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peterman-spideyparker · 1 month

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Just a Trim (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Author’s Note: I have been INSPIRED by Charlies D23 Expo look and thinking about it A LOT. This is just a cute, fluffy little blurb that I hope you enjoy!

Summary: When a haircut goes wrong and Matt needs to be in court in the afternoon, Karen calls in a favor. You come and save the day.

Warnings: Fluff, bad haircut, flirty Matt, some swears. Initially written in mind as fem!Reader, but I think it works as gender neutral, too!

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson, Karen Page

Word Count: 2,015

Matt loves Foggy so much. They’ve shared so many successes, losses, laughs, and straight up weird experiences. Through thick and thin, they make stuff work, even if not right away. He truly is the brother he never had.

So it’s only fitting that Matt wants to punch Foggy flat out.

In a loving, brotherly way, of course.

“What the hell, Fog?” Matt calls as he folds up his cane and strides through the main reception area of Nelson, Murdock, and Page.

“Uh, buddy?” he hears Foggy say, getting up from his desk chair and walking out of his office. “I don’t—oh, shit.”

“Yeah!” he huffs. “I thought you said he was a good barber!”

“He is!”

“Then why is my hair like this?”

“He . . . Must have been having an off day?”

“Foggy, I have to go to be in court this afternoon! I’m blind and even I know this doesn’t look good! I can’t go in to court looking like this!” Even before he was blinded, Matt was never one to be hung up on appearances. However, he knows that the rest of the world doesn’t share his viewpoints, and when it comes to being an attorney—especially an attorney in New York City—looks are everything.

“Matt, just takes a deep breath. We can figure something out.”

“Like what? I can’t fix this, I don’t think you can fix this—.”

“Hey, guys!” Karen says as the door swings open. “I just spoke with some of the other residents for the tenement case and—oh, shit.”

Matt lets out a groan of frustration as he rolls his head back in distress. “What am I gonna do, guys?”

“I . . . I’m gonna call in a favor,” Karen says, moving toward the reception area to put down purse and tote bag. She whips out her phone, tapping and scrolling until she finds the number she’s looking for.

“(Y/N), hey!” she starts. “How are you? I’m good, but I have a bit of a favor to ask. One of my partners at our firm, he got a bad haircut, and he needs to be in court this afternoon for a tenement case. Do you have any—? Oh! Oh, um . . .” Matt can feel how Karen looks over toward him, as if she’s examining his hair for some kind of barber post-mortem. “Yeah, probably.” She sighs in relief. “You rock. We’ll see you soon. Thank you so much, (Y/N).”

Matt and Foggy wait in anticipation as Karen puts down her phone; clearly it’s good news, but they need the details. “They’ll be here in ten.”

“You have a hairdresser that makes house calls?” Foggy asks, a little confused.

“(Y/N)'s been my friend since before I moved to the city and taking care of my hair since I came here. They're an amazing stylist. If anyone can fix this, it’s them.”

Matt nods in acceptance before moving to his office, trying to focus on some of his work to take his mind off the hair on his head. The short wait is agonizing, but his ears perk up when he hears someone approach the firm.

“Hey,” you say as Karen opens the door for you. “I got here as fast as I could.”

“Thank you so much,” she says with a big hug. “You are a lifesaver.”

He listens to the pair of you make your way over to his office. He knows you’re going to be fixing his hair, but even still, he feels embarrassed to have you see him like this.

“Hey, Matt, this is (Y/N),” Karen introduces.

“Hi,” you say kindly. “Sorry we’re meeting like this, but, I can make it better. Would you want me to set up in here, or is there a different spot?”

“Here’s fine,” he says with a small smile. “I can’t thank you enough for doing this. I just feel bad—I could’ve come to you. Doesn’t sound like you were too far.”

“Exactly. I wasn’t too far away. Karen said you needed to be in court this afternoon. All of your things are here; you can work and prep while I fix.”

Matt’s smile grows from something small to something big, and he can hear how your heartbeat increases. He listens as you unload your things, spreading out on a small side table as you get everything ready.

“Do you want me to stay in this chair or sit on a different one?” he asks.

“If you cold roll over, that’d be great,” you say as you switch out one of the heads on the electric razor. He does as you ask before you turn your attention to him. “Alright,” you whisper to yourself. “Let me see what we have here.”

You gracefully run your fingers through his hair, undoing the styling that was done not even an hour ago to get a better assessment of the state of things. “It feels like they might have used a hair clay . . . Do you know what they might have put in?”

“No, I’m sorry. But hair clay sounds right.”

“Okay.” You walk wound him, analyzing his hair as your fingers card through it. “It doesn’t feel like a lot, so I’ll brush it out and we’ll go from there. For something like this, I’d ideally like to work with no product in your hair, but I’m not bending you over in the little kitchenette sink and using hand soap on you. That’d be cruel, and your hair has been through enough today.”

Matt smiles to himself as he listens to you move back to your bag and grab a different brush. He loves how focused you are. He closes his eyes as you run the brush through his hair over and over, the bristles scratching comfortably against his scalp. He’s sad when it’s over, but enjoys how your fingers card through his locks to reassess the hair.

“It’s gonna have to be on the shorter side,” you breathe, gently tilting his head to the side with your fingers to get a view from all angles, your fingertips honing in on the sides of his head. “But I promise I’ll make it look good.”

“I trust you,” he hums as you drape an apron around is neck.

You get to work, buzzing, trimming, and combing through his hair, laser focused on the task at hand. With the way your hands handle him, he feels as if he could fall asleep in the chair. He gets so relaxed, he almost doesn’t realize that you’re finishing up your work until you speak to him.

“How does that feel?” you ask as you put your scissors down on the table. Matt runs his hands through his hair to give it a feel. You were right, it is on the shorter side, but it’s even all around and it feels good—light, neat, and even.

“It feels good,” he says with a smile. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” you hum, taking a few steps back toward him, running your fingers through his hair again and styling it a little. “And you have a bit of a beard going, so it balances your face well. Very handsome.” Matt can hear you smile. “There.” The smile stays on your face as you gently brush cut hair off his neck before you undo the apron around him and start to fold it. “Also, I promise I’m not anti-social. I usually talk when I cut hair, but, this was a special exception. My clients usually don’t get a cut and then go up against bad guy prosecution teams in tenement cases. That kind of pressure requires laser focus.”

Matt chuckles softly as he stands, moving his chair back to his desk. “It was fun to listen to how focused you were. It’s definitely appreciated.”

“I had to make you look good for court, now, didn’t I?” you chuckle. He listens to you pull out a hand-held vacuum and clean up the hair on the floor.

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I’m not going to leave hair on the floor,” you say as if it’s simple, obvious fact.

“You’ve already done enough for me.”

“Then this is the cherry on top,” you say, starting the little machine up. “I’m nothing if not prepared and thorough.”

Matt laughs as you quickly clean up and pack. He puts his hands into his pockets, sliding out his wallet and opening the fold.

“Oh, no, you don’t need to,” you say, putting your hand on Matt’s to prevent him from pulling out the cash.

“You took time out of your day and your schedule to fix my hair. You came here to do it. You did your job. You just vacuumed my office. You’re going to get paid,” he kindly insists.

“I know what kind of work you guys do here. You help so many people. You have good hearts. This is on the house.” You give his hand a little squeeze as slowly start to move from his office. “Good luck in court today. You’re gonna do great.”

He lifts his hand in a small wave and listens as you say goodbye to Foggy and Karen. When the door closes, the two of them eagerly shuffle into his office and look at his hair.

“Wow,” Foggy says. “You look like an attorney.”

“Told you (Y/N) was good,” Karen chuckles. “How does it feel, Matt?”

“Well, it feels shorter than I’d normally go, but they told me that before they started, and I said I was okay with it. It feels good, and it definitely sounds like it looks good.”

“You look like a rich guy,” Foggy chuckles. “A hot, rich guy. You’re gonna kill it in court this afternoon.”

Matt just smiles to himself, his confidence boosted, ego repaired, and his mind replaying how nice it felt when your fingers ran through his hair.

“Just a minute,” you call from a side closet when the bell on the door chimes. He listens you hop off a stool of some sort before coming out. “Hi, Claire, I—Matt,” you say surprised, but a smile growing on your face nonetheless. “H-How’d court go?”

“Good,” he says with a smile. “All thanks to your skills.”

“Oh.” He can sense how your cheeks flush. “You’re giving me far too much credit. I just gave you a haircut. You’re the one with the law degree.”

“You boosted my confidence. That’s a hell of a lot of work. Thank you for that.”

“Any time.”

He takes a couple steps forward, extending the bouquet in his hand toward you. “For you.”

“These are lovely,” you smile, taking it from his hands, sticking your nose in the fragrant flowers. “I love tulips.”

“Karen helped me with that one,” he admits. “Leaving it a just a thank you didn’t feel like enough after all that you did. I still would’ve wished you would have let me pay you, though.”

“Wasn’t gonna happen. You might be a good lawyer, but I can be stubborn. I hope the flowers weren’t your way to try and butter me up to accept payment or something.”

He laughs. “No. I figured it wouldn’t work. It’s just another way for me to say thank you.”

You take a half step forward. “And?”

Now, it’s his turn to blush. “And . . . maybe to continue that thank you over dinner tonight?”

“Oh.” He senses how your heart skips a beat and more heat rises to your cheeks.

“Only if you want to,” he tacks on. “I didn’t mean to—.”

“Oh, no, trust me, I’d love to go out with you, I—.” You stop and cringe at your eagerness, trying to pivot. “Tonight is my late night. I don’t get off until eight.”

“That’s okay. Does tomorrow work better for you?”

“That’d be great. I’ll be finished up here by six. Does that sound okay?”

Matching smiles pull at your lips. “I’ll swing by here to pick you up.”

Matt takes a half step forward, placing a kiss on your cheek. “Have a nice night, (Y/N).”

“You too, Matt.”

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger @steampowerednightvaler @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop @itwasthereaminuteago @peter1ismybrother @hellskitchens-whore @dpaccione @catnip987 @blackhawkfanatic

Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters @loves0phelia

#matt murdock #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fluff #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil netflix #daredevil disney+#marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #charlie cox #daredevil born again

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nycbaby21 · 1 year

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Quinn Hughes Imagine

prompt: “I’m sorry. I just had to see you.“

word count: 1,865

The final buzzer of the game was normally met with cheers and excitement at Rogers Arena, but tonight it was filled with heavy sighs and disappointed fans. This was the third game in a row they had lost and you can see how frustrated the guys were getting. Not wanting to bother watching the sad and irritated post-game interviews, I lean over and turn off the tv. I had never been a huge hockey girl, that is until I moved to Vancouver for work and moved in next door to one of the Canucks. Many months ago when I was lugging boxes into the apartment building I bumped into the tall blonde with a huge smile. He immediately stopped what he was doing and helped with what would have taken me hours by myself. After a repayment meal and a lengthy conversation about how it was truly criminal, I had never been to a hockey game, a quick and solid friendship was made with Brock.

I made my way over to the kitchen and turned on the oven for some cookies. Normally when Brock and the guys have a hard game he usually ends up over at mine. He says it helps him because he doesn’t feel like being alone after. Recently some of the other guys have started coming along, which I actually really enjoy. I was so scared that I wouldn’t make friends and be so alone moving to a completely new country, but I feel like I am a member of the team with how many hockey players file in and out of my place. Sometimes they show up even when Brock isn’t around.

My phone rings when I am placing the cookie sheet in the oven. I reach over and answer already knowing who it was. It was a running joke in our friendship that Brock looked like Prince Charming from Shrek, so his ringtone was quickly changed from the default one to I’m Too Sexy for My Shirt from the second movie. I can’t help but smile when I hear the sound. “Hey B,” I say trying to gauge his mood based on his facial features. It was too dark in his car for me to tell. “Hey y/n,” he sighs and I can hear the disappointment in his voice. A frown appears on my face before I could help it. I didn’t know what to say to make it better so we just sat in silence, a comfortable one. “I have a batch of your favorites in the oven waiting for you,” I tell him hoping to bring a small smile to the blonde’s face. A big sigh leaves his mouth,” I’m not coming home tonight. Remember that girl I went out with last week,” he starts and I nod,” Well she came to the game tonight and invited me over.”

“That’s okay Boes. I’ll just put them up for you and drop them by sometime tomorrow.” That seems to lift his mood the tiniest bit. “So… you are staying the night,” I smirk while raising my eyebrows ridiculously. He glances down at the phone seeing my face and busts out laughing. My work for the night was done by making my best friend smile after a tough night. “Grow up dork,” he laughs and soon his whole face lights up when he parks and reaches for the overhead lights. He quickly fiddles around the car grabbing his bag and then turning back to face me. “Okay well I’m here so I guess I see you when I see you,” he says getting out and heading towards her door. “Okay bye B. And hey at least you can say you scored tonight, the other guys can’t,” I say trying to hold a straight face but failing. “Oh, my god. I’m hanging up now. I actually hate you,” his words don’t match the beaming smile on his face. “Love you too,” I say while hanging up the phone.

The quick beeps of the oven alert me to the cookies being done. As I plate the last couple I hear a knock on my door. Glancing at the clock on the microwave, I wonder who it could be this late since Brock isn’t home. I head to the door quietly and peek through the peephole seeing one of his teammates. I stand back confused for one second and then quickly shake it off opening the door. I look up and meet the eyes of the last player I thought would show up after a bad game. Quinn Hughes stood in the hallway in his game-day suit and dripping hair. “Oh my gosh, Quinn. You must be freezing,” I rush to pull him into my apartment. “I’m sure I have something that will fit give me one second,” I say rushing off to my room and pulling out a pair of my dad’s old college sweats that I stole when I moved. I grab a random sweatshirt because almost all of mine are oversized anyway and find him in the same position I left him in. The only difference is the door is now closed and his hockey bag was on the floor.

“Okay, these should work. But if not I can always run over to Brock’s and grab something,” it looks like my words fall deaf on his ears because he hasn’t even looked at me the whole time I was talking. “Quinn, did you hear me? Are you okay,” I ask slowly walking towards him and trying to hand him the clothes. He finally lifts his head and I can see the tears in his beautiful eyes. “Oh Quinn,” I whisper as I take one final step forward and wrap my arms around him. Having known him for months now, I know Quinn isn’t the biggest fan of physical touch, especially with people he isn’t really all that close with. When I make it close enough to him, he collapses in my arms letting out soft sobs breaking my heart in the process. Quinn was the guy who always had everything together, and seeing him let down his walls was new territory for me.

Quickly circling my arms around the tall defencemen, I stand in the middle of my apartment with the boy letting all of my emotions out. I rub my hand up and down his back slowly and whisper small things to him like “It’s okay Quinn let it all out” and “I know I know.” My arms had gone numb five minutes ago but I was going to stay in his embrace until he pulled away. As if he had read my mind he shyly pulled away and looked down at me with red eyes. A stray tear falls down his cheek and without a second thought, I reach up and wipe it away with my thumb leaving my hand resting on his face. I go to pull it away feeling too intimate but he encircles my wrist with his hand and leans into mine more. A small smile faces upon my face accompanied by a red blush. Now was not the time to be thinking about how attractive I found him or how many times I had wished he would be the one to show up with Brock after a game.

“Wanna go sit down in the living room. I can turn something on or we can talk if you want to,” I speak gently eyes scanning his face. A small nod gives me his answer and I slip my hand from his cheek and lace our fingers together. After he left and changed I started getting him settled in the middle of my couch and I try to round the back of it to grab one of the thousands of throw blankets I have. His grip on my hand on tightens eyes jumping to look at me and figure out why I am leaving him. I laugh lightly and reach for the closest blanket and fall back into his embrace on the couch. I lean back into the corner of it and gently pull him back into me. He rests his head in the crook of my neck and I hesitantly run my fingers through his dark hair. He releases a small sound of enjoyment so I continue until my hand goes numb.

Using the remote I turned on some Adam Sandler movie I had started the night before but fell asleep during. The only reason I even knew he was awake was when he let out a small laugh at the scene. My hand falls from his head when he looks up at me with childlike eyes. I swear even if he wasn’t so close he could have still heard my heartbeat increase. I sent him a smile and he returned it just as big. “Thank you,” his voice was rough from his recent tears. “You don’t have to thank me, Quinn.” He really didn’t need to thank me, I felt like I should be the one thanking him for letting me be the person he lets his walls down to. “Brock always talks about how you have these magical hugs. Like how after every win he feels so much better after hugging you in the halls, or how after every loss they make him feel just the smallest bit less shitty,” he says sitting up and looking anywhere but my eyes. I let out a laugh at this because I had heard Brock says this before, I’m sure everyone he has met has. “I’m sorry. I just had to see you and see if he was right,” he started,” and he was.” The smile that graced his face was one I wanted to freeze time for and just stare at it for a little longer.

“Well, I’m glad I could be of help. You don’t have to be sorry either. I am actually so happy I finally got a hug from the huggy bear,” I laugh watching his face fill with blush as he laughs too. We stare at each other for a couple of minutes only breaking eye contact at one of the many random noises Adam Sandler makes. We settle back into the couch sitting shoulder to shoulder, feeling so content. Neither of us speaks, we just sit there on the couch enjoying each other's company and watching the ending of the movie. I hand him the remote to pick the next one and while his eyes drift across the screen looking for something, I let mine land on his face trying to memorize every small detail of it. I break my gaze when I hear the opening to Mighty Ducks and laugh at him. He shakes his head and smiles,” What, it’s a good movie.” I reach to fix the blanket on our legs when he stops me and looks over. “Do I smell cookies,” he questions laughing as his stomach grumbles. I nod jumping up and bringing him the container I was supposed to bring Brock. At that moment I didn’t even care that I would have to make more in the morning. The smile on Quinn’s face made it all feel worth it.

#quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #brock boeser #vancouver canucks #nhl imagine #nycbaby21works

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charles-simmons-fanfiction · 3 months

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Their very first year at Welton - Described by Steven Meeks

Description: the tittle is kinda self explanatory. [1,3k words]

The prompt is inspired by @i-love-steven-meeks :3 I had fun writing this. It's pretty much just my personal hcs for pre-canon and there's a few more that I didn't include here actually, so I might make more posts on pre-canon stuff. Anyway, hope you enjoy <3

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡.

The year was 1955. I was twelve, and starting seventh grade.

I had only been in Welton for a week and already missed home. It's not that I wasn't grateful for being at such a prestigious academy, but I had no time to do anything anymore. I had hoped I would at least have the weekends to go explore the library, yet soon I realized weekends were barely enough to finish all the assignments we were given.

The other guys in my class seemed to be in a similar situation, maybe even worse, actually. It didn't take long for some students to start realizing how tough the classes were.

There were a few boys that would stand out, as there usually is. Charlie Dalton and Neil Perry were two of them. They would laugh too loud, talk too much, and generally be disruptive. Charlie, contrary to Neil, was a huge back-talker to the teachers. He got particularly mad at a professor one day, when Neil asked to to go the bathroom and was denied. (I think they even called his parents to complain about him). Both of them mostly talked to each other, and it was clear they were already friends from before Welton.

Every once in a while, the class would be asked to pair up for some project. For as long as it was possible, I did the projects on my own. Pair or groups were always stressful and I like things to be done my way, which was often the right way. Eventually, a professor said no and forced me to look for a pair. That was when I started to get to know my roommate, Gerard Pitts, who also did most of his projects alone.

Pitts was quiet to the point no one actually knew what his voice sounded like. He was the tallest in class and seemed to be a very serious guy. At first, I thought he was intimidating, but soon I realized he was just terribly shy.

Being roommates with him was easy. Most of our interactions could be summarized by "good evening", "good morning" and "can I open the window?". And that was that for at least the whole first month, until the exams started. Pitts barely even slept sometimes, studying for hours on end and still barely getting decent grades.

I offered to help, and that's what I consider the beginning of our friendship. Although Gerard himself would disagree. According to him, we officially became friends when he made a reference to Aslan from Narnia and I actually got it.

As we started to learn how to manage all the school work, we were left with some free time that was mostly used to read and chat outside. Everything seemed boring when it rained though.

It was one of those days. A Saturday without homework was rare, and it was truly a shame how much it was raining. Me and Pitts sat on the stairs, feeling bored while watching the older students pass by.

"Hey, you two," someone called. It took us some time to realize we were the ones being spoken to. I looked up and saw Charlie and Neil, who I still hadn't interacted with before. "Want to play hide and seek? We need more people."

Gerard shrugged, so I said yes.

(Sometimes I wonder how many things would've been different if I hadn't done that. A few days ago, out of curiosity, I asked Charlie what his thoughts were on the matter. His answer was: "nothing, we would've become friends some other way", which is nice to think about.)

We played for pretty much the whole day and probably would've for longer if it wasn't for the chemistry teacher telling us to go back to our dorms at night. Neil won more times than all of us together, and Charlie bruised a knee while he ran from Pitts (who was very unsurprisingly faster), but we hadn't had that much genuine fun in a while anyway and I really needed some reason to laugh at the time. It's a day I hold dear in my memories. Little me had no idea how close I would grow to those people. Heaven knows it was hard for some of us to be away from home for so long.

In a couple months, the teachers already hated our quartet. Even though we didn't even particularly misbehave during class, we were insufferable to deal with if we were all together. I'd be lying if I said I'm proud of how I was, I was pretty stupid sometimes y'know. Not that I ever met anyone who likes their 12 years old self.

Something curious I particularly remember is thinking that Charlie was kind of a bully, and being quite confused on how he was even friends with someone as nice as Neil. As the weeks passed though, I started noticing he only picked on me and Pitts if he knew we weren't upset for real. Turns out Charlie was actually the sweetest out of us, in his own way.

He saw me crying once. I will admit that I did cry a lot in my first year. I missed my room, my old school and my parents. Charlie made some joke about me needing to man up, I don't even remember exactly what he said. I think joking was his first instinct, the guy didn't really know what to do. He apologized later, and stayed with me until I stopped crying.

I mentioned that story to him in tenth grade one time, and he didn't really remember. He had just had a big fight with Neil and they didn't talk for like two weeks. It's the only time I ever saw Charlie cry. I did his homework for him that day and let him stay in my dorm for a while. He ended up falling asleep on my bed, so I had to sleep with Gerard. None of us ever mentioned it again, there was no reason to.

It was in that year that Cameron joined the group, because he was assigned to be Charlie's new roommate. I'm impressed they even let Neil and Charlie be in the same room for that long actually. The two scream so much, no wonder they had to switch rooms.

Knox, on the other hand, didn't share a room with any of us. We became friends in early eighth grade, as far as I can recall. My first impression of him was that he was pretty annoying. Time only proved me right, yet we got along surprisingly well. He became a part of the group quite quickly, although he and Charlie would argue a lot.

I can't quite process it's been four years since I became a student at Welton. It feels like a whole life. What's weird is that as much as I hate this place, I wouldn't change it for the world. Some people are meant to meet, y'know. Right now, I'm currently sitting on my bed as I write this, and Pitts is on his bed, snoring. I'm in eleventh grade now, and there's a new addition to our group. His name's Todd Anderson, he's roommates with Neil. He seems nice, I like him already.

I don't know exactly why I'm writing this. I guess I just want to keep these memories written somewhere, for me to read again someday.

Maybe in the future, like a decade later, I'll be able to bring this up if we still make the dead poets' meetings. I hope we're all still together by then, but I'm not too worried about it. Unless some of us die, we'll be.

I gotta go to sleep now. This was fun to write though.

-Steven Meeks, 1959

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡.

#this feels self indulgent if I'm being honest #but it'll post it anyway. why not #steven meeks #dead poets society #dead poets fandom #dead poets fanfic #dps boys

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icee133 · 5 months

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Sorry!! Just realized I set the auto post to the wrong day -_- It took me way too long to notice this part wasn't posted. Better late than never I suppose. On that note here's Part 8 of the Marionette series! Hope you guys enjoy this one. Sorry for any writing errors.

If you would like to be added to taglist let me know!

The Marionette

Masterlist, Part 8 🤍

Word count for this part: 2431. Enjoy!👻👻

Synapsis:

A new overlord has manifested in hell seemingly overnight. One that overpowered many if not all of the current overlords in all the right ways. Will this overlord use her powers for good to help the members of the hotel? Will she fall in love with a man and end up in a loving gentle relationship? Or will she get her heart broken and turn against them all, burning each bridge she meticulously made.

The Marionette is a heart wrenching fic with many turns you won't see coming. Stay tuned for each of the episodes as they are released.

¯⁠\⁠_⁠ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ⁠_⁠/⁠¯¯⁠\⁠_⁠ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ⁠_⁠/⁠¯¯⁠\⁠_⁠ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ⁠_⁠/⁠¯¯⁠\⁠_⁠ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ⁠_⁠/⁠¯¯⁠\⁠_⁠ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Nette made her way back to Lucifer’s apple-shaped office trying to slow her breathing down, feeling her heightened anxiety about everything she was about to have to tell him. She knew he wouldn’t be upset at her- at least she hoped he wouldn’t be. But honestly she thinks he might be since she didn’t throw out the first man as soon as she found out about him. Though she had wanted to, but truthfully she holds no grudge against him other than the fact her boys had almost died to an exorcist. Charlie on the other hand has every reason to hold a grudge against him, and yet…she didn’t. She looked at him seeing what he was going through and allowed him into the hotel. Took him under her wing and cared for him, cleaned his wounds even. The heart this girl has is something Nette finds herself admiring more and more as each day goes on. Truly an angelic heart if she had ever seen one.

As Nette approached the door she could hear Lucifer inside talking to himself. He seemed a bit off? If that was a good way to put it. She could hear his rapid speech and panicked tone through the door. She smiled lightly thinking ‘what could possibly have him stressed out now’ while laughing quietly to herself. She knocked on the door lightly to alert him of her arrival. She heard a quick ‘coming!’ from the other side waiting a sec before the door swung open. She quickly gave the Angel in front of her a once over from head to toe. He had his coat and hat placed meticulously back onto his form. Though she couldn’t help but feel he was a bit overdressed considering when she had spoken to him last he was wearing neither of them. However, when she walked into the room she saw there was a table in the center of the room with flowers, and candles in the center. She placed the plates down onto the table, setting the tray off to the side before looking back at him. She lightly chuckled then saying “you know this isn’t a formal business dinner, right? Just a dinner between friends. No need to be so nervous Luci” seeing him looking around at everything but her. “Ah r-right of course…yes Dinner” He stumbled over his words a bit before settling on “Dinner between friends. I suppose I overdid it a bit. It’s been awhile since I’ve had anyone join me for a meal. I was worried what exactly I should do for… well this situation.” ‘It’s alright Luci no worries everything looks absolutely stunning thank you. but if I had to make one complaint… I do feel a tad bit under dressed at the moment Mr full suit.” Lucifer laughed slightly “well we can’t have that” proceeding to take off his coat and hat once again placing them on the side table out of the way.

Lucifer pulled out Nette’s chair allowing her to sit comfortably before sliding her back into place at the table. “My what a gentleman” she chuckled. Watching as Lucifer’s cheeks turned a light yellow color as he went to his side of the table to take a seat. “I brought a bottle of wine from the bar but I’m not sure if you were wanting to drink, as unfortunately I have another topic I have to discuss with you, but I’d rather wait till we were finished with dinner as I do believe it to possibly be well…uncomfortable” Lucifer looked at her before saying “well if you think it to be so, then I suppose it’s best to wait a bit. And best to not drink beforehand as there is a possibility it might be needed after” he joked lightly. “For this I guarantee it will be needed after” They both began eating the meal Nette had prepared engaging in small talk about the angel’s duties and the hotel staff. As well as, venturing into stories about Charlie and how razzle and dazzle came to be created. After all Nette was a bit curious about the 2 dragon creatures as they seemed to be different from the rest of hell creatures.

The meal went amazing. Afterwards Nette and Lucifer both found themselves sitting on the couch in his office laughing about the story Lucifer was telling about how ducks came to be created in Eden when Nette remembered the touchy subject she had to tell him about. “Speaking of Eden…” Nette paused slightly. “I hate to sour the mood but, I suppose we should get into the unfortunate discussion that I have to tell you.” “Nonsense, give me a sec I’ll open the wine” Lucifer said while standing up walking over to the side table where Nette had left the bottle earlier. He quickly opened it and poured a glass for himself and her before returning, handing it to Nette. He sat down on the other side of the couch facing her taking a small sip before saying “Great choice of wine. Well go on let’s get this uncomfortable topic over with” Nette watched the way he had placed himself seemingly a lot more comfortable with her presence as he was leaning backwards with one leg bent on the couch while the other was hanging over the edge. “Right, well I’m not sure how to tell you this. I was thinking the entire time I was making dinner, then again after I spoke with Angel, and even the entire walk up here. After all that the only thing I could think of was to just be honest and upfront with you about it. Either way I feel you're not going to like it, but…” Nette said taking a small sip then placed her glass down on the table before continuing “I need you to promise me you won’t freak out.” Lucifer smirked “Freak out? Nette, I'm an Angel.” Nette rolled her eyes slightly “I’m aware you handsomely prideful man, but I need this promise okay?” She said hoping he would understand there was a reason. “Of course, I promise I won’t freak out. Devil’s honor” Lucifer said holding 2 fingers upwards smiling at her. Nette chuckled lightly at his devil's honor joke, sighing she continued “Charlie took in a new sinner…..” she started “Okay?” Lucifer said carefully, slightly pushing her to tell him why this was different from the other ones she had taken in. “It’s… well… He’s a sinner, but he um.” Lucifer set his glass down before leaning into her slightly “Nette it’s okay just tell me I promised I wouldn’t freak out” Nette’s anxiety was through to roof at this point. She thought to herself ‘fuck it’ before saying “Adam is a fallen Angel, or I guess a sinner in this case since he isn’t heaven born I guess he isn’t fallen.” The room fell deathly silent after Nette finished her sentence. You could hear a pin drop, the only sound being both of their breathing. Or wait no Lucifer’s breathing Nette realized she was holding her breath.

“What?.” She heard Lucifer say after what felt like an eternity of silence. “Adam is alive and is now a sinner” she hesitantly repeated looking down at her lap as she was nervous to look at the man sitting across from her. “You said Charlie took in a sinner, is?” “Yes” Nette quickly answered. She felt the room get hotter almost instantly. She hesitantly looked up, meeting Lucifer’s red eyes. She quickly realized he was in his demon form. A form she had never seen him use, one she had hoped she wouldn’t see. Red eyes, horns with a burning flame, wings, and his tail swinging menacingly behind him. “My daughter took in the man who killed her friend, wrecked the hotel, almost killed her, injured the staff, and is responsible for the extermination of every single human soul they have gotten rid of down here.” Nette could hear an almost growl-like sound coming from behind his voice. One that she had to admit was strangely hot, yet insanely intimidating as well. (Wait- what? No this man could very well end your fucking life right now. Wait, it's Lucifer he wouldn’t hurt you. stop thinking stupid shit and speak woman before he actually does kill you fucking idiot.) “Yes” she found herself barely squeaking out this one word. Cursing herself for agreeing to put herself in this very situation. Lucifer stood up seemingly seething with an unkept rage. Nette quickly grabbed his arm before he could step away from the couch silently thanking she had sat on the side closest to the door. He snapped his head looking directly at her. His eyes burning into her own with what felt like almost a sense of… hurt? Behind them. “You promised” she said quietly. Scared she would say the wrong thing and make it worse. Lucifer sighed quietly to himself before returning to his normal form and taking a seat beside her. “Is she okay?” He asked the overlord sitting next to him. “Yes, Vaggie was with her the last time I checked.” “Why?” Lucifer asked, looking across the room. “Why?… she said when she found him she wanted to leave him there to rot. To let him waste away like he deserved to for everything he had done to the people down here, but she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t allow herself to leave him there. She also said he is one of the only ones who has been able to see the winners who got into heaven, and also see the sinners who ended up here. She thinks he would be useful in redeeming sinners. Though I don’t think he would even be willing to help.” Nette said carefully while looking at Lucifer. She could tell he was still upset but felt a little better knowing it was Charlie who had made the decision.

“Her heart of gold is going to get her hurt one of these times” Nette heard Lucifer whisper, though it didn’t feel like it was something she should have heard so she stayed quiet just looking at him stare at the wall across the room.“I…think it’s a decent idea to ask for his help, but it does put us in a rather hard place. If heaven finds out a winner fell, more so the first man. Things will get extremely ugly and who knows what they will do.” She couldn’t help but also voice her concerns on the matter. Knowing what she did about heaven, she was worried about what laid ahead of them now that this happened. Lucifer turned his body facing her before saying “you weren’t joking about needing a drink after that.” She saw him reach for his glass drinking what was remaining in it before setting it down again. He turned back to face her directly “I’m sorry” Nette stared at him confused as to why he was apologizing to her. “What for Lucifer?” “Breaking the promise.” He whispered to her. She quickly grabbed his hands “it’s okay I know it was not something that was able to be prepared for. And it was definitely not something that could have been predicted.” “Still I broke a promise I made with you” she could tell he was very upset about this. Though Nette found herself unsure as to why he was. She was a bit upset at herself for underestimating the care he had for his daughter. The level of stress this topic would bring him was not something she had calculated in. That was her fault not his. “Lucifer, it's okay. It’s your daughter, I understand your need to protect her. After all, I think I would react the same way had it been one of my boys. So no need to apologize. Okay?” “Okay” he replied hesitantly. She knew he would still be upset about it for a while longer but decided it was for the best to let it go. She turned to grab her glass wanting to move on from this topic entirely. Feeling even worse about her souring the good mood from earlier as the tension sat in the air was still quite thick.

“You can still call me Luci, you know.” Nette froze. “Ah you… sorry I didn’t ask before using a nickname for you.” “It’s okay, I quite like it.” Lucifer said, smiling at her. “Oh…so I can give you another one?” She teased “Like what Nette?” Gosh she really enjoyed hearing her name fall from his lips. (Nette what the fuck now is not the time for that) “Since you like ducks so much how about duckie? Ooh or what about goose? Nah geese are mean you're definitely not mean enough for that. Waddles? No too weird, that's like describing a thing, not a nickname.” Lucifer was smiling watching her ramble while thinking hard about a nickname for him. “Does that mean I can give you one too?” He found himself asking. “Of course your majesty whatever you wish.” Nette giggled. “Though Nette is already a nickname I’d love to hear what you come up with though” “What about… bunny?” Nette turned bright red at that. “Bunny?” She asked “why bunny?” “Your demon form is a rabbit is it not?” Lucifer smirked at her. “How…” Nette tried to ask “How do I know? I know a lot of things bunny. A lot” Nette was bright red at this point. Something about the way he says that word makes her want him to say it more. (Oh my gosh stop it) “well I suppose I don’t mind that, but I’m definitely calling you duckie now.” Nette said feeling oddly competitive about this. “Works for me bunny” she could hear the smirk dripping off his voice. Like pride itself crawling off his vocal cords and into the air as he spoke. “Duckie” she said trying to stand her ground. Knowing she has no chance against this man. None at all. “Yes bunny?” He replied. “Can’t even let me have the last word huh duckie?” “Nope, sin of pride remember bunny” Both of them felt the tension in the air from the previous discussion lighten a bit. As the night went on they addressed each other by only their new animal nicknames, refusing to be the first to back down in this nickname war. Though neither of them truly minded it at all. In fact they both quite enjoyed their new nicknames, though they wouldn’t admit it to the other one.

Taglist:

@popamolly @preciousbabypeter @amberforest08

#hazbin hotel #alastor #angel dust #charlie morningstar #hazbin alastor #hazbin husker #hazbin lucifer #huskerdust #lucifer morningstar #marionette

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dontbesoweirdkira · 21 days

Text

A/N: I accidentally deleted the anon request yall- I’m so sorry! But I really hope they see this post and enjoy the oneshot.

Plot: “Basically Paulie is longing for a family and is willing to whatever it takes to make himself fuffiled and happy.” This takes place after Paulie robs the bank. He later that night, goes to your place and he takes you with him. You guys are in the car together and the themes of his loneliness are explored

Warnings: the anon did request Yandere and so as you know…unhealthy themes are discussed.

Requests: open 24/7

Masterlist

"I-i'm sorry doll...i just really have to do this." Paulie's voice was laced with much sorrow. He anxiously gripped the wheel tighter and uncomfortably shifted in his seat. A part of him felt so guilty for the sin he had committed. Forcefully putting you in the situation was never what he had truly wanted...but he had an itch that needed to be scratched.

You sat still in the backseat of his semi-decent car. Your body leaned over against the cold metal door as your head rested on the foggy window. Your hands were tightly tied together with a short piece of rope but your legs were free. Paulie just didn't want you opening the car door or trying to grab the steering wheel to escape. But honestly, he didn't need to worry about that. Your mind wasn't on escaping but rather the why. Why did he take you like this and what was he planning to do with you?

Paulie had been a good friend of yours for a while. Sure, you knew of his many issues but never for a moment did you think you'd be tied up in the backseat of his car going to who-knows-where. He did confess his feelings for you not too long ago, and though you rejected it, he seemed to take everything pretty well. Things remained relatively normal between you two..well..until tonight.

Paulie was at your door late into the evening. It didn't catch you off guard because sometimes he'd stop at your place for a drink and a little chat before going home. But tonight, he acted unusual. He sat and had a drink like normal but he was visibly nervous. Something seemed to weigh down on his mind. He blew it off when you asked and equated it to a stressful night at work. You noticed that he couldn't keep eye contact with you, his hands were fidgety, and he couldn't seem to calm down even as the night went on. Wanting to be a supportive friend, you told him to wait while you get a stronger handle out of your closet to help him loosen up. Next thing you knew, he came from behind you and dragged you out into his car. There wasn't much you could do to fight back as he was much bigger and stronger than you were. So, unfortunately, here you were..

He took his eyes off the road for a moment to look in his rearview mirror to check on you. Your body was shaking a bit and it was obvious that you were trying to make your body as small as possible. Part of it was because you were cold, but the other was due to you being just as scared and anxious as he. The naive part of you thought that maybe if you shrink down, you’d actually disappear.

"Are you cold?" Your eyes looked up and met with his in the mirror. His expression was filled with genuine concern. Paulie truly did care about you, but he was just an impulsive man.

A few moments passed before you could answer

"..mhmm.." your voice was soft and it was clear that you were trying not to cry. Paulie fiddled with the nobs on his dashboard before he spoke again..

"it should warm up in a little bit, hun.." He was looking at you again through the mirror, this time with a gentle smile. He wanted to make you happy. It didn't last long though for the disparity on your face plagued him.

The tension in the car was thick and he knew there was a lot that was on your mind. He knew you had questions you needed to be answered...He knew how much you probably hated him right now.

Paulie tapped his fingers against the worn leather of the wheel. He stared into the long, empty road ahead of him. He honestly didn't even know exactly where he was going but he knew the both you needed to get far out of Lost Haven. He messed up big time. He went against the Don and the wiser of his two friends. Paulie robbed the city’s bank, taking thousands from them at gun point. Stupid, he knows, but it was a risk he had to take. He was tired of that life. He was tired of being unhappy every day, going to brothels just to feel something, he yearned for a normal life. One where he had a wife, kids and a normal 9-5. Being beaten, shot, and yelled at every day since youth does something to you. His childhood wasn't even a time of bliss for him, he's been stuck in a crappy reality forever.

"paulie...?" your fragile voice interrupted his thoughts, earning a surprised 'hmm?' out of him

Your break of silence wasn't expected but always welcomed as when you spoke his name, it was like heaven in his ears. You hesitated before you asked your question, not sure if you truly wanted to know the answer. But—the possibilities of what was going to happen to you was eating you alive.

"Are you….going to kill me..?" Your voice became even more unstable than before as you thought further into the possibility. It made sense. You knew a lot about Paulie, including his affiliation with the Don. You also probably knew things about the family that you probably shouldn't.

"What-?No, I'd never hurt you babydoll..."

Paulie's head hung low and an exhausted sigh was let out. His body slouched back bit in his seat. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have at the moment. His reasonings for doing all of this are selfish and quite pathetic…

"I want a family..." he didn't look up into the mirror this time while speaking to you. He was ashamed of his words and your possible reaction to them.

"...And I want that with you. One just like Tom has…I'm tired of dodging bullets for Sallieri. I'm getting old. I want a nice house and I want that pizza shop I've told you about. We could run it together and everything-"

You shook your head at the idea. You backed further into the corner of your car seat. Your legs propped up on the chair and close to your chest. He was delusional..

Is this what everything was really about? This was the reason he took you? There was no way he was going to try to force this, right???

"Paulie, no…”

“Please just—“

“No..no..Paulie, I already told you that I don't feel this way about you. I thought were were cool as just f—"

"I don’t want to be ‘just’ your friend! I need to be more...I just need this.…”

Meeting you has been the best thing to come out of his cursed life. You're the only thing that's made him actually think about a life past the mob. You're the whole reason he robbed the bank and actually decided to leave. Just to be able to have a life with you. He now has more than enough money to take care of you and provide whatever you need. Yes, he knows that you don't want him romantically but that'll all change once you get adjusted in your new life. You'll see how perfect he is for you..how much he's willing to change. He'll be a good husband if you'll let him.

"Y/N, not even my closest friends and family believe I could ever find happiness. Y'know how that feels? Do you know what it does to a person for everyone to think that lowly of you?" His question was rhetoric.

Of course, you didn't know. In contrast to his, your life was far better. You had a nice job, apartment, and social life. Your singleness was by choice, not a lack of interest. Plus everyone thought very highly of you. You had every chance of finding fulfillment whereas he didn't.

Actually, everyone poked fun at the fact you were so friendly with Paulie. No one could understand how a broad like you could stand within ten feet of him. Sam pissed himself at the mention of Paulie asking you out. Tom gave a hopeless pat on his back.

Your silence was defening...

Paulie pulled over onto the side of the dimly lit highway. He dropped his head down onto the wheel, taking a moment to collect himself. His emotions were starting to raise and he didn't want to take anything out on you. He loved you so much, he just was frustrated about everything.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned around to face you. He examined you for a moment, guiltily taking in all of your beauty. Even in the frightened state you were in, you still had no flaws. Your teary eyes made contact with his and the frustration nearly melted away. Your doe-like orbs somehow still twinkled in the low lighting. His obsession with you was unwavering regardless of how badly he felt about everything.

"You're so beautiful, sweetheart." Paulie reached out a hand and rested it on your knee. Using one thumb, he rubbed circles in an attempt to comfort you.

"I'm willing to do whatever it takes to win you over. I want us to have a life together so badly. I'm not letting you go anywhere until you love me back and we are finally happily married. I've sacrificed everything to do this...to just be happy." Climbing over the middle compartment, he planted a loving kiss on your forehead and then sat back down.

He buckled up his seatbelt and started up the vehicle again.

One thing was for certain, two things for sure, when it came to Paulie. He was a stubborn and dangerous man who was true to his word. You knew that he was never giving up on this love for you. There was no use in fighting further…he was going to get his way one way or another…

#headcanon #paulie lombardo imagine #Yandere Paulie Lombardo #imagines #oneshot #x reader #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #mafia definitive edition #mafia trilogy #tommy angelo #paulie lombardo x reader #yandere mafia #mafia imagines #mafia headcanon #yandere sam trapani #drabble

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modyuki · 1 year

Note

Heyya Sun!, hope you're in a great shape right now!

soo can i have a Rui Kamishiro x reader(gender neutral) likee when they take a walk and chit chat and suddenly the reader like " haha.. I really love you" in a small voice(but Rui can hear it) like a reflex to say that 'cause they have soo much fun!

Thank you soo much! Love your wirtting!!

✧ · 𝐈 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 · ✧

Notes: THANK YOU I DIDN'T REALLY THINK ANYONE WOULD LIKE MY WRITING AT FIRST BUT I'M REALLY HAPPY PEOPLE DO , AND I KNOW I'VE BEEN GONE FOR A MONTH BUT LISTEN (there's not excuse I've been procrastinating 😭) , But I promise I'll try to post more frequently from now on keyword I'LL TRY. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing :3

TW:none

summary: you are talking to Rui and you accidentally confess to him

⋆ You and Rui have been friends for a long time now since the two of you were neighbors.

⋆ You and Rui Would spend More time together then the others

⋆ Rui would invite you to his house to test out his inventions he totally didn't ask the other members of wxs before

⋆ You started to develop feelings for the purple haired boy in middle school

⋆ You weren't sure what made you love him the way you did but you couldn't help but blush when hugged you or when he did that :3 face

⋆ You kept your feelings hidden during Middle School and you did not plan on telling him anytime soon neither

⋆ But you needed to let out that feeling out even if he didn't hear you

One Saturday morning Rui had invited you to hang out with Him in Phoenix Wonderland and ofcourse you agreed (who wouldn't lol)

And you used the crowded place with many people talking at once to your advantage and confess to him

...well not really but at least you'd get it out of your system right?

And then Tsukasa went flying out of the canon, although It wasn't my plan for it to go that high but it was fun, Well he did say he wanted to be a star so a shooting star should count right :3

Rui laughed at his own joke (it was not funny), You decided to just suck it up and add the "I love you" in the sentence too as you laugh at his joke too

Hahaha! You're kinda right there that's why I love you

What?

That came out louder then you intended

W-W-WHAT I SAID NOTHING HAHAHAHA THAT'S SO-

I heard you say you loved me is that true mm?

He said as he got a little bit closer to you as the both you entered the Farris wheel and he sat a little closer to you waiting for you answer

Still waiting for your answer

He putted a hand on top of yours to reassure you

Yes It is true..

Y/N I-

You don't have to return my feelings just because you don't wanna feel bad I understand if you-

He then pull you into a hug laying your head against his chest as he replied...

I love you too Y/N and I return your feelings because I truly feel the same way about you, I really love you

You return his hug and when you finally pull away from the hug , the two of you looked into eachothers eyes and shared a nice sweet kiss

⋆ After that you guys spent the rest of the ride with you having your head layed on his shoulder and him having his head into top of his while the both of held hands

⋆ You can say without doubt that that was the best day in your life and you'll forever remember this day

⋆ Even you didn't plan on him listening what you were saying , you were glad he did.

Notes: I APOLOGIZE AGAIN FOR PROCASTINATING I'M SORRY LISTEN I HAVEN'T EVEN PLAYED MY GAMES BECAUSE OF PROCASTINATION BUT ANYWAY, drink water get something to eat and take a break or else your stuffed animal gets it 😡

#modyuki #project sekai #pjsk x reader #project sekai x reader #colorful stage #pjsekai #pjsekai x reader #proseka #wxs rui #wonderlands x showtime #rui x reader #rui kamishiro x reader #kamishiro rui x reader #rui kamishiro #Rui #kamishiro rui

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for-a-longlongtime · 1 year

Text

Wow. Y'all. I truly never expected so many awesome responses on the post I wrote last night about Dieter, Goya and Pedro on Talk Art. It is the first 'fun' thing I've written in so many years - after having felt blocked/paralyzed re: creative pursuits since 2020 (shit happened) -, without stressing about how I wrote it, and it means the world to me that so many people liked it and shared it.

I don't want to clutter up all the feeds by individually sharing and responding to the reblogs etc, so I'm throwing it together in one post here - because I want y'all to know I appreciate it so much. And it honestly made me even more excited that some of my favorite PP fic authors did so, because I've been enjoying YOUR work so much!

@chaoticgeminate Sending those hugs right back, and your fic was absolutely not a silly little piece! I truly love(d) it, and I'm glad it sent me down this little rabbithole. And yes, while writing that piece I also became more convinced that Pedro himself was a really big part in shaping Dieter and his background story. It's so damn intelligent and very much his style.

One thing I didn't mention yesterday (and I'm sure this is something a lot of people already spotted since the first day that the movie was online) is that I also came to realize how much Pedro has based Dieter's outfits and some mannerisms on Jeff Bridges' character The Dude from 'The Big Lebowski'. Never really saw that movie but I put it on today for a bit, and it was striking -- I'd even dare to say that the "'Bola, hold my hair!" moment on the toilet is a nod to how The Dude (who has longer hair) gets his face shoved into a toilet. Also, at one point when Bridges' character is addressed with "Mr Lebowski", he dismisses that and tells the guy to call him Dude, or even 'Duder' which, yeah, that's just a small step from 'Dieter Bravo'.

amycben on Reddit said the same thing about Bridges, and shared these Dieter pics, which definitely made it clear how our Feral Raccoon Boy's style is inspired by 'The Dude' <3 I don't care much for the Lebowski movie, but I love a good reference, especially since it's a Coen brothers movie - and we all know that Pedro now has a small role in Ethan Coen's upcoming movie 'Driveaway Dolls'. Anyway, I honestly hope that at some point Pedro will be asked about the work he did in shaping Dieter, because I'd love to hear more about this. There's no chance in hell that'll happen, because which journalist would ask him this? But I'm cool though if the universe wants to manifest one of us getting to interview him some time in the future, haha.

Anyway, again @chaoticgeminate - thank YOU really. I needed that deep dive more than I knew thanks to your writing!

@nicolethered thank you too for being responsible for my deep dive, haha, it were your screenshots that made me recognize the other Goya paintings! <3 (and I love your gifs btw!

@mysterious-moonstruck-musings well hearing from you that you loved MY writing is just such a super awesome thing after how much I've been enjoying your Dieter story! <3 <3

@julesonrecord I'M TOTALLY IN hahaha, I saw your comment right before I went to bed last night and it made me smile so much!

@imaswellkid I'm def not an Apatow person either, and I'll be honest - the first time I watched the Bubble I couldn't get past the first half, haha. But I later began to realize that you should indeed watch it through a critical lens and as a reflection about the craziness that was going on, rather than 'oh this is a movie about the pandemic'. The Mando bud is great btw! But even better is the Baby Yoda bud - I have no clue how growers/dispenseries (I'm in the midwest) get away with naming their product after Disney stuff, but I'm sure glad it got me to try that hahaha.

@lunapascal IKR artist Dieter is so damn underrated, and I'm so glad that at least a whole lot of fic authors are giving him more of what he deserves! OK and I totally want to write some too now, hahaha. Especially because there's a lack of Dieter x OMC/m!reader fics, which tbh needs to be fixed.

@survivingandenduring @sp00kymulderr @thesimulationswarm @pedrit0-pascalit0 @gemmahale @sin-djarin @perotovar @ladamedusoif @gracie7209 thank you so much for your kind words, they honestly mean so much to me! @angelofsmalldeathandthecodeine WOW, that Dali piece is fuckin incredible! And @basicoccult woahhh maybe y'all did!? See now I feel like I need to inquire about whether y'all take new initiates! <3

@chronically-ghosted God don't get me started, it's so tempting - next thing you know I'll have suckered myself into writing Dieter fic (while I'm only just getting started now on two other WIPs), haha. But yes I'm so curious about what the unspoken canon is there -- and most probably Pedro is the one with answers to that since it seems so much like he created Dee. I ended up googling some Apatow interviews this morning and saw that he set out to make the Bubble as a sort of Christopher Guest movie (the mockumentary style), and other articles said that there was a lot of improv involved - so obviously Pedro must've contributed a lot. Particularly because I've read at least interviews with four directors (Zeke who did Prospect, Craig Mazin from TLOU, I wanna say Patty Jenkins, and I'm currently blanking on the other name) who spoke about how involved Pedro was, down to specific dialogue and character's motivations etc in shaping the movie (I think Zeke said that Pedro worked with them to tone down Ezra's Shakespearian manner of speech a little, which I can totally see happening since Pedro has done/read so much Shakespeare and it's easy to picture that he wants to fine tune it so it's accessible enough for audiences). Ugh, it's probably gonna take a long while until there'll be any long form interviews with him again, and sadly interviewers are probably not gonna ask about any of this.

Re: painting or acting, yesterday I read @blueeyesatnight 's That's Not Your Name-Dieter fic (LOVED it, can def recommend it!) and one of the coolest things about Dee's character development there is that it indeed delves into 'okay how did he pick acting versus art' and more background story, plus how in the current day events of the story he is even making his own oil paint. That has become my headcanon now <3

@tessa-quayle I'm so glad you liked my post!! I really really wish that Russell and Robert would do another episode with Pedro. I love Russell in particular (sorta followed his work since Being Human was released, which holy crap was already 15 yrs ago?), but the way they attempted to interview Pedro back then was kind of a hot mess - and I say that lovingly hahaha. They were so enthusiastic that they talked over him so/too many times, so I'd love a tad calmer conversation where P has the opportunity to go more indepth.

@tvversionperson IKR there is SO much plot and character development to be explored with Dieter in that movie, which of course it doesn't have room to delve into but shit I wish they would/could. Or at least to just hear Pedro talk about what his thoughts are on it, because you know he most definitely had Dee's entire back story fleshed out in his head when he shot this movie.

Super long post, but again, I just wanted to thank y'all for the love. This is the first time I've done anything writing wise re: the PP cinematic universe, and all your responses have been so heartwarming and really encouraged me to do more stuff in one way or another with the Pedro boys, be it rabbit hole analysis or fic.

#pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x f!reader #goya #francisco goya #black paintings #saturn devouring his son #witches sabbath #two old men eating soup #he-goat men #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #dieter bravo fanfiction #the bubble #art #talk art #painting #oil painting #mural

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bookishtheaterlover7 · 10 months

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Not sure how to view Chris anymore and it’s sad. At this point whatever the “truth” is, it doesn’t matter.

I’m just floored at how someone could be so weak to get into this mess and not “be able to get out”and it’s easy to say oh it’s hard for him to get out but he’s at least trying to show this is fake, yet he was bold enough to lie to the world about being married?

Make that make sense?

Like how the fuck do they clean this up at all?

It’s like reality and illusions are morphing together and I honestly don’t know who the fuck this man truly is and maybe that’s the way it should’ve always been.

We get wrapped up in this shit mainly due to the way of the world and due to Hollywood and capitalism, etc, but we have to take accountability by finally choosing to not fall for seeing other mere mortals as anything but human.

If you take any random person off the street, clean them up, give them a great marketing team, BOOM you have a new celebrity. It’s all a big awful joke of illusion.

No more rose colored glasses. It’s to the point fandoms and celebrity today is seeing a blue sky but being duped into believing it’s green.

Unfortunately most will never understand the above and never take those glasses off.

This applies to fans, non fans and just the overall population of the world who are willing and unwilling and unaware at how impacted we all are by celebrity culture. A headline makes waves or something goes viral and we ALL stop our lives to read or listen about it and many hop online to discuss and argue with others over various things, not once seeing the reality……you’re taking time out of YOUR life to focus on someone who doesn’t even know you exist, wasting YOUR time discussing crap about someone else who is living their life and getting rich off of you and someone who uses media to stay relevant through…..Y-O-U!

*breaks rose colored glasses* for good.

💔👓

#EnoughIsEnough

Same, An🫶n. Honestly before I was sucked in here, Chris was the ideal guy for me... Ofcourse, Papa was right. He told me once that "I shouldn't place anyone on a pedestal, because anything placed that high, is meant to break."

I've got nothing but love for Chris and his work. But the way this is all spun, real or not, I'm not sure if I can keep adoring him as a person.

Like I've said before, we can't exactly blame Chris, alone for getting into this mess in the first place. But if those breadcrumbing and hinting on his end isn't true (the hope and rumor that he's telling us that anything about the wedding is fake, etc.), An🫶n is right.

He's not a saint, but he's not a demon either. But the thing is, he isn't going to be just Chris Evans, the actor we all love and adore. The actor we'll be happy for when he gets his small victories. Whose dog is one of the best things on the internet during this whole mess right now.

He's also going to be Chris Evans, the guy who "married" a racist, who's friends have baited the entire Fandom. The guy who couldn't save his fans from tearing at each other. The guy who let this get so out of hand, that the one place that should've been safe for us to escape to, and enjoy everything, disappeared in mere months.

I'm planning to stick around, because I know for a fact, a ton of you were here for the fan-made stuff. The fanfics, fanarts, discussions about characters, etc.

I came here for that too. Doesn't mean I'm giving up this whole thing. But I'm going to take time to go back to the fun part. Because honestly, my page has turned into an analysis page😅 it's 70% rant posts about the bullshit pr, and 30% me and my fics...

Bro! I intended to make fucking fics before 250 Followers Celebration comes... But I'm way behind... Partly, because of life. And partly because the second something goes down, I drop nearly everything, and focus so much time and energy on this.

So, I'm not saying drop him or any celeb completely. I'm saying we need to tone down our idolization, because it may have gotten to the point where it isn't healthy.

For the sake of your health, mental and otherwise, Fandom. Take time to enjoy what you love about this Fandom. And please don't say anything about tearing the PR Narrative, because even I have to admit, it takes it's toll.

Again, not backing down, or stepping down. Just giving myself time to take care of me, and spend time with my family while they're still alive.

I don't know if this Christmas season will be the last that I get to spend time with any of them, so I'm going to make sure I live every minute with them. And not stuck in this hole I've dug myself for months, since the wedding announcement.

And you should all do that for yourselves, guys. Take the time, and make it count.

#An🫶n asks #booky reacts #booky answers #booky's thoughts #booky rant post #chris evans #chris evans fandom #love you guys!#❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️#P.S. can someone please open up some form of character discussion? I've always wanted to try it 😁

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whyisaverycrying · 1 year

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Mercury Sextile Venus and Venus in the Third House Experiences

Hi! My names Avery and I write personal experiences with certain astrology placements I have. I do this in hopes that it will help people seek some knowledge about certain placements and give another point of view from someone that actually has the placement! This is my first post so I hope you guys enjoy :)

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

First let’s break down what mercury sextile venus really is:

If we start with the basics mercury rules over communication while venus rules over love and relationships. When we put these two together we get someone who has a skill to allow their heart to flow through their mind causing speech and learning to be seen in a beautiful way. Things need to have meaning - knowledge specifically. It allows them a skill that can be accessed when needed.

Now let’s break down venus in the third house:

The third house is about communication expression and understanding. It’s logical. It also rules over siblings neighbors cousins aunts uncles It goes on and on but basically just your close environment that you would see everyday. This is also the house of gemini so this can be where our curiosity lies and what we want to learn -what we find interesting.

Examples:

People have always told me my voice was soft and soothing. I find this hard to really understand -and maybe it’s because I’m so used to my own voice I don’t hear what other people hear but- a lot of the interactions I’ve had with people always end up telling me how nice my voice is. I’ve once or twice have been told to make a ASMR channel..

- my boyfriend recently said he was surprised to hear my mom speak and have the same “soft” voice as me. When I tell you I looked at this man like “👀”. Wdym my voice is “soft”

I have a good singing voice. This sounds almost narcissistic of me but I’ve been told this many many times. I love singing and have done it since I was little so I do admit I have some sort of skill. I make music and write lyrics. It comes almost natural to me. I just close my eyes and let my emotions move my hand. I’ve been in choir almost all my school years as well.

I’ve been told I have beautiful hands. I assume this is because gemini rules over the hands but yeah this comment is even more frequent than the other ones I’ve mentioned. My dad has called them my “piano hands” ever since I was little. I’ve heard constant comments about saying how “slim” and “soft” my fingers and skin are. It’s a odd but frequent compliment that I thought I might add.

Communication is key. I’m such a big stickler on communication in realationships. Someone who I can bounce ideas off of or who can keep my mind I love energizes me. My best friend has jupiter in the third house and I love how easy she can comprehend things. She also has mercury in the 12th house and let me tell you talking to her truly feels like a mystical dream. Our conversations are so fun and easy. Things like this is a huge deal to me. If I can’t have a conversation without you bouncing back off ideas, I won’t enjoy talking to you.

I love flirting LMAO I had to say it. It comes so natural to me. I know exactly what to say and when to say it. Sometimes I will admit when I meet someone I come off too friendly with them. I don’t mean to at all I’d rather lay off - I have a scorpio rising- but sometimes I’ll be talking and realize only after that I came off a bit too strong.

On the topic of that people have said I have an admiring personality - keep in mind I do have a scorpio rising, sagittarius sun, and sagittarius mercury but I think these placements specifically really tie it together- but I’ve had people pull me aside or get me alone and be like “Avery I love you” or “Avery never change the way you are” after I was authentically myself in a conversation. I’m not sure if this is specifically because of this placement but I thought I would add it.

I love compliments WHEW gimme gimme. If words of affirmation was a person it would be me. It’s such an ego boost. And don’t get me wrong I give them as much as I receive them. I LOVE seeing someone smile after I give them a compliment. It truly makes my day.

I adore poetry words are truly my medicine. I write poetry myself and it’s such a good release for me to write after a hard and long day. I love to see things in a beautiful manner and I want to show that to the world. I actually have a poetry blog you should totally follow (@averywritespoetry).

I get jealous of the way people speak. This is an odd one that I rarely ever talk about but if someone has a cool little phrase they say or something like that I immediately want to one up them with something cooler. Like I’m supposed to be the one that’s good at talking? Where did you come from?

It’s really hard to say no. I hate letting people down. I might appease to other people just because I don’t want to see them upset which makes me seem two faced sometimes.

I admire my siblings a lot I feel so proud of them and what they have accomplished. Me and my sister specifically give eachother gifts and such a lot. Don’t know if this is a universal things but yeah.

I love when people call me smart. Do it. It boosts my ego.

I love when people know what they are talking about. Something I find attractive is when someone knows how to use their words really well.

And that’s it! Thank you so much for reading! <3

#astrology observations #astro observations #venus in the 3rd house #Mercury sextile venus #astro notes

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bellofthemeadow · 1 year

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The Road Ahead - ch 6 | Frankie Morales x female reader

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

For most of your married life, you dedicated yourself to waiting for Frankie. After each deployment, you patiently awaited his return, longing for the moment when he would be by your side again. During those nights when nightmares consumed his thoughts, you yearned for him to open up to you, hoping that he would find solace in sharing his pain. And as his addiction spiraled out of control, you held onto the hope that he would recognize his problem and seek help. However, despite your countless protests and pleas, you now find yourself waiting for him once more as he ventures off to Colombia, engaged in God knows what.

But this time is different. Determined, you make a solemn promise to yourself: You will never wait for Frankie again.

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 9K (Sorry T.T)

Warning: Applicable for the entire fic / PTSD, drug use and addiction, postpartum depression, abusive familial relationships, self-hatred, unhealthy coping mechanism, explicit sexual content, violence, mentions of suicidal thoughts, super angsty

Chapter Summary: Summer without your husband. You don't know what to except for the months ahead with Frankie away in rehab, but you know you want to learn who you are again.

Notes: Hey everyone, thank you very much for the support for this fic, it means the world to me to see people liking, reblogging or commenting!!! This fic is approaching the end unfortunately, as much as I love these two together, it was always meant to be on the shorter side. Since its my first ever story, I wanted to see if I could stick to a story without my mind fizzling and apparently I can ! SO HURRAY! I am anticipating 1 more chapter and 1 long epilogue after this.

I've already started working on fic #2 and #3 and I will be posting the summaries/ series masterlists later tonight or tomorrow morning :) I was also thinking on opening a poll to ask which stories you guys want me to do first.

But in the meantime, hope you all enjoy this chapter !!!!

A Change of Season

MONTH 1 - JUNE

"Are you sure, Alma? I don't want to impose on you too much..." you ask hesitantly, internally hoping Alma will agree to your last-minute request.

"Nonsense, mija. It's my pleasure. You know how I always enjoy spending time with Estrelita, and it gives me a chance to spoil her rotten. Truly, it means the world to this old woman that you trust me to stay with your little Princesa." Alma responds warmly.

Relief washes over you as you let out a grateful sigh. "Thank you so, so much, Alma. I hate asking so last minute, but my boss just called me to cover this Saturday since I have to take Ella to get her shots today. And I know Ella would be thrilled to spend time with her favorite abuela.”

Alma Vargas Morales snorts angrily on the other end of the line. "I can't believe those pendejos would make you work over the weekend like that. As if baby shots could be re-scheduled like a nail appointment! I'm tempted to march over there and give them a piece of my mind!”

You can't help but let out a laugh, picturing Frankie's spirited 72-year-old mother storming into the Florida Community College library, grabbing your boss by the ear, and dressing him down loud enough for the dean of strudents to hear. You’d pay good money to see that. “But seriously, Alma, I can't express how much I appreciate this. You're a lifesaver.”

"And you are an amazing mother, mija..." You can hear Alma taking a deep breath on the other side of the line. "Not many women would have done what you have for your daughter and your husband."

"Alma..." you begin to interject, but she cuts you off.

"No, mija. Francisco was so out of line he couldn't even see the line anymore. I didn't raise my son to act like this, and you are way better than he deserves at the moment." Alma's words carry a mix of frustration and disappointment.

Alma takes another breath, her voice softening. "I love mi hijo, I nursed him, took care of him when he was sick, I saw him grow from a shy little boy into a handsome and self-assured man. But he was never really happy until he met you, mija. Now, es el momento de que Francisco se arrepienta de sus pecados." Her tone finishes somberly.

You're left speechless, both deeply moved and unsure by Alma's sudden outburst. The woman had always been strict but loving. When Frankie was young, they didn't have much. His father died young and without insurance, leaving Alma alone to raise Frankie and his two sisters. But Alma had done her best to provide for her three children and give them every opportunity she could.

Now, Frankie's younger sister followed in her mother's footsteps as a nurse, while the eldest had become an accountant before deciding to stay home with her own children. Alma was a strong woman whom you had always admired. When you first met her, she had looked at you for only a couple of seconds before grabbing you by the neck with her tiny yet stout stature, pulling you into a tight embrace. "Thank you for taking care of mi hijo, God knows that knucklehead needs it! Just like his dad, that one is! " she had whispered in your ear before releasing you and playfully swatting Frankie's head. "What the hell was that for?" Frankie had exclaimed.

"No decir groserías," Alma had answered, her gaze piercing Frankie. "That was for hiding this lovely girl all this time and for not minding your manners. You haven't even offered her anything to drink yet!" Frankie rubbed his head and muttered, "Esta es tu casa…"

"Qué dijiste Francisco?" Alma questioned sternly.

"Nada, Nada," Frankie quickly replied, trying to diffuse the situation.

Throughout the entire interaction between mother and son, you had held back your laughter. But as Frankie's cheeks turned pink, he made his way towards you, and you couldn't help but think that you would love to be a part of this family. Since that day, you had loved Alma, and she had become the mother figure you had never truly had in your life.

"Alma, whatever happens between Francisco and me will never have any repercussions on your relationship with Ella. I would never take her away from you or your family. Ella is a Morales, and you can see her whenever you want," you assure her.

On the other side of the line, you hear Alma's sniffles. "Maldito Francisco, eres un estúpido muchacho," Alma mutters, her voice filled with frustration. "Francisco has made a lot of mistakes, but the one thing he didn't mess up was marrying you, mija."

"Gracias, mama. I promise that whatever happens, Ella and I will always be there," you express sincerely.

"Gracias, mija," Alma replies warmly.

"Is it okay if I drop Ella on Saturday around 7:30 am? I have to be at the library by 8:15," you ask.

"Of course, es muy perfecto! I'll make my famous tostadas!" Alma responds enthusiastically, her excitement palpable.

You can't help but let out a laugh at Alma's enthusiasm. "Alma, you know that Ella is just 5 months old, right? She won't be able to taste your famous tostadas for a while yet."

Alma lets out a huff, acknowledging her oversight. "I got ahead of myself; I suppose."

"I'll pump some milk and have it ready for you in her bag," you suggest. After a brief pause, you add, "Will you call me to tell me how everything is going?"

You can hear Alma's affectionate tone as she responds, "Mija, I'll send you updates every hour on your phone, with those messages things you kids always send each other. You don't have to worry. I've raised three babies, and they all reached adulthood, although some have made questionable decisions."

"Thank you so much, Alma. I really appreciate it," you express gratefully, feeling a sense of relief knowing that Ella will be in capable and loving hands.

"ESTRELLA MORALES!" The loud voice of the tall brunette clad in blue scrubs resonates through the large waiting room.

"Sorry, mama, I have to go. It's Ella's turn," you whisper urgently into the phone.

"Te quiero, mija. I will see you tomorrow morning."

Quickly, you close your phone and grab the stroller where Ella is peacefully napping. Gathering your belongings, you ensure that everything is in order before hurrying after the nurse. As she leads you into a smaller room, she introduces herself. "My name is Coral, and I'll be administering the vaccines for little Ella today," she says, reaching for the files on her desk. "I see she is here for the DTaP-IPV-Hib vaccine. It shouldn't take too long."

Coral glances inside the stroller where Ella has woken up from her nap and is looking around anxiously. "Well, isn't she a cutie? Hello, baby," Coral greets Ella warmly, taking out a bright pink rattle and shaking it in front of her. Ella responds with a delighted laugh, momentarily distracted from the unfamiliar surroundings.

"All right, mama, I'm going to need you to hold your baby while I give her the shots. She won't like it, as few babies do, but I'll be as quick as possible," Coral informs you, her professional demeanour evident. She briefly scans the page of Ella's file before her eyes narrow slightly. "I also wanted to confirm something with you. I only see one signature on the parental form, but there is a Francisco Morales listed on Ella's file. Should we be made aware of a change in the files?"

Your heart drops at the insinuation, and a mix of emotions floods over you. "Frankie... I mean, Francisco is Ella's father," you explain, your voice tinged with a touch of defensiveness. "He is currently unable to sign off on the documents due to personal reasons, but I promise he is 100% supportive of every medical decision I make for Ella."

You realize that you're frantically trying to justify yourself to this stranger, feeling the weight of judgment and the need to ensure that Ella's well-being is understood. Coral looks back at you, then at the file, before letting out a sigh. "Look, I'm not trying to trick you," she begins, her voice filled with a mix of empathy and professional concern. "But as medical professionals, we have a responsibility to ensure that the environment at home is safe for Estrella. You understand what I'm saying.” The mere mention of home safety sends a chill down your spine, the silent threat of involving CPS clear in Coral’s tone.

With a knot forming in your stomach, you gather your thoughts and respond cautiously, your voice betraying a hint of fear. "Yes, I understand," you manage to say, trying to keep your composure. "I assure you that Estrella's home environment is safe and loving. We prioritize her well-being above everything else, and we take every precaution to provide her with a secure and nurturing space. My husband is just… unavailable right now.”

Coral glances back at you, her eyes narrowing slightly as she processes your response. "As you say," she acknowledges, her tone carrying a hint of reservation. However, her sunny disposition quickly resurfaces, and a warm smile returns to her face. "All right then," she says, her voice brightening. "Shall we proceed with this little shot?”

MONTH 2 - JULY

You sit outside, enjoying the warmth of the sun on one of the only free benches in front of the library building. With a tomato sandwich in one hand, you type a message to Mrs. Hu, asking about Ella's day so far. Almost immediately, Mrs. Hu responds by sending you an adorable picture of Ella on her belly, reaching for her favourite cat plushy, a big orange thing with oversized ears and fuzzy white paws. It melts your heart, and for the 100th time, you can’t help but be amazed at the wonderful being your love with Frankie created.

Frankie... Oh, Frankie. Today feels bittersweet, as on the one hand, you hadn’t thought of him too much, but on the other hand, you felt guilty because you hadn’t thought of him that much. Some days are almost unbearable, as your mind becomes entangled with memories of… memories of everything before it all went to hell. You replay moments: the goods, the less-than goods and everything in between. But still, all these moments were what made you and Frankie a team, a partnership. It was a life you built together. Still, you couldn’t help but question your actions and wonder if anything could have prevented the events that unfolded over the last two months.

Yet, dwelling on these thoughts only serves to torment you further. Now when these thoughts surface, you try your best to follow the guidance of your new therapist. You try to let the memories wash over you like rain on an umbrella, try to let them come, accept them without letting yourself be ruled by them. But they persist, stubbornly clinging to every corner of your mind. It's a difficult battle, and despite your earnest efforts, grief and longing persistently infiltrate both your waking hours and restless nights. The weight of it all hangs heavily in the air, casting a sad shadow over your life. You yearn for a bit of reprieve from the ceaseless ache that Frankie's absence has left behind. But today is a good day. So far.

The blaring alarm on your phone abruptly interrupts your lunch break, signalling that it's time to return to work. Hastily cramming the last remnants of your sandwich into your mouth, you briskly make your way toward the imposing building. Upon reaching the entrance, you make your way to the help desk, where you settle down and begin reviewing emails and addressing various queries from staff and students.

As you open the first email, which seems to be part of an infinite pile (how is this possible after just half an hour?), your attention is diverted by the approaching figure of the library director. A distinguished-looking older man, his hair hangs in wispy white strands, lending him an air of wisdom. His tweed suit, more reminiscent of academia at Oxford than the sunny locale of Florida, accentuates his scholarly aura.

"Sweetheart, do you mind coming into my office?" You can't help but cringe at the nickname. You've never been fond of the nickname. You were initially uncomfortable but later learned from Roberta, another librarian who looked like she was born between the bookshelves, that he addresses everyone this way. Annoying and reductive, perhaps, but ultimately benign. And honestly, apart from the cringeworthy calling, Director Robertson is an amicable presence with no noteworthy complaints.

"Of course, Mr. Robertson. Would you like me to come in now?" "Yes, please," he says, his fingers delicately twirling his long mustache, "I know you've just returned from your lunch break, so I presume you haven't embarked on any new tasks yet." Captivated momentarily by the whimsical sight of his mustache dance, you acquiesce and rise from your desk before placing a sign that reads "Keep reading - Be back in 15 min." Trotting diligently behind your boss, you traverse the expanse of the library, guided by the soft glow of sunlight streaming through the windows. Finally, you arrive at his office nestled at the rear of the building, granting an enchanting vista overlooking a courtyard where students are rushing to their next classes.

Director Robertson gestures toward the plush, cushioned chair positioned in front of his grand wooden desk, silently inviting you to take a seat. With a touch of unease, you settle into the chair, your hands nervously intertwining in your lap. There's something about Director Robertson's stern grandfatherly demeanour that always makes you feel like a scolded child in his presence. Seeking solace, you follow the advice of your therapist, taking a deep breath and counting silently (1-2-3), before releasing it slowly, allowing the tension to dissipate. Untangling your hands, you place them gingerly on the armrests of the chair. After all, sometimes you have to "fake it till you make it," right?

"What can I do for you, Director?" you inquire, maintaining a composed facade despite the underlying nervousness.

"AH! That's what I appreciate about you, dear!" Director Robertson exclaims with a hint of enthusiasm. "You don't beat around the bush, and you don't try to kiss my ass like everyone else around here!" His words, while somewhat brash, sound genuine.

"I am glad to hear it, sir..." You respond, feeling a sense of perplexity. The sudden shift in conversation catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily lost.

"How is that little girl of yours? Your little baby, right? How old is she now?" Director Robertson inquires, a touch of warmth underlying his words.

"Ella, sir. She's just about 5 months old," you answer, a fondness evident in your voice as you think of your daughter.

"Still so young! Ah, well, you still have a couple of years before she becomes unbearable. I've had 5 of those, my dear, and let me tell you, it doesn't get easier," Director Robertson responds with jovial teasing, his words laced with a sense of seasoned experience.

"Right, well hopefully I'll survive the tween years unscathed," you respond, trying to match Director Robertson's teasing tone.

Director Robertson bursts into a hearty, full-bellied laugh, his amusement filling the room. He reaches inside his desk, retrieving an official-looking letter. "Do you know what this is, dear?" he asks, a gleam of anticipation in his eyes.

"I'm afraid not," you reply, your throat suddenly dry with anticipation.

"This is a job offer that the University of Florida sent me last week for the directorial position in their library," he reveals. Your heart skips a beat. The University of Florida—the dream institution. Positions like that were nearly non-existent, as it seemed their librarians were born and died at their posts, passing the torch down the line.

"That's amazing, sir! You must be really happy," you exclaim, genuine excitement resonating in your voice.

"Well, I declined the offer," Director Robertson confesses nonchalantly, his words causing a mixture of surprise and confusion to wash over you.

"Oh, but why? The University of Florida has some of the best facilities in the state, and the salary must be significantly better than what we have here. And the access to all those books—it must be incredible!" You can't help but let your tone drift into wistfulness, envisioning the possibilities.

"I'm sure it is, but I'm reaching a certain age, and I promised my wife that we'd retire in her family's home in Capua," Director Robertson explains, a hint of nostalgia colouring his words. "Let me tell you, deary, I'll take Capua, Italy over the University of Florida any day. And you know what they say: 'Happy wife, happy life,'" he playfully scrunches his nose. "Make sure your husband remembers that dear," he adds, teasingly.

A heavy rock settles in your belly at his words, but you manage to smile through it. "I'll make sure to remind him," you reply, masking any personal turmoil beneath a veneer of cheerfulness.

"You better. Men sometimes need a good whack on their head to remind them that they would be nothing without their wives," Director Robertson remarks, his fingers fidgeting with his mustache once again, as if deep in thought.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not sure I understand why I'm here," you ask, your uncertainty evident. The words hang in the air, seemingly snapping the older man back into focus. His pale blue eyes settle on you before a secretive smile graces his face.

"Because when I said no, I recommended you for the job, my dear," he reveals, his voice carrying a sense of pride and hidden intentions. Your heart stops, the revelation jolting you with disbelief.

"You... You... You did what?!" you stammer, your voice escalating into a screech. Heat surges through your body, from head to toe, as a mix of shock and astonishment overwhelms you.

"Deary, you've been here for how long? Seven years? And in those seven years, you've completely revamped this library," Director Robertson calmly begins. "All the programs you added for the students have made this place thrive. The faculty-based librarian assistance program was a stroke of genius if I may say so. And the digitalization of our database was an incredible achievement that completely propelled us into the 21st century."

He pauses, allowing his words to sink in. "There was no one I would have felt comfortable recommending, as it is my name on the line. But you, my dear, I know that you have the capacity to make anything your own and make it shine."

The weight of his words hangs in the air, the realization of the immense opportunity dawning upon you. Director Robertson's faith in your abilities washes over you, mingling with the heat that had consumed you moments ago.

"Now, you don't have to accept, of course," Director Robertson remarks, his tone understanding. "The university is about an hour's drive from here, so it would be quite the commute. But it would come with a hefty pay raise." With a swift motion, he slides the papers across the desk, urging you to take a look.

You turn the papers over, and your eyes widen as you see the figures before you. An 8 followed by another 8, followed by a series of zeros that threaten to make you faint. It's more than double your current salary, a staggering amount that fills your mind with all the possibilities that would come with such a raise. "That's... That's a substantial amount of money," you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips. The weight of the figure displayed on the paper sends a shiver down your spine, leaving you momentarily speechless.

"Indeed, deary, indeed," Director Robertson affirms, his voice filled with a sense of reassurance and pride.

"I can't believe it; I don't know how to express my gratitude. Sir, I am so incredibly thankful for this opportunity!" you exclaim, a mixture of excitement and nerves coursing through you. "Should I send an email to someone? Who should I reach out to? Should I prepare for an interview? Oh my god, what about my work here?”

Director Robertson's smile remains warm and comforting. "Please, don't worry about your current work here. I have every confidence that Jocelyn will step up and shoulder her fair share of responsibilities. As for the university, they already have all your information and will soon send you a comprehensive email with all the necessary details. At this stage, any interview would primarily be a formality, as I know without a doubt that you will excel.”

You rise to your feet and extend your hand towards Director Robertson, gripping his hand firmly. "I promise, sir, I won't let you down. I will do my best to be deserving of the trust you have placed in me," you affirm with determination, your voice filled with gratitude.

Director Robertson's eyes soften even further, reflecting a genuine warmth. He clasps your small hand in his wrinkled, larger ones. "There's no need to worry about any of that, my dear. Just go out there, impress them, and let your radiant spirit shine like the sun," he kindly encourages,

Tears well up in your eyes, and with a small, trembling voice, you squeak, "Would it be too presumptuous to ask for a hug, sir?"

Director Robertson's kind smile widens, and he extends his arms, inviting you into an embrace. As he wraps his arms around you, you inhale the comforting scent of old cotton and pines, a fragrance that exudes reassurance and kindness. "Thank you for everything, sir," you murmur, your voice filled with gratitude.

"You deserve every bit of it, my dear. I don't think you fully understand the immense potential that resides within you. If you could truly see it for yourself, you would be unstoppable," Director Robertson assures you, his words resonating deep within your being.

Unstoppable. The word dances in your mind. You like the sound of that.

MONTH 3 – AUGUST

“Estrelita, my little love, I wish I could give you the biggest hug in the whole wide world. Even though Papa is away, please know that you're always on his mind. Let me tell you my all-time favorite story, the one your abuela used to tell your tias and me when we couldn't sleep. It's called "El Conejo y el Coyote," and it starts like this; Una vez el coyote se encontró a un conejito y le dijo….”

Frankie's voice fades as he skillfully imitates the rabbit and the coyote on the recording. Ella seems entranced by the story, yet unsure to hear her papa's voice without seeing him there. You've developed the habit of playing the recording at least once a day for Ella, so she can always be close to her papa, even when he's away. And if you're completely honest with yourself, you also play it for you. Even after all this time, hearing Frankie's voice still makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter.

Frankie's letter remains unopened on your bedside table. You haven't been able to open it yet. You don't know if you will. As much as you miss Frankie and hope he's doing well in rehab, you still don't know what you'll do when he leaves at the end of next month. You know he'll be allowed visitors as of next week, marking three whole months he's been there. But you don't know if you should go if you're completely honest with yourself. You know Ella has to go, that's not even a debate. But should you?

Alma is also unsure if you should go, stating that with your new job and the new hours, you should focus on yourself and Ella. She kindly offered to bring Ella with her when she goes for his weekly allotted visitation time. You might take her up on that offer.

Frankie's voice comes to a stop, signalling that the story is over, and Ella appears heartbroken. You notice her bottom lip flutter angrily, and her face turns red. Unable to resist, you chuckle and say, "Don't get mad peanut. Do you want to listen to your papa's story again?" With a smile, you walk over to the recorder and press rewind, filling the air with Frankie's voice once more. Ella's clapping and happy expression from her playpen make your smile widen.

Currently, she is nestled on a mountain of soft pillows, engrossed in playing with the play gym you got her when the rattle lost its appeal 3 weeks ago. It's hard to believe she's already in her sixth month—time has flown by, and she has grown so quickly. The thought nearly brings tears to your eyes. Ella is determinedly reaching for one of the planets hanging from the chord, but her little arms fall just short of grasping it. You laugh at her expression of determination, reminding you of Frankie and his own determined expression when he was working on revamping an old beat-up mustang, he got at a garage sale.

However, your thoughts are abruptly interrupted by a rapid succession of knocks at your door.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"Coming!" you bellow loudly, making your way toward the door.

You open the door and are greeted with Benny's grinning face, in one hand holding a 6-pack of beers and in the other holding a toolbox. You roll your eyes and say, "You didn't have to bring anything, Benny. You're helping me, so I should provide the beer."

Benny smiles and replies, "Don't worry about it, sunshine. I had to make sure the good stuff would be here."

Teasingly, you inquire, "Are you doubting my beer selection, Benny?"

He lets out a laugh and says, "Nah, not you. Just Fish. You know he drinks that watered-down piss that passes for beer. I had to make sure there'd be something with more substance available."

"You're such an idiot, and you know I have tools, right? Frankie's got the locker full of them."

You scratch your head in embarrassment and continue, "I just don't know how to use them, that's all."

Benny laughs and says, "I can't in good conscience use another man's tools. Those things are like sacred, you know? Can't go around and mess up Fish's system or whatever."

You look at the large toolbox and see the name "W. Miller" written in large white letters on the front. You snort, "So that's why you took Will's tools?"

Benny's ear turns slightly pink as he responds, "He's my brother, everything that’s his, is mine or whatever."

You roll your eyes playfully, "All right, well, can I offer you one of the beers you brought then?"

Benny replies, "Nah, not right now, sunshine. I've got to be on my A-game to fix your shit. Where is it, anyway?"

You lead Benny toward the bathroom, where the fan is closed. Flicking one of the two switches, a loud groaning noise emanates from the top of the shower.

"The fan is busted. Now when I take a shower, I turn the whole place into a sauna. And I'm getting a bit afraid that mold or mushrooms are going to appear, you know? The landlord said he was going to fix it, but it's been 3 weeks with no answers. If Frankie were here, he would..."

You stop yourself, not wanting to finish the sentence.

"Anyway, I told the landlord that if he provided the materials, I'd fix it, and here we are."

Benny smiles and says, "Shouldn't be too hard. Are you ready to play assistant contractor, Sunshine?"

You snort and reply, "Sure, boss. Lead the way."

Benny puts the toolbox next to the sink and goes to inspect the damage. You hover around the door, keeping an eye on Ella who is still in the same position as earlier, now listening to Frankie tell a story about two volcanoes who fall in love. The scene brings a smile to your face.

"Hey, assistant, before I get started, do you mind shutting down the electricity for the bathroom, so I don't become Toasted Benny?" Benny asks. You nod and reply, "Sure, give me a sec." Making your way to the electrical box, you turn off the power in the bathroom. On your return, you quickly check on Ella, who is still determined to grab the hanging planet. You smile and give her nose a tiny kiss before making your way back inside the bathroom.

"All closed, Ben," you inform him. Benny responds, "Awesome. Can you grab me one of the adjustable wrenches? It should be on the top of the box. I'll just take out the old fan, disconnect the wiring, and fit the new fan inside. Should be all done in an hour."

You nod and pick up what looks like a wrench, though you're about 73% sure it's the right one. You ask, "Is this okay?" Benny extends his hand and says, "Yep, all good. Give it here." You place the wrench in Benny's hand, and he smiles at you, saying, "See, you aren't so hopeless. By the end of today, you're going to be the best assistant contractor in Florida."

You smile at Benny's puppy-like excitement and reply, "Sure, Ben, sure."

You watch Benny diligently work on the fan, removing the old moldy contraption. He lets out a whistle at the sight and exclaims, "Fuck, when was that thing installed? The fucking Stone Age?"

"Pretty sure caves weren't equipped with centralized electricity," you quip back. Benny looks down from his elevated position on top of the bathtub and retorts, "Ha. Ha. Ha, aren't you clever." You give him a broad smile and reply, "I know, right?!"

"Why don't you be clever over there and throw that old fan away," Benny suggests. You nod and reach for the old fan, making your way toward the bin. As you do, you hear Benny shout after you, "Make sure to bring back the new one!" You roll your eyes playfully and respond, "I'm not that clueless, Benny!" A loud chuckle echoes from the bathroom as you head to the counter where the shiny new fan awaits. Your eyes briefly glance at Ella, and...

"BENNY, BENNY, COME HERE QUICKLY!"

You hear a commotion coming from the bathroom as Benny stumbles out, panicked. "What?! What's wrong?!?!" he exclaims. You simply point to the living room carpet, your eyes filled with happy tears. "Look!!!" you say, barely able to contain your excitement.

Benny follows your gaze and looks down to see Ella on her belly, attempting to crawl toward the coffee table where the recording of Frankie has stopped playing. You urgently shake Benny's arm. "Quick, quick, grab your phone!!! Oh my god, she's never crawled before, Ben!!! I have to film this. Quickly, my phone is in the bedroom, grab yours!!!"

Benny's eyes widen with a mixture of astonishment and joy. Without wasting a second, he retrieves his phone from his pocket and opens the camera “Go to her! I’ll be your own cameraman!!!”

You smile warmly and swiftly make your way to Ella, crouching down next to the coffee table as she momentarily pauses in her crawling. She looks up at you with tired yet determined eyes. "Come on, my little peanut, you're almost there!" you cheer, feeling a surge of pride and excitement. In the background, Benny chimes in with a playful exclamation, "Let's go, Ella! Show them who's the best fucking baby in the world!"

You shoot Benny a disapproving look, and he responds with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Sunshine, I'm just...so excited!" he says, his words stumbling out of his mouth. Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention back to Ella. "Come on, peanut, you've got this!" you encourage her, your voice filled with loving adoration.

Ella's determined expression, so much like Frankie's, reappears on her face as she resumes her crawling. Benny and you continue to shout words of encouragement, your voices filled with excitement and pride, as she inches closer and closer to her destination.

Finally, Ella reaches the coffee table, and without hesitation, you bend down to grab her, gently scooping her into your arms. Overwhelmed with joy, you give her a crushing hug, unable to contain the immense love and pride you feel in that moment.

"You did so good, baby. Mama is so, so proud of you!" you whisper, your voice filled with pride. With a tender smile, you softly nuzzle your nose against Ella's. Ella coos happily in response, her little sounds of joy filling the air and further melting your heart.

You bring your face up and turn towards Benny, who is still holding the camera, a hopeful look in your eyes. "Did you catch all that, Ben? Wasn't she absolutely amazing?" you ask, eager to hear his response. Benny's face lights up with his signature megawatt smile, and he exclaims, "SHE WAS GREAT!!! Ella, you are just like a shooting shining star!!!”

Benny continues, his excitement contagious. "Now, proud mama, you got anything to say to the camera?" he prompts. With a radiant smile, you twirl around, holding Ella close to your heart. "Only that I've got the bestest little peanut in the whole world!" you declare with overflowing love and pride. Ella lets out a happy squeal in response, and the sound of Benny's laughter echoes in the background.

MONTH FOUR – SEPTEMBER

Frankie found himself seated at one of the picnic tables outside, overlooking the tranquil man-made pond in the rehab facility's backyard. Nervously fidgeting with his fingers, he’s been reflecting all morning on the past three and a half months he’s spent here. His mother had eagerly awaited the fourth month when visitations were permitted. However, Frankie had approached the session coordinator and asked for a delay in visits. Despite his deep desire to see his mother, sisters, daughter, brothers, and… You, he didn't feel emotionally prepared for it. Not yet.

The day before September 1st, Frankie had experienced a crippling panic attack that left him completely incapacitated. The following morning, he gathered the courage to stride into the office of the head therapist. Once there, Frankie had explained to him that he needed more time before he would be able to face anyone. Dr. Stevens had smiled and told Frankie how proud he was that he was finally setting boundaries and acknowledging his limits. If there was on thing Frankie’s time in the rehab had taught him, it was the value of recognizing his own needs, a lesson he had never truly internalized during his years in the army. He had become so accustomed to unquestioningly following orders, regardless of the harm they inflicted on him, that he had forgotten that he needed to care for himself and listened to his needs sometimes.

During therapy sessions, Dr. Stevens had emphasized the significance of listening to Frankie's own desires and engaging in introspection. The therapist pointed out that, by consistently ignoring his own wants, Frankie's inner turmoil found an outlet through self-destructive behaviours. Dr. Stevens believed that if Frankie started paying attention to his own needs and delved deeper into self-reflection, the compulsion to numb his pain with cocaine might gradually diminish, even if only minimally.

Frankie sighed heavily, his hand sweeping across his face as he noticed a mother duck leading her adorable ducklings across the serene lake. These past few months had undoubtedly been the most challenging period he had ever faced, and Frankie had been shot multiple times before. So that’s saying something. Confronting the stark contrast between the person he believed himself to be and the person he had become, all while battling intense withdrawal symptoms, had left him feeling lethargic during the initial weeks.

Throughout his life, Frankie had always viewed himself as a provider, a dependable man on whom others could rely. Memories flooded his mind, particularly the day his father passed away when Frankie was just a young boy. He vividly recalled how, the day before his father's death, the man he had admired for his strength and dedication to his family had called upon ten-year-old Frankie. "Francisco," his father had spoken with pain, surrounded by the incessant beeping of medical equipment, "I need you to take care of your mother and sisters when I'm gone. You will be the man of the house, and it's your responsibility to look after those you love."

Frankie had internalized those words and earnestly tried to fulfill his father's wishes, caring for his mother, sisters, and eventually you and Ella. However, in the end, he felt that he had failed spectacularly. When he confessed these deep fears to Dr. Stevens, a wave of vulnerability washed over him, tears streaming down his face. The older therapist regarded Frankie with a sympathetic expression, moving closer and offering a tissue.

"You haven't failed anyone, Francisco," Dr. Stevens reassured him, gently patting his back. "Yes, you've made mistakes, but now you are making the right choices and striving to make amends. You don't have to live up to any expectations or face external pressures alone. Your focus should be on taking each day as it comes. As long as you care for your wife and your little girl, it will be enough. I am certain that if they were here, they would tell you the same."

Then, Dr. Stevens had Frankie make lists. A list of the things he was most afraid of:

Loosing you and Ella for good

Seeing his brothers die

His mother never forgiving him

Dying before he could see Ella grow up

Not being the man, his father wanted him to be.

Then a list of all those he had hurt,

You and Ella, the two persons cherished the most.

Ben, Will and Pope, the brothers who counted on him and whom he let down.

His mother who didn’t raise him to be what he his today

Tom, whose life was lost due to the choices he made.

Himself himself

Then a list of all he regretted

Lying to you, betraying your trust.

Bringing drugs home, staining the sanctity of the home you built together

Taking your love for granted, failing to appreciate you.

Keeping himself closed off, unable to fully express his emotions.

Shooting first Causing Tom’s death

After finishing the lists, Frankie was instructed to go back to his room and engage and reflect on what he had written. Left alone with his thoughts, Frankie delved into the profound weight of his past actions and the far-reaching consequences they had on the people in his life.

Even though it was incredibly tough, Frankie drew strength from imagining you and Ella right there with him, offering unwavering support. Your smiles and hopeful expressions fueled his determination when he felt overwhelmed and tempted to give up.

Frankie knew how crucial it was to take his recovery seriously. He understood that unless he fully committed to it, the chances of winning you back would dwindle. But it wasn't just the fear of losing you that pushed him forward. Deep down, he genuinely wanted to change. He wanted to be a better man, not just for you but also for himself. He didn't want to be that scared and dishonest boy anymore.

Frankie was well aware of the pain he had caused you, and he acknowledged that the drugs were only a fragment of the larger issue. He understood that his actions stemmed from a deeper problem — his reluctance to open up and reveal the parts of himself he found most fearful and repulsive. The mere thought of you looking at him with disgust in your eyes was unbearable to him.

Deep down, Frankie knew that such concerns were unfounded. He knew that you would never judge him for his past or hold his mistakes against him. However, fear and self-hatred have a way of distorting one's thoughts and leading to irrational behaviour. Frankie recognized the irrationality of his actions and the influence fear and self-doubt had over his decisions.

But Frankie was learning. He was slowly coming to terms with the fact that his fears and self-judgment were hindering his progress. He began to realize that the path to healing required vulnerability and trust, especially in his relationship with you. Overcoming his own insecurities and learning to open up was a crucial step towards rebuilding the trust he had broken.

For Frankie and you to have a chance at reuniting, he understood the importance of treating you as an equal partner, rather than just his wife in need of protection. Opening up and being honest with you were crucial steps he needed to take. In the group therapy sessions, the topic of his treatment towards you had come up, and one woman in particular, Ronnie, didn't hold back in expressing her opinion. She bluntly stated that if she were in your position, she would have swiftly shown Frankie the door, recounting her own experience with an ex-husband who had been a taciturn statue throughout their short-lived marriage.

Ronnie's words struck a nerve with Frankie, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. He felt raw and tender. But he could only acknowledge that she had a valid point. He had failed to communicate and share his thoughts and emotions with you, and that had taken a toll on your relationship.

Dr. Stevens had attempted to calm the group, but the impact of Ronnie's words lingered within Frankie for a couple of days afterward. Frankie had no choice but to confront the truth of how his behaviour had affected you and how he had fallen short of being the partner you deserved.

Frankie's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a firm clap on his back, drawing his attention away from the peaceful pond. Frankie's face lit up with genuine joy when he catches the blue eyes of Will looking back at him.

"Will! Man, it's so good to see you!" Frankie exclaims, rising from his seat to embrace his friend in a tight hug. "How have you been, brother?"

"Good, good. Same old routine—VA visits, giving speeches, and keeping Benny out of trouble," Will replies, "Oh, and I might have met someone special," he adds, a playful grin on his face.

Frankie's face lit up even more. "That's fantastic, Will! I'm really happy for you," he exclaims, gesturing for his friend to take a seat on the opposite side of the picnic table. "This spot gives you the best view of this place," Frankie remarks, pointing towards the serene pond and the ducks swimming on its surface.

Will settles into the seat with a contented smile. "I can see why," he replies, appreciating the calm scene. His eyes then shifted to Frankie, noticing a change in his friend's demeanour. "You look good, Fish. Actually, better than I've seen you in a while," Will remarks, his voice filled with genuine warmth.

Frankie's expression softens, gratitude filling his gaze. "Thanks, Will. I feel good too," he confesses, a mix of relief and newfound understanding in his voice. "Being here has given me the time and space to confront things I wasn't ready to face about myself. I wish I had done it sooner, instead of being so stubborn. It was the best thing I could have done for myself and for them," he explains.

Will's smile widens, expressing his genuine happiness for his friend. "I'm glad to hear it, Fish," he replies warmly.

As the two friends catch up, their conversation started to delve into the time they had spent apart. Frankie eagerly sharing his experiences in group therapy and the progress he had made with his personal therapist. He spoke openly about the challenges he faced during the initial month of withdrawal, recounting the intense loneliness that had enveloped him during that period.

Frankie's voice grew heavier as he broached the topic of guilt surrounding Tom's death. Will's gaze turned serious, his eyes locked onto Frankie's, conveying a sense of understanding and empathy. With a firm conviction in his voice, Will interrupted Frankie's self-blame.

"None, and I mean it, Fish," Will asserts, his words laced with sincerity. "None of what happened in Colombia was your fault. We all had a part to play in those circumstances, and you don't have to shoulder that burden alone, alright?"

Tears welled up in Frankie's eyes as he nodded, his voice trembling with gratitude. "Thank you, Will," he chokes out, his voice thick with emotion. "I needed to hear that, to be reminded that I'm not alone in this. It means the world to me."

Will reaches out and places a comforting hand on Frankie's shoulder, offering both physical and emotional support. "You never have to face this journey alone, Fish," Will assures him, his voice filled with unwavering loyalty. "We're in this together, and I'll always be here for you."

A brief pause hung in the air as Frankie's gaze shifted to the side, a touch of melancholy crossing his face. He mustered the courage to ask the question that had been weighing on his mind, his voice tinged with longing. "Did you see my wife and Ella while I was away... How... How are they doing?"

Will's smile softens, his own eyes wandering toward the ducks in the distance. "They seemed well," he replies. "Ella grew like a weed, you know. And your lady, she's doing great. Got herself a new job with better pay. I could tell she was really proud of it."

Frankie closes his eyes, allowing the words to wash over him. For a fleeting moment, guilt threatens to seep in—the guilt of not being there by your side. But just as quickly, it dissipates, replaced by an overwhelming sense of love and admiration for you and the strides you were making while he focuses on his own journey of healing. "A promotion, huh? She's so smart. I can't wait to tell her how happy I am for her," he whispers. A spark of excitement flickers within him. "Did you guys celebrate? Because I can organize something once I'm out."

Will's smile broadens. "We thought we'd wait for you, but we did take her and Ella to Outback Steakhouse," he reveals. "Is she planning to visit before you leave?"

"I'll be out in two weeks, and Mama is coming with Ella next week, but I think it's best if we wait until I'm out," Frankie explains, his voice tinged with a mix of longing and practicality.

"That's fair," Will nods understandingly. "She seems well, Fish, but I can tell she's lonely. She looks like she misses you."

Frankie's eyes brim with tender determination, "She could never miss me as much as I miss her and Ella. This time here has made me realize how fortunate I am and how close I came to squandering it all. I'll never make that mistake again, Will, believe me."

A twinkle appears in Will's eyes as he reaches for his back pocket. "Wait, I have something for you," he said, pulling out his phone and opening the camera app. He scrolls through a collection of pictures; some he had taken himself and others that you had sent to him. "These are for you. Your lady wanted to make sure you knew they were doing all right."

As Frankie continues scrolling through the photo albums, he was greeted by a plethora of precious moments captured between you and Ella. Each image held its own story, showcasing the love and joy that radiated from your little family. In some pictures, you cradled Ella in your arms, your eyes filled with tenderness. Other photos focused solely on Ella, capturing her adorable expressions and mischievous nature. And then there were the silly selfies—the ones that always brought a smile to Frankie's face. They were the ones you both loved to take, capturing the candid, carefree moments of your lives.

There were morning snapshots, featuring tousled bedheads and tired smiles, Ella playfully blowing raspberries at the camera. Other pictures overflowed with warmth and sunshine, showcasing the adventures you embarked on during the summer. Ella in her tiny bathing suit, her chubby fingers clutching a plush cat toy. You and Ella wearing matching sundresses adorned with elephants, holding a basket full of produce from the farmer’s market. Frankie's heart swells as he sees an image of you delicately feeding Ella a small bite of ice cream.

Tears well up in Frankie's eyes—a mixture of longing and joy. Joy because he is so grateful to see you both thriving and creating beautiful memories. Sadness because he has missed out on these precious moments. As he continues scrolling, he stumbles on a video. With a quick double-tap, he initiates the playback, and your voice resonates from the phone's speakers.

"Come on, quickly, take out your camera..." your voice echoes, filled with excitement.

"Fish, wait a second, you should turn that off," Will's voice interjects, attempting to grab the phone.

But Frankie evades him, his body turning towards the lake, his back to Will. His heart yearns to hear your voice, to immerse himself in the presence of the family he deeply misses. The camera comes into focus, and there you are crouched next to the coffee table with Ella... Is she crawling?! Frankie's heart tightens as he watches his little Estrelita grow up right before his eyes, slowly making her way toward you.

And then he hears it, a voice echoing through the phone, "Go to her! I'll be your personal cameraman!!!" It's Benny's voice and Frankie's body tenses in response. The video continues, capturing your shouts of encouragement to Ella, and even Benny's voice cheering, "Let's go, Ella! Show them who's the best fucking baby in the world!"

Frankie catches your disapproving look at the camera, and Benny offering a sheepish apology. Sunshine. Benny called you sunshine. But it's just Benny being Benny, right? It has to be. Benny would never... he couldn't possibly… Do that. But deep down, Frankie can't help his mind from wandering into unsettling territory.

The video plays on, but Frankie's focus wavers. He can't seem to see anything else on the screen. And then, finally, Ella reaches you, and Frankie is jolted from his daze by your scream of excitement. Suddenly, a cold shock washes over him as he hears Benny's voice again, "Now, proud mama, you got anything to say to the camera?"

Your radiant smile is directed at Benny; Ella's happy satisfied face is all for Benny—it's all too much. He isn't there. But Benny is. Benny is there. Frankie can feel himself spiralling.

The phone is snatched from his hands, and Will sits down next to Frankie, gripping his shoulder firmly. "Benny was just there that day to fix the fan in the bathroom, it was all just circumstances, I promise you," Will reassures him. Frankie's voice trembles as he responds, "The fan was broken? And I wasn't there to fix it. But Benny was."

"No!" Will's voice booms with determination. "Don't go down that road, Fish. Understand? There's nothing going on between your lady and Benny. You've made incredible progress these past few months, and I'll be damned if you let yourself fall into another dark place. I wasn't there last time, but this time, I'm right here with you!"

Frankie's mind whispers, "Maybe it would be easier if I didn't come back. She has a new job, and Ella seems well. They'd probably be better off without me." He looks down at the ground, feeling his hands twist anxiously.

"Are you kidding me?!" Will exclaims. "Frankie, these girls love you more than anything in this world. If you leave, they'd be shattered. You're not thinking straight right now. Remember why you made that recording? So that Ella wouldn’t forget your voice. Fish, you knew you'd miss a lot of things by being here. But look, today you've been telling me how much progress you've made, how you're ready to open up and communicate better with your lady. With us. Well, let me introduce you to a new concept: trust. You need to trust that she would never do anything to hurt you. And you need to trust that Benny would never betray his own brother like that, okay?" Frankie takes a deep breath, absorbing Will's words.

“You are right. Of course, you are right. Sorry for freaking out like that.”

"It's all right. Are you really okay though?" Will's voice is filled with genuine concern.

Frankie's mind balks. Is he really… Okay? He doesn't have a definite answer. The old Frankie would have brushed it off, assuring Will that he was fine and that he didn’t care that Benny was seemingly playing house with you and Ella. Then he’d go snort a line in the bathroom to take the edge off.

"I don't know, Will. I don't know if I'll ever be all right." Frankie puts his head in his hands, feeling the weight of his emotions bearing down on him. Will places a reassuring hand on Frankie's upper back. "Then we'll take it one day at a time.”

One day at a time. Just 14 more days until he sees you and Ella again. Only 14 days until you decide if you want him back. Just 14 days until he must confront the consequences of his actions and the pain, he caused you over the past few years. Those 14 days stretch before him, both seemingly endless and surprisingly close. Is he truly ready? The honest answer is, he doesn't know.

Next chapter

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usedpidemo · 9 months

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Update - Happy New Year! (and some housekeeping)

*TV static intensifies*

Hey everyone! π here.

Once again, I'd like to wish all of you formally a happy new year! This will be my third year with you, and I hope you're still enjoying my works and I appreciate you for your continued support.

Now that I have your attention, I'd like to give you an overall update on things happening behind the scenes, but first:

2023 Poll

I only posted 10 fics over the previous year, rip, but they're easily some of my most popular and positively received works in the library. Vote up to three of your favorite fics released from me during 2023! I was supposed to include Plaid on the list, but I didn't finish it on time, and as a result this poll also delayed lol. You can change your votes anytime if you have a change of heart. Poll begins from today until January 7, 2024 1:00 P.M. KST/12:00 AM EST.

2024 Road map

And because I only posted 10 fics all throughout 2023, my personal goal in 2024 is to increase the amount of releases, while continuing to improve the quality and maintain consistency. Hopefully. In real life, I'll be entering my third year of college once the holidays are over, and this may be the last full year of freedom I get. I might have to do on-the-job training (OJT) and write up my thesis, which requires a lot of personal commitment so I can finally graduate. I'm basically on borrowed time at this point.

Plans change. Shit happens. Everything that I'm about to say isn't exactly a 100% guarantee, and I really don't wanna promise anything because I've broken way too many promises. But here's the initial proposed list of idols that will be getting fics in 2024:

Hanni

Chaeryeong

Ningning

Yunjin

Rei

Sejeong

Nagyung

Haewon

Yuqi

Xiaoting

Minji (Newjeans)

Sakura

Youngeun

Karina

Sullyoon

Heejin

And this doesn't include idols I've already written :)

Looks ambitious—and it is—but if I can complete even half of that list, I feel as if I've already accomplished my goal.

Commissions

To the people who've been waiting for their requests, once again I'd like to apologize for the delays. I feel terrible knowing I've got so many projects in limbo because of circumstances beyond my control, and it feels as though I've betrayed your trust. However, we're picking things up and I'll gradually be releasing them throughout the early stages of 2024. Thank you for waiting just a little bit longer.

With that said, my personal plan is to implement the following so this never happens again: I'll be scaling back on the number of commissions I can accept at a time so there's more breathing room for requests as well as personal ideas/projects. Ideally, this would mean releasing fics in a 2-to-1 format: 2 commissions then 1 personal idea, but this would vary based on personal schedule and overall demand. Balancing real life commitments with burnout is a huge challenge, and I believe this is the most comfortable situation for me. Please understand that I'm still just one guy and I can't do everything all at once. If I could clone myself, I would abuse the shit out of that ability.

Closing

Overall, I've been blessed to have such a wonderful 2023, and I pray 2024 will be just as kind, if not kinder. I've experienced some of the highest highs and the lowest lows, but I personally feel that 2023 was the best year I've had in almost a decade, and this blog is one reason for that. It wasn't as productive as it used to be, but the increasing support is simply humbling. Heck, I've been entrusted to bring some of your visions/fantasies to life, which shows how much faith you have in me to succeed and bring you quality art. There's no amount of words that can express how truly grateful I am to you, the readers, my peers in the writing community, and to our heavenly Father.

Regardless of what happens to me or this blog, I hope 2024 will be kind to you all. Love you.

with grace,

peter / π

#update

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drakulateeth · 2 years

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My femme fatale essentials

I have seen way too many posts and articles about how to become a femme fatale and most of them are useless. And since I have had the femme fatale mindset ever since I was quite young, let me share with you what being a femme fatale actually entails:

Being in touch with your dark side.

By this I mean, understanding and not suppressing the negative traits that we have. Being selfish, arrogant, wanting to lie, wanting to steal, craving violence. Once you look at those feelings in the face and truly understand them, you will no longer be a slave to them and to what society says is unacceptable. Regardless this does not mean wrecking havoc in others lives and self-destructing, but you should accept yourself fully and work on whatever you see fit, however you see fit (I'm a popstar, not a doctor).

2. Having a generally dark and muted color palette.

For your clothes and your environment, I think this is quite self explanatory. Dark reds and browns, shiny pinks and even deep blues. Candles, antique furniture, old books, heavy curtains, classic cuts for clothes, for this part I would suggest you mix the stereotypical aesthetic with your own authentic style. Do not buy into the mainstream products you see online though, please, I would suggest see what type of Halloween decorations you enjoy and move from there. (My inspiration ever since I was young have been vampires)

3. Being the demise of men.

My personal favorite. I have yet to destroy anyone's life but I have used the feelings that many guys had for me, for my benefit. From school projects, to concert tickets, to snacks, free rides around town, to now getting a guy that likes me, that I of course do not like, to do most of my work in the conference I am working on. And in the end breaking their little hearts.

The way I go around it is that I act cold (I already look intimidating) and never give them actual hope, so when the situation blows in the guy's face, he knows that it was his fault and that him being blinded by lust cannot be my problem. This is where the be in touch with all your feeling and urges comes to play. Be ruthless. (I should do a whole separate piece on being ruthless, 10/10 would recommend)

4. Emulating classic and/or glam looks.

For this part, fuck trends and do what works for you. You must know yourself first and then craft a look, I cannot tell you to just do a red lip and you will look stunning. You should know your undertones and what shades of lipstick compliment your face. I only wear dark reds and browns, otherwise I do simple nudes, because pink or purple or anything vibrant looks terrible on me. Pick and choose whatever suits you and I repeat stay away from trends. Hair, make up, scents, dresses, shoes, nails, everything should be coherent, should suit you because YOU are wearing them they do not wear you, basically look well put together in a glam way in a darker color palette. (The look is a very simple part)

5. Having a very particular hobby that must be intellectually stimulating.

For me it would be learning languages, I already speak four (French is one of them, you want someone to be hypnotized by you, speak French with the accent, even if it is visible you are not French, it still sounds hot) and I intend to learn three more because I have picked them up but have not taken them to intermediate or advanced levels yet. Your hobby can be anything as long as it is very intellectually and artistically stimulating. Think playing the cello, the harp, the violin, the piano, think classical ballet, ballroom dancing or even belly dancing, sculpting, writing poetry, pottery, I can go on for ages. You have read this in other guides too, be curious, be authentic and indulge in the things that you enjoy.

6. Oozing sex appeal.

That starts with being confident in your body and being in complete touch with yourself. You already know what I will say on this, eat well, do something physical that makes you feel good, take care of your health, wear well made lingerie, have a deep and sweet perfume (I am a Dior girl, I buy a dupe for daily wear, and the actual perfume for more important matters). The rest, I don't know you, you must figure it out yourself, a guide I made cannot dictate your life, do whatever makes you feel sexy. Start with sexy lingerie, shiny jewelry, also gun and dagger shaped things, put on a sultry playlist, imitate supermodel walks, the world is your oyster.

7. You must stand tall

The main appeal of the femme fatale, is the self confidence, the directness, living their life in their own terms. They have boundaries, standards, refined taste... basically they are the dream girl that would do everything to get what she wants, there is this sort of perfect imperfection about their poise, their anger, their movement. They seem so cool yet so ready to strike, at any moment they might unleash hell. I always loved them because they seemed so multidimensional. I never particularly enjoyed the nice and sweet heroin in media, I related more the the amoral, darker "villains" hence me being a well known bitch from age 12 until now.

(During my formative years I was an only child and quite spoiled, so I think it makes sense I subscribe to the philosophies that I subscribe)

On an ending note, I would suggest pick a few fictional characters that have traits you would like to emulate, and live as they would. We live in the age of information, chances are you already know what you like or not about the aesthetic, so make it your own and live authentically. The only thing I want to say is, bring back misery to men's lives, because 1. the trope is based on that and 2. because they love it.

*I also have a bone to pick with the coquettes that girlblog from their bed all day and make those ugly moodboards about femme fatales. More on that some other night

Happy hunting my maneaters,

snowblack

#femme fatale #maneater #divine feminine #dark femininity #female empowerment #dark feminine energy #the art of seduction #enchantress #seductress #female excellence #advice #my post

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shaniaispunk · 10 months

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Enjoy The Silence

Authors Note : Hey! I haven’t written anything in what feels like years, but I’ve had the idea stuck in my head for a while. I’ve rewritten and posted so many times but I’m hoping this version is better! Any ideas or questions feel free to comment or message me, hope you enjoy it!

Part 1 -

I was almost 14 when the outbreak started in 2013, it wiped out a huge chunk of humanity. It was just me and my dad, my mother left a long time ago and for all I know she is long gone or most likely dead. He raised me on his own for most of my life, for as long as I can remember at least. He passed away when I was 17 though, it was nothing to do with cordyceps though. I’m not sure of the cause, but one night he went to bed and the next day he was gone. Leaving him was the hardest thing I ever had to do but I had to learn to carry on without him now, I had to mature at such a young age to be able to survive.

I spent a whole year alone, I came across a few people on my travels. I learnt the hard way that they were just using me to get to wherever they needed to go, I was young and vulnerable, it took me a long time to open up or trust anybody after that day, I never thought I would be able to again. But then I met Joel, he saved me from the loneliness. It took him a while to get past the walls I built up, to even coax a conversation out of me about what had happened leading up to us meeting took a lot of patience.

Joel told me about his time in the Boston QZ, about Tess. How she was bitten when they snook out past curfew. He told me about this time someone was trying to buy pills of him, they started to say “if you’re feeling lost” but Joel cut them off quickly saying “you tell me to look for the light and I’ll break your jaw”.

He held onto that promise, we bumped into some fireflies a couple months ago who were chanting their usual bullshit “remember if you’re lost in the darkness, look for the light”. Low and behold, Joel broke the guys jaw which he well and truly deserved. Not only did he piss off Joel by saying that, but this guy also tried to grope me after saying he hadn’t seen a real woman in years... I have never seen him so angry, I used to see him as a father figure with me only being in my early twenties. But I feel like my feelings have developed more for him since that day, he always protects me in any way he can.

After that he brought me back to Jackson, his brother Tommy was at a commune there and said we were more than welcome to stay as long as we helped in any way.

You would have thought after all these years alone that I would appreciate the silence, to not be surrounded by infected. But here I am, ten years after outbreak day on patrol with Joel Miller. It’s almost too quiet, which is concerning.

Ellie lent her horse Shimmer to me, mine was shot a few weeks back when we ran into some smugglers just south of Jackson. She took a break from patrol for a while after the whole ordeal with Seth in the Tipsy Bison, she is still mad at Joel even though he thought he was doing what was best. So, I agreed to swap with her and take her place, for now it is just me and Joel for a while. Her and Dina are good for each other, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ellie so happy in all these years of knowing her.

“She will talk to you at some point you know?” you turn to look at Joel, knowing that his argument with Ellie a few weeks days back was still playing on his mind.

“I know darlin, she’s just as stubborn as the day I met her” he says rubbing his free hand over his face.

The storm just died down and everything was covered in a fresh sheet of snow, so it was hard to see any fresh blood or any new footprints. Everything seems too calm, which almost seemed comforting until we got to the old supermarket in the town just over from the commune. The whole place is crawling with infected, we wouldn’t know what type of infected they are or how many we were going to be dealing with until we were inside. We still needed to be stealthy, Joel went inside first, I followed behind him slowly.

Do not raise any attention to us, don’t let them notice you.

I pulled my switch blade from my jacket pocket, using my gun would not be a wise idea right now. I sneak up behind one of the clickers, wrapping my left arm around its neck and quickly slicing the blade through their throat. It looked like there was only a few more up here, mostly clickers by the looks of it so the rest must be downstairs. One by one, we managed to somehow take them all down without bringing any attention to our presence.

We continued down to the basement, Tommy said that no one had been any further than the first floor. Before we progressed, Joel nudged me. He was pointing towards something to the left of me behind the doors. Spores... Looks like they’ve been here for a while, how did we miss this? Why hadn’t anybody been down here before?

The doors were chained together, must have been like that for a while. Joel handed me my mask before reaching back into his backpack to pull out his own. He pushed on the doors so they would open just enough for me to slip inside, I picked the lock on the chains and slowly pulled them free, trying my best to be silent. I heard movement behind me, “what the fuck was that?” Joel held his finger up to his mouth telling me to be quiet. I heard it again to my right, my head whipped around to follow the movement. Stalkers? I saw one peering around the doorframe before quickly disappearing again. We had a few reports of stalkers a few months back but had never seen any this close to Jackson.

I slowly walked around the room trying to watch where I was stepping, but just my luck I stand on some broken glass which alerts the clickers. I pulled my knife out quickly, Joel followed suit with his shotgun. One of the stalkers comes through a hole in the wall, before I can react it grabs me by the ankle and pulls me to the floor. Joel reacted a lot quicker than I could, shooting the stalker right in the head, blowing its remains all over my face. So much for being silent…

I shoved what was left of the stalker off me chuckling at Joel “nice save cowboy, thought I’d be a lot quicker than you”. He just smiles and shakes his head at my comment, reaching down offering his hand to me. I pull myself up, wiping my hands on the front of my jeans which are definitely a few sizes too small. Suppose I can’t complain though, especially when we are in the middle of the fucking apocalypse so I’m lucky enough to be alive and be by Joel’s side.

#joel miller outbreak #joel miller #outbreak #pedro pascal #apocalypse #the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #tlou hbo #survival #love #lonelly

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astroluvbug · 2 years

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MEANT TO BE, rafe cameron

✶ synopsis: when rafe notices a girl at school he’s never seemed to have noticed before rafe falls for her like he never has for any girl before

✶ warnings: none!

✶ a/n: hi! this is my first fic im posting on here… i’ve had it in my drafts for a while so i decided to stop being a scaredy cat and post it, idk if im gonna do a part two tho so yeah :)

rafe sighed opening his locker placing his bag in closing the locker and leaning against it as he pulling his phone out.

"rafe!" the boy looked up from his phone to see his two best friends.

"sup man" kelce grinned doing their usual hand shake.

"hey we gotta get to class" topper spoke after he greeted rafe after doing their hand shake.

"yeah yeah we know" rafe laughed along with kelce as they started walking down the hall towards their first class of the day.

"good morning everyone hope you all enjoyed your summer" ms. smith spoke as she looked as her class full of tired students the truly did not want to be here.

"now, i know that you're all tired from summer break…” the teachers voice was quickly blocked out of rafes hearing as he pulled out his phone.

after the the classroom phone started to ring the teacher stepped out of the class as rafe placed his phone down looking up.

only to see the girl i front of him turned around towards him.

"do you have a pencil?" she asked.

rafe being rafe sat there gazing at her completely in his own world.

"hello?" a voice snapped him out of it, he blinked.

"um yeah here" he spoke his voice higher then it usually is handing her the pencil that was in his hand.

"thanks" she smiled before turning around making rafe sigh at the disappearance of her face from his vision.

"hey do you guys know who she is?"

rafe spoke from the kook boys table as they all sat in silence who rafe looked at the table outside the large window where y/n sat by herself.

"who her?" topped looked where rafe had pointed.

“i think her name is y/n” the two looked towards kelce “i’ve seen her around but she never talks to anyone, not like they’d want too”

“what do you mean?” rafe raised an eyebrow.

“she’s basically a pouge, but mr. whitemore is her grandfather do he pays for her to go here” kelce contented before drinking some water.

“so she’s a pouge living off her grandfather” topper scoffed “pathetic”

"yeah" rafe spoke out of instinct looking down at his food to pick up a fry before looking back up at her.

the cameron boy now sat in his final class of the day, art.

as much as he hated it he didn't have a choice seeing as he needed to take at least one art class to graduate next year and he wanted to just get it over with even though most of his friends were going to wait til last minute.

he usually sat in the class on his phone and paid no attention to the class but since he barely passed the tenth grade with his marks he decided on leaving his phone in his pocket, actually putting an effort into trying to listen as he walked to his class.

now sitting in the back of the class at one of the many tables, the class was waiting for the teacher to start the class.

“is this seat taken?” a voice came from beside him.

rafe looked up from his hands he’d been staring at for the last 5 minutes trying to pass time, looking up he quickly recognized who it was.

“uh yeah” rafe quickly snapped out of it and corrected embarrassed himself “i mean, no but yeah you could sit here”

you’re so stupid, rafe though about himself

“o-okay thanks” y/n smiled placing her bag on the floor beside her chair as the teacher walked into the class.

“good afternoon class, i’m sure you’re all happy the days almost over, but it isn’t yet so let’s get started”

after y/n, rafe and the class had to through their art teacher for the semester ‘ms. peonie’ and her very long speech she assigned them to do a small sketch of something they had with them on hand.

rafe first thought was to draw the disposable he had sitting in his pocket but quickly reminding himself he was in class he pulled his airpods case out instead and started to sketch them on the peace of paper that he was given.

glancing at y/n out of the corner of his eye he watched as she so gracefully drew the beaded bracelet she’d slipped of her wrist apart from the hundreds of other ones she had on.

he watched as she gently drew the bracelet so skillfully like it was a stroll down the street, while rafe’s drawing looked something along the lines of a beat up potato.

sighing he looked up at the clock the sat on top of the doorway.

seeing there was 5 minutes left before class ended, rafe placed his pencil down on the table and leaned back as he moved his gaze back towards y/n drawing again, which had almost been finished.

“that’s amazing” rafe blurted without thinking.

y/n turned her head towards rafe timidly “this?” the girl laughed at her drawing a she locked back at it.

“yeah, i mean it least it do look like mine” the cameron boy chuckled as he watched y/n look towards him.

“you have the right idea..” y/n said as she took in the drawing “you just need to actually try” she giggled looking back at rafe.

“i tried?” rafe tried to reason with y/n.

“no you didn’t” y/n playfully rolled her eyes placing her pencil down noticing the time.

“i did!” the cameron boy exclaimed lowly grinning completely forgetting about the clock he was watching a couple of minutes ago.

“you didn’t, you took 7 minutes to draw it then stared at the clock” she chuckled.

rafe bit his bottom lip and looked back up at the girl surprising himself “yeah, i uh” he stuttered for once in his life “maybe”

before y/n could reply to rafe the school bell blushed through out the school.

“well maybe next es class you could actually try” y/n giggled before grabbing her bag and taking if before rafe come say anything else.

tomorrow rafe spoke to himself grinning for the first time in a long time.

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kingkatsuki · 3 years

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Vindication Part One | Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

This is part one to my new multi-chap. I know I have others left to complete but I’ve been thinking about writing this for over a year and I’ve finally been able to do it. I really hope you guys enjoy it, this is my first time proper messing about with tenses too so please be kind!

Summary: Bakugou Katsuki was once one of the worlds greatest Pro-Heroes until he unleashed an attack on the innocent civilians of Musutafu. Everyone believes that he committed the crime, that there was always a villain inside him just waiting to be unleashed. The world turned their back on Dynamight, but you know that he’s innocent. He’s been sentenced to life in Tartarus and you may be the only one that can set him free.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, mild angst, unprotected sex, slight breeding!kink, creampie.

Word Count: 3.6k

There was something special about watching Bakugou Katsuki rise to the top of the hero charts. His confidence and strength helped to prove himself to the agencies that took him on as a young sidekick, watching as the local media outlets slowly started picking up his achievements and publicising them for the world to see. Many remembered him as the young boy from the U.A. Sports Festival who was filled with rage and anger, noting how he had seemed to turn himself around. Others publicised their views that he would end up a villain, there was no possible way he would ever be a hero. But they were wrong.

Bakugou channeled the same anger into achieving his dreams, even more determined to prove the doubters wrong. The people that swore he would never be a hero, not with his attitude. Quickly appearing to settle comfortably in the top three of the hero rankings.

It still felt strange to walk into a store and see your husband's face plastered on the front of every magazine and newspaper, fans walking down the street with his merchandise on full display. The amount of Dynamight products that you’d discovered whilst on your weekly food shop had opened your eyes to how loved and respected he was, even if you had to stare at his face while pouring yourself a mug of Dynamight endorsed coffee.

Bakugou would always complain at the ‘dumb shit’ that he’d seen himself advertising, or the ecelectic clothing brands that now sponsored him. He’d never admit it, but you could see how his chest puffed out with pride whenever he saw someone wearing his merchandise. Pretending to huff whenever someone would stop him in the street to sign something for them, or giving the camera a scowl as he posed for pictures, but it solidified that he truly was a hero. The slew of tweets and posts that he’d receive from fans or supporters, messages of praise and respect for their favourite hero. This is the hero he’d wanted to be as a child, and he’d achieved his dreams.

The world loved Dynamight, and so did you. You were so happy and in love when everything was perfect. Finally at that point in your life where you could truly say you were content, that is, until everything changed.

The day everything you loved was taken away from you.

“The crimes you committed have been callous and aberrant, not only did you use your title as the number two Pro-Hero to infiltrate organisations to steal from them, you also left a trail of destruction along the way. When you decided to become a Pro-Hero you swore to protect civilians from the evil of this world, to protect our city from destruction. You have gone against everything you swore to protect. You’ve committed atrocious crimes to those who idolised you, supported you. The countless victims you injured and killed will never be the same, our city will never be the same. There will never be a way for you to atone for your crimes, we can only hope this will mean you are never able to hurt another person ever again. Bakugou Katsuki, I hereby sentence you to life in Tartarus.”

“No.” You screamed, your hands clinging to the bar in the gallery, tears spilling down your cheeks as you watched the empty eyes of your husband. His vibrant vermilion orbs were void of any emotion as the verdict was read out. The fight inside him now broken down as he stood stoic in the docks, the only sound in the courtroom now raised whispers as the other spectators watched your outburst. Kirishima gripped your arm in his large hand gently as he tried to loosen your grip against the cold brass, his other palm rubbing soothing circles on your back as you tried to urge Bakugou to look at you, to notice you.

“He didn’t fucking do it.” You cried, the judge banging his gavel as he tried to gather order inside the courtroom. The only signs of Bakugou realising his fate was the stiffness in his body when the police tried to lead him away, his shoulders tightening as he tried to shrug them off. His wrists encased in quirk cancelling handcuffs as they began to walk him away.

“He didn’t do it.” You repeated, sobs wracking through your body as you watched the retreating back of your husband being led out of the room, “Kiri, he didn’t fucking do it.”

Kirishima pulled you into a tight hug, burying your face in his chest as he pressed his palm against the back of your head, uncaring that your tears were soaking his dress shirt as he tried to shush you. “I know he didn’t, I know-”

The shrill pang of your alarm clock woke you from your slumber, morning sunlight pouring into the room and illuminating it in subtle yellow hues. Your heart pounding against your ribcage as you made an attempt to quell the incessant ringing in your ears as your eyes squinted towards the noise, making out the snooze button as you snuggled back underneath your duvet. An ignorant bliss clouding your mind as you told yourself it has been a terrible nightmare, trying to ease your erratic heartbeat as you blamed it on a trick of the mind.

Convincing yourself that you were back to your perfect, happy life. It had all just been a terrible nightmare, that he was simply working and had taken on the arduous night shift again. Warmth invading your senses as you swore you felt your husband's arms wrapped tightly around your frame. Instinctively reaching your hand out to the other side of your king-size bed to feel the sheets cold, a stark reminder of the harsh reality of your life now.

It wasn’t a dream.

How was this fair? The rest of the world was allowed to carry on living their own lives, enjoying every day with their loved ones while you had this.

What about your life? What about Bakugou's life?

Bakugou. Every time you thought of your husband a mix of energy swelled inside you. Memories flooding back of your husband pressing soft kisses against the apex of your shoulder as he slowly tried to lull you from slumber before your alarm. His fingers danced along your curves as he pressed warm, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. His hulking form towering over you as he reached over to your side of the bed to turn off your alarm before it had a chance to twang and ruin the peaceful morning.

“Mmm, Katsuki. I have to get ready for work.” You murmured, reluctantly trying to pull yourself from his comforting embrace. Bakugou’s reflexes quicker than your own as he lifted a muscular thigh to lay it on top of your own, caging you against him.

“Fuck work, call in sick.” Bakugou rasped huskily, his voice laced with sleep as he slipped a large palm underneath his shirt you were wearing. His touch causing goosebumps to rise on your skin as his calloused pads grazed along your stomach, his shirt inching up as the tips of his fingers met the underside of your breasts.

“I can’t,” You whined, rubbing your thighs together to try and dull the ache between them, “I’ve already been late every day this week.”

“So what’s one more time?” Bakugou’s lips curled into a smirk against your neck, his tongue poking out to lash against your pulse point as he felt your heartbeat increase, “Ya don’t even need that shitty fuckin’ job anyway.”

Bakugou’s palm cupped your bare breast as a breathless gasp left your lips, your nipple pebbling as you arched your back into his touch. The movement causing your ass to grind back against his stiff cock, making him grunt as he squeezed your supple skin. Any thoughts of work soon dissipating as he began to tease your taut nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger as you continued to roll your hips against him. Feeling his pre-cum streaking against the curve of your ass as you realised how very naked your husband was behind you. His body pressed flush against your back as you felt every ridge of muscle, his thigh tightening around your own as he held you against him.

“God, you’re fuckin’ perfect.” Bakugou husked, his lips moving up to pepper kisses along your jawline, moving your head to the side so he could capture your lips in a searing kiss.

Your soft whimpers muted by his mouth as his tongue lashed against your own, the overwhelming scent of his quirk invading your senses. Making a futile attempt to match his movements as your tongue brushed against his, deepening the kiss. A low rumble vibrating in his chest as he let out a soft groan, his fingers trailing back along your skin to slide between your thighs.

“Oh,” You gasped when his fingers parted your silky folds, feeling how wet you’d become from his ministrations as he stroked through your slick. Your eyes rolling as Bakugou grinned against your lips, vermilion eyes gazing down at you as he found your puffy clit.

“Always tellin’ me you don’t want it when you’re so fuckin’ wet for me. Liar.” He teased, cherishing the way your lashes fluttered as he began to toy with your nub, rolling it in sloppy circles as he worked to pull more noises from between your pretty lips.

“‘Suki.” You mewled, trying to part your legs to give him more access but his heavy thigh on top of you made it difficult. Pouting childishly as you wiggled your hips, the movement causing Bakugou to groan as he lifted his thigh from your own, moving his hand coated with your slick to lift your leg to place it on top of his thigh, uncaring that his cock was leaking pre as the moisture smeared against your skin.

“This better, pretty girl.” Bakugou cooed as he pressed his thick cock between your now parted thighs, running the length along your sloppy folds as he coated the surface in your slick.

“Yes,” You hissed as you felt the bulging head of his cock catch against your clit, rolling your hips to try and replicate the movement, “I want you.”

Your hands slipped between your thighs to feel his thick cock, the tips of your fingers dancing along the bulging veins that scattered along his length, pressing against his tip as you tried to maneuver it inside your throbbing cunt. The action caused Bakugou to scoff against your ear as he tugged at your lobe between his teeth.

“So fuckin’ impatient all the time, aren’tcha?” Bakugou smirked, giving a harsh rut of his hips as he teased his length between your folds, “That desperate for my cock?”

He moved his hand to the curve of your ass as he squeezed it gently, feeling his fingers pressed into your skin as he drew his hand back to land a hard smack to your rear. The motion caused you to cry out as a mixture of pain and pleasure flowed through you, Bakugou’s palm rubbing against it afterwards to try and ease the dull stinging sensation before repeating the motion.

“Please, Suki- I want it.” You needed to quench the desire inside you, to ease the tension that was building in your lower half.

“Then take it, it’s yours.” His sultry tone had your inner walls clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled. Angling your body so you could press his curved cock back against your entrance, feeling the thick tip slowly breaching your tight hole.

“Fuckin’ insatiable,” Bakugou growled as he watched your face contort in pleasure as you slowly sank yourself down on his length. Your inner walls stretching into the shape of him as you took more of him inside your tight heat, feeling his weighty balls pressing into the swell of your thighs as he bottomed out inside you. Burying his forehead into your neck as he felt your inner walls constricting around him, trying to even out his breath to stop himself from coming undone at the sensation. A large hand curling underneath the back of your knee to hold your thigh up to give himself more space as you let out a soft cry of pleasure.

“How are you always so tight?” He grunted as he felt you continuing to squeeze around him before he’d had the chance to move, watching the way you tried to grind yourself back against him in a vain attempt to create some much-needed friction, “Shit,”

Bakugou grunted as he felt you begin to grind your hips against him, the underside of his cock dragging against the spongy spot inside you with each roll of your hips, the movement pressing your ass against his hip bones as the tufts of his pubic hair tickled your skin. Moving your hand back to stroke through the buzzed hair of the undercut at the back of his neck as your nails scraped against his scalp. The movement causing Bakugou to shudder against you, his teeth latching onto your throat as he bit down on the supple skin, a low growl sounding against you as he began deep, rough thrusts into your silky walls.

“Katsuki-” His name falling from your lips repeatedly in a dull mantra as he focused his thrusts into the same spot inside you that he knew like the back of his hand. Sometimes it felt like your husband knew your own body better than you did, the delicate intricacies of lust that would have you coming undone for him with minimal effort. A skill that he held in almost as high a regard as he did his hero work, lashing his tongue against the darkened bruise he’d left against your throat as he increased his pace. Willing you to come undone for him so he could watch you fall apart on his cock, “It feels so good, don’t stop-”

“You gonna show me how pretty you look when you’re cummin’ for me, yeah?” Bakugou raised his head to look at your face, your lips parted in a near-constant whine as he hit the same spot inside you, “Gonna show me how much you love my cock?”

“Katsuki, fuck.” You whimpered when the ridge of his head pressed against your g-spot, pulling himself out to the dip before delving back inside your quivering hole. The lewd sound of your essence squelching against his cock mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin as your essence coated your thighs.

“Look how fuckin’ messy you are for me, and you haven’t even cum yet-” A cocky smirk on his face as he pressed a kiss against your cheek, “Have you creamin’ against my cock in seconds, hah?”

You keened at his words, your body reacting to the tone of his voice as your inner walls began to quiver around him in the telltale signs of your climax. The dam inside you dangerously close to bursting as vermilion eyes watched you eagerly.

“That’s it, Princess. Come on, just let go-” Bakugou urged, his pace unrelenting as you felt your cunt begin to pulsate around him, your orgasm crashing through you in harsh waves as your body quivered beneath him. A high-pitched whine leaving your lips as you called out his name.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” Bakugou growled, cherishing the way your inner walls clamped down around his thick cock, his grip on your leg tightening as you tried to close your legs. Keeping them spread as he began searching for his own release, fucking into your tight cunt as he worked himself to his own end.

“Katsuki,” You whimpered, turning your chest as you tried to stop him from pounding into your sensitive sex with such vigour, the sensation overwhelming as you tried to come down from your release.

Bakugou was quick to follow your movements, letting go of your leg as your chest pressed into the mattress. Continuing his thrusts as he lay his forearms on either side of your head, pressing his back against yours as he lay some of his weight on top of you. The sensation made you feel comforted and safe as Bakugou hungrily searched for his own end, your inner walls still spasming around him in the aftershocks of your climax as his balls slapped against your inner thighs.

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re so good for me, baby. So perfect,” Bakugou rambled, his jaw resting against the apex of your neck as his lips pressed against the shell of your ear, “Gonna fill you up with my cum, you’d like that yeah?”

“Please, Suki-” You could already feel yourself teetering on the edge of another orgasm, his crude words doing nothing to quell the ache between your thighs.

“Please, what? Fill you up with my cum?” Bakugou rasped, moving one of his hands to slip between your body and the mattress, pressing his palm down on your abdomen, “Want me to stuff a baby into your sloppy little pussy, is that it?”

Your toes curling as you felt yourself edging towards another orgasm, drool spilling out of the corner of your mouth as your cheek pressed against your pillow, Bakugou’s name coming out in a garbled moan.

“See you all plump and round with my kid?” He goaded, feeling your cunt pulse around him as you came again, your body convulsing beneath him as gentle whimpers left your lips.

“Fuck.” Bakugou grunted, feeling the way your cock milked him as he gave a few more sloppy thrusts inside your tight hole before he found his own end. His balls tightening as he fucked his cum into your aching cunt, filling you with his release as he murmured your name against your ear.

Bakugou pulled out of you with a groan, watching as his cum slowly began to seep from your pulsing cunt, unable to resist leaning down to push it back inside you with his fingers. The sensation to your aching walls making you whimper as you tried to wriggle away from his touch. The action making him smile as he flopped down onto the mattress beside you, pulling you against his chest as you both lay in silence together. Your ear pressed against his chest as you listened to the steady thump of his heart, your fingertips tracing patterns against his abs as he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead.

Fresh tears began to fall from your tired eyes as you stood under the warm stream of water in the shower. The wetness mingling together as you tried to stop the ache in your heart at the memory.

He wasn’t here, he was gone.

A man who unabashedly stood up for what he believed in, for what was right. Who had been there for you throughout everything in your life, had been taken away. It wasn’t fair. You’d slowly watched the world turn their back on Bakugou Katsuki, believing all the lies printed about him in the media, and the rumours circling around online. Even some of his closest friends had turned their back on him, only ever referring to the Pro-Hero Dynamight as a murderer. A traitor.

The friends and family who had once been in awe that you were dating such an amazing man had now turned their back on him, shaming him for the crimes that he had apparently committed. Looking at you with shame and pity in their eyes as they consoled you, ‘You couldn’t have known’, ‘It’s not your fault’.

He truly was the greatest hero, until now.

“Didja mean what you said?” You whispered, “About kids?”

“Of course I did,” He replied without a second thought, “But there ain’t a rush.”

“Yeah,” You hummed happily, moving your arm to wrap around him as you cuddled into his side, “Maybe in a few years?”

“Yeah, I’ll be the number one hero and we’ll have a bunch of brats.” Bakugou replied cockily, his quick reflexes catching your wrist in his palm when you moved to hit his chest, “Oi, watch it, woman-”

“Katsuki, don’t call our kids brats.” You pouted.

“Where do you see us in a few years?” He ignored you, directing the question back.

“Doesn’t matter, as long as we’re happy.”

“We will be,” Bakugou murmured huskily, connecting his lips to yours.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Bakugou eyes bore up at the ceiling of his prison cell, the walls reinforced to prevent a breakout as his vermilion orbs followed the scattered cracks that marred the stone. The quirk cancelling technology meant it had been months since he’d been able to use his quirk, not that he could in the chilly temperatures of Tartarus. He hated the cold. The memories that he held onto of you were the only thing keeping him sane inside these four walls as he pictured escaping this hell and being reunited with you again. He’d tried to forget the look of pain on your face when he’d been sentenced, a look he’d tried to avoid but he’d seen it. The pain that he had caused, even if it wasn’t his fault. By getting caught up in this mess he’d hurt the one person he loved more than anything else in this world. Trying to drown out the loud jeering from the other cells as the villains goaded him, many of them had been locked up here because of Pro-Hero Dynamight. And now he was one of them, another villain.

And it felt like there was no way out.

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