wrapped the knitted mint green blanket that Y/N's mother made for Willow around her shoulder to keep her warm but not enough to overheat.

"That's great. Our baby is so strong." Harry gets in bed and sits against the headboard, making Y/N shift over to rest her head on his shoulder, arms wrapped around Willow for support.

____

It's an hour of silence basking in hearing their baby's breathing. Not as smooth due to the congestion but better than before. Harry places a kiss on Y/N's forehead when he feels the first tear, then many more follow. A sob breaking out, but breathing even to not disturb their sleeping baby on her chest.

"Love, lovie, hey. Don't cry. She's doing better already." He wraps the arm tighter, hoping he can transfer all his love for her through the hug.

"I'm just overwhelmed." She chokes out.

Harry sits up to face her, reaches his hands out to wipe her rapidly falling tears.

"Please don't be mad with yourself; if there is anyone to be mad at, it's me." He pleads for her to understand. "I told you to leave us be."

"Not mad at you, honey." She whimpers. "I-I-I'm upset I wasn't here to help you. But you handled it so well. Very proud of you."

Harry sits there, tears falling out of his eyes now because she was proud. He did nothing. He knows he did nothing; he called his Mum and the doctor. He never got her to stop crying.

"I didn't do anything."

"Honey, you did." Her voice firm, one hand reaching up to gently raise his head to look at her. "You called Anne because you knew she would help and then called Dr. Harp for help."

"But she never stopped crying, not until you held her."

She shakes her head. "She was feeling bad, she cried at discomfort and unusual feelings. Might have also sensed your panic," She teases. He lets out a small chuckle.

"We're a team. Together and apart, H."

Harry lays down on his side, pulling Y/N down with him. He does it slowly to not move Willow; Harry lays his head on her shoulder, looking down at their baby. He lets himself relax, knowing she's going to be okay.

"I love you." He whispers. No response causing him to look up at a grinning Y/N. "Say it back."

She giggles. "Thought you were talking to Lolo."

"That was for you, wife."

"My bad," She pecks his nose. "I love you, H."

"Missed." He mutters, puckering his lips in her directions.

"Dork." She closes the small distance and hums at the sweet taste that is Harry and mint toothpaste. He deepens it for a few seconds before pulling back. His eyes closed. He kisses her from her cheeks to her collarbones, no spot left untouched. He steals one more kiss before settling down.

"Sleep tight, my darling, Willow," Harry whispers, throwing his arm over Willow's small body and Y/N's stomach for extra protection.

He peeks one eye open to see Y/N smiling down at Willow, no sign of sleep in her features. "I take it you won't be going out anytime soon again."

"You got that right." She jokes. "No, it was nice. I forgot how good it is to chat about anything other than what size diapers she's going to need next."

"That's not all we talk about. We also talk about the size of your boobs."

She snorts at his comment, and he happily joins in.

"We haven't had a date night, well we have but indoors with a baby always in arms."

Harry smirks. "What do you have in mind, love?"

She blushes, "We go away for the weekend, leave Willow with Anne or Mitch since he keeps saying we keep his goddaughter away from him."

"You'd be okay with that?" Harry checks, making sure she really wants this.

She nods. "I'll miss her like crazy, my heart is beating faster just at the thought, but I miss you." There's a gleam in her eye, one when she gets lost in a memory. "It's quickies and late-night conversations. As much as I love our daughter, I miss my best friend."

Harry grins, glad she's sharing this. "Any other time, I'd make a joke, but honestly, I miss you just as much."

"Then, coordinate with Jeff on a weekend you're free and look for a place we can go to. Driving or flying whatever you find best."

"Oh, baby, I'm going to make you fall in love with me all over again."

"I'm counting on it, Harry."

Harry helps Y/N drift off to sleep with his ideas of where they can go and all the naughty things they will get up to.

Harry knows nothing in life will be better than being in the arms of his two favorite girls.

___

Thank you for reading. Please reblog it means a lot to me.

Come and tell me what you thought of Weeping Willow

#harry styles #dadathon #harry styles x reader #dad! harry #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles story #thank you for reading!

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years

Text

to date a single father (1/2)

Pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie) x (f) reader

Warnings: mentions of trauma, drugs, and violence. a little angst? mostly fluff

Wordcount: 2.8k (I haven’t even gotten to the scene that inspired this thought process, guys...)

Part 2/2!

Summary: Frankie has a little girl in kindergarten and you’re the prettiest school teacher he’s ever seen. Being a single dad makes navigating relationships hard, that’s all.

Notes: I don’t really want kids but his baby is a part of his character so I thought it would be interesting to explore. I didn’t know how to put this in the warnings but obviously this topic can be a loaded one for some people, please be kind to yourself.

You first met Frankie outside the elementary school where you worked. You taught older kids, and they got let out a few minutes earlier to get their little siblings and to spread out traffic.

Most parents were in their minivan’s, on their phones, honking, or chatting through open windows. The sun was shining, sinking into your skin, and the kids were trickling out of the school.

He caught your eye, because he was standing nearby, hovering nervously, looking a touch lost. And maybe in small part because his hair was curling out from under his hat in soft tufts and his eyes were warm and bright.

“Can I help you, sir?” You asked cautiously, eyes still dutifully scanning the pick up area, making sure the students were safe.

He looked startled, then sheepish.

“My daughter’s in kindergarten,” he said, taking off his baseball cap to rake his hair to the side before replacing it. “It’s her first day.”

Ah. That explains his mother hen mannerisms.

“She'll be out in just a moment,” you said smiling at him. You explained the staggered release and noted how the crease between his brows smoothed a little bit.

You got to see parents with their kids often, and you were no stranger to the occasional handsome dad, but when his little girl came running towards him, nothing could have prepared you. His face lit up and she jumped straight into his arms yelling happily. As he spun her around for some wild reason your heart threatened to hammer right out of your chest.

He put her down and she chattered about her first day. As they walked away, he waved at you, and you smiled weakly before tearing your eyes away.

The kindergarten teacher appeared at your side. Her arm casually shot out, causing a running kid to almost crash into it, but effectively stopping him from sprinting somewhere more dangerous. She gave him a look before turning to grin at you.

“What?” you asked, trying to play off your odd behavior the best you could. You definitely weren’t staring at the most handsome dad you’d ever seen being adorable with his daughter. And by no means had you been neglecting your supervising duties to do so. She raised an eyebrow and against your will, your face was flushed.

“I’ve never seen you like this!” she said gleefully, laughing at you.

“There’s nothing to see!” you flapped your hand at her, knowing you were lying through your teeth.

“Isn’t there?” she knew you a little better than would be best in this circumstance. “Hon, I’ve worked with you five years and I haven’t seen a single person - real or from your stories – make you so flustered.”

You shook your head and started to walk back towards the school, calling behind you, “I wasn’t!”

“Would it help to know he’s single?” she chirped after you.

And you hated yourself because you stopped dead, heart pounding, before you walked away just about as quickly as you could.

That night, Frankie hated himself a little bit too, because he couldn’t get the pretty school teacher out of his head.

Over the first few weeks of the fall semester, this because normal for the two of you. Frankie kept coming early, and so when your let your class out, you would go stand and talk to him, both falling in love a little bit, and you would then get teased mercilessly by the other teachers. He would go home and day dream about seeing you outside of school, holding your hand, meeting your eyes and not having to look away.

He told the boys about you and accepted their bad advice and excited teasing with stride. You also gave up trying to deny it from your closest friends and they had the best time playing matchmaker for you, even if it was horribly embarrassing.

Every couple of days, your friend would keep his daughter inside extra long to help clean up or something, so you’d have more time to talk. On top of that, the older teachers made of habit of floating by and announcing how pretty you looked or how talented you were, and mentioning you were single with broad winks.

“Our sweet girl is just such a good teacher!” one man said. “I’d love it if she would marry my son one day. If she runs a household like her classroom, I could die happy!”

You felt like you could melt into the concrete. Frankie was grinning, his eyes alight with laughter as they met yours. He tried to ignore the feelings bubbling inside of him at the thought.

The next day, an older woman was apparently feeling protective over you, approaching Frankie and him a hard stare down. He fidgeted, shooting you a panicked look before she began asking him questions rapid fire.

When she was satisfied and moved on you finally turned to him saying, “I’m so sorry about this, Mr. Morales,” and he shrugged.

“I don’t mind,” he turned away from you, eyes searching for his daughter, and you almost didn’t hear him add, “It’s worth it.”

Silently you agreed, but before you could say anything, you saw his little one incoming. Instead of her dotting father, she hugged your legs, catching you entirely off guard. Frankie made a choking sound, his heart having leapt into his throat at the sight of you with his kid. The sky was cloudy that day – but he was feeling warm inside.

You talked to her for a bit before she moved on to him and they walked off waving, leaving you standing there in confusion.

Her teacher, on cue, slid up to your side.

“She’s been talking about you in class recently.”

“What? Why?” you were panicking. Never in your life did you picture yourself hoping a tiny little girl liked you, but here you were.

Her smile was soft as she said, “She thinks you’re nice and likes very much that her daddy has a girlfriend that is pretty because she thinks that means she’s going to become a princess.”

This was overwhelming. “I’m not his girlfriend!” you wailed, “I don’t even know what I’m doing!”

She hugged you tight, and whispered that you would figure it out. She promised you were doing just fine, and despite your anxiety, you half believed her.

Weeks later, you still weren’t his girlfriend, but you and him were just about the only people who didn’t think so. You let out class as early as you could most days, and he was always there to greet you as soon as you stepped outside. Sometimes he would have an “extra" drink for you from a nearby coffee shop, and he always got your order right. (He did remember his daughter’s teacher's, and well as hot chocolate for the little matchmaker.) Once, it was raining and the two of your shared an umbrella.

Now, your school was getting a new vice principal, and there was a social evening planned for parents and students to come and meet him. You were jittery with nerves, the thought of seeing Frankie in a new setting putting you on edge. You’d even put on a prettier than average outfit as if it were a date, and your coworkers were beyond excited.

Streamers were hung, pitchers were filled with lemonade, and you settled in a seat along the edge, hoping beyond hope that Frankie would find you and everyone else would leave you alone.

You had no such luck. After the new vice principal had been introduced to the staff, he made his rounds, greeting everyone personally before stopping on you. You made polite small talk, but he didn’t seem the slightest bit interested in moving on, settling next to you.

He began leaning close, mentioning how many good things he’d heard about you and you realized he was flirting with you. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach. He wasn’t a bad guy, and maybe a few months ago you wouldn’t have minded so much, but now you just felt weird and uncomfortable. Politeness and politics were part of the job, but you scooted your chair away from his, unable to stop yourself.

When Frankie walked in with the other parents and students, his daughter pointed excitedly at you, tugging his hand. His eyes found you, but jealousy reared inside of him, along with a touch of hurt. There was a new man by your side, and he wasn’t being shy about his interest in you. Frankie didn’t know what do so he pulled his little one in the opposite direction, saying, “Snacks first, yeah?” knowing it would buy him some time.

He watched you out of the corner of his eye, thankful when other teachers seemed to approach the two of you to pull the man’s attention away. There was another roar of jealousy, though, as the man tapped the microphone and introduced himself. Looking at him on the small stage, in a suit and tie, Frankie felt scruffy.

He couldn’t be bothered to listen to him, his mind running. Would you prefer a guy like this? Successful and suave? Baggage free?

He followed his daughter, her attention short, as she ran to play with her friends. He hovered close to keep an eye on them, unable to shake the habit. Some other parents were talking to him, and he tried his best to be polite but he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the man, who was making his way back towards you.

It didn’t take long, however, for Frankie to see how uncomfortable you were, and a small, warm feeling bloomed in his chest in place of the jealousy. He kept the little one in his line of sight as he moved carefully through the crowds and behind the man. He caught your eye, and the warm feeling grew when your eyes widened and you visibly relaxed. Spurred on, he made a little symbol with his fingers over his chest - something Santi often did jokingly. It was an “S" shape, similar to the one Superman wore.

Do you need saving? he mouthed and you grinned, nodding slighting, so as not to betray him to your captor.

He didn’t need to hear more, butting into the conversation politely, but with determination. When the vice principal protested, Frankie confidently wrapped an arm around your shoulders and leveled his eyes at the other man. For all he was a sweetheart in a baseball cap, Francisco Morales could still gaze with the same intensity he had in the military.

The rest of your rescue went smoothly. He guided you back towards where the younger students were playing, and you were still grinning at him.

“Thanks you, Mr. Morales,” your heart was happy, you felt like you were flying. “You really are m- a hero.”

In that moment, Frankie knew he was a goner. To be your hero, and his daughter’s? That was maybe all he ever wanted.

“How can I repay you?” you asked, earnestly, the request and it’s potential making him weak in the knees.

He squeezed you gently.

“How about you call me Frankie?” he said, before taking a shaky breath. “And maybe consider going out to dinner with me tomorrow night?”

You froze, your heart beat filling your whole body. He went to pull his arm away, but your hand caught his on your shoulder, keeping it around you.

“I’d love to, Frankie,” you managed.

Frankie found himself in a similar state of speechlessness, happiness flowing off of him, unable to make his mouth stop smiling. He settled for squeezing you again, both of you glowing and too overwhelmed to notice the high fives and quiet cheers from the staff around you.

The next 24 hours, Frankie was a bundle of nerves and excitement. He had spent weeks adoring you, seeing how wonderful you were, sharing as much of himself as he could. Now that he finally had the opportunity to take you on a date, he was terrified of blowing it. Calling Santi was almost a waste of time, the other man was too excited and gave him advice that required flirting skills he knew he didn’t have. He wanted to put his best foot forward, after all. He even left his hat home, cursing himself because the little pink brush he tried to use only made his curls fluffier.

But when he picked you up, time slowed down.

The two of you climbing into his truck, making small talk before you said, “I’m sorry you had to get a sitter for tonight, by the way.”

And he was forced to pause, looking at you. Beautiful, in the passenger seat, somehow thinking of him and his life. His mind was running as fast as his heart, and he didn’t have the slightest clue what to do.

“Frankie? Is everything okay?” his eyes met yours, and they were so earnest you knew to wait.

Gently, you put your hand on the middle console, palm up, offering. His hand fit into yours immediately, clinging to it like a lifeline.

“I… I gotta be honest with you,” he said, in a way that made you sure each word was thought out. “I think you’re really something special. But… I’m really afraid of this. I’m afraid of how much I like you. I had this whole dinner planned … but I can’t. I have all this baggage and I like you too much. I’m not trying to scare you off but … but I guess now is better than later?” his mind vaguely realized he self sabotaged, but it was all true. He was in too deep.

You took a breath, waiting a moment to make sure it was your turn. You felt the cool upholstery, the evening sun, and a tremble in his hand.

“Frankie… I can’t promise you I’ll want to stay, once I know it. But I really like you too,” his eyes met yours and you ran your thumb over his knuckles. “Please, just give it chance? Give me a chance to make that choice? I promise I’m in this just as deep as you are and I’m not perfect either but maybe we can get burgers, and just… just talk? Figure it out together, now?”

He would have squeezed your hand but he realized he was already gripping it too tightly. You knew he agreed though, because his eyes told you, and the two of you drove off.

You ordered bunches of extra fries along with your meals, and he parked a bit outside of town, where the two of you could see the sun beginning to set.

And he told you all of it as the two of you ate. The breeze was warm, running its fingers through the fields as he talked. He hadn’t expected his secrets to pour out of him but once he started, it felt as though a dam had broken.

He told you about his missions, the Delta Force, his friends. The drugs, the rehab, the back slides. The other woman, his baby, the heart break. Even the trauma, the therapy, and being a single dad.

You listened and in turn, told him about your life. Your hardships, your secrets, as forthcoming and he was. You were honest about how scared you were at the prospect of becoming a mother figure for his daughter. About how unprepared you felt for those hurdles. And when you were done, the two of you sat in silence, looking at the rising stars. Eventually, you spoke again.

“Francisco Morales, I still really like you,” you smiled at him, shrugging a bit. “If you’re okay with it, I’d really like to try this thing, with you.”

There was nothing more wonderful than the hope in his eyes at that moment.

“Yes, please,” his voice was a bit raspy. He took a couple of slow breaths. “I have to get home soon but can I be honest with you for just a little bit longer?”

“Of course,” you said, confused.

He hopped out of the truck, jogging over to your side and helping you step down. The door closed behind you but he moved closer instead of backing up.

“I had all these plans to take this slow, do everything right,” his voice was soft, and he was gently pushing into your space, allowing you to stop him at any time. “You deserved it, and I wanted to show you I could do it. But,” his hands found your body, one of them tugging your hips into his and the other settling on the back of your neck, half in your hair. “But I’d really like to skip some steps,” his forehead was on yours, gaze steady, his voice deep and warm.

“Can we skip to the part where I can kiss you? The part where I can tell you how much you mean to me, and hold you?”

You aren’t sure if you managed to say yes before his mouth was pressing against yours, kissing you for all he was worth.

#francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie x you #frankie x reader #triple frontier #maybe i don't know people #I'm not gonna lie this is a whole new animal for me #I hope he's mostly in character?#this was supposed to be a fic about making out on the couch like teenagers and then having to play it off #oops #here we are i guess hope yall enjoy!#maybe I don't know people

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pixie-cocaine · 4 years

Text

ATEEZ Reaction To: Having a wet dream about you

yourusernames: Omg can I request ATEEZ reaction to having a wet dream about their friend? (Who would start developing a crush, who would want to have a one night stand and who wouldn't care at all?) Thanks!!

A/N: These reactions are based solely off of what I think they’d do, I am in no way, shape or form, telling you that this IS how the members would handle this scenario. Like shit, I dunno the guys :/. This is a gender neutral reader reaction btw :)

(This is very explicit, you have been warned!!!)

Hongjoong ♡:

• It felt like the actual thing

• Your lips; sweet like pink lemonade and eyes staring into his with a soft sparkle that originated from his bedside lamp

• but what felt more real than anything was you

• Your scent, your taste

• Your touch...

• It was all overwhelming in the sense that he found himself breaking out of his dreaming state, breath heavy as if he’d been sprinting for hours, and a lusty sheen screening his mind from acting with any sense of rationality

• He was horny horny, dawg 💀

• I feel for that man, it’s tough...

• He could already tell that he had an...accident, before he pushed the duvet off his body due to registering the last couple twitches of his restricted cock in his shorts

• No wonder he could ‘feel’ everything so well

• He wasn’t able to sleep the rest of the night.

• Couldn’t help but begin to feel a crush blossom for you

• As y’all already know, the man gets attached to the ones he spends the most time with

• You’re no exception

• Would end up telling you about his feelings. It was eating him up inside to keep it to himself

Seonghwa ♡:

• He has no right looking this good, dawg. It literally makes me so mad lmao

• Lemme lick your face, I bet it tastes like expensive concealer and everything I’ll never have >:}

• Anywhore

• He felt feverish, even inside his dream

• It was odd; he could feel you, but he couldn’t feel you. He remembers the surreal sensation of warmth under his palms as he grabbed onto your bare ass whilst you bounced you on top of him, panting hard and clutching at his damp hair to pull his head back

• He groaned, and just as he went to switch positions, he was snapped out of his dream

• Was like “Fuckin pardon?” when he realised where he was; his empty bed, alone in his own room, no sign of you

• Frowned, pushing the covers off of him because dawg, he was heating up OwO

• Then realised the large wet spot at the front of his sweatpants

• “What the...”

• Was never the same™

• Everytime he saw you, he couldn’t help but feel that same heat in his hands, and he felt guilty about it.

• Didn’t know how to approach you about it at all. What was he supposed to say?

• “I nutted in my pants because I dreamt about doing the dirty with you”

• Just wouldn’t bring it up

• Good chance he’d catch feelings. Seonghwa builds bonds with the people he knows, it’s very easy to tell that when he cares, and he would care dearly for you. Once the chance that anything intimate between you two arises, I’m sure he’d begin to think of you romantically once you’re shown in said light.

Yunho ♡:

• Now wouldn’t a flustered Yunho be a sight? Damn...

• He loved looking down at you

• The way you smiled at him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling his bare chest into yours as you whispered how good he felt inside you, cooing out words of praise and encouragment

• It was hazy, but he can still vaguely remember how you kissed him so sweetly. How your fingers smoothed his bangs away from his eyes, and how you moaned into his ear softly with each thrust

• It was only when you cupped his cheeks and spoke, did you break him out of his dream;

• “Wake up.”

• His eyes shot open

• Only a blue ceiling stared back

• “Mmm...?” Yunho sits up and rubs his eyes roughly, already aware of the blush that paints his cheeks and nose because he can feel the heat in his face

• Said ‘What the fawk 😃’ when his brain caught up with what he just experienced, as well as the stickiness that clung to his inner thighs when he moved to go get some water

• This bitch was contemplating his whole life after that

• Is ‘UwU’ with you from then on cuz a babie caught butterfwies ;(

• Rlly bad at hiding his feelings lol, you’d catch on eventually

Yeosang ♡:

• It was messy, to say the least

• Kitchen island sex? Yup :D

• The dream wasn’t at all put into play with any sense. You guys were just... in the kitchen, when you confessed your feelings and made a move on him

• A deep kiss mixed with the pounding of nervous hearts all put Yeosang in a fever outside of his dream

• “Say you like it,” You panted, using the hand on the back of his head to push his forehead against yours while the other kept you from laying onto the island

• “I like it.. Fuck, I like it”

• “Yeah?” His hips stutter when you clench your walls around him, and in turn, he lets out a choked-off gasp

• “Y一Oh my god一Yeah...”

• Damn... he was FEELING it lmao

• Funny thing is that he slept throughout the entire dream and woke up only when his foot did a little mid-sleep spasm

• Stared at the wall while frowning for soooooo fucking long

• Whole time he said ‘ya know wot, that’s real interesting 🤔’

• Then was like “Prolly just horny 😃. oh well, time to change my underwear”

• And that’s what he chalked it up to in the end. Would maybe make a joke about it to you next time y’all hung out if he’s feeling loose enough and doesn’t mull over it for too long

San ♡:

• HEATHEN

• Hold on, lemme get a half-assed feel for the man... yes... mm-hm... ah, I see... OK!

• So, from what I can tell, San would distance himself from you slightly. Maybe.

• That night, as he lie in his bed, breath coming faster with each motion that went on in his head, he saw you in a way that he never thought would happen.

• Skin, slick with sweat and eyes like burning coals as they focused on him. There wasn’t much to remember before it was already fading, but he could still make out how much his stomach lept and spun, heart oh-so thunderous in his chest. Whatever you did with him in the dream... it sparked something inside him.

• San was in a daze as he woke up, his body not quite cooperating with him when he tried to sit up, and instead, falling limp with the next couple of attempts.

• WHEN I TELL YOU THE SOUL WAS SUCKED FROM THIS MAN AISDIUBFADEBI-

• Really just stared into space with the look of a dead man

• What did he do when he finally saw you again?

• ✨ pretend he didn’t see shit ✨

• Not the masked uncomfort-

• Depending on whether you’re one for confrontation, he might just cave if you press him about his weird behavior enough, but be fast, because I’m sure he could push his feelings down succesfully if he tried hard enough.

Mingi ♡:

• Dude... the fucking happiness of the dream...

• Silly giggles when you’d accidentally bonk eachother while switching posititons, bright smiles when you stared at eachother after a long time, random compliments, and nothing too serious that you couldn’t find playfulness in. Even when you’d both stop smiling to let out small moans and feel the moment together, it was always lighthearted.

• FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK IM SO ANGRY-

• It was some shit you’d see at the sundance ;(

• Then he woke up-

• You were the first and only thing he thought about as he gained conciousness. He wanted you... you, you, you, just you.

• He’d never wanted anything so bad. A sudden longing that made a lump form in his throat and an overwhelming feeling of how much he’s always wanted you.

• So, like Mingi does, he strived for that goal >:D

• He made an effort to see you as many times as he could and whenever you were free to hang out. And finally, one night when you both lie in his bed and gazed thoughtlessly at the ceiling, he told you.

• “I had a dream about you, you know.”

Not me basically making a summary of a could-be fic-

Wooyoung ♡:

• Now believe it or not, this bitch is hard for me to get a grasp on. All I can say with confidence is that he has the sex appeal of a milf stripper and is kinda stubborn-

• Hmm.... bothered.

• That is the feeling it would pull from him.

• Hungry; frequent patterns of warm breath against sweat-slicked skin, mumbled curses past wet lips, nails dug into his stomach deep enough to draw blood yet barely acknowledged through animalistic films over both your eyes, and teeth furrowed into the flesh of his shoulder as you scratched at the blank canvas of his back.

• It was all raw sexual aggression from both sides. So much so, that you both practically fought during it.

“I hate you. I hate you like you don’t even know, Wooyoung,” You speak, breathless, and reach up to weave both fists into his hair, “I love you so much that I fucking... hate you.”

• Then...

• Gone.

• Just like that, the dream was replaced with the sight of familiar bedroom walls as Wooyoung opened his eyes, a sigh escaping past his lips when he finally pieced things together.

• “As if I wasn’t already stressed enough...,” He murmurs, staring down at the new stain on his sweatpants.

• From that point on, it’s a new habit for Wooyoung to catch sight of you and keep his gaze there; just staring when you’re not looking, and feeling terrible afterwards. He feels like he violated you somehow, and with that ball of dread in his stomach whenever he sees you, he becomes distant.

• It’s not catching feelings so much as it is a new desire.

Jongho ♡:

• Jongho, Jongho, Jongho... whatever will we do with you?

• Upfront about it, surprisingly.

• He caught feelings. How could he not when you’re one of the most breath-taking people he’s ever had the pleasure of knowing?

• That face of yours, along with your voice so soft and encouraging in his ears, was enough for him to cave.

• “Just like that, baby... Just like that.”

• He doesn’t even remember the details of the dream. Just your words and kisses, which still make the touched skin of his body heat with excitement whilst he blinks down at his hands.

• He clenches them; one, twice, then lets them fall back to his sides. He doesn’t need to look into his pants to know that he’s soiled himself.

• He feels kinda... empty? After the dream. Lmao just as exhausted as San was, really, but both at the fluttering his heart when he thinks of you, and the dream itself, so cleans himself up real quick before going back to sleep.

• The fluttering doesn’t go away the next morning.

• So... he tells you :D

• As soon as you walk through the door, holding a bag of snacks and drinks for preparation to crash at Jongho’s apartment for a little bit, he sits you down on the couch, much to your confusion at the serious face he has.

• “I know that this kind of thing can ruin friendships and I don’t want that. At all. But, I had a... dream, about you last night and now I can’t really stop thinking about you...”

• Not the pounding of his heart making him dizzy :*

#ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez reactions #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #Smut #kpop reactions #idol reactions #idol reader

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qvackityhq · 4 years

Text

Lost and Found [Dream x Reader One Shot]

Annnd here is the first Dream x Reader one shot! This was requested by Anonymous! As always, prompt requests are always open and you can send them in by clicking here! I hope you enjoy! [: —Froggie♡

Lost and Found

As you were walking home from school, you noticed what you presumed was a stray cat curled up outside an apartment building. You, being a lover of all animals (especially cats), you find yourself approaching it very slowly and carefully, as to not scare the poor, shaking creature, and you crouch down next to it. Reaching your hand out slowly, you stroke your hand down it’s fur. This cat has the most beautiful fur, you thought to yourself as you examined it’s dark fur that had lighter spots of browns and oranges littering it’s legs, ears, and around the mouth.

As you were petting the cat, you realized that it had a collar on. There were no tags; just a simple black collar that it wore around its neck. Did someone abandon this baby? You thought to yourself, your lips twitching down into a frown at the thought of someone abandoning this beautiful cat. And the more you sat there and pet it, the more it began to purr and lean into your touch. It was very loving, you concluded.

And you knew you couldn’t just leave this baby here, so you carefully picked it up and held it close to your chest so it could warm up, and you began walking back home, now with an armful of cat.

After arriving home, you brought the cat up to your room and sat it on the bed, where it curled up again. You then went to the kitchen to retrieve a bowl of cat food and water that you use for your own cat, and brought it back to the newest addition, as you thought it may be hungry.

You carefully sat the bowls down on the floor before approaching the cat again, this time to examine it. There didn’t seem to be any signs of abuse, as it was very healthy looking and had no scratches or hurtful markings on it. You also came to realise that it was definitely a girl. After finishing checking her, you picked her up and sat her in front of the food, and you watched as she ate and you could tell she definitely hasn’t ate properly for at least a day or two.

—————

It’s been two days since you’ve found the stray cat, and she’s been slowly become accustomed to living with you. You had given her the name Spots, and she quickly warmed up to your own cat, Snickers. You were already planning on keeping her and officially making her a part of your little family--until you found a poster one day on your way home from class.

Outside of the apartments you had found Spots, you now find a poster taped to a lamppost stating: MISSING CAT! Please contact (786) 514-6542 if you find her. Below the text was a picture that looked just like Spots, and as happy you were to know that she was just missing and not abandoned, you were also a bit sad that you were going to have to let her go. But you knew you had to do the right thing, so you grabbed the poster and made your way back home to call the number.

—————

You find yourself now sitting with Spots on your lap, phone in your hand as you type in the numbers that was on the paper. You pressed call and waiting as it rang, and rang, and rang, until finally a voice answers; it was deeper, and definitely belonged to a male. “Hello?”

“Oh, uh, hi! My name is Y/N and I think I’ve found your cat...” You tell the person on this other line. You hear faint talking on the other side of the phone, and you couldn’t really make out what they were saying, but finally the voice comes back to the phone.

“Oh, thank God!” The voice says. “Are you available any time soon so I can come and get her? We’ve been missing her so much.” And you feel yourself smiling contently.

“I’m free at anytime today,” You tell the man on the other line, and then after a bit more small talk, you give him your address and the two of you hang up. You then begin to wait for the man to arrive.

—————

It was only about a half an hour later when there was a knock at your door. You make your way to the door, opening it to reveal a rather tall man who looked to be around the same age as yourself. You couldn’t help but notice that he had very pretty green eyes, dirty blond hair, and a bit of freckles littering around his cheeks and nose.

“Hello...” You begin to greet him, “I never really... Caught your name.” You tell him, a shy tint of pink beginning to form on your cheeks. He lets out a little laugh.

“You can call me Dream.” Dream, you thought. It was quite the unique name, but.. It suits him.

“Well, Dream, come on in. She is right on the couch here.” You say to him, moving out from in front of the door to allow the man in, before shutting it after he enters.

You make your way over to the couch to pick up the man’s cat from where she’s curled up on one of the cushions. You then bring her over to him and watch his face carefully as his eyes brighten at the sight of her.

“Patches!” He says excitedly as you hand him the cat and he takes her from you. You can’t help but let out a few small giggles as you realise that you almost got her name right.

“So her name is Patches, huh? I’ve been calling her Spots.” You tell Dream, and watch as his smile somehow grows even bigger.

“Thank you so much for taking care of her for me. She somehow managed to sneak out and I’ve been looking for her for the last couple days.” He tells you as he scratches behind Patches’ ears, making her purr loudly. And then, another meow was heard as Snickers saunters in from the bedroom and begins rubbing herself along Dream’s legs.

You watch as the man crouches down to pet your own cat with the hand that’s not holding Patches, and then he looks up at you. “I see you have one of you own.”

You nod your head, watching him interact with your own cat. “His name is Snickers!” You tell him with a grin.

“Well, he is very handsome.” He tells you before standing back up. “Alright, I think I’m going to get out of your hair now! It was nice meeting you, Y/N, and thank you again!”

You tell him that it’s no problem at all, and then escort him out and wave goodbye as he walks away with Patches in hands.

—————

It wasn’t until Saturday afternoon, four days after reuniting Dream and Patches, when you get another knock on your door. You had no clue who it could be--You weren’t expecting anyone--but you went and opened the door anyways. And once again, there stood Dream, and in one hand he held Patches, and in the other held what looked like a picnic basket.

“Hi, Y/N...” Dream said, trailing off for a moment. You noticed that his face began to turn a light shade of red. “I was stopping by to see if you weren’t busy...”

You raised an eyebrow at him curiously, shaking your head no as you said, “Nope.. I have no plans for the day.”

You watch as Dream grins at your words. “Good! Well.. I was hoping you and Snickers would like to go on a little picnic date with Patches and I..?” He asks you, and you could tell he was nervous.

You stare at him for a moment before your lips break out into a wide smile as you nod your head quickly. “I’d absolutely love to! But give me just a few minutes to get ready and get Snickers.”

—————

You now find yourself on a soft picnic blanket in the middle of the park with Dream, eating delicious sandwiches he had bought and drinking lemonade that he had made himself. Snickers and Patches, who were both on little cat leashes, were both curled up next to each other; grooming each other’s fur and purring.

The two of you ate together and talked; asking questions and having conversations to get to know each other better.

“Thank you for the amazing picnic, Dream,” You tell him after the two of you had finished eating. The both of you were now laying on your backs as you stared at the dusk-coloured sky, and he looked over at you with green eyes that had a gleam to them.

“There’s no need to thank me, I needed to repay you for finding Patches for me...” his words trailed off again for a moment, and you could see that he was hesitating his words. “And, I, uh. I wanted to see you again.”

Your own eyes widened at his words. “Really?” You asked, caught off guard.

“Yes.. I just think you’re very.. lovely. Beautiful, even. I hope that isn’t too forward, and I apologise if it is.” He says, and you could visible see the nerves he was having.

You shook your head and took his hand in your own. “No, Dream, you’re totally fine, don’t worry about it.. I think you’re very lovely. Handsome, even.” You giggled as he grinned again, and found yourself blushing as he linked your fingers together and rested them between your laying bodies.

The two of you then fell into a silence as you watched the stars begin to come out from hiding; the only sound being heard was the sound of the faint traffic in the background and both of your cats purring together.

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chaeiimimi · 3 years

Text

How I Met Your Mother

Timeskip!Kuroo x Fem!Reader

Fluff

Warnings: None

it was a fine afternoon, the sunlight illuminated your whole house, the noise from the tv in the background and Kuroo was on the coffee table catching up with some of his paper works he failed to finish during the weekend, he casted a quick glance at your five- year-old son who was reading a science encyclopedia, Tetsuya was basically his carbon copy, from his feline eyes, to his raven black bed hair not to mention the same love for science and hyena laugh, they would pass as twins. You were out with your friends (Yaku’s and Kai’s wife), therefore he was in charge of the house for the day.

Kuroo went back to his task when he saw his son immersed in his encyclopedia. Not even five minutes have gone by and his son was walking towards him dragging along his Brontosaurus plushie his Uncle Kei got him, his son tugged on his shirt and he tears his eyes away from his computer to look at his son

“hey buddy, you want a snack?” he lovingly ruffled his son’s hair

Tetsuya nod “want dino nuggies daddy” man literally had to bite the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from screeching at how adorable his son is

“alright, daddy’s gonna make you dino nuggies” he says taking off his reading glasses and going to the kitchen while his son trailed behind him like a lost puppy

He sat Tatsuya on the counter’s chair while he brings out the dino nuggies and some ingredients for a sandwich and lemonade as well

“daddy?” his son called out to him and he answered with a hum while taking the nuggets out of their container

“how did you and mom meet?” he looked at his son who was looking at him with the most curious eyes

There was an instant tug on the corner of his lips as he remembered that day, internally slapping his face for feeling like a giddy teenager again

He went back with his work on the chicken nuggets and started

“well…”

Aside from the sound of the chalk screeching against the board and the voice of his Literature teacher, it was a rather quiet afternoon.

Time seems to be going by slowly for Kuroo, he was uncontrollably tapping his feet and drumming his fingers on his desk, he was eager to get out of this class which was the last class for the day, he was eager to practice, the pressure of the upcoming nationals weighed heavy on his shoulders, his mind was filled with volleyball and classes and college applications that he was barely eating and sleeping

When the resounding bell that marked the end of the class, he immediately got out of his seat and hurriedly walked towards the door only to be blocked by the class president

“where do you think you’re going Kuroo-san? You’re on plant duty today”

He inwardly groaned, how could he forget? Today was Friday

He dragged his feet back inside, placed his bag on his chair and proceeded to look for the water can

He found it on its usual place and walked outside to fill it up, once done, he went to the classroom’s backyard and saw you with gloves on, your hair on a clip as you patiently pull out weeds

Kuroo swears his heart skipped a beat when you looked at his way and gave him a small awkward smile

He walked over beside you, took the gloves in his pocket, put it on, and started pulling some of the weeds as well

“so, which class are you from?” he asked nervously trying to strike up a conversation

“the same class as you, see?” he looked up and saw that you were pointing at the sign with your class on it

A million thoughts were running in his head like, “how come I never saw her before?” “Has she always been in our class?” “Did I come out as rude?”

Until he heard a chuckle coming from you

“don’t worry, I get that a lot” you say as you continue to pull out weed

“I’m L/N Y/N by the way, Ayumi-chan is sick that’s why you’re stuck with me for now” you said and gave him another smile

‘I don’t mind’ he wanted to say that but he decided to just nod

“the nationals, it’s next week right?” you asked still not looking at him

“yeah” he answers

“well, good luck to you and your team, I’m the only one in the class who hasn’t wished you luck yet” you said as you started digging some holes to put your new seeds in

“thanks, I need a whole lot of that stuff” he chuckled nervously

“well, I never thought I’d see the great Kuroo Tetsuro get nervous” it was true, Kuroo always appeared composed and confident, the total opposite of you who was shy and demure

“I’m still human you know?” you watch him as he pulls out a particularly large weed

You chuckled and nodded

“you look like you need a break” you say and went back to your own work

It was now his turn to look at you and tilt his head in confusion

You looked at him and pointed your finger to his face

“the bags under your eyes are telling me you haven’t had a goodnight sleep in these past few weeks, your cheeks has slightly deflated implying that you haven’t been eating much, plus you don’t laugh at Tadashi-Sensei’s stupid science jokes anymore, meaning you’re not really having fun or something’s wrong”

You put your finger down after voicing out your long observation and went back to your task

Kuroo was stunned to say the least, he thought he was putting up a good façade, boy was he wrong

While realization was just hitting you and your eyes widen

“PLEASE DON’T TAKE THAT IN A CREEPY WAY, PEOPLE RARELY TALK TO ME SO I LIKE OBSERVING THEM FROM AFAR!” you immediately blurted out

There was a long deafening silence before a hyena-laugh broke out

“its fine its fine” he said in between laughter while you stood there with a flushed face

“It’s just that you were the last person I expected to hear that from” he said after laughing

You gave him a small shrug

“I just don’t like to see people losing interest in something they’re passionate about” you look at him and smiled

“if you envision the ideal outcome of what you’re doing and it doesn’t spark you joy, then there’s no point of doing it” your words dug its way into Kuroo

You went back to your work and continued “I think that you are very passionate about volleyball and I can see that school is important for you as well, you just need to take a step back, look at the bigger picture and tackle every situation one by one, you can’t experience the dream you had for three years with that depressed look in your eyes”

He freezes on the spot, everything you said digging its way to his system, a flash of relief spreading throughout his body, he felt his vision slowly widening, and for the first time in two weeks he felt tired and hungry

The birds chirping, and the sound of water trickling from the water can were the only things that were heard, the setting sun illuminated your skin as it perfectly glowed and you happily planting the new seeds into the dirt will always be engraved in his mind and heart as one of his most peaceful memory

“hey, I’m getting food after this, do you wanna come?” he asked his eyes pleading you to say yes

You were taken aback but you eventually nodded with a small “sure”

and so you spent the rest of the day eating at a ramen store with Kuroo (man was hungry he literally finished three bowls) and went to an ice cream parlor for dessert

After walking you home, Kuroo laid in his bed his hair wet from the shower as he sends a chat to the volleyball team apologizing for skipping practice

“good thing you did, you looked like you were falling apart”- Yaku

“you looked like a zombie from the house of the dead”- Kenma

“you badly needed it man”- Kai

He shook his head as he opens another chat box, his bright smile turning into a soft one

“hey, thanks for today, I had fun”- Kuroo

“i don’t even know what I did but you’re welcome? Thanks for the treat”- Y/N

“… and that’s how I met your mother, we went hung out very often after that and I asked her out after the Nationals” he said as he placed the food in front of Tetsuya, the giddy smile still plastered across his face

“Mom talked a lot to cheer you up even though she’s shy” he says as he takes a bite of his dino nuggies

“well she did confess to me that she liked me since the first year of junior high on our wedding night” he says with a smug look on his face

“you could’ve just leave that part out” both of the boys turn their heads toward you

your son immediately got off his chair and ran towards you as you lift him up and hugged him tight, he started talking to talk about everything he discovered while reading and you listening to every word he says, with a mother smile plastered on your face.

your husband stood there, staring at you, eyes filled with love and adoration. He was pretty sure he was a hero who died for his country in his past life. There was no other explanation on how he got this lucky, how he managed to get the most perfect wife the world could offer and how he was given the most perfect son he could ever ask for.

staring at you as you smile gently to your son, he didn’t know it was still possible to fall even harder even after being together for fourteen years.

omg this is my first ever post, It’s kind of a mess but please bare with me I am still learning.

#haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #timeskip!kurooxreader haikyuu x y/n

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elisabethdenis · 2 years

Photo

This is the second article I wrote for my monthly interview with an elderly at my local rest home. The head lady of the journal publishing my series wrote back to me, right after sending this article: My little bit of feedback for next time is to be mindful of the typical Chronicle reader and so perhaps more focus on the history of the interviewee rather than the more creative side of the writing.

To be honest, I got upset. My writing style isn’t bendable. Rules sucks. Plain journalist writing makes me feel like I’m sitting in a metallic white clinical hospital drinking mediocre lukewarm water. I’m giving myself a gold star for saying no. Basically told her to discard of unwanted sentences in my articles.

When I walked in room 5, he wore a red beanie. Jacques-Yves Cousteau inevitably came to my mind. A few days before meeting John, I watched The life aquatic with Steve Zissou, an homage to Cousteau by Wes Anderson. The protagonist embodying Cousteau wears a red beanie and never takes it off. It made sense once John took me on a mouthful voyage to his countless expeditions in the Cook Islands. The place he escaped to when he was too consumed by making pools waterproof and providing roofs over people's heads. John said the most important thing in life for him is to keep his brain active to live adequately for a long time. To feed his most complex organ, his three pound gelatinous mass, his infallible curiosity is always at his service. He spins any objects on all sides looking for the mechanical order of things. Cousteau was an oceanographer, a filmmaker, he co-invented the first open-circuit SCUBA set and brought to life the first underwater documentaries: he too, had a restless hunger for the fathomless fascination this world can offer. John kept on going back with his wife to the Cook Islands yearly, for 3 weeks each time with very little in his luggage. It helped him to remember the simplicity of life with small resources. He asked himself very often: why not London, France or America? Why do I keep on going back to the same place? He still doesn't have an answer, some sort of tropical magnet was pulling him back to the warm sea where dolphins popping out of the crystal-clear water to say hello wasn't an unusual performance. Sitting on the beach with a beer to sip on and carelessly float in the ocean circled by manta rays while his wife was drinking Bacardi lime lemonades wasn't sustainable for John. He had to find ways to build hardened layers of skin on his hands. To meet and help locals as a way of adding strings to his bow and deepen his cultural understanding of a place was his preferred way of travelling. Staying true to his desire, locals ended up inviting him to their farm where he volunteered each time he would visit. He helped with sheep, goats, the occasional cows, and tree cutting exercises. He recalled a big native tree on the farm where they shared meals under this massive dome of shade. The contrast of New-Zealand and the Cook Islands was inevitable: islanders think one day at the time whilst we plan moons and moons ahead. Paradoxically, while he was in New-Zealand, the islands were on his mind. While he was surrounded by ukuleles and wooden tokere-tangarongaro (slit drums), he looked forward to the eternal forests of Aotearoa. His souvenir tees are all worn-out and vanished over time. The only memorabilia remaining for him to look at, and plunge back to his multiple sky passage over the 15 islands, is a dried white starfish. Reflecting on John's story, I walked along Ngarunui beach, wrapped in my grey cashmere scarf and a black hood over my head. Each step was dictated by a tropical dream: hovering over 26°C see-through waters from an airplane window seat, butterflyfishes, damselfishes, groupers, blue starfishes, the crown-of-thorns starfishes... I looked down at my feet, at the small rock pools embedded on our local beach: 6 spiny starfishes.

#jacques cousteau #cousteau #elderly #journalism is dead #journalist #article #journal #chronicle #literature #magazine #photoshop #black and white #water #starfish #books and libraries #bookworm #island #islandlife #new zealand

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boneswriteswords · 4 years

Text

Showers: Slasher Version (The Bois)

Hi, here is a thing. None of the writing is even. I don’t care. I struggled.

Hope y’all like it. :) Its my usual crap quality. Also if there is someone you want me to add to these sorts of things, let me know. I just picked based on who I know best.

Warning: Some of these are kinda NSFW. Like not really but its h i n t e d.

This is unedited and unbeta’d because we die like men here.

Jason Voorhees:

Jason had issues with water. Even before you knew he was more than an urban myth, you figured he’d have major hang-ups being around water. His tragic drowning at the hands of cruel children and incompetent counselors would have given him lasting trauma around water.

And you were right.

However, you weren’t prepared for the hang-ups to extend to showers simply because it didn’t involve large bodies of water. Granted, he never needed to shower before. The only times the layers of grime slipped off his body were when it was raining and even then, he often took shelter in his cabin to avoid it. All water was bad water.

That changed when you came around. He chose you to be loved by him. His mother encouraged him, telling him that you were his and you were there to love him and his mother has never been wrong before.

She wasn’t this time either. You looked at him in all that he was and loved him so truly that his heart would have stuttered a beat if he had one. In turn, Jason’s diamond sharp focus centers on you, keeping you away from harm as best he can. He keeps you close to him, his world off-kilter when he can’t see you immediately.

You had never felt so safe in your life, knowing he was there guarding you. Knowing he was killing to make sure you stayed safe.

To his dismay, however, he discovered that you liked water. You liked showers and baths. You liked swimming. You liked to sit on the porch and listen to the rain. You liked taking walks when the rain was light enough to not get completely drenched. You liked it all.

He hated it.

But he loved you.

And he trusted that you would never lead him into danger.

“The water is warm. The steam rises and shrouds everything in a dream. The day washes from your body and prepares you for a new day. There is is healing in cleanliness,” you told him as you undressed one evening, unperturbed by his eyes roaming over your body. It wasn’t a new sensation, the feeling of his gaze on your naked body but it still delighted you.

Jason watched you as you turn the shower on and stepped inside.

His hunger for you stirred, clawing its way to the surface as he watched you squirt some delicious smelling concoction into your hands and lathered into your hair. He liked the way the suds slithered down your body.

If he wanted to join you, he’d have to get in.

Slowly, he undressed and stepped inside behind you, your hand already reaching out for his.

Michael Myers:

Michael is not going to shower unless there is some benefit for him. If he feels inclined to bathe, he will just stand under the spray (or the rain) for a bit and call it a day. No scrubbing. No washing. No actual removal of anything other than the surface layer of gross. He doesn’t care all that much about how dirty he is. He’s just going to get dirty again.

That doesn’t mean he won’t join you when you shower. Michael is hedonistic; he does what he wants and searches for things that feel good to him. It is part of why he kills so much – it feels good to him. In the months after he followed you home and refused to leave, he found that he very much likes how it feels when you run your hands along his body with soapy water.

A lot about you makes him feel good – its why he’s keeping you alive and protected – but the sensations of warm water, small hands, and the different smells of your bathing products are at the top of the list.

He insists on being present during all your showers as a result.

You sighed at the familiar squeak of the shower door, the rush of cold air against your side, the grip on your wrist dragging you a step over towards the intruder.

“Hi Michael,” you sigh, wiping your eyes with your free hand so you can look up at him. His mask was still on, the steam from the shower not so intense that he felt the need to remove it this time, and his eyes pierced yours from behind it. He didn’t respond, he hardly ever did, but the hand griping your wrist brought it up and laid it on the soap.

You could feel your lips twitch as you lather it in your hands, “Where do you want me to start?”

Michael grunted, taking your wrist again and laying on his chest. You suppressed a grin. Michael didn’t like when you pointed out that he liked things and would stop doing them out of protest.

“Okay,” you whisper, the sound getting lost as you run your hands from the top of his shoulders to the dip of his waist, doing your best to ignore the soft contented grumbling vibrating under your hands.

Brahms Heelshire:

Contrary to what you expected from him, Brahms loves to take baths and showers. He likes being warm above all else, having been forced to endure harsh cold weather during his years in the walls of his home.

(You once asked him why he preferred to be running hot, given what happened to him, and, in a rare glimpse of Adult!Brahms, he told you he has issues with flames and not warmth. Warmth does not mean fire.) The showers and baths provide it in a way your arms can’t and he likes to revel in the sensation.

However, just because he likes it, doesn’t mean he is going to make your life any easier by getting in when you instruct him to. He is a brat and while he loves you more than any living that has ever or will ever exist, he loves to make your job taking care of him harder. You have to work for it.

‘Its only fair,’ he tells himself, grinning behind his mask as you get the shower ready for him, scolding him as you do, ‘You made me love you without having to work for it. I continue to love you without you having to work for it. You have to work for something.’

“Okay Brahms, get in. Its nice and warm but not too hot. Time to get clean,” you say, stepping away from the shower, frowning when you see that he was still fully clothed.

You sigh, “Brahms, we talked about this. You need to shower. Its been four days. You promised me.”

“No,” he stomped his foot, child voice in full effect, “I don’t want to.”

“Brahms -”

“No!”

“Brah-”

“No! No! NO!”

“Bra-”

“NOOOOOOOO!”

“Okay! Fine. No shower for Brahms,” you grumbled, pinching the bridge of your nose and his grin widens at your mounting frustration, “You can go now.”

He lets out a childish yell, grabbing your hand so you can play with him, but you stand firm when he tries to tug you along.

“Hey?!”

“Oh no Brahms. You may not want this shower,” you grin and his heart beats hard against his ribs, “But I do. You may go but I fully plan to enjoy this shower.”

You pause, letting go of his hand so you can remove the cardigan he had forced you into earlier in the day and letting it drop onto the floor. You start to work open the buttons on your shirt, taking a peek at him from under your lashes as you did.

“Its a shame that I’ll be in there all alone. We could have shared it but I guess I can’t make you now can I?”

Your shirt fell to the floor.

He knew he was being tricked. He knew this was a ploy to get him to bathe. He knew he was losing the game he started.

You slide your pants down your legs, your underwear going with it, and turn around. The length of your back, the dip of your spine as it curves into your ass, the little crease of flesh that he loves to stroke and bite....all open for his consumption. He watched as you reached behind, unsnapping your bra and peeling it away from you.

Fuck it, he decided as he pulled his cardigan off, he’ll just have you work for something else.

Bubba Sawyer:

Baby Boi Sawyer is a sweaty boy. He is a hard working man. He works on the property during the morning, cuts and prepares the meat during the afternoon, cooks dinner in the evening, and passes at night out most days. Bathing was something he didn’t do as much as one should simply because of how impractical it was.

And, a lot of the time, there wasn’t any decently tempered water left after his brothers showered. Drayton always got first dibs because he ‘worked out of the home and needed to look presentable.’

Bubba immediately took up a better hygiene routine when he met you. Short showers in the morning. Two rinses in the afternoon depending on what you were doing that day (he’d skip them if you were at the gas station for the day). A longer shower before dinner. There was a bar of soap in one of the pockets of his apron at all times.

You quickly became family to the Sawyers, accepting and falling into their lifestyle seamlessly with little to no bitching from Drayton.

And under no circumstances did he want you to think he was stinky. He was already struggling with the fact that you’d think he was ugly and dumb. He couldn’t change his face - the masks helped hide it but he knew there was no fixing what was underneath - and he couldn’t change his inability to speak - he tried so hard to learn so you’d think he was smart but he just couldn’t make the words come out - but he could change how he smelled.

You also seemed to like to seek him out during the day, bringing out fresh lemonade and snacks so he was forced to take a break from his work and chat with you.

Bubba loved it. He loved you.

But he hated it. He hated himself.

He had to work and when he worked, he sweat and when he sweat, he stunk and if he stunk, you wouldn’t like him. He was anxious, tipping around you throughout the day to wash down and decrease the smell before you found him. He had never been so paranoid in his life.

It was only a matter of time before you caught him off guard though.

It was the best day of his life.

Not only did you not mind the smell (“Bubby, sweetest of men, you work all day outside in the heat. You sweat. I’d be surprised if you didn’t have a bit of smell”), but you told him you thought he was attractive (“You are literally so attractive when you’re working and covered in dirt. Its not fair.). You leaned into him, paying no attention to the dampness of his clothing and how some of it transferred onto yours, and gave him a kiss, paying even less attention to the sweat above his upper lip. You leaned into him during dinner - the first time he hadn’t showered beforehand since knowing you -, pressing into him as close as possible while eating and interlocked your leg with his under the table.

But the best part was when you pulled him into the shower when the day’s work was done and scrubbed him clean, smiling into his mouth as you did.

Bo Sinclair:

Showers are one of the few places where Bo can be soft with you. In public, he maintains a carefully crafted visage of a stereotypical tough guy. Toxically masculine. Overly rough. Dominating. Borderline violent in every twitch of his brow and flex of his fingers. Bo would rather chew his own tongue off than admit he was anything softer than a rock.

But you knew better.

In private, away from the prying eyes of the living and the dead, he becomes pliable, veneer slipping away from where it’s settled in the tension in his shoulders and clench of his jaw. His touch loosens into a grip less desperate. He breathes deeper.

He folds into you like clay, allowing you to guide him. He relaxes in your arms and allows everything to drift away. Nothing can get him. Not his victims. Not his responsibilities. Not his mother. Not his trauma.

He is safe.

Showers were a way he could let you know that he was feeling vulnerable, that he needed to get away to break. The shower was a place where no one will follow. In the months following the birth of your relationship, it became a way for him to communicate to you what his needs were.

And you adapted.

So when he barges into the house, huffing and growling with murder in his eyes, and says he needs a shower, you know what he means and what you need to do.

You get in the shower first, going through the motions of washing you hair, and push open the glass door you hear the rustling of his clothes. You let him lean on you, first gripping onto you from behind, and then turning to look into his eyes.

The shower fills the room with steam and in the blur, he will break and you will put him back together.

Vincent Sinclair:

This man has no concept of time. He lives in his basement and gets so wrapped into his projects that the world fades to background noise. He barely takes the time between the wax town and his own art pieces to sleep so taking a shower is very much not a priority for him.

He will if he must. There have been times when a victim gets too close and things end up bloodier than intended. Vincent does not like how blood gets tacky on his skin.

Other than that, he won’t. Its not to be gross, he just has no idea of how much time passes between one shower and the next and he’s rather work in the basement.

He does argue with you about it because of that. After three days, the stank will start to become prominent when you breathe near him. After four days, the stank becomes visible. After the fifth day, you get involved because his smell literally wakes you up from a dead sleep.

You’ve mastered the art of arguing with him though so its not too bad. You go into the basement and tell him he needs a shower. He’ll grunt. You will reiterate that he promised he would take more showers, because he had. He’ll agree that he did but it is not time for a shower. He just took one. You will bring out the calendar you use to mark when he showers - one of your only big fights involved not having proof of when he last showered so you got a calendar and marked it together - and count the number of days between the last mark and the current day.

(You can and will get Bo to confirm what day it is currently. He thinks all of it is stupid but no one asked him)

He will realize that he is wrong, apologize, and shower before its time for bed. You rarely ever join him. Vincent considers showering to be a very private activity and his insecurities about his face and body are something you and him work on every day. He is fine with you seeing him as he is in dim lighting but the bright florescent lights in the bathroom are a different story and you respect him.

(You wonder if the bright lights in the bathroom are part of the reason why he avoids showering but its something you won’t bring up just yet.)

When he comes out, damp and warm and smelling nice, you wrap him up in your arms and hide away in your duvets until the sun comes up and Vincent will whisper thank-yous into your skin.

Thomas Hewitt:

Thomas was used to not bathing as often as he’d want. Between the hot Texas sun, the heavy-duty (and often bloody) work he did on a daily basis, and the lack of hours in the day, taking a shower was on the low end of his priorities list. He’d rather catch 20 minutes more of sleep.

After your relationship got more physical, he made showering a larger priority for the simple fact that he likes to wipe your body down. Especially after sex. He likes to hold you so you are facing the water and he can press his entire body against your back. Grabbing the body wash – something you introduced to him-, he’ll lather it up and run it over your body until the only thing left on your flesh are his marks.

You are so small compared to him. He loves to watch how his hands encompass and grip your flesh, pressing into the proof of your love for him, the trust you give him.

“Oooo,” you breathe, leaning back even further into the wall of man behind you. Thomas’s hands dipped lower, fanning out over your thighs and you could feel the beginnings of renewed arousal. He purposely avoided your cunt and you knew he was unsure if you were feeling sore. “That’s feels nice, lovely.”

A deep grunt. He’d never admit it but he loved when you called him lovely. There was something precious in the way you cooed the word at him that caused his knees to buckle. His hands moved up to your waist, pressing and searching. He grabbed your breasts and your returning whimper was lost in the sound of the spray. You could feel him at the small of your back, hot and heavy but he made no move to buck into you.

He could, if he was inclined. He could lift you up and fit you on him with ease, forcing his way into your body like a sword in a sheath. You knew it. He knew it.

But he wouldn’t.

Not without your consent.

Not without your permission.

Gripping one of his hands in your significantly smaller ones, you lowered it back down, cooing at the stretch of his fingers dipping inside of you and gave him all the permission he needed.

~~~~

End

~~~~

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hearteyes-candyskies · 4 years

Text

mint

yandere enji x reader

summary; every gardner knows that if you leave mint unchecked it'll take over the whole garden. enji hasn't checked up on you in a while

a/n; a continuation of houseplant and commish for @neroesecuzioni

tw; pregnancy, implied abortion, threat of physical abuse, a baby walks into enji’s fiery body and disappears in like the first couple paragraphs

word count; 4.1k

🌱

It’s the same dream again. You hold your son in your arms, his hazel eyes round and wide, gazing at you with a look so pure and curious and knowing that you can’t fathom any other option except to love him. His small hands grab at your face as you rock him in your arms, humming a simple melody as his eyelids slowly close.

The sight of his perfectly content face as he sleeps brings a flood of joy through your heart like you’ve never known before, and you set him down gently in his crib before turning to do something else. It’s always something different every time; you go to warm up a bottle, you leave to get his stuffed animal from the wash, or maybe you go to get a cool washcloth for his slightly too-warm face. The result is always the same.

You return, object in hand, to find an empty crib. You turn around, frantically searching for your son, only to look out the window and see Enji’s burning form in the backyard. As you rush down the stairs and out the back door you finally see him- your son, the joy and love of your life, crawling towards your husband who looks at him with little more than cool indifference on his face.

On good nights, you wake up then, sweat coating your body and chest heaving as you calm your racing pulse and convince yourself that it’s just a dream. Most of the time, though, you watch, rooted to the spot and horrified as your perfect, sweet, helpless little baby crawls straight into your husband’s fire. It doesn’t help that he vanishes almost as soon as the flames hit him. If anything, the uncertainty of his fate hurts worse.

On these nights, the sight of Enji’s callous blue eyes are the last thing you see before you wake, cold enough to burn. You always wake with tears on your cheeks, sheets tangled from your thrashing. Enji used to wake with you, trying to soothe you in the best attempt that he could manage, but after one too many panicked blows to the face he’s given up, merely moving to the downstairs couch whenever it happens.

You can’t tell if you’re disappointed by that or not. In the past month your dreams have been getting more and more frequent, almost always ending with the image of Enji’s cold blue eyes seared into your brain, and you can’t tell what that means.

You don’t want to know what that means.

🌱

Lately, the garden has become a place of refuge for you. What started as a meager little plastic pot holding a pathetically wilted tomato plant has now become two full garden beds and a hearty-looking peach sapling. The mint plant has its own cute little terracotta pot, lest it terrorize and take over the rest of your carefully-tended plants.

As the frequency of your dreams increase, so does your time spent gardening. The raised beds are bursting with plants and produce, and you’re starting to eye the yard surrounding your little garden as free real estate.

You’ve been saving newspapers for a while now, with Enji buying you one every time he leaves the house, and now all you need is a bag or two of mulch and some straw. And maybe also some wooden stakes and chicken wire. And more wood for more garden beds. And seeds for the new beds.

Okay. Maybe you need a little more than you thought. At this point it would just be easier for you to go and pick it up yourself; you know exactly what you need and if you think of something else you want you don’t have to frantically text Enji and pray that he reads it in time.

You haven’t been outside for such a long time. Well, you’re outside right now, but like, outside in society? When was the last time you stepped foot in a supermarket? As a matter of fact, when was the last time you set foot off the property? Your inability to answer those questions leaves you restless and desperate to prove your independence.

Maybe…no... Enji’s made it clear on numerous occasions that you’re not leaving the house. Except, he can’t really be thinking about keeping you here forever, right? He’ll reintroduce you to society, he has to, even if it’s not for another month or so. You assume that it’s been about six months since you were first brought here.

The hunger for a taste of the outside world plagues you for the rest of the morning, and you find yourself unable to concentrate on anything. It’s after lunch that you grow bold and restless enough to finally broach the topic with Enji, satiated by a light meal that just happened to use some of the vegetables from your garden. The fact that you’re drinking lemonade made with mint from the garden is also a coincidence.

“So, I was thinking about expanding the garden this morning. I’ve got enough newspaper to cover the amount of land that I want to turn into beds and I just need a couple things from the store?” Enji grunts in acknowledgement, looking up briefly from his reports.

“Write them down and I’ll get them from the store tomorrow.” Your fingers twist nervously and you take a deep breath.

“I was actually thinking that I could go with you?” It comes out sounding more like a question than a statement, and you curse yourself for it. Not that it matters, apparently, because Enji doesn’t even look up again. You wait a second before repeating yourself. Maybe he just didn’t hear you correctly?

“I was thinking that I could go with you to pick the supplies up. It’s a lot to get and that way if I forget to write something down on the list I’m already there and don’t have to text you to make a double trip.” At your calm, firm tone Enji finally raises his head, putting the tablet down.

“That’s nice, y/n.” You lean forward expectantly, waiting to hear his approval. He reaches for the tablet again, and you feel a spike of irritation lance through you.

“Can I go?” It takes a lot of effort for you to ask civilly, though it’s rewarded by Enji’s mildly surprised reaction.

“You were serious?” You stare in shock? Were you serious? Were you serious? Is he fucking serious?

“Yes, Enji, I’m serious! It’s been-” You stand, pausing to scroll through the calendar on your phone, looking for the little marker you placed on the day that you first woke up here. You scroll for a very long time.

“It’s been a little less than a yea-” You choke. “It’s been a little less than a year since I’ve first got here.” He says nothing, face dangerously neutral, and you slowly step forward, holding one of his massive hands in both of yours.

“Please. I want to be able to go outside again.” There’s a subtle tick in his jaw.

“You can go outside. We have a yard. You have your garden.” You give his hand a little shake.

“Enji, please. You know what I mean. I want to be able to get in a car and drive myself to get groceries or seeds or whatever else I need.” Again, that tightening of his jaw.

“I already get you what you need.” You feel tears of frustration sting the back of your eyes, and force yourself to take a deep breath.

“You know I won’t try to run. Please, I would never leave you like that. Haven’t I done everything that you wanted since I came here? Enji, I just want to have some control over my life back. I was a pro, I used to disappear for missions for weeks at a time but I always came back. Why can’t you trust me to come back to you after a trip to the grocery store?” Tears are beginning to blur your vision, but you can still make out the softening of Enji’s face as he listens to you. You feel hope start to soar in your chest and-

“You’re so cute when you’re passionate. We can talk about this later.” The hope thuds down to your stomach, quickly dissolved in a pool of irritation and anger. You resist the urge to squeeze his hand as hard as you can and instead stroke your thumb across it as soothingly as you can.

“Enji, you’re eventually going to let me go about a semi-normal life, right? We can start now, with you watching me.” Your voice is light and encouraging, and Enji raises an eyebrow, somewhat placated.

“When did I say that?” Involuntarily your grip on his hand tightens.

“What?” He looks you straight in the eyes, gaze mildly patronizing.

“When did I say that?” You sputter.

“I just- You- You can’t be planning on keeping me locked away forever! I’ve been so good for you and I’ve done everything you wanted and eventually you’ll let me out of the house, right?” Enji just stares at you, unmoved.

“I’ve already let you out of the house. Where do you think the garden is?” Something deep seated and ugly within you snaps, and you throw his hand down and away, flinging your own out.

“ENJI! I’ve stayed here and done everything you’ve asked of me, I’ve fucking gotten down on my knees to clean up and suck your dick, I’ve fucked you without complaint and you won’t let me go to the store? I had a perfect mission completion rate before you took me, you know.” You sneer.

“Except you wouldn’t because you didn’t bother to learn anything about me before you took me. Do you know how many men I could’ve killed in the dead of night, how many men’s throats I could’ve slit as they lay beside me? Consider yourself lucky that I haven’t decided to do the same to you.”

The shock on his face quickly gives way to anger, and you scoff at the way flames dance along his hands.

“Go ahead. Burn me. Mark me like your property, cripple me like you crippled your fucking wife and like how your wife marked your son. Maybe after you brand me I’ll start to love you more.” Flames burst out along his whole body and face, until you’re no longer looking at Enji, only Endeavor.

“You ungrateful little bitch!” He swings his arm down, hellfire in his grasp, and it takes everything in you not to flinch. If he wants to hurt you he can hurt you. You both know there’s nothing you can do to stop him.

His hand stops millimeters away from burning off your face, flames vanishing abruptly in what you know is a massive show of power. His fist trembles before falling, and when you look him in the eyes again his face is confused and awe-struck.

“You would have let me hit you.” The words come out whispered and reverent. Your tears fall in a silent stream down your cheeks.

“When have I ever been able to stop you?” There’s nothing Enji can say to that, and nothing more that you have to say to him, and slowly, laboriously, you climb the stairs and make your way back to your old bedroom.

🌱

When you open the door you’re met with the same sight you saw after first waking here, and the memory alone is almost enough to break you. Apparently Enji’s love for you alone isn’t enough to grant you even a sliver of control. Apparently, Enji’s never truly loved you.

The world outside is dark by the time you decide to stop sulking. Enji barricaded himself in your, no, his room shortly after you slammed the door on your own and left once to fix himself dinner. You’re pretty sure that he’s been done for a while, but just to make sure you peek your head out the door, listening intently for any sounds of movement.

Upon hearing none, you creep your way down the stairs, finding the kitchen lights on but the room empty, to your relief. Your stomach growls, and you hurry to make a simple dinner of rice and miso soup with pan-fried fish cakes on the side. Your eyes go soft as you remember how your mother used to make this for you on nights that she didn’t feel like cooking.

The meal comes together in minutes, and your mouth waters as you sit down at the dinner table to take your first bites. You don’t even taste what you're shoveling in your mouth for the first few bites until you do, and suddenly you’re making a mad dash for the bathroom.

Nothing comes up, thankfully, but you spend a good minute or two gagging and producing spit. Okay, maybe you ate too fast. It’s when you catch sight of the pregnancy test in the trash that you pause. Enji doesn’t give you birth control and he sure as hell doesn’t wear a condom, so to soothe your anxieties you ordered a bulk box or pregnancy tests online and take a test every week. You’ve been lucky so far, but…

The hastiness with which you open the box makes you fumble it, and you take a minute to calm yourself. As you set the test aside after peeing on it, you think about how you would go about telling Enji that you’re pregnant. Would you tell him? There have to be home-brew remedies to an unwanted pregnancy.

Before long, the ten minutes are up. With shaking hands, you pick the box back up. For a second, you hesitate. Is this really something you want to know? What do you even want to see? You can’t answer either of those questions, so instead you just open the box, eyes closed as you grab at the little stick of plastic.

You feel the front, orienting the test so that you’ll be able to read it, and open your eyes. The world drops out around you and you feel all the air on your body leave in a single, shaky breath. God. Maybe you should tell Enji.

🌱

You get up early the next morning, needing the extra time to prepare a traditional breakfast before Enji wakes. You hope that the familiar food will make him more amiable to what you’re about to say to him.

You’re just about done pan-frying the fish when the telltale sound of Enji’s footsteps hurrying down the stairs reaches your ears. He stops abruptly at the entrance to the kitchen, and you turn to see him looking at the already set table with a look of mild shock on his face.

He just stands in the doorway, watching as you turn off the stove and carry the pan over to the table to serve up the fish. You place the now-empty pan back on the stove before untying your apron and getting a mug from the cabinets.

“Coffee?” His shoulders tense at the sound of your voice, and something close to guilt and apprehension crosses his face.

“Yes please.” You hum in acknowledgement, filling the mug almost all the way before pouring in a little bit of whole milk, just the way Enji likes it. You set it down on the table before going to get yourself a glass.

Enji gingerly slides into his seat, like a child who’s not quite sure whether it’s okay for them to sneak into their parent’s bed at night. You smile at the comparison, and the relief that breaks on his face is obvious.

You fill the glass with water, emptying the coffee grounds in the trash before taking a seat at the table. Enji stares expectantly at your glass of water, and then to the coffee pot. You raise an eyebrow.

“Yes?” He blinks.

“Are you going to pour yourself a cup of coffee?” Enji’s voice is mild and hesitant, like he’s afraid that the smallest change in tone will set you off. You slide into your seat at the breakfast table, setting your glass of water down.

“Oh, honey, too much caffeine isn’t good for the baby.” The effect of your words is instantaneous. There’s a look of guarded wistfulness in his eyes, mouth slack with surprise and his formerly clenched hand soft as he reaches for yours. You let him take it.

“The baby?” He glances down at your stomach, as if it’ll confirm what he’s hearing. “You’re...pregnant?” You give him a sweet, affirming smile.

“Judging by when my last period was I’m two weeks in.” Enji rises from his seat, walking around the table to kneel between your legs, a large hand splayed reverently across your abdomen.

“I’m going to be a father again.” This is both the happiest and weakest you’ve ever seen Enji in your life. This is probably the happiest and weakest he’s ever been in his life. Then, like a bucket of ice-water being dumped on him, his mood switches.

“You don’t want a baby.” There it is. The realization you were waiting for. You smile with far too many teeth, eyes cruel and sharp.

“But you do.” The words hit him like a slap across the face, and sadistically, you revel in the pain his inner conflict causes him.

“You don’t want a baby.” Enji repeats his words dumbly, as if saying them again will make them make sense. Your smile grows wider.

“But you do.” You take his hands in yours, squeezing gently. “Everything that I do is for you, isn't it? My life revolves around you.” He yanks his hands back as if he’s been burned.

“Stop. Stop this.” You lean forward, until your noses are almost touching.

“Stop what, Enji? Stop trying to please you? Stop trying to mold myself into the perfect image of your wife? Stop fulfilling every foolish wish you made in bringing me here? Stop what?” He swallows hard, blue eyes wary.

“Y/n, stop this.” There’s a slight growl to his voice. You press on.

“You could stop this. Force me to swallow plan B. Take me to a clinic. Push me down a flight of stairs. Take a coat hanger and-”

“STOP!” His voice rings out, desperate and pained, and finally, you acquiesce, face grave and serious.

“I always wanted kids, you know. If you had just dated and married me properly I would have given them to you, happily.” Your eyes go fuzzy around the edges, gaze faraway and wistful.

“I wanted a girl, first. A sweet daughter to spoil and coddle. And then another, so that they would always have a friend. I always switched back and forth on whether I wanted a third child. I think that if I were to have one, I would want a son.” Your eyes refocus, spearing Enji with a look far too knowing and cognizant.

“You know, the youngest child always learns faster. They have their siblings to model after. How does that sound, Enji? A strong, talented, prodigy of a son. Finally a child worth neglecting the others for.”

His face is tight with pain, and you tread carefully. Not because you’re afraid of what will happen should he shatter, but because you haven’t decided whether he would be more useful broken. You lay a delicate hand on your stomach, rubbing gently as if you can feel the baby kicking.

“Do you think that the daughters would come back and visit a father who was never there for them? Do you think that they would still see the man who cast them aside for their younger brother as a father? Would they call you daddy as they reach for your credit card? Or maybe they would call you father, in the same way you call a teacher sir. Maybe even Enji, if they’re feeling bold enough. Bastard when they’re talking about you to their friends.”

Enji’s hands clench spasmodically, opening and closing like the fluttering wings of a dying bird.

“Or maybe they don’t talk about you at all. Why spare any thought for a man who obviously never thought of them?” You lean back, satisfied at the complete and utter destruction written across his face. Enji may have taken you from your life to his own, but in doing so he gave you the keys to his emotional annihilation. You don’t think that he even knew that, not until this very moment.

“Why are you doing this? What do you want?” His words are broken and strangled, his head bowed. You regard him with a cool sort of disdain.

“Where was this concern for my desires when you decided that I was going to be your wife?” He hands his head, unable to look you in the eyes.

“Is this what this is? You’re getting back at me for bringing you home?” Though his words are muffled, there’s a slight edge to them. You bristle.

“I may have some sort of feeling close to love for you, Enji, but know that it’s not by my own choice. It’s my brain literally trying to keep me alive.” He lifts his head, blue eyes blazing.

“I know you love me. You’ve said so yourself.” You scoff incredulously, almost choking on your own spit.

“You think saying something makes it true? Oh my god, I pity you, Enji Todoroki.” His fists clench once more, anger and humiliation boiling just under the calm facade that he forces onto his face. He says nothing, not that there’s anything to say.

You let him stew in his own fury and shame for a minute or two before sighing and shifting in your chair, watching as his ire is slowly replaced with a look of deep, intense apathetic sadness.

“I’m not actually pregnant.” The emotions that play across his face at that are instantaneous; first relief, then grief, then yearning, then resignation.

“That’s probably for the best.” Enji sounds so, so tired. You’re sure you look just as much so. The food on your plate no longer looks appealing, and you push it away, going to pour yourself a cup of coffee.

For a couple minutes there’s nothing but the sound of you sipping at your coffee and Enji finishing off his breakfast. It’s when he sets his chopsticks down that you finally break the silence.

“Do you really think you love me? Like, when you say ‘I love you’ do you actually mean it?” Enji looks at a loss for words, and you tilt your head slightly to the side. “Do you even know what it means?” In what might be the most humbling act of his life, Enji slowly shakes his head. You sigh.

The look of shock and mistrust on his face as you cross the table to straddle his lap and place your hands on his shoulders is almost amusing, but you force yourself to stay focused.

“Enji, with the way our relationship is now, I can never love you. I may feel sexually attracted to and affection for you but love requires some level of respect and I don’t respect you because of what you’ve done to me and how you’ve handled it.” He opens his mouth, probably to protest, and you squeeze his shoulder to get him to shut it.

“Maybe you don’t need me to love you, and I get that. Companionship and sex aren’t poor substitutes for that. But when you have your kids and they ask why mommy never leaves the house and why you and mommy fight every night when you think they’re asleep, well, I expect that companionship and sex won’t fix that.” You slide off his lap, going to get yourself a mug of coffee.

“I’ll love my kids. But will they love you once they know what you’ve done? Because half of them will be from me and I know that I will never love you if you refuse to change this relationship you have with me.”

Cream, a little bit of sugar, you stir your coffee before taking a sip and watching his face. The breakfast table isn’t really the ideal place to be having moral crises at, you know, but you don’t think that Enji’ll complain about it. You sit back down, not touching a bit of your food as you watch what could be spiteful silence or genuine consideration play across his face.

It’s after the five minute mark that you consider speaking up, reminding him that though you’ve had plenty of chances to run recently you haven’t. Knowing Enji though, you think it’ll do more harm than good. It’s when your tense silence hits the ten minute mark that Enji looks up, jaw set mutinously.

“We can go to the hardware store today.” He spits the words out like poison, but you smile anyways, a bright cheery thing that has Enji’s rock-like expression melting slightly. You swoop in for a short kiss before picking up your plate to put away for later, smile growing wider as you hear Enji huff and begin eating again.

You know this isn’t a guaranteed road to freedom yet, but you like to think that you’re pretty similar to the innocuous looking mint plant in your garden. Enji’s just buried you in open ground.

🌱

commission a fic here

#yandere enji x reader #yandere endeavor x reader #enji x reader #endeavor x reader #yandere enji todoroki #yandere bnha #yandere #tw: pregnancy #yandere x reader #commission

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coffee-imagines · 4 years

Text

Behind Closed Doors Pt. 7

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Fred x reader

Warnings: none

A/N: There’s only one more part after this one, so here’s to me actually finishing a series for once in my life. This was also a whole lot longer than I expected. Thank you for 800 followers! I still can’t believe I’m getting so many so fast, this account had only been active for a little over five weeks.

Summary: Your first date with Fred ends up to be a bit messy

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You’d woken up with Fred’s arms around you like usual, but this morning felt different. Butterflies were filling your stomach from the memories of the day before. Fred’s confession, your confession, your confirmation of a first real date between the both of you that would end your relationship as just friends and turn it into something that was so much more than either of you would’ve thought would ever happen. Fred stirring and pulling you closer into him pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Good morning.” Fred’s groggy morning voice filled your ears making you shudder. You’d heard this almost every morning, but the raspy edge to his voice seemed to hit you harder than it ever had before. You wanted nothing more than to have him on top of you, whispering just about anything into your ears with the particular rasp he held in his voice at the current moment.

“Can’t we stay here for a little while longer.” You bargained, curling into Fred’s touch more than you ever had, wanting to savor your last free day together before the other red headed twin would be joining you along with the rest of the Weasleys later that day.

“We need to have our date before everyone gets back.” Fred explained, his eyes already shutting closed once again, his hand slowly making its way up the back of your shirt to rub small circles into your back, his actions completely unmatching his words.

“But I’m already really comfortable.” You tried convincing him, nuzzling your head in his neck, hoping the particular fanning of your breath on his neck would convince him to stay in bed.

“Alright maybe just a bit.” He murmured into your hair, slowly falling back to sleep with you curled close to his chest

A bit turned into hours, Fred cursing and rolling out of bed and flinging clothes around while he got dressed. It hadn’t taken long for you to realize that it was in fact about three hours before the rest of the Weasleys would be coming back home, and you followed suit when you too rolled out of bed with the covers following with you, both you and Fred scrambling to get dressed into normal clothes and not your pajamas. As quick as you could you both flew down the stairs in order to reach the kitchen, grabbing anything and everything out of the fridge in order to fill the basket that Fred seemed to have pulled out of nowhere. It was the simplest task that you all had to do. Fill up the basket with whatever food you were going to eat seemed so simple, but it proved to be the exact opposite.

You both tried figuring out just what exactly you were going to eat, and you settled on figuring out the sides, letting Fred worry about the main entre. Although you’d loved his picnic idea, it was in fact his idea after all. You took to mixing a weird concoction that you and the twins found surprisingly delicious while you all were still in the summer going into your third year. It had been deemed the best dip for just about anything you could get your hands on, and you knew it wouldn’t hurt to have something familiar that represented how close you were to the guy standing on the other side of the counter.

“Maybe we should just make the sandwiches outside. I don’t know how you want yours or how many we’re going to want.” Fred explained, finally looking up to you making you nod.

“Is this everything?” You joked, a grunt leaving you when you tried picking up the basket that was heavier than you anticipated.

“I didn’t know what we wanted. More is always better.” He shrugged with an innocent smile, taking the basket from your hands before motioning for you to follow him outside.

To say you were nervous was an understatement. You had been far from nervous, you were sure that you’d lose your breakfast if you hadn’t slept through and missed it. With what felt like legs made of jelly you followed close behind Fred, a blanket he’d handed to you being fisted for dear life in your hands. Once you’d both reached the shadiest part of the field you laid out the blanket with Fred’s help, both of you sitting next to each other on the blanket.

“Can you… can you pass… that.” You stuttered out, deciding to settle on pointing before you made any more of a fool out of yourself. Fred couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face at how flustered you were, your face the darkest shade of red he’d ever seen it.

“You don’t have to be shy Y/N. It’s just us.” Fred assured you, passing over the loaf of bread and a butter knife. “I won’t bite.” He promised when you hesitated to grab the things from him. “Not unless you ask.” He winked, a laugh leaving him when you stared at him in shock, no doubt turning the color of a red crayon right in front of his eyes.

You both continued to make your sandwiches in a comfortable silence, blushing and stuttering out apologies whenever your fingers would brush the other’s hand when you both reached for the same thing without looking. It was surprising to you at how natural it felt to be alone like this with Fred, knowing that you both were considering this to be a date. You were on a date with Fred Weasley, something you would have never thought you could say. It wasn’t long before you felt like you were being watched. Mid bite of your carefully constructed sandwich you looked up to see a googly eyed Fred watching your every move.

“What?” You asked, blushing under Fred’s intense gaze.

“I’m just looking at you.” He smiled, taking a bite of his own sandwich only to make you blush an even deeper shade.

“I guess I’ll just look at you too.” You tried to tease, watching Fred intently while he took another bite.

This turned into a staring contest that you both knew the outcome of. You managed to get through half of your sandwich before you couldn’t take it anymore. You looked away blushing furiously, and all Fred could do was smile and keep watching you. You’d never taken notice, but Fred usually watched you whenever you weren’t looking, admiring all the small things he noticed about you whenever he noticed something new. It hadn’t been until you’d grabbed the dip spoon too fast and flung a big glob on Fred’s shirt.

“Oh Fred. I’m so sorry.” You blushed in embarrassment quickly, grabbing a napkin to clean his shirt. You became even more flustered at how close you were to each other while you dabbed the mustard out of his shirt.

“It’s alright.” He breathed out, distracted by the closeness.

You were a fool to think something like accidentally flinging food at Fred could just get brushed off. You were an even bigger idiot at thinking Fred’s overly nice behavior was the cause of this being a date. You hadn’t been wrong in thinking so, most of it being true, but you should’ve been clued in to his mischievous plans when he offered you a chip with a significantly large amount of dip. He refused to let you grab it, so you reluctantly opened your mouth only for the dip to be smeared across your bottom lip and on your cheek.

“What was that for?!” You laughed, wiping the dip off your face.

“You started it.” He smirked, making your mouth open agape.

“Oh that’s it!” You exclaimed, your hand proceeding to scoop out as much dip as you could before you flung it at him.

You both stared at each other frozen for a few seconds, looking from the food and back to each other. You quickly scrambled to your feet, grabbing the biggest container of food out of the bunch, Fred doing the same. You had a standoff, wondering who was going to make the first throw, and you couldn’t help the laugh that left you at the dip that was still on Fred’s face. Unlike your staring contest you were determined not to lose. You were lucky to grab the mayo, scooping out globs before flinging them in Fred’s direction. All Fred could throw at you was bread, trying to dodge each glob of mayo you flung at him trying to make his way back to the basket to grab something that was more appropriate to throw at you that could possibly get you as dirty as he had gotten.

You both ran all around the field, unknowing to the amused Weasley’s who were standing by the front door of the borough watching you both run around the field. George was smiling from ear to ear, happy that you would both finally stop complaining to him about liking the other. None of them had the heart to stop your fun, and you wouldn’t have ever heard them anyway, too consumed in your fun that you wouldn’t have heard them.

Your eyes widened when you’d turned and saw Fred holding the huge pitcher of lemonade that you helped make. He should’ve been walking trying to keep the liquid at bay, but he seemed to have no problem chasing after you, not a single drop spilling out of the pitcher. You felt your legs starting to ache, your chest beginning to burn from the lack of proper oxygen due to all the running. Fred was getting closer to you by the second, and you tried to get your legs to move a bit faster, but they only did the opposite.

“Alright! Alright! Truce!” You begged, holding your hands up in surrender when Fred’s arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you against him. “You win.” You whispered, staring up at him as your tongue came out to glide across your bottom lip.

Fred leaned down, pulling you in closer when your lips finally met, and your arms came down and around his neck. You’d been dreaming about this for years, and it was even better than you had ever imagined. If it weren’t for Fred’s arm around your waist, you were sure your knees would’ve buckled beneath you. His hand moved from your waist to your cheek, deepening it causing a small hum to come from you. When he pulled away from you, your eyes were still closed, and you leaned forward trying to chase his lips. That had been until you felt your head get drenched from the nearly full pitcher you both had hardly touched.

“Fred Weasley!” You yelled with a laugh, wiping your face clean from the lemonade that was dripping down your face before you took off in the direction he ran toward the house. It wasn’t until you ran straight into his back that you’d seen the Weasley family staring at the two of you with amusement. You were sure you weren’t ready for whatever conversation they were about to have with the two of you.

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