#looking at this image fills me with pure joy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

toorurs · 24 days

Text

to love is to learn

synopsis: aventurine is still unexposed to the many concepts of this world. but that doesn't mean he won't try to get to know them if it's for you.

pairing: aventurine x reader | wordcount: 1.0k | content & warnings: hurt/comfort, insecure aventurine, established relationship, my ass wrote this in an hour and its super late rn i just wanna upload this and my lazy ass did NOT proofread this + im on mobile so hell, kinda HELLA rushed ; ficlet

a/n: just the other day me and azul were talking about what body parts of aven would be sensitive and we got to his collarbone and azul said that he thinks that it'd be super evident so i pointed out that it might be cause he was used to starvation and barely ate even when he got to the ipc/had the chance to do so. SO I JUST HAD TO WRITE SMTH.

tags: @azullumi

aventurine shudders under your touch. your nimble fingers trace across his collarbone, featherlight movements, touch so delicate, it makes him tremble.

the pads of your digits lightly dance across his clavicle, one finger turns into two. your index swiftly slides over the pale skin that separates the bone that lies underneath. while your thumb starts inching closer the neckline of his satin pajama, diving beneath. at that he can't help but flinch.

“oh god.” he laughs out. “someone's being touchy today.” his voice is filled with joy. hearing, seeing, knowing that aventurine has fun around you, makes you crave for more. his laugh is an intoxicating drug. something that you'll always long for, absorbing it until every part of your body is stained with the tantalising essence and puts you to your demise.

you don't stop your actions, instead continuing to glide your fingers along his delicate body. “sorry, for i couldn't help it!” a giggle escapes your mouth.

“i just thought about how pretty it is.” you let out a small hum.

“my collarbone? pretty, how come?” he's confused, what is the beauty you see within his body?

his body is fragile. it's a hollow shell he carries around. ugly and not worthy of your attention even less your admiration, abused and marked in burns. when the digits that he carries around like a sacred body part of his, roughly engraved on his neck, come in contact with any kind of substance, liquid or his own fingers. he's reminded of the mishap his body was or rather is in. how it was abused and dragged through the mud.

putting his calloused fingers around the tattoo, stings. the touch lingers like a nostalgic scent which still remains on an old piece of clothing, one that has never been washed so the smell never fades away. it burns up at the slightest touch. hurting just as much as when it was freshly inflicted onto his young body.

kakavasha doesn't even know what he looks like. the only person he sees in the mirror is aventurine. sure he walked past puddles of dirty rain back in his childhood, reflecting his younger self, but the images are vague and blurry. he doesn't know what kakavasha looks like and he probably never will.

and neither do you. the only thing you have in front of you right now is aventurine. a shattered soul that doesn't know where it belongs. his being consists of a thousand fragments, they're scattered thoughts that are similar to broken mirror shards.

they reflect the tales of his heart and reveal its greatest desire. mirroring those untold stories like the surface of the water. thoughts and wishes that are full of pureness, almost childlike.

the broken pieces that make up the man who's named aventurine long for a haven which he can call a safe space - a home. but on the other hand he thinks that he's not permitted to find such a place, that he's not allowed to stay, undeserving of it.

“no particular reason. i just like the way it stands out, it's easy to find and trace.” the words that roll off your tongue sting. they probably hurt as much as a paper cut you've received as a little kid, but it's not like kakavasha knows or is able to relate - he didn't get to grow up like the other children. but he can't blame you, you're oblivious to his past.

his body has gone through physical and emotional abuse. beat ups, labor or starvation. the reason why his collarbone is so evident, the face you adore is so slim, and his rips slightly poke through his body, is all because kakavashas hunger has never been satisfied and the dryness in his throat has never been quenched.

even after he put on the mask of the man who calls himself aventurine - a wealthy man, who’s a member of the ten stone hearts that makes more money than he spends, he's still reluctant when it comes to eating. of course he could buy all the delicacies that kakavasha never got to try - never even knew, but he hesitates.

the concept of chewing and swallowing the bits is still something aventurine can't befriend himself with. it's unfamiliar - he's not used to it, the feeling of a full stomach, what it's like to be satisfied after a meal. it's something foreign to him, a feeling he's not sure he'll ever get accustomed to.

he doesn't think he deserves to eat. to know what it feels like to be full, the rumbling that comes from his stomach is the one he grew up with is what brought him here. he fears that if he gets too comfortable with something or someone he'll forget who he is.

a lost soul that mourns after the past, but saved itself from the dark abyss, freeing itself. not allowing himself to get too close, always keeping everyone that comes near him at an arm's length. worrying he might grow too attached.

so why is he still here? here with you, chattering happily and conversing freely, he doesn't deserve it - he doesn't deserve you.

but is it wrong to be selfish for once? he knows the answer already: it is. but he can't help it, not when you coax him into this position, one which he can't leave, no matter how hard he tries.

“i love you.” you trace the letters along his neck, over the tattoo that is engraved on his skin.

you don't need a verbal answer to know that he feels the same way. perhaps, he himself hasn't realized it yet but he's conveyed his love for you many times already. just like now as he continues to lie in bed with you.

the both of you are oblivious, but that doesn't mean that either of you will stop in your tracks, turn back and leave. (even though he sometimes wishes to do so)

both satisfaction and love are two unfamiliar concepts for aventurine. but he'll try to get to know them. for the sake of you.

#toorurs #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine x reader #aventurine hsr #hsr aventurine #aventurine imagines #kakavasha x reader #aventurine fluff #kakavasha fluff #aventurine

510 notes · View notes

sunny44 · 1 month

Text

Meeting Hazel

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Wife&mom!reader

Warnings: hospital, mentions of birth

Summary: Y/n and Charles welcome their second born.

Finally, the hustle and bustle of the hospital had subsided. After hours of labor, I finally held our little Hazel in my arms. Her angelic face, wrapped in a soft pink blanket, seemed too perfect to be real. I looked at Charles, my husband, who smiled radiantly beside me, his eyes shining with pure admiration and love.

“You did an amazing job, amour.” he murmured, kissing my forehead tenderly. “She’s perfect.”

I smiled, tears of happiness streaming down my face.

“Thank you, Charles. I couldn’t have done it without you.” He smiled. “Literally couldn’t.”

“Very funny.” He gently brushed my forehead. “She’s perfect.”

“She is.” I smiled, looking at her. “But it’s the second time I get pregnant and the second time they look just like you.”

“What can I say, I’m very good at what I do.” He held my hand delicately, his fingers intertwining with mine.

“I’ll always be by your side, Y/n. And now we have our little family complete.”

As we got lost in the emotion of being parents again, a kind nurse gently reminded us that it was time for Charles to go home, take a shower, and rest a bit. He nodded, reluctant to leave our side, but knowing he needed a moment to recharge. But before leaving, he promised to bring Harvé, our three-year-old son, to meet his baby sister.

It was already night, and Charles waited for me to take a shower because I didn’t want to leave her with anyone else, so the nurses helped me in the shower, and after I got out, he said goodbye and left, promising that he and Harvé would be here first thing in the morning.

I went to breastfeed her and held Hazel in my arms, admiring every detail of her little face. She was so small and fragile, and she looked just like Charles.

I was almost certain that she would at least resemble me a little bit, but no, she was his spitting image, just like Harvé is.

Even their eye color was the same.

…

When Charles returned the next morning with Harvé, my heart filled with joy at seeing them walk through the door. Harve ran up to me, his eyes shining with excitement.

“Mommy! I came to meet Hazel!” he said, trying to climb onto the bed, and Charles lifted him and put him there.

“Be careful buddy. Don’t hug mommy too hard.” He agrees and lies down next to me and hugs me.

I hugged him affectionately, feeling tears welling up in my eyes again.

“She’s here, Harvé. Do you want to meet her?”

He nodded eagerly, his curious eyes fixed on little Hazel in my arms. Charles approached, smiling proudly.

“Harvé, this is your little sister, Hazel.”

he said, holding Harve in his lap so he could see better. “And Hazel, this is your big brother Harvé.”

Harvé looked at Hazel with admiration, his expression softening as he looked at her little face.

“She’s so tiny, daddy.” he observed, gently touching Hazel’s hand. “Does she knows k have Grand-père?”

“You can tell her later when se wakes up.” He nodded.

I smiled, watching the instant bond forming between them.

“Do you want to hold her, Harvé?” I asked, carefully offering Hazel to him.

He nodded enthusiastically, his eyes shining with excitement. Carefully, he held Hazel in his arms, his expression one of pure happiness. I obviously supported her weight, she was just lying in his arms.

“Hello, Hazel.” he said softly, stroking her face with his finger. “I’m your big brother, Harvé. I’ll always protect you.”

My heart melted at Harvé’s kind words. He was so sweet and gentle, so ready to love his little sister from the moment we told him I was pregnant. I knew they would have a special bond that would last forever.

As he held Hazel carefully, he suddenly remembered something and asked to get off the bed and ran out of the room. He returned shortly after, holding a small stuffed animal in his hands.

“I brought this for you, Hazel.” he said, handing the stuffed animal that Carlos gave him when he was born and he’s giving to his little sister. “It’s my favorite bear, uncle Carlos gave it to me. I hope you like it as much as I do.”

I smiled, touched by the look of pure happiness in Harvé’s eyes as he gifted Hazel.

“Oh sweetheart, thank you so much and I’m sure she’ll love it.” I said, holding his hand gratefully. “And I also gonna help her sleep like it did to you.”

Harvé smiled widely, his eyes shining with joy.

“I love you, mommy. I love you, daddy. I love you, Hazel.” he said, looking at each of us with love and tenderness.

We hugged him affectionately, feeling the love and gratitude flooding our hearts. I knew that from that moment on, our family would be united forever, facing life’s challenges together and celebrating its joys.

As I watched Charles hold Hazel in his arms, Harvé beside him with his stuffed bear, I felt complete. The journey to this point had been long and challenging, but now, with our little family by my side, I knew it had all been worth it. And as I held Charles’s hand and watched our children together, I knew I couldn’t ask for anything more in life.

Bonus scene!

Y/nleclerc instagram post

Liked by @charlesleclerc, @maxverstappen, @yourmom and others 293729

Y/nleclerc These past few months have been an emotional rollercoaster, Charles and I welcomed our daughter into the world and we couldn't be happier. Thank you to all our friends, family, and even fans who have given us so much support during this time.

Charles, myself, Harvé and little Hazel are incredibly grateful for everything.

466 notes · View notes

romanoffsbish · 2 months

Text

Please, Forgive Me

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

You broke up with Natasha—what have you done? | WC: 1,882

Warnings: Brief Angst | Toxic “Friend” / Natasha (if you squint) | Nonsexual Nudity (18+) | H/C Ending

“You look really pretty," Valerie, your best friend said with a smile that made your stomach flip into turmoil.

——

The smile on her face dropped, the sound of your chair scraping against the linoleum the clearest rejection. It made you sick and regretful for the last twelve hours.

It was an adrenaline rush spurred on by another fight with your beloved girlfriend, Natasha... Your beautiful, sweet Natasha with enamoring eyes and a sultry smirk.

You lurched up the dinner you just shared with that traitor Valerie, who smiled at you so tenderly, it was alarming. With her repulsive blue eyes, riddled with darker hued lines to which you confused with safety.

They were dangerous; a dark storm you got caught up in, not much unlike the one you were running through.

You missed the soft pair of green that belonged to the woman who owned the key to your heart and knew the way to unlocking your soul with purposeful fingers.

Looking into her eyes was a luxury only you and Yelena were granted; the halves of Natasha's heart, oh my...

You'd broken that heart only thirteen hours ago, now you were running through the rain to make amends. It was well past midnight but you had to get across town to the compound Natasha was unfortunately staying at.

If only you would have cast that she-devil aside at the first warning Natasha threw your way you'd be safe in her arms right now, likely looking into her eyes that reflected the same heat the fire beside you would've.

Natasha's eyes were your favorite feature, truly. The way they changed your view of her in various places always filled you with wonder on how she saw yours in the first place, she was just too good for this world.

At the compound they were almost always glazed over with a clear authority no one could question. From a side glance you'd see the Black Widow, but whenever she looked your way, which was often when you'd visit, there was a sparkle of humanity reserved for you alone.

Inside the four walls of your apartment her eyes always shined like brilliant emeralds, and her teasing smirk oftentimes softened into a goofy smile; a pure love that unfolded within her irises, right before your very own.

When you were outside she'd usually wear sunglasses, but on the off chance she'd forgotten them you could see the way the sun drew out light splotches of brown. Which fondly reminded you of the days you two spent wandering the countryside, getting lost in forests with shades of green that reflected the same field you got lost in every time you looked into your lovers orbs.

They were complex—guarded, but you had worn down her walls enough to get a peak into her greatest joys and most heartbreaking sadness. You blinked hard, a hand on the freezing call box outside of the compound going unfelt as you tried to forget the pools of sadness.

Those were the last things you saw when you broke up.

The thought alone nearly halts you, the minuscule contents left within your stomach churning tauntingly as if to remind you that this was all your fault. Valerie told you Natasha was being toxic, and in some twisted sense you actually believed the hypocrites words.

You told Natasha she was toxic, and you knew how much that likely shattered her remaining self image.

What kind of person does that to the love of their life?

All of you wanted to push the code and call out to her, but you realized now how selfish it was to expect her to console you. This heartbreak was all your own doing because you truly thought Valerie was your friend, that she was right thinking Nat was being controlling, but she was a two face liar and you were an absolute fool.

Natasha deserved better, your hand fell from the box and you were prepared to walk away, but a soft voice full of exhaustion called through the speaker, "Y/N?"

All you could do was to pitifully whimper her name.

You cast a look down at your watch, a photo of the two of you smiling popped up under a bright red 1:32AM that flashed beneath a raindrop, which magnified the early morning hour that filled you with shame.

There was no time to apologize for the impromptu arrival as you heard the loud buzz that let you in. You resumed your sprint and through your tears made it to the place Natasha stood ready to catch you in her arms. The impact had to have hurt her just as it did you but she stood strong, like an unmovable fortress. A warm breath fanned over your chilled cheek and fresh hot guilt trailed down your cheeks when you felt her relax.

Natasha wasn't angry, no, she was relieved. This was meant to inspire joy in you but it hurt you more. Of course the woman would forgive you just like that.

"I'm so sorry Nat," you wailed, breaking the silence, "Fu-fuck, I can't believe I-I," you couldn't stop the harsh hiccups that stopped your heartfelt apology.

This absolutely made Natasha panic, you had stopped breathing for more than three seconds, she was about to rush you to the medical wing if not for your sharp inhale. "Keep breathing detka, just breathe, please."

You looked up into her eyes and for the first time ever you saw fear, in the bravest set of eyes you'd ever seen.

"I," you tried again but she pecked your lips shut. "I don't need you to apologize detka, you coming back to me is apology enough. I'm not mad, just worried, so please don't fuss and just let me take you inside..."

Natasha was a warrior but right now she was breaking, her eyes were pleading with you to finally stand down. To wave your white flag and let her fix everything.

"Okay," you whispered, and were rewarded with a warm kiss to your cheek that sent a shiver down your spine, which didn't go unnoticed by the worried spy.

Without question the redhead took you straight to her room and ran you a bath that likely rivaled the devil's. The redhead preferred room temp but never backed down from the challenge when it meant she could hold you close. Tonight was different though, even if she didn't need your apology she did need your consent.

In your relationship, that was technically called off, it was always welcome unless announced otherwise.

Natasha made no assumptions, and simply escorted you into the room when she deemed you'd adjusted to the rooms temperature enough before you were set to enter another that would have been polar opposite.

But you stopped her dead in her respectful tracks.

"Stay." She couldn't say no even if she wanted to, the way you looked over at her, like a frightened mouse, it made her forget all of the pain from the prior day.

There was nothing but tenderness in her touch when she tilted you up and slid in behind you. Her arms didn't even have a chance to settle around you as you instantly rolled over. Natasha had huffed in genuine surprise when you straddled her, your arms dangling over her shoulders as your face pressed into her neck. Her muscular arms locked over one another around your lower back and she hummed a soothing tune.

A gentle smile adorned Natasha's face when she heard the first snore then felt it rumble against her skin. She was ticklish and suddenly desperate to clean the both of you up and get you tucked into her Avengers bed.

The first time she heard you call the mattress that with such disgust she became defensive. But, before she could match your energy you elaborated and it was so sweet, how you regarded your apartment bed as hers, that she learned to listen first and question later.

Natasha knew yesterday afternoon that you'd come back, once you've had time to think of course. Not because she was manipulative or cocky either, but because she believed in not only your love, but her gut. She knew that as soon as you saw Valerie's intentions you'd come here to apologize for thoughts given to you.

The glint in your eyes when you're being truthful was missing when you broke things off, and so she knew this was just a standard moment of lived experience.

Natasha knew you wholly, which is why she knew better than to expect you to stay asleep when she left the room. She returned to find you sat up, the sleeves of her hoodie were balled up in your fists that rubbed your eyes in an attempt to make your vision less bleary.

"Detka," she hummed, it was angelic like, "I made you some tea because I wanna get ahead of your cold."

You pouted and shook your head. "Natasha..."

A tense sigh left her and your back straightened.

"I am not mad Y/N," her tone was level and void of unsureness, "you can't sway me because I love you, and I know you were being poisoned by your dear friend."

"Enemy," you corrected venomously and she chuckled heartily, as if your distaste healed her fresh wounds.

"The point is I love you and knew you loved me too."

"I do," you pleaded with pooling tears in your eyes. "You are my one and only Natasha, I'm so sorry."

"Don't cry pretty girl," she wiped away tears that slid halfway down your cheeks. "Don't be sorry either, I think we're stronger than this moment detka."

"But I hurt you, you should hate me." Natasha gritted her teeth and nearly spilled the tea as she set it down with a purposeful slam. "Don't ever say that again."

You blinked in shock as she gripped your chin and forced you to stop staring at the wall behind her, and into her eyes instead. Another sob shakily left your lips as you wordlessly understood the truth in them, she wasn't capable of doing anything else but loving you.

Instead of trying to make your point that she deserved better, which you knew would be futile, you leaned in and kissed her with a gentle passion. "I'm sorry..."

"I forgive you," Natasha relented, giving you a sense of closure even if she didn't mean the words. Her entire life up until you required a ruthless demeanor, but she has taken so well to the softer side of life with you. It was impossible for her to feel the anger she should towards you when you'd done nothing maliciously.

You called her toxic, it hurt; you didn't mean it though.

Intent is everything to the woman, and she knew yours was, ironically, under the influence of another's words.

Plus, Natasha knew on some level that she was toxic—it was something Valerie would come to find out once the redhead finally tapped into the fresh heartbreak...

For now though, she'd hold you close and listen to the way you breathed, a warmth, layered with a sense of calmness crept into her chest and soothed her woes with every subtle reminder that you were still hers.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff hurt comfort #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x female reader #gxg #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader

240 notes · View notes

sinkovia · 3 months

Text

Polaroids

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Angst, mention of suicide, mention of death.

Underneath the winter sky, the world transformed into a pristine landscape of snow-covered fields and frost-kissed trees. You and Simon found yourselves amidst this winter wonderland, bundled up against the chill, ready to capture a moment frozen in time.

With the camera in your hand, you pulled Simon close, wrapping your arm around him as you both huddled together for a picture. There was anticipation in the air as you counted down. "Three!" you exclaimed, and just as the flash burst into life, Simon seized the opportunity. A mischievous grin played on his lips as he swiftly smashed a snowball onto your head right at the moment the picture was taken.

"Simon!" a mix of laughter and surprise in your voice. Your hair was dusted with snow, and you looked at him with mock indignation, but the gleam in your eyes hinted at joy. Simon, with a mischievous grin, reveled in the success of his snow assault.

The snowball ambush marked the beginning of a delightful chaos. Laughter echoed through the winter air as you both dodged, ducked, and retaliated with fluffy ammunition. The pristine landscape transformed into a battleground, each throw leaving its mark on the snowy canvas.

As you dodged and weaved, Simon's infectious laughter filled the air, his playful spirit contagious. Eventually, he closed the distance between you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. You felt a mischievous glint in his eyes, and before you could react, he playfully brought you down into the soft snow. The cold powder cushioned the fall, and you found yourself rolling together, laughter bubbling up between you.

In the midst of the snowy tussle, the world around you blurred into a playful dance of white. The winter air was filled with the sounds of your laughter and the soft crunch of snow.

Eventually, the playful roll came to a gentle stop, leaving you on top of Simon. Amidst the falling glistening snowflakes, you looked into each other's eyes, the two of you catching your breath between fits of laughter.

As your laughter gradually faded into a contented quiet, you leaned down, your smile lingering, and pressed your lips to his in a soft kiss. The softness of the snow beneath you mirrored the tenderness of the stolen moment, and the world seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you in your snowy sanctuary.

In the midst of this tender exchange, a soft click resonated. You turned your gaze to the right, where Simon held up the camera, capturing another candid moment, immortalizing the post-snowball fight kiss.

Taking the polaroid, you began to huff warm air onto it, warding off the haziness that the cold weather threatened to impose. Squinting at the image, a frown creased your features.

"What's wrong, love?"

"My face is all hazy, damn cold weather."

"Let me see." you turned the photo over so he could examine it with squinted eyes.

"Hmm, only a little, but why would I look at a picture when I'll always have you next to me?" Shaking your head, you kissed him again. "For memories, Si."

Those words echoed in Simon's mind as he held the Polaroid in his hand, sitting alone on a bench. The serene snowy landscape looked dull and gray without you. It had been a year since you passed, your life cut short by a drunk driver hitting the passenger side of the car. The memory of that tragic day haunted him, and the Polaroid served as a bittersweet reminder of the love and laughter that once filled his life.

In the quiet solitude, Simon vividly recalled the moment he turned to look at you in the passenger seat. Laughter filled the car as you both shared a moment over an awful joke. He just wanted another glimpse of you laughing, savoring the way you closed your eyes and held a hand to your stomach in pure joy. Your radiant smile, the tears in your eyes—he longed to see your radiance, a sight he had always cherished.

Then came the headlights on the other side of the passenger window. Panic set in, and Simon tried to react, to steer away, anything to shield you from the impending danger. But it was too late. The impact sent the car flipping several times before landing upright. Simon, initially dazed, was jolted into awareness by the sound of your labored attempts to breathe, a shard of glass embedded on the left side of your neck.

You turned to look at him, tears streaming down your face. Pure desperation filled his gaze as he swiftly unbuckled his seatbelt, reaching over to hold your neck in an attempt to stop the blood spurting from your neck.

"S…si…" Your eyes conveyed agony as your choked attempts at breathing became more shallow.

"Shh, sweetheart, it's okay baby. You're gonna be okay, I promise." He spoke with a tremor in his voice, desperately denying the gravity of the situation when your hand fell limp from your neck, landing in your lap. He reassured himself that you were still alive.

"Help is coming, baby, I promise. Just hang in there, okay? For me, can you do that for me, baby?" His words were a desperate plea, and when he heard you stop trying to breathe, he continued to deny the reality, reassuring himself that you were still alive.

"Just breathe slow, sweetheart. Please, just breathe, baby. Please just—" When your head slumped against his shoulder, he felt his hands begin to shake, a lump forming in his throat that made it hard for him to speak.

"Y/n, baby, I need you to lift… I need you to lift your head up, baby. I can't… I can't." He choked out a sob as his hands slowly moved away from your neck. He started heaving in breaths as he threw open the driver door and collapsed on the ground. His chest tightened, and his heart raced a million miles per hour. He couldn't bear to see your lifeless body. He clawed at his chest as a sharp pain tore through.

He was having a heart attack.

The paramedics arrived just in time to tend to Simon, nearly saving his life, a fact he later cursed them for. Why couldn't they just let him follow you into the afterlife?

Staring at the two Polaroids in his hand, he longed to go back to that day. Back to a time when everything that reminded him of you didn't cause insurmountable pain, a time when he still felt warmth—a time when you were still alive.

Despite the accident not being his fault, Simon carried the burden of self-blame, haunted by the regret of not noticing the oncoming car. The echoes of that fateful day lingered, casting a shadow over the stark winter scene surrounding him. Rising from the bench, he walked back to the house you once shared—a place you had made a home.

In the hallway, he stopped and looked at the framed photo of both of you, taken on your first date. You insisted on framing it, and he softly smiled, almost hearing your voice echo through the walls of the house.

He continued walking until he reached the edge of the bed, where he sat down and pulled out his phone, dialing 911.

"911, what's your emergency?"

“I heard gunshots at my neighbor's house, the address is 1311 Amberville Rd,” he reported stoically before hanging up and reaching for the metal box under his side of the bed. Slowly opening it, he revealed a pistol.

He tried his best to carry on, to honor the memories you had together, to keep you alive through the love in his heart. However, the weight of living without you became unbearable. Tired of waking up each day without you by his side, exhausted from the relentless nightmares that plagued him.

He was simply tired of experiencing life without you.

He took the gun from the box, raising it to his temple. Without hesitating he pulled the trigger.

His eyes flew open, and he quickly sat up in bed, confusion clouding his gaze as he realized it looked just like your shared home. The surroundings appeared brighter, more vivid than before. Slowly getting up, he walked through the hallway, glancing at the framed picture on the wall before searching the entire house, only to find it empty. Opening the front door, he stepped outside, the soft crunch of snow under his shoes echoing with each step. The snow seemed to stretch out for miles, and trees covered in a thin layer of snow surrounded the yard.

Furrowing his brows at the unfamiliar scene, he noticed it was odd—they never had trees in their front yard. He remembered your dream of having big oak and willow trees. He smiled when he remembered the small pout you made when he told you that trees take years to grow full size.

Suddenly, a snowball crashed onto the side of his head. He heard your laughter and turned wide-eyed to see you running up, tackling him to the soft snowy ground. Rolling with you until he stopped, you ended up on top of him. He looked up at you in disbelief, tears welling in his eyes. Cupping your face with shaky hands, he questioned if it was too good to be true. Was he dreaming again? No, this felt too real. You felt too real.

“Y/n?” You smiled and gently pressed your lips to his.

“You came too early, Si.” He shook his head, his eyes bouncing all over your features. “I didn't come soon enough. I'm sorry I kept you waiting, love.” You smiled as you gazed down at him, your heart swelling. He combed his fingers through your hair.

“I missed you so much, sweetheart.” You nestled your head in the crook of his neck. He took in a deep breath, your scent filling him with warmth. “I missed you too, Si.”

263 notes · View notes

josephquinnswhore · 1 year

Note

hello hello hello!! i hope you're having a wonderful day my dearest 💛

i have a dad pedro x pregnant wife reader request if you're taking them?

could you do where like reader is like almost ready to pop with their third child and their first maybe around 8 years old and their second is around 6 years old and reader and pedro finally agree on getting a house and they go house hunting. i'm a big sucker for imaging how it would be to have a family with this man and doing stuff like this with him.

pure fluff and happiness bc my depressed ass needs some happiness 💛💛

-much love my darling 💛💛

Settling In

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x female reader.

Summary: you and Pedro are hunting for your dream home before your third bundle of joy arrives.

Word Count: 1.7k

Content Warning: pregnancy, mentions of blood, bodily fluids, birth (not detailed.)

Note: I’m sorry this is short I’m sick and my brain hurts lol. Anyways I hope you love this, thank you so much for requesting!!

The grunt that leaves your lips as you roll around on the bed is involuntary, trying to escape the warmth urgently as your baby sits on your bladder, putting more pressure for you to get to the toilet. You ignore the pains in your body as you stand, waddling to the toilet just in time to not lose your bladder on the bathroom tiles.

You thoroughly wash your hands and wipe them on your fleecy pyjamas. A delicious smell wafts from down the hall, your mouth watering with saliva as your stomach grumbles with want. Your steps are heavy as you tread down the hallway, your body slightly rocking side to side as you waddle, your heavily pregnant stomach taking its toll on every inch of your body. Your eldest daughter Maria comes running toward you first, “morning mama, dads making us breakfast. Your favourite too.” You play with her hair as she hugs you, pushing a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. “Oh did he? Isn’t that sweet.” She rushes to her spot at the table, screeching her chair as she waits patiently for her food. Your second daughter, Andie stays seated, you press a kiss to the top of her head as she swings her legs under the table as she groans in frustration, tired of waiting for her food. “Good morning baby.” She huffs, finally looking at you as Pedro comes over with plates full of food for the girls. “Hi mama.” Pedro serves the girls their food, not wanting to keeping them waiting a minute longer. He sets the rest of the food down for the two of you, stalking towards you with a grin on his face. “What’s got you in a good mood this morning?” You question with mock suspicion. “Can’t I just be happy to see my beautiful wife?” Your cheeks heat at his comment, rolling your eyes as you lean into him. “I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.” He pulls away from the hug, pulling your designated seat away from the table so you can sit. As he sits you fill your plate of your favourite breakfast foods and some fresh fruit. “I do have good news to share baby, you got me.” He throws his hands up and you smile, watching him In encouragement to continue, “I think we’ve found a house. We can go and look today if you’re up for it. Make sure it’s everything you’ve dreamed of.” Your tears start filling with tears, hormones flowing through your body like a tidal wave. “Baby that’s incredible.” His grin widens, “the appointment is for 10:30 this morning. Once the girls are done eating I’ll get them ready, you sit and enjoy your breakfast.”

After 10 long minutes of ruffling through your wardrobe you finally find an outfit that you like, it accentuates your bump beautifully, matching your skin tone. You slip on a pair of vans, not bothering to be too formal today, thinking more about your comfort.

“You look incredible, do you know what?” You giggle and hide your face in your hands, after 10 years of being with Pedro he still had a way of making you feel like a teenager with a crush, “you only tell me a hundred times a day.” Pedro huffs shaking his head, “that’s not enough, make sure to scold me next time.” He jests. “The girls are strapped into the car, you ready to go?” You pat your pockets, phone, wallet, keys. “Good to go.” You confirm.

You try not to laugh as you see the girls dressed in mixed matched clothing, Pedro was never one for caring about kids dressing in super expensive clothing, nor did he care how they dress, he let them dress themselves most days unless it was ridiculously outrageous. Pedro opens the passenger door to his Audi for you, letting you hold his hand as you lower yourself into the leather seat. He presses a kiss to your hand before he shuts the door.

You had seen the house online, no price listed which you would assume means one thing; it’s expensive. The neighbourhood was filled with extravagant houses and perfectly mowed front yards, some with picket fences and gardens full of colourful flourishing flowers. The house had a sign out the front “for sale” in bold orange letters. It took your breath away momentarily, “holy shit.” Pedro only smiled as you watch in awe as he helps the girls out of their seats, opening the doors for them. “Wait here while I help mama out of the car, okay? Stay here.” The girls agreed in a unison of, “okay papa.” Pedro helps you out of the car, holding his hand above your head to make sure you don’t bump it on the door frame. A grunt leaves your lips as you stretch your spine, cracking in a few places before it settles again, earning a big kick from your baby.

“What a beautiful family we have here! You must be,” she checks her notepad for appointments, “Mr Pascal. Pleasure to meet you, I’m Donna.” Pedro nods his head, “this is my wife and our two daughters, Maria and Andie.” The middle age lady greets your daughters kindly, “hi Donna.” Your daughters greet, the ladies short blonde hair rested on the shoulder of her suit jacket. “Hi girls. Why don’t we get started and go inside and I can show you around!” “Perfect!” You cheer. As you walk through the front door you’re in the kitchen, the white granite bench accentuates the kitchen countertop. The kitchen was modern, stylish lights hanging from the ceiling illuminating a bright yellow light. “This kitchen was renovated by the last owners, first of many bonuses that come with the house!” You look around in awe, trying to take in the minute details and imagining yourself cooking meals for Pedro and the kids in this kitchen, smiling to yourself at the thought. “Now just around the corner we have the living room, a spacious area for your beautiful family! A fireplace was also added by previous owners, the perfect addition for the upcoming winter!” The lounge room was fully furnished, the room accentuated with light grey and whites. An artwork catches your eye on the wall, a familiar work “CENTREFOLD” by Kathryn Macnaughton. “The last owner had good taste in art.” Donna laughs, “the last owner painted this artwork.” You turn to her as your mouth gapes open, “wow, that’s incredible.”

The bedrooms are spacious, enough for the girls to have their own and baby when they get old enough. The mast bedroom is huge, the California King Bed sits proudly on its black bedframe, the room furnished and you wonder if it comes with the house. “Does the house come furnished?” Donna smiles widely as she shows you the ensuite bathroom. “It does come fully furnished! You can always discard of or replace the furniture if it’s not to your liking.” You and Pedro share a look “no, it’s perfect, you insist, inspecting the shower, already imagining you and Pedro showering your newborn together.

“Why don’t you go and show the girls the garden out back sweetheart?” The girls cheered at Pedro’s suggestion, “sure,” you gestured the girls out the back, “let’s go and have a look at the pretty flowers outside. See if we can find any butterflies.” The two girls take one hand each and drag you out the door which makes Pedro laugh. It’s beautiful outside, it’s cooling down through the day in transition for winter. The flowers are big and bold, full of nectar which attracts bumblebees and butterflies.

“Look mama a big butterfly!” Your eyes follow Andie’s finger, eyes finding the blue Monarch butterfly that lands on a yellow flower, sucking the nectar and fluttering away all in a matter of seconds. “Look he’s got friends!” Maria yells, running to chase the butterflies that wonder over the fence. “Aw they’re gone.” Maria sighs with disappointment in her voice, “it’s okay baby. We’ll see lots of butterflies if daddy wants this house.” Your hand rests on her head, running your fingers down her dark locks. “Are we going to live her mama?” You shrug, “it’s not up to me baby.”

“Actually, it’s entirely up to you. How do you like it?” Pedro’s voice makes you turn around, a small smile on your face as you see his red cheeks. “I love it baby. It just looks.. expensive.” Pedro frowns, the wrinkles in his face are deepening at his expression. His hand rests on your pregnant stomach, “this is for us, our family. If you want is, it’s ours.” You wipe the tears that collect on your lash line with a laugh, “making me emotional Pedrito. Yes I would love it here, the girls are having so much fun.” The sound of the girls laughter fills the air, the birds singing their songs accompany them. “I was hoping you would say that, because I already bought the house.” Pedro admits sheepishly. You wrap your arms around his neck, your bulging stomach creating a space between you, stopping you from being completely into him. “It’s perfect Pedro, I can’t wait for our baby to be here with us.” He kisses your lips sweetly, “I can’t wait for him to be here either.” You raise your eyebrows, “him?” He shrugs casually, “just got a feeling.”

“It’s a boy!” The midwife declares. Tears are falling down your cheeks as sobs fall through your lips, the small infant is placed on your chest, a beanie on his head and skin still coated in blood and fluid. His loud wailing cries settle as you wrap your arms around him, kissing him on the head. “You’re so perfect.” Pedro is kissing the skin of your sweaty shoulders as the midwife’s clean you up. “Oscar Jose Pascal. Welcome to the world.” Pedro is crying and you wrap him in a blanket, “do you want to hold him?” Pedro’s eyes are red from crying, “please, baby, please.” Pedro was shaking, you sit him down on the chair besides the bed, “take your shirt off, he needs skin to skin contact.” Pedro follows your instruction, holding his son to his chest, learning his head into Oscar’s. “God he’s so perfect. You did incredible baby, I’m so proud of you.” You place your hand on his thigh, rubbing it lovingly, “I can’t wait to get him home. The girls are gonna love him.” Pedro only hums in agreement as he intently listens to his soon coo at his touch. Your family was complete.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro x fem reader #husband Pedro pascal #dad Pedro pascal #fluff #pedro pascal fic

567 notes · View notes

bella-rose29 · 3 months

Text

Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - part 10

gingerbread competition (part 2)

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: SOMEONE GETS BITCH-SLAPPED, swearing, references to body image issues, references to eating disorders (very vague but still), uhh idk if there's anything else tbh

series masterlist

(the second photo will make sense when you get to the end I promise)

“There’s forty-five minutes left on the timer!” Ben called, making sure that everyone in both the kitchen and the adjoining dining room could hear him.

Shrieks of joy and muttered curses split the air, covering up the music they had playing softly in the background, but Y/n and her Gramps remained mostly silent. Both were working hard to decorate and join together the many pieces of gingerbread they had laid out before them (which they had managed to put in the fridge for a little while to cool them down so that the icing didn’t melt), and currently Y/n was holding the walls of their building together as her Gramps glued them with icing. “There,” he said as he pulled the piping bag away, sitting back slightly after being hunched in his chair in concentration. “Right. Let’s put the roof on next, and then you can start doing all that fancy decorating you normally do.”

She could feel Steph watching her while she worked, a smug smile visible on her cousin’s face even out of the corner of Y/n’s eye, but she paid her no mind. Whatever happened, she wouldn’t get the better of Y/n and Anthony, and she had to hope that her family sided with the two of them and not Steph. Besides, she and her Gramps had to win this competition, just so that she could hold it over Anthony’s head for the rest of their lives, and that required total concentration.

Unfortunately, if she so much as glanced directly in front of her, she was met with the sight of his hands.

He was holding a piping bag like her Gramps was, tracing the lines of the gingerbread that he and Nana Jean had baked and were now bringing together, and she had a sneaking suspicion that he had sat opposite her deliberately because he now knew how much she looked at his hands. She flushed at the memory of him leaning down to whisper in her ear not too long ago, and cleared her throat as she returned her attention to her own gingerbread.

“OI!” Sam shouted from the kitchen, making her startle and nearly drop the pieces of gingerbread she was holding. Y/n whipped her head up to see Will cackling at the icing that now covered their brother’s face. “IT’S MEANT TO GO ON THE GINGERBREAD, YOU IDIOT!” Y/n’s mother intervened before Sam could chuck the dry icing sugar at Will in retaliation, and Y/n shook her head with a chuckle. She heard Anthony huff a laugh from his position across the table, and she looked up in time to meet his gaze. His smile was blinding, to the point she wanted to ask if she could borrow his sunglasses, and she realised that she could watch him smile all day and not get bored. Before she would have scoffed and told him to stop being so painfully fake, but there was nothing but true happiness in this smile. Normally his real smiles were small; the opposite of the ones he gave clients, because he was attempting to be somebody they could trust.

“What?” he asked, voice quiet but filled with amusement.

“Nothing,” she shrugged. “You just look happy, is all.” His resulting blush made her stomach flip.

“Oh.”

“You are so red right now, I hope you know that,” she mused, turning back to her gingerbread. Her Gramps had put the roof on, and it was safe enough to let go.

“Funnily enough I can feel how warm my face is, but thank you for pointing it out, Schmoopie.”

“Anthony.” Her tone held a warning.

“Sorry.”

“What did I say about calling me Schmoopie?”

“Sorry.”

She was smiling regardless.

~~~

“Ten minutes!”

Anthony wasn’t sure who had called the time, but Nana Jean didn’t seem to even notice. She was clearly on a mission, decorating the gingerbread house with pure concentration and very steady hands, and although he couldn’t actually see Y/n’s design (she’d put up some sort of makeshift wall a little while ago, claiming she didn’t want any cheating. Anthony thought it was more because she couldn’t stop looking at his hands) he had a good feeling that she wouldn’t be winning. He hadn’t been lying when he’d talked about his skills in the kitchen (even if it had come out sounding more like he was talking about his skills in the bedroom), and Jean had complemented his icing multiple times, making him feel warm inside.

Steph passed behind him and he tensed, waiting for her to attack in some way, but she kept on walking and he let out a shaky breath. He wasn’t scared exactly, but knowing that in a very short amount of time everybody in the house would know that he and Y/n had been lying to their faces was making his heart beat a little faster. When Nana Jean smiled at him again after he finished decorating another section of the house he realised that he wasn’t scared that they would find out, but more that he would lose the family he had made here. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle them reacting negatively and wanting him out of their house and lives, and while he would have Y/n and his friends back in London he would always feel something missing when he thought about this place.

“Alright, nearly done now. Those losers won’t know what’s hit them!” Nana Jean whispered gleefully, triumph already shining in her eyes. Anthony chuckled, readjusting the piping bag in his grip and holding back a snort when he caught Y/n staring again. “She really cares about you, you know.” He looked back at Jean, surprise clear on his face at the change in her tone. “I’ve not seen her this happy since she was a little girl, back before she went to London and saw the world for what it was.” He blushed again for the millionth time that day at Jean’s words, and she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Thank you. For bringing my granddaughter back to me.” He went to answer, but emotion made speaking difficult. God, he really hoped that Jean took Steph’s news well.

“I’d do anything to see her happy,” he choked out in the end, doing his best to not sound too strained. Knowing how differently she acted around her family compared to how she acted back at Portland Row, he realised that Jean could see it too. Steph and Linda had royally fucked with Y/n’s head, and here was her grandmother telling Anthony that he was undoing their cruelty and being her saving grace.

If either of them tried anything when Steph broke the news, he knew that he would not hesitate to drag them through the dirt for what they’d done to the girl he loved.

~~~

“Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Time is up! Everybody step away from your gingerbread!” Ben shouted, looking up from his watch. He and Olivia would judge the creations, and crown the winners for the year. So far Y/n and Will had the winning streak of five years in a row, but now they were on separate teams the title was free for anyone to take.

Well, not anyone. Steph and Linda had barely bothered with theirs, and most of it was still dough since they’d mixed the wrong proportions of ingredients and had refused to get their hands dirty. Looking around at her competition, Y/n felt confident that her and her Gramps’ house would win, even if she couldn’t actually see Nana Jean and Anthony’s because of the partition she had put up.

Her sister and father went around the room, tasting different gingerbread pieces and writing notes in their little notebooks, doing their best to remain neutral. They struggled when they got to Steph and Linda’s house though, and Olivia outright refused to even touch their uncooked gingerbread.

“Anthony and Nana Jean, this looks incredible!” Y/n’s father said as he approached their end of the table. Nana Jean snuck a smug look towards Y/n’s Gramps, and he just smiled in response, taking the barrier away so that the two of them could see what their respective partners had made.

She had to hand it to them, they’d done an excellent job.

It was a classic cottage-style house, complete with tiled roof icing patterns and carefully placed sweets acting as decoration, and given that Anthony had done most of the icing (and she’d seen his drawings on the thinking cloth) it was surprisingly neat. Now it was his turn to send a smirk in her direction, and Y/n was entirely professional and mature in her response and stuck her middle finger up at him.

Her father and Olivia tested the gingerbread, then scribbled down some notes in their books (Y/n was sure she could make out multiple exclamation points in her dad’s notes), and suddenly she could feel her heart beating much faster in her chest. Nana Jean was known for her gingerbread recipe and how good it was, and Y/n and her Gramps would have to beat them on presentation if they wanted to win. She wasn’t sure they would pull it off given how neat and generally amazing Anthony and Nana Jean’s house looked, and she swallowed thickly.

Ben and Olivia rounded the end of the table to stand on Y/n’s left, and she wiped her sweaty hands on her trousers. Her Gramps didn’t look worried in the slightest, and when Nana Jean peered over the table to get a look at what her opponents had done he let out a chuckle.

“Is that… is that our house?” Olivia asked as she stared at the creation. It had taken a lot of careful measuring from her Gramps, and then more measuring after the gingerbread had been baked, and then a lot of careful glueing and decorating, but the two of them had made a near exact replica of the house they were currently all stood in.

“Uh… yeah. We thought it would be nice to do, you know?” Y/n replied, glancing back at her Gramps. He was too busy wriggling his eyebrows at Nana Jean in triumph to notice.

“Well it looks perfect, love,” her dad said, and he quickly wrote something down in his book. Olivia nodded in agreement and clicked her pen to scribble down her thoughts, and then they were taking up the pieces of gingerbread that were separate from the main house to try it. Y/n held her breath, and beside her she felt her Gramps tense for the first time since the judging started. “Tastes perfect, too,” her father grinned, finishing the piece off and writing up the rest of his notes.

“Holy shi-”

“Language, Olivia,” her mother warned.

“Sorry, it’s just really good gingerbread.”

“So,” Linda piped up, “when do we find out who won? I’d like to go and sit down somewhere… clean, if you don’t mind.”

“Liv and I will have a chat while you guys clear up in here, and we’ll see you in the living room when you’re done?”

“Sounds good!” Steph exclaimed, and everybody looked at her in confusion at her chipper tone. She was already moving to tidy up, and Emma frowned at her niece’s actions. “Come on, we need to know the results!”

“Okay… but you know that you definitely haven’t won, right?” John said, staring at Steph while she moved over to the sink to start washing up.

“Oh, I know! It’s just that I’ve remembered something I wanted to tell everyone, but I thought it would be better to do it after the winner is announced!” Y/n felt her heart skip a beat or two in her chest, and she locked eyes with Anthony.

“Right… well, okay,” Emma said, and she started putting things in the dishwasher. “You two go and discuss then; we’ll tidy up.”

~~~

It took them seventeen minutes and thirty-two seconds to clear up, and Y/n knew that because she was checking her watch every ten seconds or so to find out how long they had until Steph fucked everything up.

Anthony came and walked next to her as they headed into the living room, and his hand brushed over her back gently in reassurance. “We’ll be alright, darling. The snow’s melting anyway, so it shouldn’t be too long until we can go home if it all goes wrong. Not that it will, I don’t think. Nobody likes Steph and everybody loves us, so we’ll be alright, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Ugh, I hate this. I just wish she’d do it now and get it over with.”

“I need to be crowned winner first, darling,” he teased, sitting down on their loveseat. Y/n made sure to not bother with being careful about crushing him when she sat down on top of him, and snorted at the groan he let out when she did so.

“Aw, Schmoopie, it’s adorable that you think you’ve beaten me.” She reached back and pinched his cheek, laughing when he glared at her.

“Right!” Ben declared, moving into the centre of the room. Olivia held the plastic crowns that they had bought from a cheap fancy dress shop years ago, back when the competition had first started. They had to be put back in the fancy dress box when the day was over, but the winners got bragging rights for a year. “In third place!” They didn’t bother with placing everyone since nobody really cared much about that, and Y/n saw her family all sit up a little bit more in their seats while they waited to hear who had placed where. “Drum roll please… Will and Sam! Although they did end up with considerably more gingerbread mix on them than everyone else, their design of St. Paul’s Cathedral was ambitious and mostly executed!” Y/n thought that was a generous description of the gingerbread building that her brothers had made, given it had fallen over after about three minutes.

“It was a very close call between first and second place, with our two teams being Anthony and Nana Jean, and Y/n and Richard!” Olivia chimed in, and Y/n felt Anthony tense behind her. She shared a look with her Gramps, and he gave her a nod that said ‘we’ve won, I know it’.

“In first place, and taking the crown for this year’s gingerbread competition,” Ben said, his voice a little quieter so that everybody had to lean in to hear him. “Can I get another drum roll, please?” Everyone obliged, even Steph and Linda (although the latter did roll her eyes and pretended to gag), and Y/n could have sworn that nobody was breathing. “Y/n and Richard! Congratulations, you two!”

She took a moment to process her father’s words, and then another moment to process her sister handing over the plastic crown, and then a third moment to process Anthony groaning in frustration behind her.

Then she promptly turned around to face her boyfriend, pointed in his face, and said “HAHA!”

“Yeah, yeah. Alright, darling. You win.” He didn’t look too cut up about it, a soft smile gracing his features, and Y/n planted a quick kiss on his lips. “I think your Gramps is more smug than you are, to be honest.” She looked behind her at her grandparents just in time to see her Gramps get up and start doing some sort of victory dance. Nana Jean had her head in her hands, but Y/n knew she was smiling beneath it.

“Oh yeah, Steph?” Sam spoke up once the crowns were situated on the winners’ heads and people had calmed down a little. “What did you wanna tell everyone?”

“Yes! Well, I think I should first of all give Anthony and Y/n a chance to explain first, unless they would rather I did it?” Steph’s smile was sharp, and there was an icy fire dancing in her eyes. Y/n froze under the weight of it, and suddenly breathing was hard. Anthony slipped his arms further around her waist, and before she could even begin to think of what to say, he was talking for her.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about, Steph,” he said, perfectly falling into the role he needed to play. He tilted his head slightly in mock confusion, and Steph’s smile only grew.

“What’s going on?” Will asked, chewing on a piece of gingerbread he’d nabbed from the kitchen. “What’s it got to do with them?” He cast a glance towards them, and Y/n knew that if nothing else she’d have him on her side. He already knew about what Steph was going to say anyway, and he’d given his full support.

“They faked the whole relationship!” Steph exclaimed, spreading her arms out as she laughed. She was met with silence while people took in her words, and then Emma laughed herself. “I can prove it!”

“Oh, Steph, you don’t need to!” Emma chuckled. “We know.”

“Wait what?” Y/n said, sitting up straight in shock.

“It was very painfully obvious that you two can’t stand each other,” her mother continued. “Although something must have happened at some point, because the weird tension is gone.” Y/n’s mouth was hanging open, and she looked around at her gathered family. Steph’s eyes were practically bulging out of her head.

“Did… did all of you know?!” Scattered nods and murmured agreements were given in reply. “Why did nobody say anything?!”

“Because it was funny to watch you try to fool everyone and fail!” Steph cried, still trying to have the advantage.

“No,” Nana Jean said, her tone harsh. “It’s because we didn’t want to make it awkward. I mean, you brought your boss to your family’s christmas gathering to play the role of the boyfriend, and if we’d told you we had that figured out after the first day, then what would we have done?!”

“Hang on, the first day?!”

“It was rather obvious, love,” her Gramps added on with a shrug. “You looked downright murderous when you looked at him. Emma’s right though, something did change.”

“Yeah, they made out,” Will said, not looking up from where he sat in the corner eating. Somehow he’d found more food, and when everybody stared at him he finally glanced up. “What? Y/n/n came and told me all about it!”

“Not all about it, Will! I told you the vague outline of what had happened! And if you knew since the first day then why the hell did you act so confused?!”

“Oh, I genuinely didn’t know.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Nah, it’s alright.” Anthony hadn’t said a word the whole time, and for a moment Y/n was worried he’d passed away from embarrassment or something.

“Why is nobody laughing about this?!” Steph shouted, growing crazed. “Y/n couldn’t get a boyfriend so she had to force someone to pretend?! I mean,” she scoffed, “it’s ridiculous, and it’s sad! She’s too fucking fat and ugly to get a real one, and-”

“That is enough, Stephanie.” Anthony’s hands started moving Y/n off of his lap, and then he was standing up and glaring at her cousin with more hatred than Y/n had ever seen in his eyes before. “I have repeatedly told you that Y/n is better than you, and that you are a horrible person, and if I am never allowed back here because of this then so be it, but you do not get to continue your behaviour. I don’t know how many more times I can tell you to stop bullying Y/n before it finally gets through your thick skull, but you need to stop. She’s a completely different person around you because you make her feel awful and like she’s not good enough, and I am sick of it, because she doesn’t deserve it! You are the one who is being ridiculous and sad, because you can’t get over yourself and see that nobody cares!” His chest was heaving by the time he finished, and he’d been gesturing wildly as he spoke. Y/n couldn’t help but feel a burst of pride at how quickly he’d jumped to defend her.

“It’s not my fault!” Steph tried, but she was cut off before she could continue.

“What’s not your fault?” Y/n said, standing up and moving next to Anthony. “What’s not your fault, Steph? Because Ant’s right. I am a different person around you, because you make me feel like I’m not enough. Like I’m not pretty enough, or skinny enough, or just enough in general, and I end up starving myself to stop you talking crap about me whenever I come here!” She tried to ignore the weight of her family’s gazes as she carried on, knowing she had never outright mentioned any of this before. She doubted any of them had noticed what had been happening right under their noses. “I hate seeing you, Steph, because I know that I’m just going to end up crying myself to sleep or locking myself in the bathroom because of what you say, or how you look at me when I put just a little too much food on my plate, which, actually, isn’t that much food! It’s a normal amount for a person to eat to be healthy! And Ant’s right when he says that you’re the one being ridiculous and sad, because you are. I am done acting differently because you think I’m not good enough, and I am done crying over you, because you are not worth a single tear I have.” Despite her words, she could feel her throat closing up with emotion and tears threatening to fall, but that wasn’t because of Steph. It was more to do with the fact that she had finally stood up for herself and pushed back the way she should have done years ago. Anthony put his arm around her waist, bringing her into his side, and Steph was eerily quiet.

“You bitch.”

Y/n scoffed. “For telling you the truth? Sure. I’m the bitch in this situation.” Steph launched herself at Y/n then, and if she hadn’t trained as an agent to have lightning-fast reflexes she would have been punched in the jaw.

As it was, she and Anthony split, stepping to the side so that Steph fell face first into the carpet.

“I hate you!” she screamed, pushing herself up. Before she could even try another attack, a resounding crack echoed around the room, and then Steph was holding her cheek in shock as she stared at Y/n. “You hit me,” she said incredulously. Y/n’s hand stung slightly, but it was worth it.

“Yes, I did. Well done for noticing.” Anthony huffed a laugh beside her, and he had to cover his mouth with his hand to stop the rest of his amusement escaping. Emma stepped forward, her face the picture of rage and fury.

“Linda, I think this is the perfect time to tell you that I don’t particularly enjoy having you around, and your daughter is an awful person. If I ever find either of you talking crap about either Y/n or me, as you so love to do, Linda, then I will personally kick you into the next century. I’d like you to go and pack your things, and you can find a place to stay in town.”

“You… you hit my daughter,” Linda said, staring at Y/n.

“She’s twenty, Linda. I think she can take it.” Anthony really couldn’t hold in his laugh at Y/n’s words, and he squeezed his eyes shut and hung his head, pressing his lips tightly together behind the hand that he’d had to put back over his mouth.

“We’ll be glad to go,” Linda started, casting a disdainful look at her sister. “At least in a hotel we’ll be appreciated!” Y/n highly doubted that anywhere would appreciate having Steph and Linda, but if it meant that the two of them weren’t near her then she wouldn’t complain.

“Good. Off you go, and pack your bags. I want you gone by mid-morning tomorrow.”

Linda and Steph fled the living room, the latter still clutching at her cheek, and their footsteps could be heard as they stomped upstairs. A door slammed, and then a second, and then there was silence.

“Now. I don’t know… I don’t know what the correct response is to all of this is,” Emma said, her voice softening as she turned back to Anthony and Y/n. “But Anthony, I hope you know we’re not mad at you. Either of you, actually. Steph was awful, she has been for years, and I’m sorry that I never did anything before now.”

“It’s okay, Mum-”

“No, it’s not. I’m your mother and I wasn’t doing my job properly. Mostly I’m just glad that you and Anthony have each other,” she smiled. Y/n looked up at her boyfriend and smiled too, feeling her face heat up when he brought his arm around her torso again and pressed a small kiss to her temple.

“You’re really not upset that I faked a relationship with my boss and lied to all of you?”

“Nope,” Will piped up from the corner, somehow still finding food to eat even though he hadn’t moved. “It’s been a great source of entertainment, actually. Especially since I know now that you didn’t like each other all the times we made you kiss.”

“Will, I don’t think that’s really something to be proud of,” Ben said, glancing at his son.

“It’s funny though,” he shrugged, wiping up the remains of whatever had been in the bowl he was eating out of. “Anyway, now that you’re actually together, it doesn’t matter, does it?”

“I guess not,” Y/n said, and Anthony’s grip on her waist tightened for a moment. She could feel him smiling into her hair.

“Well, that’s all sorted then!” Nana Jean exclaimed, clapping her hands together once and standing up. “Who wants tea?”

part 11

Tag list: @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @anthgoldenhrry, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @aysha4life, @bobbys-not-that-small, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @imaginebeingmentallystable, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @lady-ashfade, @light-23, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @magicandrosewaters, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @reggiepeterss, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whistle1whistle, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @y0urm0m12, @zoom1374, @asyouwish-fromcabin3, @magicandrosewaters, @bobbys-not-that-small

desperately hoping this is everyone, but as always just let me know if you want to be added/removed (or if I forgot you) and I'll do that as soon as I can! <3

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #deck the halls (and not your partner)#enemies to lovers #fake dating #christmas

95 notes · View notes

dontyouworrydaddy · 11 months

Text

Don’t you dare

Carlos Oliveira x gn! reader

summary: Carlos shows Jill his s/o. Jill teases Carlos and says that she has a crush on you now.

warning: none just jealous Carlos

gif not mine!

Carlos paced back and forth in the dimly lit room, his heart racing with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. He clutched a small photo in his hand, a picture of you, taken during a moment of pure joy and shared laughter. The image captured the essence of your vibrant spirit, and Carlos couldn't help but be captivated by your radiant smile.

Jill strolled into the room, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she caught sight of Carlos' restless demeanor. "Hey, Carlos, what's got you all worked up?" she teased, a playful smile dancing on her lips.

Carlos blushed, his cheeks turning a shade of crimson. He fumbled with the photo, his voice catching in his throat. "Jill, I... I wanted to show you something. Someone, actually." Intrigued, Jill leaned in closer, her eyes fixated on the photo in Carlos' trembling hands. As she gazed upon your image, her playful expression softened into one of genuine warmth. "Carlos, they look amazing. You really care about them, don't you?"

Carlos nodded, his heart swelling with affection. "Yeah, Jill, I do. I love them with all my heart. They bring light to my darkest days and make me feel like I can conquer anything."

Jill couldn't help but chuckle, a mischievous glimmer returning to her eyes. "Well, Carlos, it seems like you've got it bad. I think I might even have a little crush myself. Maybe I should get their number, eh?"

Carlos' brows furrowed, a sudden pang of jealousy piercing his heart. He tried to hide his emotions, but his moody demeanor gave him away. "Don’t you dare“ he starts in a harsh voice. Then he gets a bit calm after realizes that it might have been just a joke. "Come on. Don't joke like that. They're special to me, and I don't want to share."

Realizing the impact her teasing had on Carlos, Jill's playful demeanor quickly transformed into one of remorse. She reached out and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Carlos. I didn't mean to upset you. It's clear to me now how much they mean to you. You two look good together, and I hope you guys are happy together."

Carlos let out a heavy sigh, his jealousy dissipating as he absorbed Jill's sincere apology. He appreciated her understanding and knew deep down that she only wanted the best for him.

"Thanks, Jill. I'm sorry for being so moody. It's just... they're important to me, you know?" Jill nodded, her eyes filled with empathy. "I understand, Carlos. Love can make us feel vulnerable and protective. I'm here for you, always."

With their friendship strengthened through this candid exchange, Carlos and Jill shared a genuine moment of understanding. They both knew that love was a powerful force, capable of bringing joy and vulnerability in equal measure.

As they bid each other goodnight, Carlos clutched the photo of you tightly in his hand, a renewed sense of determination swelling within him. He was ready to embark on a journey of love, and with Jill's support, he knew he would navigate the complexities of his emotions with grace.

In the end, Carlos was filled with hope, knowing that the path ahead was illuminated by the love he shared with you. And as he fell asleep, thoughts of your laughter and the warmth of your presence enveloped his dreams, leaving him with a sense of content ment and a smile on his face. He knew that, no matter the challenges that lay ahead, he would face them with courage and devotion.

#resident evil #resident evil x reader #fanfic #carlos oliveira x you #carlos oliveria x reader #carlos oliveira #carlos re3 #resident evil 3 #resident evil carlos #carlos oliveria is my boyfriend #jealous carlos oliveira

233 notes · View notes

karniss-bg3 · 7 months

Note

Just saw that ask other anons about Raphael and now its got me thinking about how rare driders really must be at the surface. Imagining a noble/influental tav parading Kar’niss around like a pet but in a very adoring way, right by their side at lavish parties, clean, covered in jewels maybe some braids in his hair. Clothing talored just for him while tav death glares at anyone who looks at him wrong cause he’s THEIR drider! how dare they!

CALLING THE ARTISTS OF TUMBLR! Someone draw this, please. I'm BEGGING you!

Everything about this fills me with a joy I cannot possibly describe. I can picture it and oh the image is glorious, pure perfection. Especially the braids! I've seen an artist or two draw him with them and anytime I see it I slap my knee, point, and scream "YES!".

What if -all- of his eyelids are painted silver with cat-eye mascara? His hair in partial braids with the rest draping over his shoulder. A dark leather choker around his neck with a spiderweb charm dangling from the center. Thin silver chains draped over his chest in a similar spiderweb pattern, his claws neatly filed. Could give him moon lantern charm earrings as a nice call-back. Leather or silver bracers on his wrists or pedipalps...Gods the options are endless.

OP, I think you've tapped into a very carnal place I didn't even know I had. I--I think I need to go lay down.

#baldur's gate 3 #kar'niss #drider #bg3 #karniss #baldurs gate 3 #answered #This will live rent free in my head until I crumble to dust and float away on the wind #thank you

89 notes · View notes

skulla-rxcks · 1 year

Text

🧸CHAPTER ONE} I like you more than a roommate

Next chapter

Paring: roommate!Hyunjin X fem reader

Rating: mature (eventually explicit)

Genre: friends to lovers, fluff, eventual smut

Chapter Warnings/things: storms

!THIS IS PURE FICTION, NOTHING IN THIS IS REAL ITS JUST A STORY!

Your roommate Hyunjin is slowly catching feelings for you. You get more clingy to him as he helps you through your needs and issues, he loves you but doesn’t know how to show it.

A/n: I’ve been working on this for a bit and I can’t be bothered finishing majority of this chapter since I wanna get it out.

P.s: I haven’t edited this chapter and probably won’t bc I can’t be bothered, also no TWS for this chapter.

I sit back, focusing on the sound of my paint brush sweeping across the canvas, creating a beautiful image of a mermaid in a lagoon. I haven’t slept all night due to working on this painting, though I did steal this plain canvas from my roommate, he probably wouldn’t mind.

“I’m back! Dance practice was really tiring.. my shoulder hurts..” And there he is. My roommate himself, Hyunjin. I laugh slightly, moving away from my art to greet him. “Couldn’t you just take a break from dancing? Have sometime to yourself maybe, you know.. I’m always here if you feel like hanging out. it’s break after all. “

He looks at me, tilting his head to the side and scratching his neck. “I’m down for hanging out. I’m pretty sure today was our last dance session anyways" i gasp in joy after hearing that he'll finally have time to rest. "Yay! I guess we can do some art stuff then, I’ll show you what I've been doing" a warm smile forms on my face as i take his hand in mine, leading him over to the painting I’m currently working on.

“Wow.. the background blends so nicely!” He gasps, rubbing my shoulder with pride.

I feel my cheeks flush slightly, but smile.

"It’s nothing much. Just my usual style, I’m not sure if I like how the water looks or not"

Hyunjin 's hand stays on my shoulder for a few seconds longer before he parts his lips to speak again. “The water looks incredible, i would say I could do better but i can’t.”

My face heats up once again after listening to his pitiful, yet comfortable comments being thrown at me.

I walk out of our art closet, (which is basically a small closet we made into a mini art studio) and gently place my painting on the windowsill. The breeze is slightly cold, i close the window to keep warm. Shivering, I grab one of Hyunjin’s hoodies and slide it over my shirt, it’s a bit baggy but whatever. “What are you drawing?” I ask as i sit beside him again, hugging my knees to my chest due to the sudden change of the weather.

“Just someone” he mumbles. My eyes can’t help but look at how pretty he is when concentrating; hair tied back, eyebrows slightly frowned. I notice his face looking pale, i shuffle closer, lightly touching his cheek with my knuckle. “Your cold.. give me a minute.” I stand up, making my way to the kitchen and turning the kettle on. I get out two mugs, pouring in warm milk, coco, sugar and adding some marshmallows for each one. Two hot chocolates coming up!u

I waddle back into the room slowly stumbling as I hold the drinks that are filled to the brim.

“Here you go!” I giggle, handing him one of the hot chocolates, receiving a hug in response.

“Ah thanks .. I’m gonna get into bed, it’s gonna storm later. You can join me if you’d like, I know you don’t like storms.” He groans, chucking his sketchbook on the ground and pulling the covers over him. My eyes watch his movements, he sips his drink and puts it on a small table next to his bed.

I get in my own bed, admiring his features from a far.

A few hours past, he’s asleep already. I sigh, staring at the ceiling. It’s already raining and the storm is gliding over to us, *buzz.. buzz* the light starts flickering as the power goes out.

“N-no..please don’t do this to me tonight.. n-no.. no..” i clench my sheets and cry softly.

“J-Jinnieee.. w-wake up, it’s scary..”

I sob louder, shaking from the cold and my fears.

“Jinnie…” I lay down under the sheets with him

“Hm?.. Hey Shh, you’re okay. Come here.” Hyunjin moves closer to me, hugging me tightly as my tears soak through his shirt. “The storm is outside. You’re safe in here with me. It’s not gonna get us”

“B-but what if it d-“ My words are cut off as my head pushes into his chest, before I know it he’s leaving soft kisses on my head while continuing to soothe me. “I… I..” I let my eyes look at his lips for a sec then back to his eyes. My arms tighten around him as i cry myself to sleep.

#stray kids smut #~skulla rxcks #skz fluff #skz hyunjin #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fic #skz fic #hyunjin smut #hyunjin fanfic

162 notes · View notes

talaok · 9 months

Note

The world needs more daddy Pedro with a baby/toddler

pairing: dad!Pedro Pascal x reader

a/n: I wrote this for the sole purpose to stop crying cause like get a grip girl and it didn't even work so yup... enjoy. (Also, I 100% agree bestie)

You woke up gasping for air, your baby's cries sounding through the baby monitor doing a damn good job at interrupting your sleep for the third time tonight.

You let out a breathy grunt as you turned to your side.

Pedro was looking at you, for some god-forsaken reason, with a smile pulling at his lips.

Of course he would find the silver lining in all this.

"I'll go" you whispered

"no, don't worry"

"Baby you already went twice" you protested

"It's fine, really"

again, another smile.

"u sure?" you asked, secretly praying to whoever was listening that he was, in fact, sure.

"I'm sure mama" he nodded, kissing your forehead "You stay here and rest"

"alright" you sniffled, not even trying to fight the yawn climbing your throat "Thank you baby"

He got up from the bed, glancing at you one more time before quietly walking out of the room.

...

He didn't need to turn on the lights, he would have known how to get to his daughter's room with his eyes closed by now.

He was the one who got up to check on her most of the times, and there were two main reasons why:

The first one was that he had never been much of a sleeper, so anytime she started crying, chances were, he had already been awake.

But the second, and perhaps most important one, was that he didn't mind, hell, actually, he loved it. He treasured that moment, the feeling of holding his own child (yes it still felt weird to say), of hearing her breathe, sensing her tiny heartbeat, watching as the eyes she had inherited from her mother struggled to remain open... it filled his chest with something so powerful he had no idea how to describe it, it was just- it was pure joy, pure love.

And this time was no different.

He gently picked the tiny creature screaming at the top of her lungs up and out of the crib, holding her in his arms as if she were a lost treasure.

"hey angel" he cooed, softly bouncing her to try and soothe her

"what's wrong?" he murmured, tenderly stroking her head "Tell daddy what's wrong"

"Are you hungry?" he asked mostly himself "No you can't be hungry, now I fed you an hour ago"

"nope you don't even need to change your diaper" he concluded after examining her

"what is it then sweetpea?" he murmured, drowning in her big beautiful eyes.

God, he had the most perfect baby ever

"you had a bad dream, is that it?"

"I'll tell you what, how 'bout we sit here," he said, as he took a seat on the armchair next to the crib "and I sing you a song huh? You liked that last time"

"yeah?" he smiled, watching her studying his face as if she was waiting for him to start.

She was already starting to calm down.

He had that effect on her.

"then get ready pumpkin"

...

"what are you doing?" you murmured, watching your husband holding your sleeping daughter.

You had come looking for him when you realized his side of the bed was empty.

"I don't want to wake her up" he explained

You smiled as you took in the image.

He was watching her as if she was gonna disappear any second now.

Without a second thought, you pulled the other arm-chair in the room right beside the one Pedro was sitting on.

"What are you doing?"

"There's no way I'm letting you sleep here alone"

He beamed as he watched you sit down next to him.

You rested your head on his shoulder, his scent wrapping around you ever so quickly, as you both looked down at your daughter.

Tiny breaths were fleeing her tiny lips as she slept soundly.

"she's perfect" you smiled

"she is" he agreed, resting his own head on top of yours.

"I love you y'know?" he murmured, after a moment of silence "I love you two more than anything in this world"

You smiled so wide your cheeks hurt and your heart threatened to burst.

"Me too honey" you promised "more than anything in this world"

1K notes · View notes

i-am-baechu · 1 year

Text

♡ Summary: Yoongi was always known as the bad boy even after graduation. It was annoying but Y/N didn’t care because she saw him as her loveable boyfriend, wait no...fiancé.

♡ Paring: Established relationship; Pureblood Slytherin! Yoongi x Muggle Born Ravenclaw! Reader

♡ Rating: Explicit (18+)

♡ Genre: Established relationship, Harry Potter Au, smut, little angst and fluff

♡ Based on the one-shot; Eyes On Me

“Yoongi, why did you let them get to you?”

“Y/N, I wasn’t going to let them talk shit about you.”

The couple walked down Diagon Alley in a hurry. Y/N just wanted some ice cream after their date and Yoongi would never say no to her. What they didn’t know was that one of the purebloods from school was working there and he proceeded to make fun of Y/N. Y/N, didn’t care. She was used to this behavior, Yoongi on the other hand wasn’t. It’s been five years and you would think Yoongi would’ve lost the bad boy image. He dyed his hair blonde to make him look softer but the earrings in his ear still scared people off (also the glare that was almost always on his face, didn’ help). Hoseok and Namjoon made fun of him because of his hair but they understood why he did it. He wanted to look softer for Y/N.

Yoongi grabbed her hand and they apparate to their home. Yoongi tossed his leather jacket onto the couch and headed into the kitchen while Y/N watched him with worried eyes. He opened the fridge and he felt arms around his waist, letting out the deep breath that he didn’t know he was holding in. He placed his hand on top of hers as he continued to stare into the fridge with a blank expression, “Yoongi, I don’t want you to fight people because of me...you can get hurt.”

“People can’t talk shit about my fiancé.”

“Fiancé!?”

He curses under his breath and he gently removes her arms to turn to face her. He rubbed the back of his neck as he felt his face get warm, “Fuck, I didn’t want it like this...”

“Yoongi?”

He sighed and went down on one knee as she watched with wide eyes. He pulled out a velvet box and opened it to reveal a beautiful ring. It was a medium size pearl with diamonds around it, they were so clear that it made her think of mountain water. She glanced at the ring and then at Yoongi who was looking at her with a red face, “I-I’ve been in love with you since I saw you in the bookstore...since I was eleven, fuck that’s crazy to think. The moment I saw you, everything kind of made sense? I loved you for so long that it’s crazy. You’re the only woman for me and I couldn’t imagine my life without you...Y/N will you marry me?”

Her eyes widened at the question but it quickly softened, “Can Jungkook be my maid of honor?”

He let out a chuckle as he watched a tear escape her eye, “Yes...Jimin can also be up there with you.”

“I want Jin to be there too...”

“You want that idiot there.”

“Don’t call him that, he's one of my best friends.”

“Baby, he’s still an idiot. So...does that mean you will marry me?”

She let out a small laugh and put her hand out, “I would love to be your wife, Min Yoongi.”

Yoongi clumsily took the ring out of the box and placed it on her finger. He picked her up and spun her around the small kitchen as her giggles filled the room. When they stopped, Y/N gently cupped his face as their foreheads rested on each other. The only thing they could see was pure joy. She leaned up giving him a quick kiss but that’s not what he wanted. He gently swept her off her feet and her back gently came into contact with the wall. Yoongi’s lips quickly found hers. Y/N’s eyes widened at the sudden action but they slowly closed, relishing in the kiss. He wrapped her legs around his waist, in fear that she would fall. He wouldn’t want his girl-fiance get hurt.

His hands traveled up thighs and then to her ass. His eyes widened and snickered against her lips, “No underwear?”

“I-It would’ve shown...I-I wanted to look nice.”

“My fiancé always looks nice.” The moment Yoongi’s fingertips touched her folds, she jumped. Even though they’ve been together for about six years, she’s never used to having sex. He was her first love and well, first for everything. As cliche as it is, he was her everything.

“My fiancé, fuck.” Yoongi grinned as he started to trail his kisses along her neck. He loved this part because she would make the most beautiful nosies. It was truly music to his ears. His fingers started to play with her folds and her head fell forward into his shoulder, “Yo-Yoongi.”

Yoongi groaned at the sound of his name and grinded his hips against her bare pussy as he held her up, “You're the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.”

“Y-Your my ever-everything.”

He shifted her body onto his left arm as he reached for his zipper. She leaned forward and placed small kisses along his neck as he awkwardly took his dick out. He let out a small laugh making her tilt her head, “What?”

“This just reminds me of when we first had sex...it was filled with so much tension but fuck was it awkward.”

She slapped his shoulder as he let out a small laugh, “It was my first time...it was perfect.”

He smiled at this and leaned forward placing his lips on hers, “Perfect doesn’t do it justice. You were so cute, so shy but once you got used to it, you became a vixen.”

“Yay! Shut up!”

Yoongi slapped his dick against her pussy, making her jump a bit. He let out a deep chuckle and kissed her cheek. He grabbed her ass and he started to hump her, his tip hitting her clit almost every time, “My little vixen.”

“D-Don’t call me-” She was cut off with a loud moan when she felt her fiance slipped in. She pulled her hips back slowly and pushed back in slowly, wanting to feel him (it was a special moment). Yoongi thrusted up and her face was buried into his shoulder, biting down harshly.

“Just like that ~.”

He started to go faster, dragging her pussy up his cock and slamming her back down as hard as he could manage in the position. She moaned into his pale skin as her nails drugged into his back. Yoongi noticed that the position was awkward and he didn’t want her to get hurt from it, so, without removing himself; he moved towards the couch. Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist as they sat down on the dark green couch. Yoongi situated her on his thighs and he lifted up her dress skirt. He licked his lips when he saw his cock disappearing just below the mounds of flesh, “You’re so pretty.”

He kneaded her ass cheeks before spreading them to see her puckered asshole and she moaned at the feeling, “Mine.”

He grabbed her waist and started thrust slowly, his falling shut as he held her close to. He thrusted slow and deep a few times before his hands shoved down the front of her dress, ripping it. He groped her tits and moaned slowly into her ear, “I love you.”

“I-I love you more.”

“Impossible.”

He kissed and sucked her neck as she leaned into the touch. Her fingers found his hair as she gripped it. She turned her head and brought him into a sloppy kiss. He moaned into the kiss and his fingers snuck around finding her clit and started rubbing it. She moaned against his lips but didn’t move away from him. One more rubbed and she moved away from his lips to let out a loud moan, “Yo-Yoongi!”

“That’s it baby, let it all out.”

He let her fall back into her chest and he started going faster when he felt close, “Holy shit~.”

It didn’t take long before Yoongi cummed hard, and gently bit her neck when he released. Yoongi hugged her tighter and they sat there before kissing her shoulder, “I love you.”

“I can’t believe you ripped my dress.”

He rolled his eyes and gently slapped her thigh, “I’ll buy you another one.”

“Are you going to take me to the bedroom?”

“Is that what you want?”

“I mean it's only eight...I have all night.”

“Fuck lets go.”

#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts jungkook #bts namjoon #bts seokjin #bts taehyung #bts jimin #bts yoongi #bts x reader #bts hosoek #bts harry potter au #Bts #min yoongi #min yoongi x reader

304 notes · View notes

everythinglucymaudmontgomery · 3 months

Text

Can I just say how heart burstingly happy it makes me that I have brought so much joy to my fellow, previously unknown, kindred spirits by posting the illustrations from some of the books I have collected! It puts an ear to ear grin on my face when I read through all of the tags filled with excitement, admiration, and pure joy!

I have more to come, I promise, it just takes longer than I realized to take a picture of each one and then edit it to make it look as close to the original as I can.

Meanwhile, this is one of the many cover arts and other various images I’ve collected on my Pinterest board of the same title as my blog. 🫣

#lucy maud montgomery #l.m. montgomery #anne shirley #anne of green gables #anne of green gables art #lm montgomery #illustrated anne #aogg

19 notes · View notes

mononijikayu · 4 months

Text

don't.

The tears, akin to the weeping clouds above, continued to fall – an undeniable reality. He had everything, yet he would willingly relinquish it all before parting with the music. That was the ultimate denouement. In those fifteen years, my solace in navigating this labyrinth called life rested solely on leaning heavily upon Nanami Kento.

GENRE: tragic lovers, classical musicians au;

WARNING/s: tragic romance, friends to lovers, exes to lovers, hurt, no comfort, mentions of alcohol, mentions of cigarette use, toxic relationship;

masterlist

don't by eaeon ft rm

I CAME BACK INTO HIS ARMS AGAIN. Somehow, it was easier than anything else. The moment I saw Nanami Kento standing on that stage, playing a piece by Tchaikovsky. He was looking at me. He knew I was there. And he knew I would come back to him. Almost as though he is my own pied piper. I was going to gracefully follow the sound of the tunes he plays.

When I moved to Vienna that summer, I thought I would decide to love it again. People convinced me that I would be alright, that what I had lost will be filled with the music that comes through to me. They talked me out of leaving music behind. And somehow it was easy.

Because knowing how empty my bed has become without the warmth of the man I loved, music was all I had that kept me from being so alone. I tried, I tried to let the music become the center of my life again. I practice as though I had been an obedient dog, doing what I had been told over and over until my body merely remembered how to do it on command. My dream was here and yet, there should have been even a hint of happiness.

I memorized each note over and over and picked myself up from the heaviness of a drowning sea called bed to play each note as though I had been a mad man—I drowned in a capsizing ship, unable to let go or leave it behind.

There was no bliss from me as I received my new position at the Vienna Orchestra, nor did I jump in jubilant joy when I won the Brahms Award. It was a moment of surviving with what I knew, living with what was just there. I thought I had been sick, sickened with an incurable disease. No one would have been like this, they would have been so delighted in my place.

All it took was one look.

All it took was one call of my name.

And one kiss from him to me.

I felt at that moment, almost, alive.

The course of my life underwent a profound transformation from the very moment I fell headlong into love with Kento. An understanding that resonated between us, he comprehended it as keenly as I did. Yet, the disparity lay in the fact that he clung more fervently to music than the remnants of his past. Kento, a mere passenger in the ebb and flow of fate, asserted that it was an inevitability. As much as music was fated to me, so was he.

Adoringly, I received the same treatment from him. It was an irresistible allure that had me ensnared throughout these many years. Yet, paradoxically, I found myself inexorably drawn to Kento’s warmth. In every fleeting moment I spent before the cello during the multitude of concerts, I couldn't help but conjure images of his smile at each pluck of the string, his gentle words resonating louder than any ethereal melody within the cavernous echoes.

With each composition's climax, my heart quickened, the remnants of his touch lingering within me, moment after precious moment.

These harmonies, an ethereal creation akin to an angel sighing through me with pure, untainted love, were an unexpected revelation. The prospect of falling in love was as exhilarating as it was terrifying – a rollercoaster ride devoid of safety belts. Yet, I willingly embarked on this exhilarating journey, clutching onto him with the same tenacity with which he clung to me, a fierce grip refusing to let go. Fifteen years have passed since that fateful inception, and now, this rollercoaster stands as the nucleus of my entire existence.

Observing him from the counter, I saw his back turned, exuding determination as he readied himself to infuse vitality into the violin strings. His passion summoned Tchaikovsky to life with an exuberance and vibrant spice capable of turning even the heartiest meals into a joy to savor. However, the once beautiful melody had metamorphosed into an unbearable silence.

The very sound he conjured, which had once been so enchanting it could evoke tears, now served as the agonizing silence that permeated the space between us. Throughout these shared years, I've come to a realization—a realization rooted in the appreciation of a life filled with love for him. Everything had been idyllic, a semblance of peace that most can only dream of attaining.

My routine commenced with early wake-ups, a bag in hand, and a journey to the market to procure the finest produce. Returning home, I swiftly busied myself with the preparation of breakfast—today's fare consisting of buttered scones, eggs, and sausage.

Upon my return, there he sat, draped in a silk robe that clung to his figure, leaning against the doorframe. His disheveled hair mirrored a sense of urgency, while a pencil poised to meet a blank sheet indicated his readiness to transcribe the melodies in his mind. An unspoken understanding passed between us—we were physically present but emotionally distant.

Leaning against the open balcony, I allowed the freshly baked scones to cool, all the while gazing at the magnificent cityscape. The biting cold assaulted me, and I sought solace in the comforting embrace of a roll of cigars retrieved from my pocket, along with a trusty lighter. I sighed audibly as the familiar strains of the violin resurfaced. The essence of nicotine enveloped me as each movement of the violin strings birthed the silence I had come to detest.

These months have transcended mere silence between us, especially since I made a conscious decision to prioritize rest over my musical pursuits. I couldn't do it anymore. Fifteen years of repetition had no longer resonated with me the way it used to. Despite still being engaged in competitions for the current season, with concertos and solos lined up for the upcoming year and beyond, I found myself unable to endure it any longer—the same way I used to. Kento had not been able to take it well, but he was good at hiding it. He was after all someone that lived and breathed for his work.

And now, the person that he felt, could keep up with him, started to hate it. Resent it even. There was no longer someone walking the path parallel to Nanami Kento, the genius, the legend, the man who held the world's heart in the palm of his hand. There was no one beside him in the same pace. And I knew that he hated it. That he hated me for it. Nanami Kento had been taking more deliberate strides than usual to deepen his connection with music, a transformation becoming increasingly evident. And he hated that the person he loved would not even dare want to listen to it.

As I confronted the mounting pile of music sheets, each harboring crossed lines and marks of dissatisfaction, I sensed a festering nightmare in the form of experimental blends, extracting no sound from his lips. Amidst this dissonance, his laughter resonated during a phone conversation with a fellow violinist we both knew, discussing with fervor the descending notes he planned to incorporate. Seeking opinions and advice seemed to be a newfound reliance for him, a role once occupied by me.

Observing his radiant smile and the ease with which he conversed with her, sharing the same passion they had when they first started, I couldn't claim the same connection. The realization hit me hard as I concluded my cigar, the weight of reality settling on my shoulders. Discarding the extinguished cigar into the ashtray by the balcony door, I found myself the sole mover in the room, arranging two porcelain plates across from each other on the table.

Gazing at him momentarily, I beckoned him to the table. He turned toward me, offering a fleeting smile, whispering an excuse before redirecting his attention to the violin. The resumption of that sound, which I had distanced myself from, filled the room with an unsettling silence. For too long, I had set it aside to live this life, this facade—merely seeking safety and protection from hurt.

The irony of my attempt struck me, and I couldn't help but laugh at the pathetically desperate nature of it all. Even within that fractured laughter, her voice echoed with resilience. As the knife sliced through the eggs, the vibrant yellow mingling with the white, the taste of nicotine tainted the salty glaze.

"Ah, this is what it is."

Later that day, as he left for a traveling show, I bid him farewell with a kiss, his hand offering a reassuring squeeze. It dawned on me that everything had come full circle. We had halted our growth. No, he recognized it sooner than I did. The accessibility of music was slipping away, teetering on the edge of a cliff, seemingly beyond recovery.

I could have embraced music alongside him, yet it had become too agonizing. These were my choices—decisions that had driven me to madness. Nevertheless, they were my own. Despite the recurring pain, I yearned for it, desperately. Leaning against the wall, it felt as if each tear was akin to a shot glass, falling through the cracks.

My knees gave way, and I found myself crouched on the ground, head buried in my hands. I despised Kento. I detested that haunting silence. As I sobbed until no more tears would fall, the harsh truth unraveled—I had nothing left. All that remained was him. Yet, even he was beyond my reach. The star cannot be possessed; it can only be admired from a distance.

"What have I done to myself?" I whispered into the suffocating air. "Why can't I break free?"

Throughout the day, the numbing reality revealed itself, urging me to contemplate leaving. Enough was enough. Yet, where could I go? This was my entire world, the only reality I had ever known. I had dedicated almost my entire life to him.

And I threw it all away. I couldn't bring myself to do it. During the entire week Kento was away, I repeated the same cycle—the same decisions over and over. I was living my own lie. Self-loathing consumed me to the point where I wished I no longer existed. Did I still want this? Did I want to continue pretending to be a fool forever? It didn't matter.

I lifted my head, releasing the silver lighter, the evidence of my vice neatly tucked away in the ashtray. Kento had grown to despise my beloved habit, but he never voiced it. Neither did I. It struck me then that it was better for him if I remained, rather than me abandoning him to be free of this gilded cage. Left alone on the lonesome coffee table, I stood up to welcome him warmly with my jubilant smile. All it took was one look, one beautiful look where Kento's love dwelled, transfixed on me.

I gazed into his eyes the moment he came home. They shone as brightly as Sirius in the vast expanse of the sky, eclipsing others with that smile capable of sparking a thousand wars. His gentle arms, shielding me from the world and from myself, enveloped me as if there were no tomorrow. I pursed my lips into a flat line, uncertain of what to do.

We remained like that for a long time, letting the world fade away. In that moment, we willingly became prisoners of the beautiful chaos we had crafted for ourselves—a dreadful seesaw game. No one wanted to step down. We clung together, replaying a lie over and over. With doting eyes, his smile beamed at me like the beautiful jade of the morning, and I reciprocated the sentiment.

"I'm home," he whispered to me, kissing my temple softly.

I laughed at him. "Welcome home, Kento, my love."

I SIGHED AS SHOKO’S EYES BLINKED AT ME. I had never witnessed Shoko so taken aback. Her eyes widened like a hooting owl in the dark of night as I inhaled the addictive nicotine from the last cigarette in the pack she had brought out. Though I yearned for more, to continue sharing stories, fatigue weighed heavily on me. One narrative had already proven too much for me to endure tonight.

Releasing the final puff of smoke, I tapped the edge against the porcelain ashtray. Leaning towards the untouched drink, I downed it swiftly. A sigh escaped my lips involuntarily, and I placed the glass back on the counter. In doing so, I noticed Shoko standing in frozen silence. My concerned expression deepened as I waved my hand in front of her face.

"Oy, Shoko. Are you alright?" I asked loudly. “Shoko!”

Suddenly, Shoko's brows creased with sorrowful distance, and soon enough, her face contorted in genuine pain. It didn't take long for the tears to follow, a manifestation of the overwhelming truth she had just heard from me. I sighed, taking her hand into mine. Shoko had always embodied strength, so it was rare to see her cry. Yet, as I recounted my story, she felt it all—my emotions. Her free hand frantically wiped away the overflowing tears, but she couldn't help but cry more, her chest heaving in panic. There was no knowing what to say. After hearing something like that, words seemed inadequate. I squeezed her hand and offered words of comfort.

"Shoko, it’s okay."

"What do you mean it's okay?" She cried out, wiping her tears. "Why would you put yourself through this pain? You don’t have to, and yet..."

I tried to smile at her, but it kept slipping off my face as tears welled in my eyes.

"Oh, Shoko. It is not as easy as you would want it to be. To leave..."

"After both of you get hurt by each other… you still wouldn't want to leave?"

"It’s complicated."

"This is not a happy relationship; it's not."

"I know it was never fair." I agreed with her, shaking my head softly. I let out a heavy sigh. "But... I need him. I chose this seesaw game, Shoko. One day, maybe we’ll learn to step off. But right now, I need Kento.”

My lips finally yearned for a genuine smile. Shoko softly regained her composure. After removing the cigarette butts from the ashtray, I returned to my bag and slipped the silver lighter back inside. I looked at it for a moment, wondering when it would end. But catching myself, I blinked the thoughts away. Looking at Shoko, I smiled genuinely. The money from my wallet folded itself across the counter to wave at the bartender.

Descending from the stool, I was cautious as the alcohol had made me a bit tipsy. Adjusting my clothes, I couldn't help but giggle. I was too drunk. Glancing at the recovered Shoko, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. I had burdened her with my pain too. Ah, what kind of friend am I?

"I’ll be leaving now, Shoko." I waved to her one last time. "I’ll come back after I fly in from New York!”

I didn’t let her say goodbye anymore; I didn’t want her to see any more of my compromised self, stripped bare by all these truths that had been locked away inside. It was safe. Now it is not. Grabbing my head numerous times, I couldn’t help but be furious with myself. I should never drink like this again. It’s not going to be good for my health. I can’t keep doing this. I was never a victim.

Gripping my chest tightly, angrily, I felt myself going mad. I screamed suddenly as I collapsed into a crouch, and tears streamed down my cheeks as if guilt and relief had merged viciously in me. A sinner like this, the perpetrator, cried as though she was the victim. This isn’t right. It was never right.

‘It was your pain to bear. You chose this... You had no right...’ I thought quietly.

Recovering myself moments later, I removed my heels, feeling the world spin around me. I felt sick to my core. My stomach aching, I was sure that soon enough, I would hurl everything out like chemicals onto the earth. Sighing, I forced myself to walk on. It could wait till I get home. It could wait until I could enter my bathroom. To be in the familiar space that only I know. I pursed my lips into a flat line, halting as I got to the apartment building.

In a fleeting moment, the weariness that had been induced by the intoxicating embrace of alcohol and nicotine dissipated, akin to a gust of wind that swept away the heaviness clinging to my body. Shoko's honest wisdom of those around me had rung true, echoing the undeniable reality that had been shielded by my own obstinate denial.

Despite the resounding truth, I found myself recoiling from the veracity of their observations. The weight of their words, like an unwelcome revelation, sought to penetrate the fortress of my self-imposed ignorance. It was a clash between the desire for blissful ignorance and the unsettling truth that lurked beneath the surface. In that moment, I resorted to pushing it all away—suppressing the echoes of reason and silencing the voices of reason that threatened to dismantle the illusions I had woven around my tumultuous reality. I became the architect of my own selective deafness, shutting out the unwelcome insights that sought to challenge the fragile equilibrium I had crafted.

In the paradoxical realm where love intertwines with agony, and music resonates as both solace and torment, I find myself ensnared in the complexities of emotions. Despite the overwhelming sense of misery that accompanies this love, a poignant truth remains—I am captivated by the man I love, a soul whose every breath seems to be an ode to the realm of melodies. The dichotomy between the pain and the irresistible pull of his musical dreams weighs heavily on my heart.

As the day unfolds and the echoes of his presence fill my space, a sudden eruption of laughter escapes my lips. It is a laughter that transcends the melancholy, a release of emotions that, in its paradoxical nature, reflects the intricate dance of joy and sorrow.

In this poignant moment, I come face to face with the undeniable truth that, despite the suffering, relinquishing this love is an impossibility. It is a realization that resonates within me, echoing the silent commitment to endure the agony for the sake of a love that has become an intrinsic part of my existence.

"Ah, I’ve gone mad," I said into the wind, to myself. "Beyond saving."

Seeing Kento from the window, looking back at me.

A tender smile. A small wave. A look of love.

My disgruntled features brightened up. I waved back.

And so, the seesaw game repeats.

39 notes · View notes

laurolive · 2 months

Text

Why Paul McCartney Still Tours: Part 2

A Little Essay

In Part 1 (here) we looked at a reader comment to a Daily Mail article (see article here) about McCartney’s touring. She spoke of her grandfather observing McCartney and his young family when they used to visit the Hamptons in New York in the 70s and early 80s.

“Granddad's take is… the stage is the only remaining place that he is truly happy and comfortable and it allows him to always think of the times Linda was on the stage with him... he feels he has tried but has been unable to find the true happiness he had with Linda...”

I’m sure he tours because he enjoys it, but this could be one of the reasons for that enjoyment. According to granddad, touring is the closest he can get to his happiness with Linda. Even if you don’t put much stock into online anecdotes, the opinion expressed (regardless if it’s really “granddad’s”) is held by someone.

“he feels he has tried but has been unable to find the true happiness he had with Linda...” I’ve got the same feeling. I could be wrong, but the feeling is there. He is happy at present, but it’s not the same happy, not as intense, if that’s the right word.

Watch the video of “Silly Love Songs” and see McCartney, the young husband and father, radiate pure joy.

Go to youtube and check out that 1976 “Silly Love Songs” music video (here). In its backstage and concert footage, you see a McCartney who is in his element, radiating absolute joy. He practically skips down hallways; he can’t contain his enthusiasm as he’s having fun with his band and his family.

If you want to see photos of Paul being silly and spontaneous and physically playful with his wife, you’re going to find them in the Paul-and-Linda era. You’ll see Paul hoisting Linda on his shoulders or imitating a vampire that’s about to bite her neck or the two of them dancing together like teenagers. I haven’t seen his smile captured as broadly or as filled with laughter since; his eyes don’t sparkle the same way IMO.

And how could it be the same or comparable? It’s the natural outgrowth of aging. The most meaningful milestones of one’s life happened in the past: first love, birth of children (and in Paul’s case, Beatlemania).

Let’s remember that this man who has had an epochal influence on music said in 1975, “My family is my life, then my music.” Then this legendary artist later said, “My proudest achievement is my children.” Children he had with Linda. It sounds to me that his time with Linda, raising their young family and creating music together, was one of singular happiness.

Left: People magazine cover April 25, 1975, Paul and Linda McCartney

Right: James Paul McCartney TV special, 1973. A mini bio during the introductory song. After showing Paul’s birth date, birth place, etc., there was this gem: the loves of his life. 😎

____________________________________________

It’s a sentiment shared by the reporter who interviewed McCartney for an April 16, 2011, article in The Times titled Paul McCartney: ‘Now I can think of Linda with joy.’ (You can read the entire article here.)

If one has any doubts that Linda looms large in his memory and as a presence in his life, then this 2011 article from The Times will dispel them.

In the article, McCartney is interviewed on the publication of Linda McCartney: Life in Photographs (Taschen, 2011) in which he comments on a selection of 10 photos of his choosing. Notably, he selected mostly images of he and Linda raising their young children… “McCartney reminisces unstoppably about those days, perhaps the happiest of his life.”

“McCartney reminisces unstoppably about those days, perhaps the happiest of his life. ‘Obviously she is there in all of these photographs, and in my memories… I could talk about those days for ever,’ he says.”

Interspersed with his recollections is McCartney’s revelation that he and Linda’s grandchildren grew up constantly hearing about “Grandma Linda” (as did his own little Beatrice). He describes it as “very touching and very sweet“ that Mary and Stella keep Linda’s memory alive with their kids. “Obviously she is there in all of these photographs, and in my memories.”

“So how does he feel, looking again at these private moments, captured by his soul mate of those years, now long gone? McCartney’s response: ‘… you can just look at it with pleasure. Because they were great times. It is tinged with sadness because you lost that person, but the main feeling for me looking at these is joy.’”

Gazing at one of Linda’s photos of his younger self with daughters Heather and baby Mary, “Paul McCartney is smiling, transported: ‘I could talk about those days for ever,’ he says.”

What follows is a most touching quote. Nancy understands that Linda can’t be erased. As the mother of Paul’s children Linda remains significant in his life.

“‘She is a very powerful memory because I was married to her for nearly 30 years. Now, in my relationship with my new girlfriend, Linda is a powerful presence, and I am lucky that Nancy [Shevell] recognises that and is a big admirer of her work… It is a dreadfully big thing to follow – so you don’t try… you are not replacing in any way the person that is gone. Once you realise that, it becomes workable – and, in fact, rather nice.’”

____________________________________________

We see that the statement “he has been unable to find the true happiness he had with Linda” doesn’t mean he has no joy. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love his current wife Nancy. It doesn’t mean he’s wallowing in grief every day.

What I think it does mean is that it was a happier time with Linda, a more intense love affair, a more powerful bond because they had children, a partnership that gave him everything he wanted. He’s not the same without her. If he dwelled on it, it would probably make him depressed, so he doesn’t dwell.

Read McCartney’s tributes and interviews and recollections every time a Linda project has the involvement of him and his children (and there have been many, right up to 2023). He would never disrespect Nancy by comparing her with Linda, but there seems to be a subtext that comes through: Linda is soul mate no. 1, love of his life.

💘

___________________________________________

12 notes · View notes