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firefirefruit · 4 months

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Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Three

Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter Three: The Golden Medallion

“No. Absolutely not,” you respond angrily, feeling the fire lurching up in your throat.

“Why not?” Luffy pouts deeply. Although his physical body is laying idle a few metres away, his face is hanging uncomfortably close to yours - the only explainable reason being that his neck’s so stretched out that it’s formed into the shape of a bamboo pole.

You childishly frown and point at the guy standing beside the remains of Luffy.

“I don’t want to work for the Bull-Boy,” you say.

“Who’re you calling Bull-Boy?” Bull-Boy snaps.

“Our cook is really good, and we go on cool adventures and stuff,” Luffy pushes on with a very underwhelming attempt at persuasion. You want to laugh out loud – it feels like he’s trying to coax you into his crew as if you’re some stray cat – but as much effort as it takes, you remain completely stoic.

Chopper is handled in Luffy’s vice-like grip like a helpless doll, who is then shoved in your nose; the wide-eyed reindeer looks at you in stupefaction.

“Look - our doctor’s cute.”

“She accepts your offer, Luffy-boy,” Gramps calmly says. You snap your head at him with a terrifying, bone-chilling glare on your face.

“That is not your decision to make,” you hiss angrily, fingertips growing warmer by the second.

“You’ve been getting your way since you were eight. So, now I’m deciding.”

“Have you gone insane by any chance?” You bark out as flames lick the strands surrounding your face. Has he forgotten how dangerous both of your lives are? As far as anyone knows, merely existing – breathing - shouldn’t be happening for the either of you two in this very moment.

With a loud Twang! and Snap! Luffy’s head recoils back to his body in an alarmingly fast momentum, his rubber neck slinging back like hitting a homerun. It seems like it’s now Gramps’ turn to be ambushed.

“Really? Are you sure, pops?” The captain bounces, beaming in Gramps’ face, in which Gramps boyishly beams back, completely undeterred by the rubber boy.

“Absolutely.”

“Cool! When can Swords join?”

“Hmm, she needs to repair the Marimo’s swords so…” Gramps taps a knobbly finger to his chin, looking incredibly nonchalant in thought. “Is a week’s time good for you?”

You cannot believe this. A pirate and an old man you’ve known since you were born are discussing your arrangements as if you’re a child moving between divorced parents.

“A week? That’s pretty long, pops. How about a day?”

A loud guffaw rings in the air. “Absolutely not. Blades require time.”

Luffy makes a dissatisfied noise in his throat, making the marimo shoot him a glare.

“Oi, Luffy. I’m staying here until my blades are done.”

“Stop talking to each other as if I’m not here!” You exclaim frustratedly. “I’m not joining, I’m not doing it.”

“Luffy, don’t you think you’re going too far?” Nami steps beside you, her forehead creasing. She glances at the flames rolling around your fingers like serpentine coils.

Luffy pouts at her in confusion. “But I wanna be friends with Swords…”

“Why?” Bull-boy scoffs.

That’s it. You’ve had enough.

“Listen - I appreciate the offer, but I decline,” you announce as calmly as you’re able to. You turn to everyone in the room, eyeing them all with your usual hard-headedness and meaning. “That’s my last say.”

Luffy silently stares at you, looking baffled as to why you don’t want to join him on his adventures so badly. You quickly look away from his questioning gaze, trying your best not to reveal anything across your face.

You walk towards the hardened metallic puddle on the floor and crouch.

“What my old man said was wrong - frankly, I can’t fix your swords, Marimo. Even before they were liquefied, you presented me with scrap metal and not swords. Much to his opinion…”

You stare at your Gramps from a distance, not only frustrated with his foolish shenanigans, but of the permanent glint that lives in his eyes. He’s not underestimating your skills, no. He’s testing you. He wants to see whether you’re going to give out the right prognosis for these blades. It makes you want to roll your eyes knowing that he does this with every client who comes to your shop since you were about fifteen.

“…Fixing some swords would take me three days. Remaking them, though, will take a week.”

The swordsman unfolds his arms. “You can’t remake any of them. They’re all—"

“Wado Ichimonji, Sandai Kitetsu, Enma…” You list off the swords that…used to be in his possession. “We own all the initial blueprints to your blades.”

“What? How?”

Of course, he has a point - no other swordsmith would even dream of having these legendary blueprints laying so casually in their keep. But if you explain how and why and who and where, then your whole cover would be blown.

Being a Kozuki isn’t just for show. You've met multiple disciples and predecessors of different legendary swordsmiths thanks to the privilege of your name. You have worked alongside them, learned from them, been gifted with their precious scripts once they decided that you were worthy of them.

The Enma blade comes from your clan, of course. Your uncle, Kozuki Oden - this is – or was - his sword, so why is it in this green-head’s hands now?The Sandai Kitetsu, too – wasn’t that your own gramps’ sword once upon a time?

And then… the Wado Ichimonji. Pain spreads across your chest when you think of that sword – more specifically, of the previous wielder to it.

When Bull-Boy first arrived in your shop and you began to sense the type and make of these three swords, it completely took you off guard. Imagine a random guy showing up with two of your family heirlooms, and one who used to be your dear friend’s, in his possession, completely broken and disregarded in their sheaths.

You knew your Gramps could sense the make of those swords, too – he was the one who taught you most of what you now know. So why was it that when he was walking alongside him, he was completely relaxed? Not only relaxed, but elated and laughing? It didn’t make sense to you – to you, this guy is a thief. An uncaring thief who isn’t aware of the heavy histories that lay within those blades. It makes you furious thinking back on it.

“Come back in seven days and you’ll see for yourself,” you manage to muster out.

“I don’t get it.”

Oh, God. Is he really that dense?

“We. Make. Swords. Come. Back…Seven.” You shove seven fingers in his face. “Seven days.” Maybe acting it out with your hands will stick better in his empty head.

Bull-head kisses his teeth vexedly. “What is it with you two and the weird words?”

Gramps giggles pleasantly, waving his hand. “She learns from the best.”

Silence.

“You two are related?” Both Luffy and the Bull question.

“Have you been checked out for the whole of this conversation or what?” Chopper exclaims heatedly, climbing over them to smack both on the head.

“Honestly…” Nami says, disapprovingly glaring at them.

Shoving down all the feelings and desires of wanting to form companionship with these strangers, you turn your back and walk to the back door.

“Our shop’s closed,” you simply say, ashamed of the fact that you’re being so closed off. They won’t listen if you act otherwise, you think. It must be done.

Suddenly, a pair of hooves patter in a rush towards you and you feel your shirt being lightly tugged. You look down.

Chopper looks at you imploringly, and utter warmth washes into your heart.

“Is it still okay if we come back tomorrow with Franky?” He mumbles anxiously.

Unable to fight against your feelings anymore, a small smile brushes across your lips as you take in the sight of the doe-eyed doctor.

“We would be very grateful, Chopper.”

He blushes before giving you a strong nod, seeming relieved with your response.

With everyone else remaining silent, you finally take that as your queue to escape from the overwhelming parade of people in the room; all you want to do is to be completely absorbed in your work and to mourn over what could have been.

Later in the evening, as your unexpected guests take their leave after their lively hang-out with popular Gramps, you hear the door to the workshop turn and click shut.

The small domes of light resting on your walls warm up your home like fireflies humming alive, harmoniously buzzing and merging with the sound of your electric tools. The comforting sound of your Gramps’ footsteps close in on your small studio like clockwork, and you’re secretly glad that you’re able to hear them outside of your room once again.

Knock. Knock.

You keep staring at the torn letters that you’re attempting to preserve, your palms gingerly brushing across them like fragile artefacts.

“Come in,” you mumble, adjusting the neck of the warm light on your desk.

The door creaks to an open. There’s a silence as Gramps stands there for a few seconds before he shuffles towards you.

It’s quiet between you and your Gramps when he takes the old bench besides you – once upon a time, that used to be his mentoring seat when he examined the quality of your work. It creaks against his weight, and he grumbles out a little from the struggle.

He searches for your eyes, a kind smile on his lips, but yours are permanently glued to the work in your hands. You desperately try to avoid his attention on you.

“Raya…” Gramps gently says, putting a strong hand on your shoulder. “Let’s talk.”

“Sure. What’s up?” You try to ask as casually as possible regardless of the anxiety that’s dangerously bubbling up in your chest.

His warm hand moves away from your shoulder to place them over your hands, lightly lowering the letters away from your face. You lock eyes with your grandpa, slightly frowning.

“Can I ask you a question?” He cocks his head slightly.

“Okay.”

Gramps looks at you with curiosity in his eyes, his lips pursed tightly.

“What are you scared of?”

You pause, taken aback by this line of questioning. “What?”

“Your fear is palpable. Anyone with eyes can sense it,” he says, glancing over at the cracked medallion resting in the little groove of your desk. The family crest glints sharply across its surface, etched deeply into its golden skin. “This is what you wanted.”

“I wanted to learn and work on my craft – not to become some hot shot back home, and definitely not to join a pirate crew,” you correct while watching your Gramps reach out for the medallion.

The medallion spins heavily within his crafty hands as he observes the damage underneath the glow of your desk light. “Can you pass me the solder?”

You grab the coil of gold alloy from an open drawer, placing it in his open palm.

“I don’t want you to relish so much over what I’m about to tell you, but I think it’s time.”

Your ears perk up immediately whilst your hot red finger lays against the uncoiled wire, acting as a makeshift soldering iron. As gramps sets the wire across the coin, your finger melts it into a pool of gold, slowly flooding through the wide gaps across its surface.

“You have nothing more to learn, Raya,” he says matter-of-factly. “Your education with me is ending today.”

You swallow hard, completely speechless.

“What?”

He looks up from the medallion and stares at you straight in your eyes. “Do you remember how difficult it was to convince the clan to let you go of your leadership duties?”

You laugh out a little, nodding your head. “I had to steal some of your glue back in your workshop and glue my hands on an anvil. They didn’t know what to do.”

“They saw the same fire in your eyes that Kotetsu had eons ago - apparently, you two seem to be like two sides of the same blade. It shocked them so much that they had to change your path right then and there, to let you grow into your natural form, to become one hell of a legendary swordsmith…

“I remember having that discussion with the higher ups. It’s not like they’d refuse a former Shonen, but I wanted to make things clear that I was leaving. With you. Because if you and I stayed, we would’ve been found by the wrong people—”

“And we’d be dead,” you answer automatically. “I know.”

He nods with a smile on his face, heating up more of the gold alloy with your finger. “From then on, I taught, I lectured, I was – at times – cruel...”

He’s not wrong about that. A vivid memory of Gramps throwing away your half-made blades every time you would make even the tiniest little mistake flashes in your head.

“I taught you to fight and defend yourself with your very own weapons, to ingrain into you the importance of the objects that you bring into the world. I tried to make you stronger, to let you work on the thing that you have always loved the most. I tried to always make you into a better swordsmith than you were yesterday. And I hope I was somewhat helpful in that regard.”

“Of course,” you mumble quietly, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude for your grandfather.

“You were my granddaughter as you were my apprentice...but now…” Although he’s trying his best to hide his face away, you manage to notice a few tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. “But now, you’re one of the best swordsmiths our clan has been honoured with. Dare I say, I think you're almost on par with Kotetsu.”

The breath you’re holding gets thickly lodged in your throat and you thoughtlessly pull your finger away, staring helplessly at your old man. Gramps turns to face you, forcing his tears to stay in his eyes a little while longer as he slaps his palm onto yours.

Pulling his hand away, the golden medallion of your clan glows as good as new in your hand.

“No one else in the world can teach you now, Raya - except for experience. And you need to see the world for that, Raya. You need to live.”

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persephone11110 · 9 months

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Operation: Protect The Kid

Brotherly Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings:past child abuse, confrontation happens, religious guilt tactic is used against the oc, insecurity/self doubt,reader is 23—jake is 36, Jake protecting his wingman/woman idk, sprinkle of curse words, mentions of alcoholism

Summary: “I’d never thought…I was worth being protected and saved. Since I was a little girl the only two words I knew were unlovable and broken”. Tilliy sighed, placing her head on Jake’s shoulder.

ofc:Tilly Lewis/ i couldn’t think of a callsign.

AN: this is the fic from the poll, i’ve started like 3 diff fics and finished half way trying to nail a brotherly jake. I made Tilly’s and Jakes age gap bigger, even tho cannoically I feel like Jake way younger than 36, and also i feel their relationship is bro/sis whilst also being mentor/mentee— since Tilly probably graduated like year or two ago. Enjoy reading ❤️ :)

- kinda short/kinda long, idk if i like the ending

—

Everytime I look in the mirror, I see the little girl who gotten beaten for just breathing and teenage me getting knocked around for looking in their direction.

—

It was small things at first. Smackings across the face, belt marks covering her ass, soap in her mouth each and everytime her parents deemed she talked out of turn. It’s normal— Tilliy thought as a little girl, it was drilled into her head like that..not until her freshman year of college she spent thirty minutes in her dorm crying after a child abuse seminar did she realize it wasn’t.

“Matilda Patrice Lewis, you look at me when I’m talking to you”. a belt ripped across her back. “I don’t love you sweetheart, and to be honest no one ever will”.

“Don’t cheat” Hangman smirked handing her a poolstick, before he walked away to get another beer.

They noticed Tilly first, before she could even get a chance to hide. She ignored the feeling of danger lingering around her, shrugged it off as guilt from the uranium mission still in lingerin. Its been so long since Tilly had to protect herself that she forgot the feeling of hatred and anger getting closer.

“Sunday’s is for worshipping god, not for drinking with the devil Matilda”, Tilly inhaled heavily—she hoped that voice didn’t belong to her, quite honestly Tilly had long gone forgotten her mother’s voice only time she remembered it is when she’s was having a bad day. Like always her mother had a way when with commanding attention to herself, Tilly could feel her mother’s anger—it was getting thicker and thicker by the minute.

“Matilda, dear I recognize those ugly back scars from anywhere”, Yeah because you and dad put them there, Tilly so badly wanted to say but her inner conscious reminded her father was behind her mother—and he never hesitated to beat the shit out of her.

Tilly had no choice but turn around, she always did feel cowardly under her mother’s gaze.

“Oh Matilda we’ve been waiting for you come home”, her eyes glistening with the tears, her shoulders close to shaking— if only she meant it, if only her mother’s sadness and her father’s grimy face were actually sincere. Too many lessons nagged at Tilly’s face, the memories of beatings coming back at full speed. “How can we love someone so broken?”.

“Inhale and exhale.. Tilly, your parents have no control over you any more… you are free”, Doctor Mandy words echoed in her mind.

“You left us alone Matilda, we didn’t know if our daughter was okay”, her father spoke, “Do you not love us?”.

Tilly shrinks back at that, does she love them?, do they finally love her?

She feels someone step behind her, she immediately realized who it was his cologne is a dead giveaway. Hangman. Tilly slighty caught his stance out of the side of her eye, protective and angry.

“Are you okay Tilly?”, before she got a chance to speak she was cut off by her mother’s harsh words. “Matilda, her name is Matilda— Tilly is too childish for a twenty three year old woman”.

“With all do respect ma’am Tilly, Is what she wants to go by and I fully respect it”. Jake says with a fake smile, any chance too show off his teeth.

“We weren’t speaking to you boy”, her father bit out, and Tilly could see his alcohol rotted teeth, three to five packs of beer a day coming back to bite him in the ass.

“I’m Jake Seresin, Tilly’s bestfriend and wingman” Jake held up his hand, not giving either a chance to speak a word. “You two, should be proud of your daughter because despite being shitty parents, Tilly made sure she didn’t become like y’all”.

“We—”, her mother tried again.

“I’m not done”. Jake crossed his arms over his chest.“You too need to listen, Tilly owes you both nothing… she had a choice to walk away from you both and yet here she is for some damn reason hearing you too out”.

“Goodbye Matilda” her father says and her mother look almost disappointed that Tilly didn’t fall for her trap again. They didn’t give Tilly a chance to answer, they both turn on their heel. The sound of the hard deck door closing was the best sound she’s ever heard.

“Thank you”, Tilly says and its barely above a whisper.

“No need to welcome me kiddo”, Jake drapes a arm over Tillys’s tender shoulders, easily relaxing her. ”You have my six, I have your six”.

“C’mere kiddo” Jake softly commanded, his eyes are softer than ever, “I love you Tilly”. Tilly fell into his embrace— she finally allowed herself to breakdown, the nagging pain of a little girl who had only wanted to be loved was far too much to hold back this time around.

“I’m sorry Jake”, she whispered into his chest.

“For what Tilly?”, he’s rubbing his hand up and down her back.

“For…not being brave enough to stand up for myself” a sob falls from her mouth. “Im so sorry”.

“Oh…Tilly, you’ve been brave for too long— you need to know there someone in your corner”. he pressed a kiss into Tilly’s head.

“Ok”

“Come on kid, lets go back to my place”. Lets go home.

#top gun #top gun maverick #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader

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stealforreal · 2 years

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Mommy dearest 3

Tenko is now officially in your care, but his quirk is still not registered. A trip to the doctor goes slightly askew, and once again you are faced with the prejudice that follows quirks.

03 A visit at the doctor's

Waking up to Tenko next to you was still a new, but welcoming feeling. It had been 2 weeks since Tenko officially became your son, and was lovingly calling you mama. It makes your heart so full every time he says it. Over the past 2 weeks, some behavior patterns have turned up. Like how Tenko would scratch at his neck everytime he got anxious, or hadn’t used his quirk in a while. Or how he would always ask, if he was allowed to eat. To combat that you spend a lot of time cuddling and testing his quirk. Let’s just say the garbage disposal company hadn't had anything other than dust from your household.

You also put Tenko in therapy, where the therapist had been so kind as to allow you to sit and comfort Tenko the first few times. Tenko seemed to like her, and frankly so did you. The therapist was one of the only people so far who didn’t discriminate against Tenko, because she wasn’t afraid of him and if she was she was still professional.

But now that Tenko was doing a lot better, you had to address the elephant in the room. His quirk registration.

“Tenko honey, we need to visit the doctor soon,” You said in a gentle voice. You didn’t want to risk Tenko reacting badly. Tenko stopped playing the new video game you got him “but why mama?” Tenko looked up at you with his big innocent ruby eyes. “Well, we need to get your quirk registered” you said as you caressed the top of his head. Tenko looked confused, “But we already know my quirk, mama,” his confused expression was adorable. “Yes we do, Tenko” you bopped him on his nose, causing him to giggle “but we need a medical professional to examine you, mama is not allowed to, it's illegal even if mama is a doctor.” you gently explained to him, scouting his reaction for any sign of tension.

“Do we have too?” Tenko asks, giving you puppy dog doe eyes. Ever since you adopted Tenko, and the person checking in marked you fit as a parent, he had been very comfortable around you. Tenko knew you wouldn’t hurt him, your words and actions had shown him that. So Tenko had allowed himself to be a child, and free. With that came the puppy dog eyes, usually it was hard saying no to the doe eyes. But you knew when you had to put your foot down. “Yes Tenko, we have too. I want to make sure you are 100% okay ” Tenko reluctantly gave in. And so you began your journey to the doctors office, you had planned this ahead of time and booked an appointment.

The doctor's office was filled with anxious little kids and their mom or dads, a lot of posters about health and it was all in horrible colors that maybe could make your eyes bleed over time. Tenko was surprisingly enough one of the more silent kids in the waiting room, rather than fidgeting he opted to play on the console you got him on his first shopping trip. The game he was playing captured all his attention, so you used that as an excuse to sweep a glance across the room.

A young boy and mother with uncanny resemblance came out of the doctors room, one looking schooked and the other glum as glum as can be. Both of them had the greenest hair you’d seen in a long time. Their matching glossy eyes, sparked an ounce of sympathy that took root in your soul. Whatever happened to them, must have been bad. I hope they’ll be alright.

With Tenko consumed by his game, and you observing all the people who come and go, the wait went by fast. “Ms.y/n and Tenko, I’m ready to see you now.” The doctor announced it in the waiting room. “Tenko honey, put the game away, it's us now.” Tenko nodded his head, saved the game and shut off the console so you could have it in your purse again. Hand in hand you and Tenko followed the doctor. Once in her office, it gave you a chance to evaluate her. She was young from what you could tell, wore her hair up in a bun and had an expensive set of rings on her fingers. Oh no, a privileged kid turned doctor. Wait bad y/n, maybe she won’t be so bad. While in your head you almost missed her first question and the tone that followed.

“It says on the paper you're here today for a quirk evaluation. So first I need to ask what your relationship is” There was a certain sneer to her voice as she spoke the word , relationship, as if she couldn’t be more judgemental she also gave you the elevator look. “Mother and son” the answer came out with more bite than intended, but her everything was giving you bad vibes at being judged. It made it even worse when she turned and scanned Tenko, causing him to retreat into himself. Silently you began petting his head, stroking his hair in an attempt to offer some comfort from the doctor.

“Alright, it says in the notes that you have discovered Tenko’s quirk but would like a medical evaluation.” Silently you offer a nod and a little ‘yes’, doing your best to not march out the doctor's office. The doctor just gave off such a bad feeling, like you are not enough and are the scum of the earth. A pretty bad feeling to have when you're visiting a children's doctor.

“Okay, I will need Tenko to come with me for the tests, to do the evaluation ” Tenko’s head snapped over to you, big red eyes pleading not to. “It’s alright Tenko, it needs to be done. Besides you never have to again afterwards, doesn’t that sound nice honey?” you calm Tenko down, the small pout on his face tells you he’s not exactly happy with the outcome.

You were ushered out of the room, and into the hallway. Time ticked by slowly, your heart was hammering out of your chest. What if she hurt Tenko, the doctor seemed to be the type to let their prejudice dictate their actions.The door opened after some time “you can come in now” The doctors words were sharp, clearly something happened. The doctor seemed on edge once she came closer to Tenko, and Tenko was sitting in a chair with his head down and trembling fist all scrunched together.

“Well the evaluation is over, I can give you some pamphlets on what to do. But, don’t ever come here again” The doctor said tensely, while she was stocking piles of pamphlets into your arms. The top pamphlet said something along the lines of: how to deal with a villain's quirked child. The nerve of that woman had you seeing red. “Excuse me, did you mean to give me these pamphlets? '' The tone in your voice almost had the fully grown doctor shaking in the knees. The doctor, not wanting to lose face, tried to shift the blame towards you “Well, maybe if you hadn’t had your son so early he would have had a non- villain quirk” she spat out the words, son and villain quirk.

Seeing red still, you scooped up the trembling Tenko and hugged him close. His fists were still clenched together, a sure sign he was uncomfortable with his quirk again. Two weeks of getting better all down the drain p´because of a rookie doctor with quirkism prejudice. “Who are you to tell me or my child, that his quirk is villainous. If anything you are the one behaving like a villain here, I hope you get fired after I contact the hospital about your unacceptable and less than professional approach ” with the scolding of the doctor done, you headed out the door with the softly crying Tenko. When you reached the lobby of the hospital, you swiftly threw out the stupid pamphlets and grabbed your bags. The journey to the car was filled with a lot of kisses to Tenko’s head, and back rubs to the best of your filled hands ability.

The car ride home consisted of you trying to make conversation with Tenko, asking him about his games and other topics that usually got him talking nonstop. But he was mostly silent, only giving a small ‘yes’ or ‘no’ when you asked him direct questions. So you stopped trying to make conversation and instead turned up the volume of the radio, deciding to give Tenko some space and time to process.

Tenko was still mostly unresponsive when you arrived home, so after placing your things away and in their spots you scooped Tenko up and sat ión the couch. “It’s okay Tenko, I love you no matter what the doctor said. Besides I know you a lot better, so I know she was wrong honey. You will be exactly what YOU want to be, it doesn't matter if it's a professional gamer or hero. You quirk is not villainous there is no such thing, so don’t worry honey. ”

Sitting in your lap, and hearing you reassure him was just what Tenko needed. Wailing he flung into your embrace, and sobbed his little heart out. He was so relieved, you loved him and would still keep him. He wasn’t cursed with a villain's quirk, mama said so and she was always right.

After calming down Tenko got sleepy, it took a lot out of his little body to be so pent up with emotion. Before he fell completely asleep his little sleepy voice rang out “I love you mama”. Sighing and smiling a gentle smile you picked up Tenko, choking to put him to bed. With a kiss to his forehead, you could only look forward and swear you would make him continue to feel loved.

It seems like the journey of motherhood is a long one ahead, luckily you were always ready for a challenge. Tenko was going to get the best mama in the world, you would make sure of it.

Previous chapter : here

Next Chapter: here

#mha #bnha #mha x reader #bnha x you #bnha fluff #bnha angst #shimura tenko #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki #bnha hawks #mha hawks #hawks bnha #mom!reader #mother!reader #mha x you #bnha tenko

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evita-shelby · 6 months

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Love's a State of Mind

Chapter 5

Cw:mentions of a miscarriage.

Taglist: @thegreatdragonfruta

The drive home had been awkward, silent to the point the cab driver asked what sort of bad news they’d gotten.

Eva didn’t want to be pregnant, but she didn’t want to be told that her only choices are a natural miscarriage or a c and d. Robert hides his pity well enough for the strangers to be fooled by it, but not good enough for her to buy it.

“I’m sorry, Evie.” He’s been saying that since the doctor gave them the news.

She could have been truly pregnant, if there had been an embryo. Everything else had developed except for it. A blighted ovum, the doctor had called it. It could pass naturally on its own within the next two weeks, but Eva decided it was best to get it over with sooner than later.

No need to dwell on what could’ve been if she can save herself the pain and discomfort of it.

Had Robert left, he would’ve come back none the wiser, but unfortunately for her he was here, in her apartment, cleaning up the takeout he ordered from her favorite place because he thinks cooking and cleaning is too much for her right now.

It bothers her how easy it was to fall back on their routines as if nothing had changed. Next thing you know they’ll be spooning on her couch watching her comfort telenovela even if he doesn’t know a lick of Spanish.

But the idea of having him there to comfort her in her hour of need makes her weepy from just how touching it is. Makes her resolve to leave it in the past all that much harder.

“Don’t hate me for this ,but if I had been pregnant, I don’t think I would have kept it.” This she says as she slams the door on the cupboard a little too forcefully.

“You finally speak to me and you say this.” Rob remarks with every drop of anger and pain he can’t be bothered to hide with her. He could lie to everyone else, but not her.

If she had been pregnant, he would use it to give them a second chance knowing his dad and godfather would rather want him married to the mother of his child than risk the scandal. Even worse than what she did, mainly because neither would have a real choice.

But he would have done it gladly because she knows damn well he still wants that life he conjured on that first night together.

A house in the country, two or three kids because he was just so lonely as a child and having a wife who is his partner in life as well as business.

Eva would be lying if she didn’t yearn for it too.

“You would have had doubts on whether me getting knocked up was just a side effect from the dream sharing that night or done to trap you.” Eva answered trying to explain the why to her solution. “As much as I still love you, I would rather things were over for good than us be together for the wrong reasons.”

“It’s fucking difficult to move on from you when you say shit like that, Evie.” He admits with his eyes betraying the battle he wages with his love and desire with his restraint and pride.

That explained the kiss earlier. God, she could still taste him in her mouth, had felt so good she forgot how to breathe after.

He corners her in her own kitchen and she doesn’t stop him, worse she lets herself get lost in his eyes and relished the feel of him pressed against her. The smell of his cologne, the warmth of his body against hers and memories of every time they fucked in this kitchen.

“Hmm, I wanted to forget you and then you showed up the same morning I get three positive tests, Bobby.” She shouldn’t be doing this, but she wants him badly. She wants him, no, scratch that, she needs him.

This was a bad idea, as bad as seeking him out that night.

“You always played dirty.” He took her face in his hands and she pulled him to her with a tight grip on his shirt as they gave in to their lingering feelings for each other.

“So do you.”

This is a mistake, but what a mistake it was, she thinks as they end up on the table they’d bought together after they broke the previous one with this exact activity.

“We could let him go to voicemail.” He suggests with his head against hers as his phone rings somewhere on the floor, they both know who is calling them.

Peter Browning always seemed to know when they were fucking, always called when they were too busy bringing each other to the metaphorical finish line.

“Tell him, I say hi, Bobby.” Eva pulls away from him when he tries to kiss her again and suggested he could use her home office.

“How much do you want him to know?” Robert asked, taking her own feelings and right to privacy into consideration. No wonder she couldn’t move on from him, it was like trying to replace the sun with a light bulb.

“Anything you think is relevant, it won’t change his mind about me.” Eva answered with a pained smile as she headed for the bathroom and he to her office.

Eva tries her best not to listen in, but she can’t help it when she hears him defend her and learn it wasn’t the first time he defended her to his uncle after they broke up. Robert is honest, but wisely keeps out the deal they made and him being here.

“She isn’t like that, Uncle Peter, you don’t know her like I do. I’ll go home next week once I know she’s okay.” He says unaware he is being overheard, he thought he had closed the door to her home office. Robert always forgot to hear for the click when it shuts, especially when he was in a hurry.

By the time he noticed the door was open, Eva was cleaning herself up and changing into something comfortable in her room.

He leans on the doorframe and watches her pull on an old t-shirt of his she never returned. It was a strange source of comfort, just as she knows he kept several of her things for the same reason.

“You don’t have to stay with me, Robert.” Eva tried to dissuade him from staying. He thinks what happened earlier was a sign that they should rekindle their relationship, Eva is afraid it was a result of her hormones being all over the place.

Two weeks ,fuck, a week even, would give them the time to really think shit through. To avoid confusing feelings and hormones while they are dealing with her miscarriage. The procedure meant less blood, less recovery time and a quick end to this horrible event.

“I don’t have to, but I want to.” He is not one to be told what to do. Browning does his best to turn him his way, but in the end Robert is as stubborn as his father.

No wonder neither man gets along.

If he says he’s staying with her, he will stay even if she changes the locks on her doors the moment he leaves.

The only way to manipulate him was by giving the only thing his father could never give him.

Love.

He's only ever wanted the love of his father, so when Eva offered him hers, as fake as it was then, he took it.

And this is why she must break his heart all over again.

So he can make the choice to forgive or forget her without any interference from her.

“Just so you know this doesn’t mean we’re back together.” She hates being cruel to him, but she must. “Once this is over, it is over for good.”

Robert agrees, dashed hopes and all, but he agrees to her terms.

#eva smith riley #robert fischer x oc #eva x robert #robert fischer #love's a state of mind fic

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mycharacterdump · 6 months

Text

𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒

i know it's over and it never really began but in my heart it was so real and you even spoke to me, and said: "if you're so funny then why are you on your own tonight? and if you're so clever then why are you on your own tonight? if you're so very entertaining then why are you on your own tonight? if you're so very good-looking why do you sleep alone tonight?"

“No mother is ever, completely, a child's idea of what a mother should be, and I suppose it works the other way around as well. But despite everything, we didn't do too badly by one another, we did as well as most.”

― Margaret Atwood

PART I.

HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THIS? I asked myself this mercilessly in the mirror every morning for eight months, two weeks, four days and sixteen hours. Sometimes, it would seep into casual conversation; when I saw my trauma counselor once a week, then my doctor, then my sponsor, but never with Mom. I knew she wouldn’t have the answer I was looking for. Then again, no one ever really did. My doctor said that every prospective mother had the same fear: that they would fuck it up, and that it was a steady learning curve. I would sit on a thin sheet of paper and listen as a middle-aged woman with a decaying uterus educate me on the triumphs of girlhood and its consequences while knuckle deep inside of me and I picked at the skin around my nails, a gross, obsessive habit I’ve had for as long as I can remember, and I would pretend I was listening very carefully by glancing up bashfully with these perfectly formed doe eyes and perky ears whenever she arose from between my legs. The appointment always ended in a cold shoulder touch and a tight smile that was meant to be reassuring. At least the receptionists didn’t care whenever I stole two lollipops from the jar on my way out.

More or less the same with Dr. Forgettable, PhD in Kids With Too Many Diagnoses For A Regular Therapist. Except their office was warm and cozy and I felt more at ease than I did at my doctor’s office. They even had Ferrera Rochers kept in an open glass, which I indulged in throughout the entirety of each session. We would talk about a variety of things, really the limit didn’t exist, though we had frequent stand-offs when it concerned my relationship with my mother. It wasn’t something I ever wanted to divulge about, but they were determined on wrenching bits and pieces out of me. I figured it was because they thought they could make a better mother out of me for it. I felt like I was doomed from the start, but, like I told them, the only fragment of my experiences of motherhood was under the guardianship of a semi-insane woman. I was raised going to church every Sunday and praying before bed at night, so there wasn’t an option except for keeping it. And now all I had to do was bite my tongue and cross my fingers and do all these childish rituals just to prevent myself from continuing the cycle.

My sponsor was childless, having spent their youth wasting away getting shitfaced in bars and railed by strangers in dingy motel rooms for a few bucks so they could catch the five o’clock train from Chicago to New York City. All their love affairs crashed and burned in the flames of their relentless, exhausting and utterly catastrophic addiction. Every psychotic episode was documented on Facebook, so no chance at fostering or adoption. I’m not even sure they weren’t on a watchlist at animal shelters and pet stores. They tried to console me — that could’ve been you, easy. But this is a fresh start. I try to think about what exactly is going to start once I give birth. A new life, I suppose, but will it come at the expense of my own? How much is my life really worth, anyway?

Another impossible question. Guess I should add it to the list.

When Mom visited, the time we had together was spent in silence — I had a grudge against her for raising me with a lingering paranoia that if I took the easy way out, I’d go to Hell, and she had a grudge against me for being fruitful when she wasted half her life trying to conceive me. She also was still pissed at me for nearly overdosing the year before.

I didn’t blame her for that one.

She would clean up around my studio and I would sit and binge watch Law and Order until she asked me what I wanted for dinner and I’d always say meat lover’s pizza with a fizzy drink. She despised greasy food, but who was she to deny me? So she’d dial the place instead of placing an online order like I taught her how to do, we’d wait thirty minutes, and then we’d feast with the occasional comment on how our respective weeks had gone.

I couldn’t help but wonder what things would be like if I hadn’t been such a fuck-up from a young age. As a kid, I had a real family, a mom and a dad, even an older sister, but I ruined it all by being a monster. Truth is, I had a deeper, more sinister beast than addiction that lived within me.

For as long as I could remember, I was an angry person. I never knew why. I had a good childhood, besides the fact people would speak about me in whispers because of my unusual fixation on cleanliness and order. Mom used to spoil me as a result, she was obsessed with me, which was a double-edged blade: I could do no wrong, but if I did, it was the end of the world. That kind of pressure accumulated within me, building up for years and years until sometimes I would combust. It didn’t matter who it was that triggered that switch, really they were all innocent in comparison to me, regardless they all paid a price for knowing me.

The first time it happened was with my teacher. Rather, to my teacher. She was berating me for some asinine thing and after a while her words felt like static in my ears and all I could feel was the blood cycling through my veins, faster and faster, accelerating my heart rate and making me perspire, and as I stared at her blankly I felt a strange energy encompass me, lifting me out of my body and then slamming me back inside violently.

When I came to, my teacher was on the floor, twitching wildly and foaming from the corner of her mouth. I started to cry. No one stood anywhere near me. My father, who only exists in my memory now, was the one person who came to my rescue when I retold the story upon early dismissal. He slept in my bed with me all weekend, then offered to come and sit with me during lunch everyday even when my teacher returned from her extended hiatus. I told him no, because I didn’t want to seem weak in front of everyone else, who didn’t seem nearly as affected by the matter at hand.

I was never weak. I know this because I did the same to a kid my age a few months later. He didn’t come back.

I slept with Mom that time. That was when she took me away.

She wouldn’t let me have my own room until I was thirteen.

Now, I hadn’t hurt anyone in years and I had my own studio apartment. Only caveat was I had been carrying a bastard child that only took a bottle of tequila and a few pills to conceive, and I drunkenly threw my cross necklace over a bridge when my then-boyfriend pointed out that I was the most ungodly person he’d ever met, which Mom didn’t know all the details of, but the fact I was missing it at all was an affront to her. It was even worse than I’d replaced it with a gold skull necklace.

“Do you have to wear that thing all the time?” Mom asked while we ate. She asked that question every time we visited each other. Sometimes when I had a breakdown and finally made it to my contacts list in my phone after washing my hands until they were raw, she would come over and use it as an excuse to take the necklace off while ‘taking care’ of me. She did this with my clothes, too. She always brought a spare of her own. They were more ladylike, she said. I didn’t even wear shorts that went above my fingertips, but I was guilty of walking around my studio in bralettes underneath my flannels when it was summertime.

I sipped my fizzy drink. “Yup.” I answered. Sweet and simple. Just the way she hated it.

“You won’t find any good guy walking around like that,” she said disapprovingly.

“Who says I want a good guy?” I said in return, wiping off my mouth with my sleeve. She hated that, too. She proved it by shoving a napkin at me. I fitfully accepted it.

“I know women are all about self-empowerment these days, but I don’t want you alone forever,” she contested in as soft a voice as she could manage. I still felt the hair on the back of my neck stiffen. Weren’t mothers voices supposed to be comforting?

I avoided her gaze. That might have been cowardly of me. I didn’t really care. “I won’t be alone forever. In a couple days or weeks I’m going to have a kid. That basically guarantees me company for the next, what, eighteen years? Give or take?”

Mom wasn’t convinced by this. I could tell because she cinched her brows together and pursed her lips and made this sour face that was difficult to ignore, even in my peripheral.

“Your kid isn’t guaranteed to like you,” she replied. “Trust me. I’d know.”

“I never said they’d like me,” I returned. “But they’re stuck with me. Like I’m stuck with you.”

That struck her, and I felt bad immediately after I’d said it. Fuck, I was such a dick sometimes. Mom could be overbearing and insufferable — but it was the only way she really knew how to be a mother after so many years of wishing for a child of her own flesh and blood. She had my sister, who I thought was leagues above me, but she wasn’t enough. They didn’t share a smile or a laugh or tastes in music and film. They couldn’t be more different, really. And neither could her and I.

But my eyebrows did the same thing when I was confused or distraught. We both liked our coffee black. We were partial to the color blue, though not the same shade. And we were angry at the world, for better or for worse. I was her daughter through and through.

“... Sorry,” I murmured after a few beats had passed. She straightened her posture, then cleared her throat and adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose.

“Hormones.” she excused for me. I nodded along. Sure thing, Mom. Sure thing.

As I bit into the crust of the pizza I slathered in ranch, I felt a distinct pulling in my lower gut. I grimaced and swallowed the bite dryly, then went to wash it down with my drink, but before I could get it past my throat I vomited across the table. Mom yelped and started cleaning immediately.

I learned it from my mother.

I rushed into the kitchen a few feet away and continued vomiting into the sink, using the faucet to dilute the stench. The pulling intensified and I kept moaning and groaning, and Mom was talking to me but it was all static again. I started worrying that if I looked at her something bad would happen, but me avoiding her gaze only infuriated her more, and eventually she forced me to face her and I stared with widened eyes as a gush of liquid soaked my thighs.

Despite all of the horror I had witnessed and inflicted in my eighteen years on earth, nothing was more terrifying than labor. It felt like my body was rebelling against itself. This supposedly all-natural thing didn’t feel as if it should be happening at all. My nerve endings were stretched thin, my teeth almost shattered in my mouth every time I bit through a contraction, my insides were all tangled together from months of being made to accommodate a foreign being, and the only thing I had pulsing throughout me was the unavoidable urge to run.

When Rue was placed in my arms for the first time, coated in a film of guts and gore and shrieking, stretching out his lungs, I began crying. The doctor and nurses probably thought they were happy, relieved tears. Except they were tears of a girl who had no idea what she was doing, or what was next. All I could feel grateful for was that he hadn’t opened his eyes right away, as my emotions were so volatile I worried I might’ve hurt him, too, and he was as innocent as the rest of them.

He was the first person I think I knew I could never, ever hurt. Even when I thought I was on the edge. I would step away, I would sooner stare at myself in the mirror and face that monster, turn myself into a puddle on the floor writhing around in my own spittle, than be a mother that never learned from her mistakes.

Mom drove us home when I was released from the hospital. I didn’t know what to say on the way back to my apartment. We were both mothers now. What did that mean for the future? I felt like I could relate to her on a level previously unknown to me — I would’ve gone to the ends of earth for Rue, salting it all behind me, but I wasn’t certain I would dismantle his entire life just to achieve that. But then, I didn’t know if he was like me or not. That would make all the difference, because I still didn’t know what it was to raise a child who possessed unnatural abilities.

I hoped I wouldn’t ever learn.

She stayed with us for two weeks after he was born, helping me construct a thousand different schedules that Rue disrupted each time I thought I had it down to a science. She said it was like that most of the time, that you couldn’t really train them into consistency for the first few months. I couldn’t deny that I already felt defeated.

I started to wish that I had Dad and Manon around; I knew that she had a baby, whose name I couldn’t remember now, so maybe she would have some sage advice for her little sister. And Dad was Dad. He always knew what to do. I couldn’t remember a time he did something wrong, honestly, but I could’ve been looking back through rose-colored glasses. Still, I found myself knelt at my bedside while Rue shrieked relentlessly in his bassinet with my hands clasped, whispering a prayer to a God who never believed in me that He would give me my family back.

I waited, stupidly, for a miracle to occur. I’m not sure I was worthy of one, really. I was just doing what Mom taught me I should do when I thought all hope was lost — let go, let God, you know?

Anyway, I remained alone for the most part, just Rue and I with Mom on the side, and when I went back to work I found some relief in registering him into the local daycare, even though Mom had warned me against it. This wouldn’t be the first time I didn’t heed her advice.

Just when life was meeting a lull, when I thought that although my prayers hadn’t been answered perhaps I was making my own change, slowly but surely, there came a knock at the door.

I was elbow deep in a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Half-Baked, clad in my mismatched pajamas and socks after settling Rue in for the night, and needless to say I didn’t feel particularly tempted to answer. But it became persistent and I let out a groan and set aside the pint, scooting off of the couch and pulling my unkemp hair up into a lazy ponytail so I didn’t look as slovenly before swinging open the door with a less than pleased expression.

Ryker stood in front of me. He was white as a ghost, dribbling sweat onto my hardwood floors, and looked as if he was about to collapse at any moment. His shirt was soaked through and where it stuck against his skin I could see the outline of his ribcage. I wasn’t sure what I was meant to do at first, not until he fell forward and into my arms, and suddenly I was seventeen again — guiding him around blindly to find a place for him to rest, so sick with worry that my stomach shrank and my throat clenched, then taking a cold washcloth to his forehead slick with adrenaline.

“What happened to you?” I asked, my eyebrows cinched together in that way that made me look just like Mom, persistently dabbing at his skin.

He didn’t answer immediately, communicating solely through groans and whimpers before I grabbed ahold of his hollowed cheeks and forced him to look me in the eye.

“Kicker,” he murmured in response.

My eyes shut and I gave a sigh. “Fucking idiot.”

We remained in mutual silence for a long time. I didn’t want to speak to him again, not then, not ever. I figured his tantrum concerning my pregnancy was the end of our relationship. At least, I was glad for that to be the case. There wasn’t a future that existed wherein I stayed with a guy that didn’t have it in him to nut up and be who he needed to be for the people that relied on him the most.

He quieted down after a while. I kept track of each breath he took, as I didn’t want to have relieve the painful memories of performing CPR on a half-dead man on his grandma’s bathroom floor. I’d leave that to the actual paramedics this time. He would have to keep himself alive until they got there.

“... Riles?” he said, and by the way he spoke I could tell he wasn’t fully lucid.

I glanced up at him. Some color had returned to his face. For that, I was grateful. “Yeah?”

“Can I stay here for a while?” he asked weakly.

I swallowed and looked away from him. I wanted to say no so badly, every fiber of my being was compelling me not to let him have his way like when we were younger — but when I saw him, I saw Rue, as much as I didn’t want to. They looked so much alike. I couldn’t escape him, I never would.

“For a little bit,” I eventually said. “Just a little bit. On one condition.”

“Anything,” he said, like it was really that easy.

I returned my gaze to his. “You don’t even look at my son.”

Ryker lived on my couch while I arranged for Rue to stay with Mom for the duration of his sperm donor’s visit. I didn’t think he deserved to know my son, the one I grew myself and made an effort to know and love before anyone else. It was the one thing I would never negotiate on.

Unsurprisingly, he never asked, so my grudge remained my own.

I would go between work, school, and home and we would acknowledge each other briefly and I would ask when he was leaving, and he’d always give a shrug like this offer wasn’t limited.

One afternoon after I came back from my classes I noticed that Ryker wasn’t in his usual spot on the couch binge watching some shitty dude show or movie. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I felt my gut tighten. Tossing my backpack aside, I wandered throughout the studio until I heard coughing emanate from my bedroom. When I leaned over I could see tendrils of smoke escaping underneath the crack in the door and the smell of pot was pungent in the air. Feeling pure venom ignite my veins, I crashed into the bedroom and felt the distinct urge to kill someone. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked loudly as I witnessed him take a hit of a joint. Without waiting for an answer, I stomped forward and grabbed onto his wrist tightly so I could steal it from him, which of course triggered him.

“Calm the fuck down, Riles,” he said like this wasn’t a clear disregard for the rules I had put in place, not to mention his promise of remaining clean while under my roof.

“Calm the fuck down? This is my place, you can’t do that shit here,” I hissed in return and went to crush the joint underneath my boot.

He reached out for my hand and made me stop. I couldn’t feel the sparks of warmth between us anymore, not like before, and for that I was grateful. I would hate to be the girl that caved at the smallest touch. Still, as he stared up at me, my breathing slowed and I inhaled steeply, letting in the intoxicating scent that I had missed for so long — it permeated the air, seeped into my thrifted jacket, clung to me like a sweet film of familiarity.

Coaxing me onto the edge of the mattress, my wary gaze lingered on his face as he plucked the joint from between my fingers and raised his hand up to my lips. I breathed in sharply, wanting desperately to deny him, but then he pushed it between my teeth and I couldn’t resist taking in a deep pull.

Fuck, I had missed that.

For the next few days we exchanged joints from a baggie that Ryker reportedly scored from one of our old high school friends. When I asked him for more details, he said something about Eddie and Gwen, and I heard him laugh whenever my eyebrows raised and my eyes seemed to light up. I hadn’t seen them in years. Not since I first got clean. Mom told me they would be a bad influence while I was pregnant and I was too emotional to argue, plus she was probably right anyway. They were junkies. We were all junkies. Useless, futureless junkies. At least Eddie was loaded through his mother and Gwen never left his side long enough to strain their friendship. I, however, was held to different standards, and soon we had drifted apart completely.

Ryker took me to one of the house parties that Gwen was throwing for no real reason. I remember she used to make up excuses — like whenever I scored high on a test or won a debate championship, which normally would’ve been celebrated with something underwhelming like Olive Garden and drinks or a trip to the mall on Mom’s dime — I wondered if she still did that. Must have. Or maybe she stopped caring and just threw them for the hell of it.

Didn’t matter to me either way.

One thing I appreciated was that I was never expected to dress up for these events; I could pull up in a flannel and bralette, face bare, and everyone would welcome me with open arms. I was worried they might have a few gripes with me for disappearing off the face of the earth in exchange for the life of a full-time mother. I couldn’t believe I actually cared what they thought, just like when I was a teenager. I thought I had evolved past that. Yet, it felt good to have such inconsequential worries again. For so long everything I fretted over had dire consequences, and now if no one liked me at least I could just go home and let life resume as normal.

I felt a wave of nostalgia crash against me as we pulled in front of Eddie’s house. You could hear the shitty dance music blaring from the front yard yet I couldn’t stop grinning the entire walk up to the door. I’d trailed behind Ryker, knowing it was better I kept my head down until I knew I’d be wanted around. At least that’s what my ever-persistent anxiety was telling me.

“Ry!” Gwen exclaimed as she swung the door open, a bright smile on her lips when she saw him. She threw her arms around his neck and rocked back and forth in place while his hands landed on her hips. I rolled my eyes instinctively. He hadn’t changed even for a second while we were separated. “Holy shit, is that—?” “The one and only,” Ryker confirmed, pulling out of the embrace and motioning to me.

I smiled nervously at Gwen and raised my hand to wave before she crashed me into a hug. My eyes were wide as I processed what was happening. She wasn’t pissed at me? I slowly returned the hug, squeezing her lightly just so she would know that I missed her, and I had. Really. I missed all my friends from back then. If only knowing them didn’t come with such high stakes for the life I was supposed to be leading.

“It’s about fucking time,” the blonde laughed in my ear. “God, I missed you. Where the fuck did you go, Lele? You need a drink, you’re like, so tense. Come on.”

I was dragged throughout the house, pulled through thick swathes of people in varying stages of intoxication, forced into plumes of smoke that didn’t make me cough like they would’ve if I’d entered without a steady reintroduction like Ryker had given me over the past week. We finally made it to the kitchen where Gwen poured me a shot and slid it across the counter.

As I swallowed the stinging liquid she called out for Eddie. I glanced around, assessing my surroundings just in case. The party was definitely bigger than I anticipated. Back when we were in high school they had connections, but it seemed since I was away they’d only grown more infamous than I once knew them as.

Gwen didn’t hesitate in refilling my shot glass once I’d finished the first round. I stalled on downing the second, tracing my fingertips on the edge while she conversed with Ryker — I wasn’t aware they were such good friends now. She used to hardly be able to stand him. Maybe she was just happy drunk enough to.

“Well, if it isn’t the ghost of Avalon,” Eddie’s distinct voice said from behind me.

I smiled fondly up at my old friend, not saying anything as I brought him into a hug. “How’ve you been, man?” I asked.

“Better than ever. Just got out on bail last week,” he informed me gladly, lifting me up off the ground. This time, I didn’t mind.

“Jesus, what did you do?” I couldn’t help but laugh in response.

“You know me. I’ve just been ballin’. Ask Gwennie.”

Gwen gave us a cheshire grin and nodded along. “Ballin’ way too hard, if you ask me. But we aren’t going back to jail again,” she said, pointing a finger at him and wiggling it around. “And if it does happen, guess who’s drinking toiler Kool-Aid forever?”

“Gross,” I scrunched my nose up with a chuckle.

Eddie ruffled my hair affectionately. “Where you been, Lele? You’ve been missed. Like, hella.”

“Hella, huh?” I echoed, smiling up at him. “I’ve been, uh… Working. And studying. Taking care of my son.”

“Oh, shit! That’s right!” he exclaimed with widened eyes. “You did have a kid. Ryker never fucking talks about it.”

“And he shouldn’t, he has nothing to do with him,” I reaffirmed.

Things got awkward for a moment, Eddie nodding along while Gwen cleared her throat loudly and shooed Ryker away, approaching me and taking my hands. I tried my best to smile. I didn’t mean to ruin things — but, well, it’s been my speciality since I was little. Ingrained in my DNA, I think.

“C’mon, Lele. Let’s get fucked up.” Gwen said.

So, that’s what we did. I sunk back my second shot, then a third, and a fourth before she finally offered me a red solo cup of a mystery concoction that she deemed her special recipe. I didn’t think to question her, already too far gone to examine what it must’ve been.

We danced together. I could feel the sweat begin to develop on my forehead and temples but the depressants in my system made me less vigilant of cleaning it. I screamed at the top of my lungs to songs I hadn’t heard in years. At some point I lost my flannel, throwing my body around in the crowd in just my bralette and jeans, but I didn’t care. For the first time in forever I wasn’t being dictated by anyone’s expectations.

I wasn’t thinking of how different everything was. For a little while, I was just Ridley Morales, single and thriving with no strings attached to the real world. As I was dancing with Gwen and forgetting about all my woes, I looked down at her and smiled widely, so wide my mouth hurt, and she smiled back up at me and I felt like nothing could get better than this.

Then I remembered Rue. How he was back with Mom. How he was probably confused as to why he hadn’t seen me in so long. It’d been two days since I called or texted; I was too busy with Ryker to even entertain the thought, when once it would’ve been all I cared about.

I started feeling nauseous. The lights began blurring together into one disorienting image and I stumbled, falling out of the rhythm I’d built up. Suddenly, the world snapped back into perspective, Rue’s sweet eyes appearing to me in the blackness of my vision and making me spiral back down to earth.

Gwen caught me, but instinctively I shoved her away and began to make my escape from the suffocating crowd. I nearly tripped over my ankles as I tried to navigate through all the people. I spotted a staircase and despite my sensitive stomach, I started ascending it with clumsy, heavy footsteps. I clutched desperately onto the railing until I made it to the second floor where it was much less populated and the stench of human bodies rubbing together mixed with alcohol and weed wasn’t as stifling.

I crashed into a bathroom. The lights were glaringly bright and it made me vomit immediately. I fell to my knees, clutching onto the toilet and feeling myself begin sobbing. The tears burned my cheeks and I couldn’t wipe them away fast enough. They wouldn’t stop. Nothing stopped; I was now hyperaware of every last stretch of skin that was contaminated by what I’d consumed and let touch me throughout the night, all the grime that made me untouchable.

Slick with tears and sweat, I remained on the bathroom floor, slowly sobering up in the most miserable way possible. I didn’t have the strength to pull myself up into the shower or even to the sink so I could clean up, sitting in my filth. I deserved it. I was a horrible fucking person. A worse mother than mine had ever been — at least she abandoned everything and everyone for a good reason, because I had been the fuck up, meanwhile I left Rue behind at the first sight of a joint.

Eventually the bathroom door came open and when I glanced up I could only see the silhouette of a woman standing over me. I blinked slowly, all my motor functions delayed because of my sudden shutdown, and made half an effort to at least wipe off my mouth so I didn’t look so disgusting sitting there.

Then, a hand lowered, palm outstretched for me to take. I looked up at her. She was gorgeous: big brown eyes, hair cut to her shoulders, split-dyed black and green, with bangs that framed her face perfectly, and a smooth complexion that glimmered underneath the light. She wore all-black, like the angel of death. I wondered for a second if this really was the end.

“Let’s go, Ridley,” she said and I frowned at this. She knew my name?

Rather than ask questions, I let her lead me out of the bathroom and back downstairs. In passing, Gwen asked if I was alright, but the strange girl assured her that I would be fine. For some reason Gwen didn’t pry anymore. She must’ve known her, even though she didn’t seem the approachable type.

She called us an Uber. I didn’t think about where Ryker was. I didn’t care at that point. Clearly I was only an accessory that night, that he had no intentions of actually keeping me under his wing, considering he made no real attempt at finding me first. We sat on the sidewalk and I did my best to keep the contents of my stomach inside my stomach.

When the car pulled up she let me in before her. I thanked her quietly and slid into the backseat, struggling momentarily with the seatbelt before I clicked it into place and leaned back where I sat. She was beside me, eyeing me cautiously with every move I made. I couldn’t really blame her, I was a fucking wreck.

“You don’t mind coming to mine, do you?” she asked me, like I had much of a choice.

I shook my head. “... Who are you?” I wondered instead.

“Ginny,” she answered. “Scott. We had government and civics together junior year. I sat behind you.”

I stared at her for a while.

“I don’t expect you to remember,” Ginny said in a monotone. “I wasn’t really the most social person.”

We arrived at what she claimed was her avó’s house fifteen minutes later. She helped me out of the car and brought me up the porch steps. I was concerned that I’d be intruding on an old woman’s privacy, but Ginny assured me that she was knocked out cold by nine o’clock every night, and it was well past midnight by then.

She took me up to her bedroom and let me sit on her bed while she rifled through her closet for clothes I could wear. I looked around and thought none of the decorations fit her vibe — the walls were painted a pastel pink and her bedframe was white and had intricate flower patterns on the ends, her comforter a plain lavender. The only semblance of Ginny I could find anywhere was a collection of Hot Topic jewelry compiled on her vanity, which matched the bedframe.

Ginny placed a graphic t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants in my lap.

“Shower’s just in there,” she said, nodding toward where a door was on the opposite wall. “I’ll get you some water and Advil.”

I clutched onto the clothes and held them close to my chest, glancing up at Ginny with widened eyes. “Why are you—”

“You’re really fucked up, Ridley,” she told me. “But so am I. So I know you shouldn’t be at parties like that.”

“... You were at the party, too,” I pointed out.

She sat beside me, lifting her hand up so she could brush some hair behind my ear. I felt a blush encompass my cheeks. Something I had known for my entire life but suppressed in favor of more pressing matters started making itself apparent in my heart and in my elevated breathing as we stared at each other.

“Go shower,” she said softly. “I’ll be here when you get out.”

And she was. Once I had finished sobbing until my eyes were sore and scrubbing obsessively at every easily accessed area of skin, I folded up my ruined clothes and pulled her t-shirt and sweatpants on instead. She let me sleep in her bed. It was soft and warm. There was a noticeable distance between us and a part of me wanted to close it, but I knew it would be a bad idea.

In the morning she woke me up with a cup of tea. I drank it all with more Advil. Then she told me to call someone, so I forced myself to dial Mom’s number, which she answered immediately. I tried explaining what happened as best I could without pissing her off too much to no avail. My temper was worn thin, so after just a few minutes of enduring her beration I demanded that she pick me up and bring Rue with her.

I needed to see him.

She agreed. Begrudgingly, I could tell. But she always had a hard time saying no to me, thankfully.

Ginny reentered the room once I hung up the phone. She approached me cautiously, like I was a wounded animal, and I guess I must’ve looked it then.

“Are you gonna be okay?” she asked me.

I looked down at my hands, starting to pick at the skin around my nails. “I hope so,” I replied.

She reached out and placed one of her hands over my own so I would stop before I drew any blood. “Good.” she said, then smiled, and somehow that made me feel like it would all be okay.

I gave her my number as she walked me to the front door once we heard Mom pull up. I didn’t want this to be the last time we saw each other and I knew she felt the same. I hugged her before I stepped off the porch, basking in her natural warmth and breathing in the comforting scent of vanilla and almond that now lingered on me as well — I had used at least half her bottle of bodywash while scrubbing myself clean.

Mom greeted me at her car with her lips pressed into a thin line but with Rue in her arms so I was immediately distracted. I picked him up and felt the weight of him against me and wanted to cry. I held him tight.

I promised myself this would never happen again, even though I’d gotten a taste of what life once was like before I was consumed with crushing responsibilities with no real way out.

As I sat in the car while Mom drove us back to her place, I had my bundled up flannel in my lap and noticed something in the pocket. Glancing away from Rue, I looked down to what was now in my palm.

A little white pill.

I swallowed. Stared down at it, willing it out of existence.

It remained there.

I tucked it back into the pocket securely and held the flannel tightly, then smiled back up at Rue.

Everything was going to be okay. I would figure how to make it all work.

#ridley — character study.#6.4k words for this one

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readingforsanity · 1 year

Text

The Housemaid | Freida McFadden | Published 2022 | *SPOILERS*

“Welcome to the family,” Nina Winchester says as I shake her elegant, manicured hand. I smile politely, gazing around the marble hallway. Working here is my last chance to start fresh. I can pretend to be whoever I like. But I’ll soon learn that the Winchesters’ secrets are far more dangerous than my own...

Every day I clean the Winchesters’ beautiful house top to bottom. I collect their daughter from school. And I cook a delicious meal for the whole family before heading up to eat alone in my tiny room on the top floor.

I try to ignore how Nina makes a mess just to watch me clean it up. How she tells strange lies about her own daughter. And how her husband Andrew seems more broken every day. But as I look into Andrew’s handsome eyes, so full of pain, it’s hard not to imagine what it would be like to live Nina’s life. The walk-in closet, the fancy car, the perfect husband.

I only try on one of Nina’s pristine white dresses once. Just to see what it’s like. But she soon finds out...and by the time I realize my attic bedroom door only locks from the outside, it’s far too late.

But I reassure myself: the Winchesters don’t know who I really am.

They don’t know what I’m capable of...

An unbealiably twist read that will have you glued to the pages late into the night. Anyone who loves The Woman in the Window, The Wife Between Us and the Girl on the Train won’t be able to put this down!

Millie Calloway is a recently released felon who is searching for a job. She’s on parole, and wants to keep her path on the straight and narrow. At the job she held, she was fired and told to leave so the cops wouldn’t be contacted and shortly thereafter, she was evicted from her apartment and has since been living out of her car.

Somehow, she scores an interview for a housemaid position with an affluent couple, Nina and Andrew Winchester, taking care of things around the house and assisting in taking care of their daughter, Cecilia. During the interview, Nina appears to be excited about hiring Millie, and while Millie has doctored her resume a bit, Nina offers her the job a week later and the next morning, Millie arrives to her new life.

Millie is shown around the Winchester home and shown to her room, which is a small attic room at the top of the house. Millie is less than thrilled about the accommodations, but considering where she had been, she doesn’t feel the need to complain. However, Nina’s demeanor quickly changes during her first day of work. Nina was a happy woman, seemingly trying to befriend Millie. But, now she comes off as crazy and neurotic. Her moods change quickly, and she is often cruel and mean to Millie.

Andrew, Nina’s husband, takes to Millie right away and they form a bond. He keeps saying off-the-wall things about Nina, such as she went through a difficult time and even confesses that Cecilia isn’t his biological child but that he has been the only father she’s ever known. Nina’s innocent crush quickly skyrockets out of control. However, she knows not to take that jump with Andrew.

Nina constantly berates Millie, and Millie gets closer and closer to losing her cool with her but luckily, she never does. After a visit to a fertiltiy specialist, where Nina hopes to become pregnant soon, Nina’s demeanor becomes quickly unbearable after she and Andrew are told that Nina won’t be able to bear children due to her age. Andrew, who has felt like his marriage was failing anyway, quickly becomes less and less involved with his wife.

Millie feels badly for them both, as she knew they both wanted a baby. But, after hearing why Nina has anti-psychotic drugs in her medicine cabinet, which she found while snooping, she feels it may be for the best. Several years ago, according to a woman at the ballet studio where Ceceilia takes lessons, Nina drugged herself and Cece, and attemtped to drown her in the tub. Millie is shocked at this revelation.

After discovering their fertility issues, Andrew suggests taking Nina to a broadway show, and Millie buys the tickets and books a stay at a hotel in the city. Nina tells her the date, but when the date comes, she berates Millie for booking the wrong date, even though Millie is sure she did the right one. When Nina leaves to take Cece to summer camp out of state, where she will be away overnight, Andrew suggests that the two of them go to the show. Millie, who has never been, is thrilled and excited. After dinner, and several bottles of wine later, they both decide to stay at the Plaza instead of returning home to New Jersey. The two of them end up sleeping together.

Life returns to normal, but Nina makes it clear that she knows of hers and Andrew’s discretion. A few days (weeks, maybe) after, Andrew kicks Nina out of the house and declares that he’s no longer in love with her.

It is here that we come to the second part of the novel, told in Nina’s perspective. She had been working at the company Andrew works for, though not directly under his supervision. They enjoy lunch together, and eventually, their love blossomed. They are quickly married and Nina and Cece are moved into his home. However, we quickly come to learn that Nina was never the problem she has protrayed herself to be...it has been Andrew all along.

With the help of Enzo, Nina comes up with a plan to get out from under her husband. For years, any time she did something that he did not like, he would lock her inside the attic bedroom upstairs and make her undergo torturous punishments, such as pepper-spraying herself and withholding food and water. It was after the first time in the attic room that he began portraying Nina as crazy, and even went as far as drugging them both and attempting to kill Cece to make it look like Nina was the psychotic one.

For years, Nina underwent these things in order to protect her daughter. However, as mentioned, Nina comes up with a plan with Enzo, their landscaper. Directly from Italy, he agrees to help Nina as his own sister went through an abusive relationship that ended up with her life being taken and he wasn’t able to do what he wanted to protect her, so he’s choosing to help Nina as a way to make up for his own indiscretions.

When Andrew gets wind of her attempt to escape, Nina realizes she will never be able to cleanly leave, therefore decides to find her replacement, and why she has hired Millie. But she did a background check on Millie, and knows that she was in jail for murder...not a drug offense like she had initially presumed. Millie had murdered a boy in her school at the age of 16 for attempting to rape her friend. She was charged with a lesser misdeamnor charge, and sent to prison, where she had been for the last decade. She knows that Millie has a way, and Nina hopes that she will kill Andrew for him.

After Nina has departed, Andrew and Millie seemingly begin a relationship. When he returns home from work one day, he finds Millie in her room upstairs packing up her things to bring down into the main house. The next morning, when Millie wakes up and attempts to leave the room, she realizes that Andrew is nowhere to be found and the door to the attic is locked.

And so begins Andrew’s torture of Millie, simply because she had left books on the coffee table and didn’t return them. She does as she is told, by holding three large textbooks and phone books on her stomach for three hours straight. When Andrew comes to unlock the door and let her out, he explains that this is what happens when she misbehaves (i.e. when she does something he doesn’t like). But, during her time in the attic, Millie has come up with a plan: she found the pepper-spray that Nina was forced to use on herself in the blue bucket in the closet, and attacks him. She then locks Andrew in the closet.

For days, Millie begins torturing Andrew the same way. She makes him spend 8 hours with the heavy text books placed over his genitals, keeps water from him, and even makes him pull out his own teeth in order to get out. Nina eventually returns at the urging of Enzo in order to help Nina, as he feels guilty that Nina has left Millie to deal with what she had to deal with. But when Nina returns, she finds Andrew inside the locked attic, where he is now dead and emaciated. Millie confronts her, and Nina tells her to get away, to do what she can to keep herself far from this.

When the police are called, Nina explains that Andrew must have locked himself in the attic on accident, without his phone. The police officer in charge of the case agrees that this is exactly what happened, as his daughter had been previously engaged to Andrew. Kathleen has since moved away and changed her name, and her father never knew what happened between the two of them.

At the funeral, Nina plays the role of the grieving wife, though she is unable to shed tears for the terrible man that her husband was. However, when his parents attend the funeral, Nina becomes painfully aware that Evelyn Winchester knows details about his missing teeth and assumes that she knows what really happened. But she tells Nina that whenever Andrew didn’t take care of his teeth, she would punish him for it, even going so far as to take a pair of his baby teeth with pliers.

Eventually, a year after the events, Millie finds another family looking for a housemaid, and is told that Nina Winchester has recommended her highly. Millie sees that the woman she is interviewing with has suspicious bruising on her arms, and realizes why Nina has recommended her.

Discussion Questions

1. Before she takes the job and at the very beginning of her emploment with the Winchesters, there are several warning signs that Millie does notice, but chooses to look past. Why doesn’t Millie get out of this situation? Millie had just spent the last decade in prison. Who wouldn’t want the freedom that she was experiencing. She’d either go back to jail OR go back to living out of her car, and she didn’t want that. She ignored Nina’s cruelty and behavior because she didn’t want to return to her old life.

2. Do you read many thrillers? If not, does this novel make you want to read more? If so, how does this novel compare to other thrillers you’ve read? I read thrillers pretty exclusively. I love the mystery and the attempt to try to solve it before the end. This particular book had me turning the pages quickly, and I didn’t want to put it down. While I enjoy thrillers, this doesn’t happen all the time with books.

3. Did you see the midpoint plot twist - revealed when the point of view shifted to Nina - coming? If so, what clues did you notice in part 1 of the novel that alerted you to the possible twist? I had an inkling when Enzo kept making hints. It was hard to believe a man of his large stature would be afraid of a woman three times smaller than him. But, it still sort of threw me. During Nina’s point of view, I felt so badly for her.

4. What about the ending reveal of Andrew’s mother’s abuse of her son - did you anticipate that plot development? How, if at all, did it change your perception of Andrew? It didn’t change my perception of him, but it does explain his behavior. No excuse or reason could ever make me feel badly for Andrew. But, the development that he endured the same kind of torture he was now inflicting on the people he supposedly loved, it makes sense. He was only doing what he was taught to do by a person who was supposed to love him. It explained his behavior, but didn’t excuse it.

5. While Nina was, intentionally as it turns out, terrible to Millie, do you think this justifies Millie starting an affair with Andrew? Why or why not? No. At first I was like, go Millie! Take that terrible woman’s man. But, there is no excuse for cheating at all.

6. Nina was certainly in a desperate situation, but do you think she was justified in recruiting Millie and setting her up like she did? How did the midpoint twist change your perception of Nina? It bothered me that she was essentially grooming another woman to take her place. There is no excuse for that. But, I do understand what she was attempting to do. She saw no other way out - it was either that or she may have ended up dead herself.

7. Nina could have let Millie take the fall for Andrew’s death but she chse to cover for her, after much prompting from Enzo to check in. Did this further change your view of Nina? Is Nina ultimately a good or bad person? I think Nina is both - she was trying to protect her daughter like any good mother would, but she was also letting another woman go through torture in order to do it. That’s not how the world works despite Nina thinking so. If it weren’t for Enzo, he knew what would have happened to Millie, though I don’t think Millie would have had any long-term issues considering her past.

8. Nina thought she’d go to jail, but she lucked out that Detective Connors, who investigated Andrew’s death, was the father of Andrew’s former fiance Kathleen and chose to help cover up the crime. Did you like this coincidence or did it seem too convenient or contrived for you? Didn’t even see that twist coming. We never even knew Kathleen’s last name until that point, so when he made that confession, I was shocked. I enjoyed this, as it’s clear that Kathleen went through something horrible while being with Andrew herself. He’s just another parent attempting to protect his child.

9. If the police and coroner hadn’t helped cover up the murder and Millie and Nina had gone to trial for Andrew’s death, would you -if you were a member of the jury - have acquitted or convicted them? I would have acquitted them. It was self-defense, through and through.

10. Millie has a strong sense of justice and what’s right and wrong. But she is also extremely violent. Did you like her character? Why or why not? I loved Millie. She knows what she did was wrong, but she was trying to protect her friend. She thought she was doing the right thing, and ultimately, paid her dues to society by spending several years in prison.

11. Andrew was undeniably a terrible person, but he also died a particularly gruesome death. Do you think he deserved what he got? Definitely deserved it. I can’t even describe the way I feel about his character, but he deserved it 100%.

12. We got to hear from Millie and Nina’s points of view. Would you have wanted to hear from Andrew’s point of view? Why or why not? No. Seeing it through their eyes was enough. I didn’t need to sick and twisted perspective from him.

13. Millie frequently protests that the bad things that hapened to her, that is, the violence she inflicts on others, that then creates negative consequences for her, aren’t her fault. Do you think Millie was just often in the wrong place at the wrong time, or do you think she has a psychological disorder? I wouldn’t say she has a psychological disorder, nor do I think she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Blaming others for what she did isn’t the right way to go about it, but she may also lack the skills in order to come to terms with what she did. She spent a decade in prison, and was likely having to protect herself while inside from the other female inmates, so she was only projecting that in the outside world.

14. The character of Enzo is a bit of a cypher in the first part of the novel, but turns out to be deeply involved in Nina’s scheme to escape Andrew’s clutches. What did you think of Enzo’s character? Enzo’s character made me laugh. At first I thought he and Millie would get together, but it’s clear he stuck around the house as much as he did because of Nina. But Enzo deeply cares. He is trying to protect the woman from the terribleness that was Andrew Winchester, he was trying to do what he couldn’t do for his sister.

15. The epilogue implies that Nina sends another abused wife to Millie, presumably for Millie to punish her husband. Millie says, “I understand why Nina recommended me so highly to this woman. She knows me. Maybe even better than I know myself.” Do you think that’s true? Do you think it’s fair to Millie for Nina to put her in another situation with domestic violence? I think it’s a bit of a stretch that Nina would send Millie for this simple reason. However, it does make sense. Nina hired her to murder her husband, so it makes sense that she’d send Millie to someone else who needed help.

16. Mafadden has written a sequel featuring Millie working for a different family. Will you be reading it? Why or why not? It is next on my list! But of course. If there is a sequel to a book, and I’m aware of it, I won’t even buy the first book without picking up the second copy with it, or borrowing it from the library. I need to know how things end. Honestly, McFadden could make an entire series of Housemaid books, and I’d read them all. And I sort of hope that they turn it into a movie or TV series. I’d definitely take the time to watch it!

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peakyblindersxx · 3 years

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now i cant stop thinking about breeding kink w Tommy since yesterday, ive never expected to like it so much but now all i think about is like a reader that wants to have a baby but Tommy's like "not now, its not the right time"etc but one day when he sees esme pregnant and john happy or something like that he decides to change his mind and get his wife pregnant too lmao i mean if youd want to write that then id die happily but if not its fine omg

a/n: soo, i made this fic tommy x wife!reader (cause i’m a sucker for tommy being soft for you & only you. can you blame me) and i fucking loved writing it, especially since i’m rewatching and s1 tommy has me all the way absolutely fucked up (not even gonna talk about john cause i’ll probably die). ngl there’s not much plot but it’s still cute imo, hope you like it!!

love, abi xxx

give you what you need - tommy shelby x wife!reader

warnings: nsfw! smut, breeding kink, daddy kink, just a whole lot of filth but i mean it’s tommy what can i say

Esme was waddling. Her stomach protruded from her body so far she could barely even get her arms around her stomach anymore. “Just what we need, another fuckin’ kid,” John had griped, but you could see his ocean blue eyes sparkling with adoration every time she shuffled into the room. In all truthfulness, you were a bit jealous. You’d broached the subject of children with Tommy before, but it was always met with resistance. You understood where he was coming from; he didn’t want to expose them to the life you were living. Yet, beneath it all, you knew what a good father he’d make. You saw through to his tenderness: the gentleness in his voice when he cared for a sick horse; the fierceness with which he protected Finn. Tommy didn’t like to admit it, but he was kind to those who were vulnerable.

Yet, something had changed in the way that Tommy was looking at you, crystal clear blue eyes fixed on your figure. You liked it when he looked at you, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Was it so wrong to crave someone’s attention like this? You wouldn’t know, unable to control yourself when it came to him. It was ridiculous, how he could rile you up with just a look. Was he really thinking about you underneath him? Right here, in the middle of John’s living room?

“Wanna get out of here, sweetheart?” Tommy leaned close to you, mouth hovering next to your ear. You could smell the whiskey on his breath, mingling with yours. That combined with the smell of his cologne was sending you into a tizzy, the gin and tonics you’d consumed adding to the problem.

“What’s wrong, Tom?” You questioned, eyes looking up at him. He chuckled.

“Nothing's wrong, darlin’. Just been out all day, yeah? S’gettin late,” Tommy drawled, lips brushing against the skin of your neck. His eyes said everything his mouth didn’t.

“Alright,” you relented with a soft smile, letting him tug you towards the door, giving a hurried goodbye to his other brothers. People stared, but didn’t dare say anything. Who would?

Tommy had the two of you home in less than ten minutes. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He didn’t need to say anything; you knew what was on his mind from the way he had pressed you against the car, nipping lightly at your neck before he opened your door for you with a devilish smirk. God, he made your head spin. It wasn’t long before he had his hands on you again, broad shoulders flexing as he carried you up the stairs, grinning cheekily at your laughter before closing the bedroom door behind you and immediately boxing you in against it, his calloused hands slipping under your flimsy peach dress. You whimpered, earning a chuckle from him as his lips grazed your collarbone, breath hot against your skin.

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you being as pregnant as Esme was,” Tommy groaned, hiking up your dress as he took the chance to press his cock against your core, hard and thick through his dress pants. “How fuckin’ angelic you’d look, belly full with my child.”

You couldn’t help your reaction to the words spilling out of his mouth, hips bucking slightly against him as you reached down to free his cock from its confines, savoring its heaviness in your hand as you guided him towards your already wet heat. Was it wrong to want this as badly as you did?

“Want you to fill me up, Daddy,” you moaned, the fond nickname having the effect you wanted as Tommy practically growled, making quick work of the peach number, revealing the white lace lingerie set you wore underneath. He couldn’t help but stop and stare, in an attempt to memorize just how gorgeous you looked, begging for him, of all people. “Want you to put a baby in me.”

Tommy snapped. In an instant, you were on the bed, legs flung over his shoulders as he pressed himself into you, your dripping core stretching at the girth of him. You couldn’t help the obscene mewl you let out, Tommy reveling in your desperate state. He quickly picked up the pace, cock bumping up against your cervix in a depravedly sweet sense of fullness.

“This what you wanted, sweetheart? Don’t worry, darlin’, Daddy’s gonna take care of you. Give you just what you need, aye?” He crooned, tone deceivingly sweet for the filth that was pouring out of his perfectly shaped lips. His thrusts grew faster, sending your eyes rolling into the back of your head as whimpers poured out of your mouth. Tommy savored each one, taking pleasure in the way you were writhing so beautifully underneath him, toes curling when you came. He couldn’t help but capture your lips with his, reveling in the way you moaned into his mouth when he fucked himself into you. You were a fucking vision, and you were his. He was going to make sure everyone knew it.

“Tommy, please…” You were so far gone, you couldn’t finish your sentence. Tommy had already fucked you through four orgasms, pace relentless, and he wasn’t letting up. You almost thought he enjoyed seeing you like this: needy, touch starved for him and only him.

“Please what, angel?” Tommy murmured into your ear, groaning at the feeling of your walls clenching around him as he brushed against your g-spot.

“N-need you to come in me, Daddy,” you managed to get out, vision hazy as you felt your fifth orgasm approaching.

“Poor baby, want me to fill you up ‘till you’re leakin’, don’t you?” Tommy’s eyes were dark as he watched you nod and squirm, filling you to the hilt as your nails scratched at his biceps. His words themselves almost made you cum again, pussy squeezing around his throbbing cock. Tommy’s mouth met yours in a bruising kiss as he fucked you as hard as humanly possible, sending stars across your vision. He chased your orgasm with his, leaving the insides of your thighs sticky. He couldn’t help but admire his work, a blush spreading across your cheeks as he took his time in drinking you in.

“Fuckin’ beautiful when you come,” he drawled, reaching for a rag to clean you with. Before he could lift you up and carry you to the bath, you stopped him.

“Doctor says I should lay on my back for twenty minutes. Helps the chances of the baby forming, or something.”

Tommy wasted no time in closing the space between the two of you once more. “I swear, you’re from heaven.”

#tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby masterlist

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therealvinelle · 3 years

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Ok I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I'm just now copying your Norwegian Bella AU into a text translator, and if you don't already have 50 people in your inbox demanding a translation then shame on ALL OF US because this is glorious! And while Google Translate does have a certain charm (it translated "piper hun ut" as "she beeps") I'm curious to see how you'd put it in English.

Troquantary is referring to this post. In which Bella doesn't speak English.

Fun fact, you're the only one who's gone into my inbox to request this. I was so sad, had the translation half-written and everything, but I was too proud to beg. So thank you, Troquantary, for popping this ask.

As for the dictionary fuckups, sounds about right. I made a few typos, too, that made Google Translate suffer even more. (Such as managing to mix up "henne" (her) and "hendene" (hands), resulting in Aro patting Bella instead of clapping his hands. Poor Google.)

Also, there are a few cultural references and language things that would be lost in the translation, in an attempt to keep them I included notes clarifying things.

Some things, like Aro and Carlisle's very old man way of speaking, are easier said than done to translate, you'll have to bear with me there.

Additional notes are that I added a few things to this version, many of them because translating is hard, but a few because while translating I thought "oh you know what would be much funnier-" and then wrote that.

Alright, without further ado:

When Renée left Charlie she did not go to Florida, she went to Oslo. And she went all in to make her daughter a true Norwegian, hiring Norwegian nannies and making sure never to speak English around the child. Since transatlantic flights are expensive, little Bella Swan rarely got to visit her father, and as such she never did learn what should have been her native language.

She quickly forgot what English she did have in favor of Norwegian, with the exception of words like “Yes”, “No”, and “I’m Bella”.

The few trips she took to visit her father were all the more awkward than in canon since she couldn’t play with the Black kids. Let not the blame fall upon Charlie: he took Norwegian classes and speaks conversational Norwegian. He can’t speak to Renée, because her Norwenglish is incomprehensible even to Norwegians, but he can communicate with Bella.

Not that he’s had a lot of chances to do so.

Bella makes it to seventeen years old, she’s in second grade at Handels* and is a major outsider among the preps there, and then Renée marries a handsome skier**. Together they shall travel the continent all winter to participate in as many skiing races as they can, and in the summer they’ll take gigs at Hurtigruta to see the coast.

*“Handels” is the nickname for an Oslo high school infamous for its pupils being rich and beautiful blonds who are going to be CEOs when they grow up.

**Skiing as a sport is huge in Norway

***Hurtigruta is a famous ferry that travels across the Norwegian West coast

Bella, who sucks at skiing and is too young to work at Hurtigruten, takes the hint.

With dread in her stomach and dictionary in hand she goes to her father in America.

Where she doesn’t speak the language.

Faen.

Charlie gives her a car, and I wish this meta was set in the present because I could have joked about electric cars and the automat only driver’s license*, but Twilight is set in 2005 so I can’t. The car part proceeds without drama.

*An increasing number of Norwegian youth take the driver’s license for automatic cars only, and we’re the country in the world with the highest percentage of electric car purchases.

School is worse than in canon, because she is now a thousand times more sensational than if she was merely the new student. She is from another country! All of Forks keels over with excitement.

To make matters even worse, our girl doesn’t understand a word of what people are saying.

She is too awkward to let them know she doesn’t know English. It’d become a thing, and they might think she’s dumb. To be fair, it’s not good that she’s been through primary, secondary, and now a year and a half of high school and still sucks at English.

So she nods, smiles, mumbles “Hi, I’m Bella” to the new faces, and blushes heavily when anybody says anything.

People assume she’s shy. That’s a bit boring, but oh well.

She has her biology class with the redhead hottie she noticed during lunch. She watched him and his family, they were fascinatingly pretty, but she doesn’t know anything more about them. Sure would have been great if she could have asked the tiny girl (was it Jess?) about them.

Biology proceeds as in canon - Edward badly wants to eat the delicious girl, but fortunately doesn’t.

She runs into him in the office when he tries to switch to another biology lesson, but she has no idea what he’s saying so she only has the suspicion that this somehow concerns her. Which is still uncomfortable, but Bella is probably the problem here. The hottie surely can’t be.

He’s missing from school for a week, Bella finds that weird.

He returns, and to her great horror he starts talking to her.

“Hello”, he says.

Bella dies inside. He’s too handsome!

"I'm Edward Cullen," he continues, and ok, she got that. The hottie is called Edward, that’s good to know. She’s not sure she caught that last name, though, Köln?

He says something else, it’s gibberish to Bella even though she’s concentrating, and at the end there he says “Bella Swan”.

She gulps.

"I'm Bella Swan," she confirms and nods. That should be correct. God, she hopes it’s correct.

He smiles a crooked, boyish smile. She’s awed. She didn’t think it was possible to be so beautiful.

He says something else.

Bella didn’t catch it.

She blushes even harder, she hasn’t been more embarrassed in her life. Here he is, the most handsome guy in all the world, and she has nothing to say to him. Literally, they don’t speak the same language.

She should tell him.

It’s one thing to chicken out of telling the town she doesn’t speak English, but there’s something different about Edward Cullen. He deserves the truth.

But...

He’s the most beautiful person she has seen in her life. He is American, too, so the odds of him knowing Norwegian are microscopical. If he finds out she doesn’t understand a word he says he’ll stop talking to her, and selfish as she is she doesn’t want that.

So with a slightly guilty conscience (but not enough to fess up) she contributes to the conversation with enough words and smiles to pull through. "Yes", "No", "Thank you", and "That's nice".

He is surprised by several of these answers, but instead of giving her odd looks and losing interest he grows more invested in the conversation.

Class ends.

The next day the near accident happens, and he saves her. She is stunned - dear god, did he just pick up a whole car? After teleporting across the parking lot..?

Soon she’s in the ER, and more than a little bit stressed about that fact since she knows the Americans have a terrible healthcare system.

She hopes Charlie has an insurance.

An insanely beautiful man walks into the ER, and Bella is shocked. He is just as handsome as Edward and Edward’s lunch friends!

He introduces himself as Carlisle Cullen, and Bella can only assume this is someone’s older brother. Possibly related to the blonde girl.

He smiles at her, says something, and she answers, "I'm Bella Swan."

He frowns.

That must have been the wrong answer, then.

His hands return to investigating her scalp, and to her great surprise he switches to perfect Norwegian, "kjenner De* noe ubehag når jeg holder her?" Do you feel any discomfort when I touch here?

*De is the Norwegian polite pronoun for “you”. Du = thou = the French tu, and De = you = the French vous. These polite pronouns went out of use in the 1980’s, save for when addressing royal persons, and would be considered antiquated in 2005.

He hurries to add, "Norsk lærte jeg i... fjor sommer. Det var et nettkurs." I learned Norwegian… last year. Online class.

"Hvilket da?" Which one? Bella asks, because Charlie needs to hear about this. The doctor has beautiful, if slightly outdated, pronunciation.

The doctor’s smile turns uncertain. She gets the feeling there’s something he doesn’t want to say. "Husker ikke," I don’t remember, sier han etter en litt vel lang pause.

That’s a shame. And weird.

"De hadde hellet med Dem i dag, som ikke ble truffet av den bilen." You were lucky today, not getting hit by that car. he then says, noticeably changing the subject.

"Det var ikke hell, det var Edward," It wasn’t luck, it was Edward, she replies sharply.

The doctor definitely looks uncomfortable.

She continues, "Han krysset skolegården på et blunk, og plukket opp hele bilen. Jeg så det," He crossed the schoolyard in a moment, and picked up the whole car. I saw it,

The doctor laughs. "Om han kunne det hadde nok gymkarakteren hans vært meget bedre. Nei, frøken Swan*, jeg beklager å si at det høres ut som at De er litt omtåket. Det er helt normalt ved hjernerystelse." If he could do that, his PE grade would be a lot better. No, Miss Swan, I’m sorry to say you seem confused. That’s normal with concussions.

*Addressing a young woman as “frøken” is even more outdated than using polite pronouns.

Why does Bella get the feeling he’s lying?

She’s discharged.

We’ll jump ahead to her trip to La Push - that trip uneventful, since Jacob knows she doesn’t speak English. They stick their hands in their pockets and stare at the sea.

The next day she’s shanghaied to Port Angeles, because apparently she said “Yes” at the wrong time when talking to Jessica (Turns out Jess’s name was Jessica!) and accidentally said yes to a day trip to Port Angeles.

Like in canon she wanders away from the others, and as in canon she is nearly gang raped. And again as in canon she is saved at the last moment by Edward.

He buys her dinner, and she can’t believe her own luck- and misfortune. A date with the most handsome guy on the planet (hence the luck) and she can’t say a word to him (hence the misfortune)!

He says things to her, lends her his jacket, and really this is it for Bella, she’s peaked, life can’t get better than this.

(That’s a lie, it would be better if she spoke English.)

He’s so amazing.

She’s gotten pretty good at navigating conversations with him, so she nods and aha’s her way through.

In his car on the way home the tone takes a more serious turn.

He asks her about something, and it’s a serious question, that much she’s gathered. She answers in the confirmative.

He is silent.

Did she say anything wrong?

(Edward, on his end, just asked if she knows what he is. She said yes, so calmly, not even a trace of fear in her.)

A few days later he takes her out on a walk in the woods.

He shows her a meadow in the woods, and when he steps into it he lights up in the sunlight.

Bella is in shock.

She knew there was something different about him, but- holy cow. This guy isn’t human.

Is she dating a god?

She stumbles into the clearing after him, and they spend a day together where he says things, and she can barely hear any of it (nevermind understand it) because she’s so distracted by how pretty he is.

The next day he takes her to a house in the middle of nowhere. She doesn’t want to guess that this can be where he lives. Surely gods don’t live in houses?

He shows her inside the house, and introduces her for Dr. Cullen and a lady with a name she doesn’t catch.

Bit weird that these two are acting like a couple of parents, they’re far too young and divine for that.

Edward shows her around in an old-fashioned office, and she doesn’t know what to make of i when she sees a painting of Carlisle. Edward launches into a long story when he sees her watching it, unfortunately she doesn’t catch any dates or artist names. At one point she heard the word “suicide”, though, and that’s not good.

She doesn’t get much out of the story.

The baseball game doesn’t happen because Bella didn’t pick up on what Edward wanted and didn’t realize she was being invited to a thing. They spend the afternoon watching a movie instead.

The relationship continues, impeded slightly by communication problems, but she’s mostly able to cover those up.

Until her birthday comes around.

She gets a papercut.

Jasper lunges at her. Edward throws her into a glass table, and then everyone is leaving.

Carlisle is kind enough to switch to Norwegian when he’s stitching up her arm, perhaps remembering the last time she was his patient. "Jasper har ikke vært på dietten vår så veldig lenge." Jasper hasn’t been on our diet for very long.

"Diett?"she asks. She’s never seen Edward eat anything. She wasn’t clear on what the Cullens ate, honestly she thought they were above such things. She was thinking maybe photosynthesis. The knowledge that they apparently eat food astounds her, but diets?

"Dyreblod istedenfor menneskeblod," Animal blood in stead of human blood, Carlisle clarifies.

Whachasay?

Carlisle gives a slight smile. “Jaspers liv som vampyr fikk en brutal start." Jasper’s life as a vampire got off to a brutal start.

...

Vampire?!

Bella’s missed something here.

Oh dear lord, oh fy faen, she has missed something.

“Åja”, uh huh, is all she can say, and suddenly she’s very aware of the fact that she’s sitting there with a bleeding arm.

And Carlisle.

Who is a vampire.

Over the course of the following conversation Bella makes a host of discoveries.

Edward has been a vampire this whole time, and he’s a telepathic vampire. Whether Bella should be a vampire too or not has been a matter of hot debate, but due to religious reasons Edward doesn’t want that.

Carlisle also brings up how Edward died of the Spanish flu.

"Jeg var under den oppfatning at Edward fortalte deg bakhistorien min?" I was under the impression Edward told you my back story? Carlisle asks at one point, and Bella just has to ask very nicely if he’d be so kind as to repeat it.

Turns out the guy is nearly four hundred years old.

Jaha.

Jahahaha jaa ha.

That’s… a lot.

She wanders out of the house in shock, and hardly notices Edward’s strange behavior over the next couple of days.

One day he picks her up at school, and takes her behind the house.

That works out.

He’s a vampire, but he never hurt her. He is endlessly beautiful, perhaps easier to love now that she knows he’s not a god. He’s her Edward, and that’s suddenly easier now that she knows.

They can still be together.

But now that she knows this about him, it’s about time he knows something about her as well.

It’s time to finally be honest with him.

So when he opens his mouth, she opens her mouth as well, but she doesn’t get any further than to “Edward-” before he launches into a monologue.

She’ll have to wait until he’s done before saying her piece. It’s a bit embarrassing, but it doesn’t seem like he intends to stop talking anyway.

And what he’s saying seems to be serious, so it’s probably best to let him finish.

Edward concludes his monologue by kissing her forehead. Then he disappears.

Where did he go?

A big unsure, Bella goes back to the house. She’ll just have to wait until he gets back.

She doesn’t know what to think when Charlie returns from work and tells her the Cullens have all left.

Oh, god.

Edward must have found out she doesn’t speak English.

She made a mockery of him.

He has every right to leave.

Knowing this doesn’t make it any easier to live with.

Bella sinks into a depression.

The hallucinations begin, as in canon, though Hallusinward speaks Norwegian. Thank god for small mercies.

The friendship with Jacob (dictionary in hand) blooms, as someone has to help her see those hallucinations.

The cliff diving happens, and Alice shows up. Bella’s not sure what this is about, but she has gotten good enough at English to know that something bad happened, and Alice wants them to do something.

She’s a bit surprised to find herself on a plane to Italy, though.

Alice tells her to “Run to Edward” and ok, she got that, actually.

So she saves Edward.

After that she’s taken into the sewer, which turns out to house dozens of vampires.

Bella, Edward, and Alice are received in some kind of hall, where an unusual vampire has quite a bit to say. She understands some of what he’s saying, at least the part about “la tua cantante”. She knows a bit about Italian, see, so she knows that he’s talking about a song now.

She wishes she knew the context.

At one point he takes her hand, and appears fascinated by it. She wonders if he’s a palmreader. Not very vampirey, but what does she know.

He asks her a question.

"Yes," she says.

Saying yes has gotten her this far, after all.

But when he lights up and claps his hands together, and Edward and Alice stare at her in shock and betrayal, she knows she must have said the wrong thing.

The two are dismissed from the room before Bella can do or say anything, she’s just listening to Edward make a racket outside in the hallway.

Not good.

The unusual vampire brings her further down in his sewer palace to a basement, and she is given comfortable clothes to wear.

This is getting terrifying.

The vampire leans towards her - and she chickens out.

"Jeg snakker ikke engelsk!" she squeaks. "Non habla ingles!" I don’t speak English.

Han stanser, og ser forvirret ut. "Que- Hva behager*?" I beg your pardon? spør han etter et øyeblikk.

*A very formal, and slightly outdated (you can use it, but people will think you’re putting on airs. And they will be right) way of saying “excuse me?”

Sobbing, Bella tells him the whole story, from how she didn’t want to be the weird kid in school to how she’s now somehow in Italy without knowing why nor what she just agreed to.

When she’s done the vampire starts laughing.

"Dette forklarer jo en hel del," This explains quite a bit, ler han. "Men, kjære Bella, jeg er redd det ikke endrer noe." But, my dear Bella, I’m afraid it changes nothing.

He tells her that she has agreed to serve him and his army of undead warriors into eternity.

Well fuck.

"Du skal få slippe det, når du ikke visste hva du samtykket til - men skjebnen din forblir den samme. Loven er loven." You’re released from that promise, as you didn’t know what you agreed to - but your fate remains the same. The law is the law.

After a moment of silence, during which she looks terrified, he hurries to add, "Vi har en lov. Du må bli en av oss." We have a law. You must become one of us.

A law that Bella Swan has to become a vampire?

People are finally speaking Norwegian, and Bella is still lost. And it’s too embarrassing to keep pestering this poor, polite man with questions.

So she nods.

He gives her a glittering smile, and bites her.

When she wakes, Aro offers her an English course. A language course that, naturally, leads to her staying in Volterra. Why not learn a few more languages while we’re at it, dearest Bella?

Some time later Edward breaks into Volterra to save his Rapunzel, only to barely recognize her now that she’s a vampire who says things. Lots of things, she talks all the time now. WHAT DID ARO DO TO HER.

Too mortified to admit that she never spoke English, Bella claims she’s been brainwashed.

Aro is having too much fun to correct her, and the whole sad affair sets off a regrettable flood of rumors.

#troquantary #norwegian things #bella swan #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #evighetens kyss #evighetens kyss meta #evighetens kyss renessanse

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lovelybarnes · 3 years

Text

dad- l. laufeyson

pairings: loki laufeyson x doctor!mom!reader, mentions of tony stark, natasha romanoff, steve rogers, oc, and thor odinson warnings: a child, y/n is a mom, dad!loki who is probably a little ooc but i hope that’s okay, y/n is a doctor but there’s no real detail, it’s just alluded to, mentions of an absent father, mentions of adoption about: requested! They’re dating and she has a toddler from a previous relationship that ended badly. Loki treats the baby like she’s his own and brings her to the compound once in a while to show off ‘his’ baby. The little one adores Loki and started calling him dada, making the soft side of him comes out. And also the very protective side. He eventually asks reader if he can officially adopt her to be the father figure. Since reader never put down the fathers name on the birth certificate, they put Loki’s down. a/n: thank you so much for requesting! i hope you liked this!!

tiny fingers splayed your cheeks wake you up, wet lips pressing continuously on your nose as familiar laughter rings in your ear. your nose scrunches, prying your eyes open to meet the mirror image of them in front of you. at the grin that splits daisy’s face, a smile sneaks up on your lips, too, “hey honey,” you say quietly, brushing away a strand of hair that falls in her eyes as your daughter’s warm hands hold your face.

“hi mama,” daisy replies, snuggling into your side, “pancake day,” she informs happily, a chubby finger reaching to trace the slope of your nose.

you tilt your head at her, raising an eyebrow, “really? who says?”

daisy doesn’t get a chance to reply, the crack to your door widening when loki steps through it, balancing a large plate stacked with pancakes and fruits in one hand. “loki!” daisy cheers, sitting up to reach for the food. you sit up, too, cocking your head at your boyfriend as you observe the platter.

“you made food?” you ask, eyes scanning the little cubes of cut-up strawberries and bananas before looking back up at him in pleasant surprise.

loki ducks his chin, “you were asleep. and today is pancake day. i simply could not disappoint daisy,” he explains, letting daisy take a piece of banana to shove in her mouth.

you gently run your fingers through her hair, a soft smile tugging at your lips, “hey, dais, let’s go eat at the table and watch some cartoons, hm?” at the sound of cartoons, she nods quickly, bouncing off of the bed to tug at loki to follow her, the god not making a peep when her grubby hands leave a smear of banana on his wrist. you watch as they head to the kitchen, listening when loki turns on the television and flips it to her favorite show without her needing to tell him. you take a second to remind yourself that the god in your house, sneaking homemade whipped cream--because store-bought whipped cream is not fit for her--to your daughter, is the same god who, not too long ago, physically recoiled at the mere mention of midgardians. you stand when you hear daisy’s voice calling you over when you take too long to follow, peeking around the corner to see loki cutting her chocolate chip pancakes into little squares. “any left for me?” you ask, your body burning hot when loki turns to look at you, a twinkle in his clear sea glass eyes.

“good morning, darling,” he greets, his lips kissing your cheek when you come closer to him, an arm wrapping around your waist. “pancake?” he offers, showing you a plate with two perfectly shaped pancakes, whipped cream piled high just the way you liked it and berries surrounding it in the way you always tried to do but were never able to. you pecked his lips, smiling against him when you heard your daughter protest loudly.

“what are we watching today?” you ask her, fingers taming the mess of bedhead that sits atop her head. she turns to the television after shoving pancake into her mouth, pointing at the image, “clifford,” she says simply. you sit next to her, exhaling, “that’s a good one.” daisy nods, “i want a dog,” she states after a second, “like clifford.”

you glance at loki, “finding a big red dog is going to be a little hard, sweetie--”

“i’m sure there’s one in asgard, if not, there must be one somewhere else,” loki shrugs, squinting at the show, “i’ll find one. worry not.”

you shake your head, chuckling, “maybe a normal-sized dog, daisy.” daisy pouts but nods.

the sounds from the television are the only ones for a few moments until you speak up, “oh, i completely forgot, i have to go meet with some big shot hospital reps for almost the whole day today, do you mind taking care of daisy?” you ask loki, an apologetic look on your face.

“of course not, she can accompany me to the compound today,” loki reasons, not missing the excited look that crosses daisy’s face.

you brighten, “that’s a great idea!” you turn to your daughter, who has smeared red on her cheek and a strawberry in her fingers, you huff a laugh, wiping it away with one of your fingers, “what do you think, dais? wanna go visit the other avengers with loki?”

she nods immediately, hurrying to swallow the fruit in her mouth before turning to loki, “can i wear your cape again?” she asks enthusiastically, patting wildly at your arm, “loki lets me use his cape!”

your eyebrow raises as you look at loki, “does he, now? i thought no one could even touch it?” you tease, appreciating the pale blush that takes over the snow of his cheeks as he shrugs, clearing his throat.

“there are always exceptions to rules,” he states.

“i love you,” you say, pressing a kiss into daisy’s hair, she parrots the phrase back to you, leaning further into loki’s arms when you pull away. “i love you,” you continue, kissing loki’s lips, “thank you again,” you whisper, feeling him chuckle against you.

“it is my pleasure,” loki assures before kissing you again. you pull away after a second, smacking your lips on daisy’s forehead as another goodbye.

“i’ll be back later, have fun, okay?” you request before finally walking out the door to head to work. you don’t see daisy’s pout as she lays her head on loki’s shoulder, balling her hand in his shirt. a soft smile tugs at loki’s lips, looking down at her to ask her if she’d like to go to the compound now.

a little while after she nods at his, he finds himself clicking her seatbelt in, making sure she’s safe in her booster seat before he begins to drive. he knows he could easily go there with a flick of his hand, but the travel makes daisy nervous, and, besides, she prefers to ride in the car with him, singing along to the playlist of the songs loki found himself liking in midgard.

daisy squeals when loki pulls into the driveway of the compound, jumping out of the car when he unbuckles her to hurry loki up. she pulls at his pant leg, growing more excited by the minute when she sees the red white and blue of steve’s shield flying behind the compound. “i do not understand why you like that thing so much. so boring,” loki grumbles, grabbing her hand and opening the door.

“ah, there she is!” thor’s voice booms nearly the minute loki and daisy step in, daisy’s grin grows wide, looking back at loki before running to thor. “uncle!” she squeals, oblivious to the way loki freezes when she says the simple word. thor carries her in his arms, holding her up like simba.

“my favorite niece! i brought the hammer for you today!” thor exclaims, sitting her down on one of his arms before holding his other hand out. loki looks to the side, realizing his brother is calling for the hammer with his daughter in his arms, quickly stepping over to him to take her away just as said hammer flies into his open hand. he twirls it, before handing it to daisy in loki’s arms, still keeping a hold on it as she wraps her small fingers around the hammer.

“brother…” loki hisses quietly, refusing to upset the little girl in his arms but wanting nothing more than to knock some common sense into his brother. “i would like to remind you to not do that while daisy is near you.”

daisy barely looks up at her name, too entranced with the intricate carvings in the hammer, “oh, she’ll be fine,” thor shrugs, clapping loki hard on the back, “i am very careful, brother.”

loki purses his lips, “yes, i remember how careful you are.”

“hey! reindeer games and little grey!” tony cheers from around the corner, natasha catching his words from the kitchen and heading for loki. loki can spot the captain in the hallway. “haven’t seen you in a while, kid,” tony tells daisy, ruffling up her hair, “thought you ditched us.”

loki rolls his eyes, concentrating on daisy, who reaches for the electric blue in tony’s chest, murmuring “pretty.”

“isn’t it?” tony brags, tapping a nail on his arc reactor, “built it myself. you want one?” daisy agrees enthusiastically, but loki makes sure to send tony a glare that tells him if he even dares. loki will finish the job in new york.

“how’s the doc?” natasha asks, coming cilently from the kitchen with a bag in her hand.

“y/n is good, she’s at the hospital right now.”

“hey, dais,” natasha starts, her green eyes sparkling, “you remember the toys you wanted from the mall last time we went?” daisy nods. natasha holds up the bag in her arms, “you wanna go see what’s in the bag?”

daisy’s eyes go wide, and she turns to loki, “can i dad? please?”

loki chokes down the uncharactersitic lump in his throat so he can nod, putting daisy down so she can grab natasha’s hand. when they’re out of hearing range, steve raises an eyebrow at loki, “‘dad’? that’s a big one.”

“yes,” loki clear his throat, “she had never called me that before.”

the other men exchange looks, before thor claps loki on the back with a beamng grin, “congratulations.” loki has never felt luckier.

it’s a few hours later, when you’re back at home, exhausted and sprawled on the couch next to loki with daisy sleeping on your and loki’s lap. “how was your day?” you ask quietly so you don’t disturb daisy.

“as excellent as a day with the avengers can be. i took daisy to the compound, everyone adored her, natasha spoiled her…” loki trails off, the clear cut reminder of the events of that day bright and new in his mind, “she called me dad,” loki finishes, allowing himself to look into the deep nooks and crannie of his brain that urges him to tell you what he’s been thinking about for far too long. there’s a second of silence.

“she’s never said to you that before,” you finally say softly. loki shakes his head, “she’s slipped up before, though. sometimes she calls you papa when she talks about you.” loki turns to you, searching your features for a lie he won’t find. “you are her father, loki. you’re way more of a father than her biological dad ever has been. you’re her dad, she loves you.” there’s more silence, the question you’re implying hanging in the air, waiting to be grasped and asked.

“would you adopt her?--” you grasp.

“i would like to adopt daisy--” he grasps.

you stare at each other before quiet laughter bubbles from your mouth, a nod tilting your chin, “you know, i never put her biological father’s name in her birth certificate.”

“we could go tomorrow,” loki offers, admiring the beaming smile that brightens your tired face.

“we should,” you agree, staring at loki for a few more moments before connecting your lips, looking down at daisy and brushing away some strands from her face when you pull away. you nod, meeting loki’s eyes again, “tomorrow.”

398 notes · View notes

ibijau · 3 years

Note

Oh, here's a prompt! Nie Huaisang travels back in time to ensure that Jin Guangyao stays away from the Jin sect. When he gets back, he's disturbed to find that not only is Meng Yao now his stepbrother (or has at least become a very respected disciple of the Nie sect), but is also now engaged to Lan Xichen. Cue screaming and/or fainting. But at least Minjue is still alive, right?

It was surprisingly easy to make it all happen, much to Nie Huaisang's surprise. In stories time travel was always so complicated to orchestrate, with so much to plan for... but Nie Huaisang had just done it, and it seemed to be working well.

His first stop had been to Meng Shi, shortly after the birth of her son. He could have gone back further and prevented her from ever having that son, but... but at the end of the day, he'd been impossibly fond of Meng Yao even if he'd grown to hate Jin Guangyao. The solution, then, had been to visit his mother and make sure she didn't fill her son's head with impossible dreams.

It had taken some money to get Meng Shi out of the brothel for a few days, and she'd been quite suspicious of him at first. But Nie Huaisang had been a gentleman, and she'd warmed up to him a little. She'd even given up on trying to seduce him once he'd explained that while not opposed to feminine charms on occasion, he mostly cut his sleeve. She'd acted quite sorry for him when he'd explained that actually, he'd just gotten out of a long relationship that had ended badly due to some trust issues and a the betrayal of a man they'd believed to be their friend. Meng Shi had shared a few stories as well, some her own, most her colleagues'.

By the time they'd arrived in Lanling, Nie Huaisang had become quite attached to Meng Shi, and decided he might change his plans a little, depending on what would happen in the next few days.

Meng Shi was not happy to meet other women who'd had the dubious pleasure of sharing Jin Guansghan's bed. She was even less happy to talk to them and learn that none of them, not a single one, had ever received money or attention again after he'd left them, not even those who'd had a child. One of them, the servant of a powerful family of merchants, had gone begging at the door of the Jin sect when her three years old daughter had fallen sick with something nobody understood. She'd been sent home under threats of a beating if she ever showed up again, and her daughter had died.

That had been nearly four years earlier. Jin Guangshan hadn't been sect leader yet, but he'd been his father's favourite and most spoiled son, so he would have had the power to do anything he pleased, including sending a doctor to his daughter, or having her brought into Jinlin Tai to make sure no dark spirit was attacking her. He wasn't even engaged to his wife at the time, so it was impossible to use her to excuse his lack of care. And he'd known about the child's sickness, because he'd happened to be passing by when the mother came begging for help. It was he who had ordered she be sent away, annoyed by her crying.

Meng Shi had gone paler and paler as that poor woman told her tale of sorrow, clutching her son tighter against her chest. When Nie Huaisang and her had returned to their inn, she had asked him why he'd wanted her to meet those other women.

“I just don't like what he's doing,” Nie Huaisang replied, a little embarrassed that he hadn't thought she might get curious. It was stupid of him. Meng Yao surely couldn't have gotten his brains from his father after all.

Meng Shi, sitting on her bed, rocked her infant son in her arms in silence for a moment.

“They were all weak,” she said after a while.

“Who?”

“Those other women. They were all weak.”

Nie Huaisang tensed, fearing that she might announce she was cut of another cloth, that she would persevere where they had given up, but Meng Shi only sighed and kissed her son's forehead.

“He picked them so they were young and would have no one to turn to. Servants and prostitutes and unwanted daughters... he picked us so we'd have no one to turn to when he'd abandon us, no one to defend our honour and force him to pay for the children he made us have. Women like us, it's our own fault for getting pregnant in the first place, isn't it?”

Nie Huaisang stared at her, and realised she was right. He'd been so busy collecting names, he hadn't paused to wonder if there had been a pattern to Jin Guangshan's actions.

“Are there any more you want me to meet?” Meng Shi asked.

“No, she was the last one.”

“Then I suppose we'll started heading back to Yunping City tomorrow. I'll have to make new plans for...”

“No, we're not going back,” Nie Huaisang announced, startling her. “It's too unfair if you go back, you deserve better. Both of you deserve better!”

She blinked a few times, and gave him an amused smile, still rocking her baby. She didn't believe him, of course. Nie Huaisang could hardly blame her for that. After her last experience with a cultivator...

But Meng Shi really did deserve better. Nevermind that in a future he hoped to have now prevented, he'd desecrated her body to get back at her son, this was a different thing. Meng Shi was not a bad person. He'd once thought her guilty of ambition at least, but after a couple weeks in her company, he realised she'd just been desperate for a chance to escape her lot in life. He couldn't really hate her for that, even if it had led to such tragedies after her death.

Nie Huaisang liked her now that he'd met her, and he couldn't condemn her and her son to a worse fate than what they'd have known without him.

He needed a plan.

He needed a smart plan.

He had a plan.

“So, I might have lied a little, you're going back to the brothel,” Nie Huaisang said, earning an unimpressed smirk. “But not for long! I'm going to try something but... would you be willing to lie about who sired your son?”

“Why not? At this point, the truth won't get me much.”

“Perfect. Then I'm going to warn my sect that I have fathered a child, and that I'm unable to care for it at the moment. I'll have to write to them but... but I know Nie zongzhu will immediately send for you. He'll probably ask after me, he hasn't seen me in nearly a decade, but I know he won't have forgotten his cousin Nie Xingyu, and he'll do what's right for my son and his mother.”

And there was no risk of the real Nie Xingyu ever returning to ruin that story, Nie Huaisang knew. His father's beloved cousin, who'd become a rogue cultivator after an argument with their grandfather, had actually died a year or two before Nie Mingjue was even born. A Night Hunt accident, one which Nie Huaisang had discovered by chance while investigating some of Jin Guangyao's crimes. But he remembered his father always hoped to see Nie Xingyu return, always speaking so highly of that cousin who had been almost a brother to him.

Nie Huaisang's father would be delighted to meet his cousin's son, and if “Nie Xingyu” asked for it he would buy Meng Shi's contract in a heartbeat. It would only be a matter of convincing sect leader Nie then, and Nie Huaisang wasn't worried about that. His father had kept all the letters his cousin used to send and read them to his sons, so Nie Huaisang was confident he could imitate his prose and handwriting, not to mention he too carried the Nie seal to mark that letter.

At worst, if it didn't work, Nie Huaisang could always find the money somewhere to buy that contract in person and try to find somewhere to leave Meng Shi, but he'd rather know that she and Meng Yao were safe and sound in the Unclean Realm.

Meng Shi, of course, looked unimpressed by his plan. She still thought he was lying, or trying to sell wonders like other men before him so they could share her bed for a reduced fee, or demand more of her than they'd paid for. Nie Huaisang didn't mind. If people's opinions of him mattered, he would have chosen a different way to avenge his brother, wouldn't he?

It took nearly a month after Nie Huaisang had brought Meng Shi back to her brother, but one morning, from the room he'd rented across the street, he saw a small group of Nie cultivators go in. His father was among them, and when they excited the building, he was carrying little Meng Yao in his arms and chatting cheerfully with Meng Shi who seemed shocked at this turn of events.

Unseen by her Nie Huaisang smiled, and went to activate the talisman that would take him back to his own time. Hopefully this would have been enough to save Nie Mingjue. And if it hadn't... well, he knew how to travel to the past now.

Nie Huaisang opened his eyes. He was in his room, and yet not. This was what used to be his room when he was young, before he became sect leader. A little smaller, a little more private, with a view on a small private garden where he kept his favourite birds. Hisroom, the one he'd always preferred, and had only abandoned in a desperate attempt to be the leader he'd thought his people would need. If he still lived in this room, then it meant Nie Huaisang wasn't sect leader.

Delighted by this apparent victory, Nie Huaisang sprung to his feet and rushed out of the room, only to run head first into someone.

He'd ran into that person enough times that he knew them instantly, even before seeing their face.

“Well someone is in a hurry,” Nie Mingjue said with a laugh.

A laugh.

Nie Mingjue was laughing. Nie Huaisang couldn't even remember the last time he'd heard his brother laugh like this. Not since the Sunshot Campaign, he thought.

“Your cousins haven't arrived yet,” said someone standing just a step behind Nie Mingjue, her voice also full of laughter. “You didn't oversleep, don't worry.”

It took all of Nie Huaisang's willpower to look away from his brother (Nie Mingjue, happy, laughing, healthy) but he managed it, because that other voice was a little too familiar.

It was odd to find Meng Shi in her fifties when just a few hours ago, Nie Huaisang had seen her in her early twenties. Her hair had turned grey, there were wrinkles on her face, and she had exchanged the bold colours she used to wear at the brothel for the muted tones the Nie sect favoured. It suited her. Growing old suited her, if only because she would never have had the chance, had Nie Huaisang not changed her fate.

“I think he's not quite awake yet,” Nie Mingjue teased when Nie Huaisang stared too long, poking his little brother in the shoulder. “But at least I don't have to drag him out of bed. Can I leave the rest to you, auntie?”

Meng Shi smiled, and assured him she'd make sure Nie Huaisang was ready for his cousins' arrival. Nie Mingjue thanked her and left. Nie Huaisang almost ran after him, suddenly needing to touch him, to hug him, to make sure this was real, that he had truly...

“Now it's finally you,” Meng Shi noted, earning a curious glance. “I've realised a few years ago that you looked oddly similar to the man who helped me. Too similar to simply count it as family resemblance. But until today, you didn't look quite right either.”

When Nie Huaisang could only blink at her, she laughed.

“I thought so. I've been wondering for years, but... you did something to change what was meant to happen, didn't you?”

“I did. I wanted... I needed to save certain people.”

“Your brother,” Meng Shi guessed.

Nie Huaisang nodded.

“And my son?”

He nodded again. “Where is he? Is he well? He learned cultivation, right?”

Meng Shi smiled proudly. “He's one of the best in his generation, people keep telling me. He's married now, and living with his husband, but they come visit often. They wanted me to come live with them in the Cloud Recesses, but it's too cold for me over there, and I like the friends I've made here in Qinghe, so I... is something wrong?”

Nie Huaisang nodded, then shook his head. “His husband?”

“A-Yao is married to Lan zongzhu,” she explained. “I would have preferred if he'd married a woman, but Lan zongzhu is a very good husband to him, and they always seem so very happy when they're together. It's all a mother can truly wish for, isn't it? To see her child settled and happy.”

Nie Huaisang said nothing.

He did not run back into his room, didn't hurriedly prepare some ink so he could draw another time travelling talisman and set things right. It was tempting, so tempting. But Nie Huaisang resisted that temptation, and forced himself to smile.

“I'm so happy for them,” he mumbled after a while, and hoped he would learn to mean it.

#Meng Shi #Nie Huaisang #xisang #xiyao #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #this was super fun to write thanks for the prompt!!

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mrsmaybank · 3 years

Text

My Little Sun - Reid x Reader

“Ridiculously perfect.” I held her tighter as she looked up at me and our eyes locked, “I’ve fallen ridiculously in love with you.” “So my evil plan worked then?” She chirped.

CONTENT WARNINGS: AGE GAP, VIOLENCE, KIDNAPPING, PREGNANCY, STALKING, LANGUAGE probably the misuse of a Russian word IF THERES MORE LMK

A/N: Okay, let me be honest rq this idea lowk scared me but the words really just fell out of my brain really easily so, yk fuck it whatever. ANYWAY, if you like, please let me know!

pt 2, pt 3 “I love you Spencer.” The words immediately melted me.

“I know so many things.” She gave me an unapproving look.

“I don’t mean to sound cocky, but I do! Now for once in your life, listen to me.” She nodded her head in concession.

“I’ve just read more, I’ve written more, I’ve discovered and studied more than the average person. I could tell you a little bit about anything with one hundred percent certainty. I could--and want--to tell you the names of all the stars, I could recite verbatim the entirety of Prometheus Bound by Aeschylus or Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, which you know, speaking of I will ‘cause I still can’t believe you haven’t read it,” Her smile flattened into a straight line, and I laughed. “Orrr, I could also tell you something simple, like why we get the hiccups.” I shook my head.

“Regardless, I know so many things and I’m rarely taken by surprise because of it. Everything in life is a pattern of change, and as a human, we will always adjust and adapt to whatever situation we are in. For better or worse, we don’t feel the same thing for very long. This is why an addict takes a couple more every time, a sadist hits his second victim harder than the first, they’re searching for the high of the first time, and it will never come.”

She nodded in understanding,

“I know this is true, it’s factual, and yet every time I look at you it feels like the first. You’ve broken the laws of human psychology.”

“First time you saw me was at a gas station Spencer.”

“No. The first time I looked at you after I knew I loved you.”

“Where were we?”

“My car. You were dancing. You looked ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously sexy? You mean?” She smiled.

“Ridiculously perfect.” I held her tighter as she looked up at me and our eyes locked, “I’ve fallen ridiculously in love with you.”

“So my evil plan worked then?” She chirped.

“It did indeed. You’ve become my solnyshko moyo.”

“Tell me that’s Russian dirty talk.” She said with a grin.

“It’s better. It’s a term of endearment you’ve become the epitome of.”

“And what’s that Dr. Reid?” she giggled.

“My little sun. You’ve become my little sun. Following me around and bringing light and warmth.” She snuggled herself impossibly closer into my chest, wrapping one of her legs over mine.

“Except for your feet!” I shrieked at her freezing toes meeting mine.

“They’re not that cold you big baby!” she shouted.

I laughed and kissed her sweetly, “I am not the baby here.” I said.

“Please,” she started until I interrupted her with a kiss, “If you’re not the baby,” I kissed her again, “That implies I’M the baby,” Kiss, “And I’m not a” Kiss.

“Shush baby.” I told her, but like always, she didn’t listen, instead sitting up to straddle me. My appreciation for her beauty was like how a prisoner appreciates freedom, and yet it was miniscule into what I found in her character. It blew my mind that a girl so perfect existed.

“Rarely do great virtue and beauty dwell together. Francesco Petrarch.” I started, my hands making their way onto her hips, “That makes you a rarity.”

“You’re spoiling me with nice words today Spencer.” “You’ve spoiled me. My frontal lobe is spoiled milk.” She laughed, wondering how I was going to manage to make this one romantic.

“That’s the part of the brain responsible for sensibility and logical thinking, and you, little girl, have positively ruined it. You make me stupid.”

“I ruined the genius Dr. Reid with the 187 IQ? Makes sense. I’m like, way smarter.”

“You are. So, so much smarter.”

“I want that in writing.” she poked my chest.

I pulled her down and kissed her forehead to whisper in her ear. “Not a chance.”

She pushed herself away and rolled her eyes at me like a bratty child does her nanny, and I continued, “ You’re smarter, but I’m more educated. I have more doctorates than you have years in university.”

“Whatever…”

I brushed the hair away from her perfect face, “You tired baby?”

She sighed and laid down, splaying herself on my chest, laying on me like I was the duvet. “Very.”

I held her impossibly close, breathing in her scent and counting every time her heart thumped, her bpm said she was relaxed. Oh god, I wanted her like this forever. Relaxed in my arms, where nothing could touch us but each other.

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“Must you work?” I sent the message to Spencer as I rolled over to his side of the bed in anticipation. I breathed in heavy, liking the way the pillow smelled like his laundry.

“Unfortunately.” he responded. “Think you’ll be home this weekend?”

“It’s not looking like it, little one. I’m sorry.”

I didn’t reply. I was too sad to reply. I knew it’d make him feel guilty, which I didn’t want to do, cause like, his job and saving people and shit is important. But, it still wasn’t fair! At all. There was something very important I had to tell him.

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Total darkness, and then way too much light. My head hurt and I couldn’t move. I was handcuffed to a wooden chair. There were chains around my torso and ankles. The room was a medical sort of bright. It smelled like bleach and rotting fruit. The walls were dilapidated, seeming to be made of tiles that were once white, but have turned yellow.

What the FUCK?

“Hello!” I shouted. My voice was so coarse it hurt. Shit. My head pulsed so badly it practically hurt to think, but I still racked my brain.

Where am I?

How’d I get here?

Why am I here?

I woke up again. Fuck, why can’t I think? Why can’t I do anything?

“Hey, y/n.” A woman’s voice. A very stoic, cold, sounding female voice.

I’m not alone. Thank god, oh my god, I’m not alone.

With the little strength I had, I lifted my head to see her. She wasn’t what I thought. She was alright, she wasn’t tied. She did this to me?

She took a sip from her silver flask, “Do you know who I am?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Typical.” She stood up and grabbed me by the hair, “You fucking disgust me.” Like, she said, she threw my hair away like it disgusted her.

She sat back down on the bench in front of the chair I was chained to, “My name is Brook Austen. I was a professor at Georgetown last year. Taught a couple seminars at your school, that little university you go to, the students there were nothing like mine. Not nearly as intelligent, but as expected, Georgetown is much more prestigious, obviously.”

I was confused, and she knew, but did not care.

“You’re not the brightest, y/n. Only slightly above average high school grades, strikingly mediocre academic performance now.”

Where the hell is she going with this?

“And you know it doesn’t surprise me, per say, because every man on this goddamn planet is a piece of fucking shit! But I thought that, maybe, just maybe, Spencer was different.”

She grimaced, “I thought he’d want more than just a pretty face! ‘Cause you might be prettier y/n, but I’m smarter.” Her words were laced with utter hatred.

Her demeanor changed, and it almost started to seem like she was talking to herself. “I'm older. I’m more successful. I’m fucking better.”

She approached me again, grabbing my face so I was looking her in those scarily light green eyes, and she wrapped her hands around my throat. “I’m fucking better then you! Better, better, better!” Every time she said better she shook my neck and gripped tighter so I couldn’t breathe.

“Stop! Please! Please stop!” I shouted, “I’m-I’m pregnant!”

She began to break down, “You’re pregnant?” A maniacal chuckle left her throat, “You’re pregnant?”

“Is it Spencer’s?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Wow.” She laughed once more, “Fucking wow.”

“How could Spencer choose this!? You’re nothing like him. You are a pathetic fucking college student. A fucking daddy issue ridden slut! I’m a celebrated academic, just like him!” Tears began to slip from her eyes, “How could he not choose me?”

This woman is NOT well in the head.

“You--you like Spencer?” I asked.

“You don’t get to ask the fuckin’ questions here.” She pulled a knife out of her pocket and held it to the tip of my chin, “I do. So you’re gonna answer them.” Or, she started manically laughing, “I’ll kill you.” She swallowed, “And your baby.”

I screamed at those words, “No,” I sobbed, “NO!”

I turned my head away so I didn’t have to look at the woman in front of me, there was a timed red dot blinking. A camera.

“Is that-- is that a camera?”

She nodded, “I want Spencer to see you and his child die.”

“He….No! No, please, No!” I choked on a sob and she smiled.

“He doesn’t know.” She paced, “He doesn’t even fucking know!”

She waltzed over to the camera and brought it closer to us, “Hey Spencer.” She began waving, “Hey Penelope. Aaron. Derek. Jennifer. Emily.”

Her demeanor changed once more, into that of a cheerleader of all things, “So, quick recap.” Brook pursed her lips, “Spencer your twenty three year old fucktoy is pregnant. Congrats!”

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Y/N was two things I didn’t know she was this morning: In serious danger, and the mother of my expected child. I felt frozen in trepidation.

We all watched in horror as Brook greeted us. All by first name. She knew exactly what she was doing and it freaked me out even more.

“Reid, you need to step out.” Hotch grabbed my shoulder, “Now.”

I was sick with fear and ill with rage. I sat down because I could feel my knees go weak. Hotch started again, “We know who she is. We will find her. Y/N will be alright.” He paused, “So will the baby.”

I replayed the events of the live footage in my head, her screams of pain and terror, her trembles and confusion. I’d failed her. I’d failed her and now I knew I’d also failed our child.

JJ sat down next to me, “Spencer, when did you meet Brook?”

“I uh,” I wiped my face, “A year and four months ago. I did uh, I taught uh, I taught a string of seminars at Georgetown. It was biweekly. Her office was next to mine. We spoke for the first time when she offered me a coffee.”

“What did you say?”

“What do you think I said?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, I said yeah, I fucking like coffee.” I felt instantaneously guilty for cursing, and especially at JJ but I was too frazzled for it to last long enough to apologize.

“I know Spence, I’m sorry. Just keep going.”

“Then, the next week, we got lunch together.”

“Was it, you know, friendly?”

“What are you implying Jennifer?” I snapped.

“No Spence, we just need to know. You know that.”

“It was-- it was just lunch. A very normal colleague to colleague lunch. We talked about the school’s history. And uh, where we grew up. It was small talk.”

“Ok, was this the last time you spoke to her?”

“No. There was one more time. Y/N was there.”

“Tell me about it Spence.” She grabbed my hand,

I breathed out, “It was the next week I taught after lunch. About two hours before my class. I was lesson planning, and Y/N was doing homework on my desk. She came in. She asked if I wanted to go get lunch. She saw y/n and--Fuck.”

“What Spence? What?”

“She asked me who she was, but it was like, she didn’t want y/n to know she was asking. She thought she was…”

“She thought she was what?”

“A student.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“The truth. That she was my girlfriend.”

“Did you see her anywhere else after that?”

“No. She never came by my office again. When I would see her by chance, she would scurry away. It was strange.”

“Think really hard Spence. Did you ever see her again after you stopped teaching at Georgetown.”

I racked my brain, “Yeah. I did. It was two months ago. Three days after I proposed to y/n. She was getting a coffee at this coffee shop by y/n’s school.. I was bringing her some lunch”

“Spencer she's been stalking you. Your proposal was the stressor.”

“But--I’m a profiler. I would’ve noticed.” I stood up with a realization. “What Spence?” JJ asked, standing up as well to look at me.

“She’s been stalking her, not me. She knew I was a part of the BAU, she knew I would’ve noticed.”

“I’ll tell the team.”

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A/N2: If this doesn’t totally flop, I’ll write PT 2, that elaborates on the reader’s and Spencer’s relationship. I think through flashbacks from both Y/N and Spencer would be a cool way to explore their relationship and of course the whole reader being kidnapped thing plot could develop. Again, if you enjoyed this pls let me know!!

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akaashisupremacy · 3 years

Text

Fated

Summary: You’re dating your ex-fiancee Gojo again, but your relationship hits a crucial crossroad. Do you stay or do you go?

Gojo Satoru x reader

Multi-fandom Masterlist || HQ Masterlist || Ao3 version

Genre: fluff, angst, exes to friends to lovers

“You’re hiding something from me.” Gojo Satoru confronts you as you step onto the hallway for spare rooms in Jujutsu Tech.

He is in your way. You try not to get irritated.

“No, I’m not.” you snap. It’s been a long day. You don’t need this. You push him aside and keep walking. Gojo is irritably good at sniffing things out.

He swiftly appears before you again and blocks your way, “What is it?”

“I missed my period.” You stop and cross your arms, “If you really wanna know.”

“Oh.” He mumbles softly. He looks incredulous, as if he is yet to be sure of what he just heard. You walk past him.

“Oh.” he repeats again, eyes widening as the weight of your words dawn. He turns to you.

You leave him standing there, arrested and head to your room. You’re too tired for this.

Gojo watches you enter your room and lie down. He tries to offer you something to eat since you look so pallid under the fluorescent light of the room.

“I’m not hungry. Just sleepy.” you yawn, waving dismissively.

Gojo feels obligated to stay. He looks at you quietly from the door, unable to leave.

“This really isn’t the most opportune of times,” he breathes in, “but are you seeing anyone else?”

“No.” you murmur, “I don’t have the time.”

He walks in to sit beside you, making sure to close the door behind him. You roll over to the other side of the bed away from his gaze.

Gojo knows he is not an easy person to be with. He’s your ex-fiancée for one thing, and he struggles with monogamy for another.

Being able to be intimate with you again was a chance only the gods could’ve intervened. And now that chance is starting to fade. He lies down beside you, his eyes towards the ceiling. At the start of your relationship, it was him who was hesitant. Things are reversed tonight.

“I don’t want to talk. Go away.” you cut in before he says anything, “I’m seeing a doctor soon to make sure.”

He nods understandingly and quietly, but slowly pads out of the room. The weight of the floor lightly creaks under his footsteps. The silence between the two of you dominates the hall.

————————————————————————————

There was a time when you were younger that you would visit Gojo in his family home. After dinner, you’d sneak outside to his family garden to capture fireflies in paper lanterns.

That was a much different time of course. Since then, you’ve been arranged to be married, broken up and begun precariously seeing each other again after ten years.

“Why are you wading around in the darkness?” he asks, sitting on a pile of rocks, his hands inside his pockets.

Neither of you are really kids anymore, but your fondness for fireflies remains. On your occasional stays in Jujutsu Tech for your sorcery job, you like to spend your down time in the gardens at night.

“I need a break from people.” you comment succinctly.

You’re both quiet from a moment. Gojo becomes too impatient for you to start the conversation.

“So what did the doctor say?” Curiosity overcame him.

You lower your lantern by your side, making sure to face away from him as you reply, “She tried to ask if I was married and if my family knew.”

You turn around quickly, waving your hands before he can react, “You don’t need to worry. I’m considering not keeping it...it’s too much time and work…and it made me think about us. I think we should just end things…whatever this is.”

Gojo knew that this day would come. Deep down, he already prepared himself for when your relationship would end. Yet instead of acceptance, indignance rises in his chest.

“How could you let me go so easily? How are you done with us?” he finds himself saying.

He knew his disinterest in monogamy would come to bite him back someday, but he hadn’t imagined himself in a deeply romantic and emotional relationship with you when it happened.

You shake your head. The sounds of crickets and cicadas keep the silences from being too empty.

“Every year I used to wait to see if this was the year we reconciled. If this was the year we would fix things, not necessarily be lovers, but to just be back in each other's lives.” You look to the stars, sitting in a large rock beside him, “I waited maybe 11 years to see it happen even if I didn’t know if it would come at all. And I can wait another lifetime to try again. But I think in this life, our time has to end. This isn’t going to work out, Satoru.”

Gojo feels as if his lungs will collapse. It hurts him even more to know that you do love him but you’d rather he be out of your life.

“Why would you wait another lifetime for me when I’m here now?” he murmurs.

“I can’t have you to myself.” you say simply, “I can’t take this anymore. Even if I’m not pregnant, I want to be the only one in your life.”

“You are the most important person in my life.” he grabs your hand to reassure you. You don’t resist.

You face him, tears running down your eyes, “Then I don’t understand how you can say that and still need someone else.”

Gojo feels his chest crushed with heaviness. The weight spreads to his back, his arms and neck. For the first time in years, he feels helpless.

“We knew this was coming.” you mutter, pulling your hand away to make your exit out of the garden.

Gojo does not chase after you. He notices his bandages are wet.

————————————————————————

Gojo walks around in a daze for the next few days. People always say that he is a man who has everything, but for now he is the man with only questions without answers.

How can he make you stay?

“Gojo,” Utahime nudge, “GOJO!”

She sharply jabs a finger by his side to bring him back to reality. He jerks back, accidentally hitting the wooden walls of the hallway with a resounding thud.

“Are you even listening to me?” she hisses. He hasn’t been paying attention at the school meeting and her temper is rising. How can he go around doing the bare minimum and still be so praised. She was ready to throw a fit.

“Well…we’re kind of expecting…but we might not keep the baby…and ahh…” he uses his full concentration to string together his thoughts.

Utahime stops in her tracks and rubs her temples. Every other conversation she has with him always sends her reeling.

She crosses her arms together, “Let me guess, one of you wants to keep the kid and the other doesn’t?”

“OMIGOSH YES!” Gojo raises his hands as if someone finally gets him, “How did you know?!”

Utahime looks slightly alarmed at his expression. Protective of your privacy, she looks left and right to see if anybody is nearby. She shrugs.

Gojo continues, “These past few days have made me realize how badly I want a family with them. I really want this! Except it made them realize they want a family with someone else…and I’m not sure there’s anything I can do to make them feel the same way.”

His voice softens towards the end of his sentence as he slowly sinks back into his thoughts.

Utahime takes a moment before dispensing her bit of wisdom.

“Having a child with someone is an incredibly huge sacrifice. If you really want this…then you have to make a sacrifice equal in weight. Whatever that will be…” she sighs, adjusting her kimono. “And I have a feeling you haven’t properly explained to her what an open relationship is.”

She peers at him from the side of her eye. His guilty expression confirms her suspicions.

Every now and then, Utahime feels envious of his power. However, today is not one of those days. He has some hard choices to face she would not want to deal with.

—————————————————————— “Hey!”

A week after your last conversation, Gojo spots you in the school and immediately rushes towards you.

In panic, you shove yourself into an empty meeting room and try to shut the door. He jams his foot between the ledge and determinedly peers you from the door crack.

“Oh no, you are not shutting me out. We are going to talk like proper adults.” he insists.

Your instincts kick in. You kick his feet and push him back. You bolt the door shut and slump down behind it. You’re safe for now.

“You can’t keep running away.” he breathes out from the other side, “We need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you quickly rebut, “Gojo, I have no family. There’s no one to help me. I’m going to be alone if this kid comes out of me.”

Your voice fades hoarsely as you utter the last few words.

“You have me.” his soothes in a contemplative voice.

You want to laugh. This relationship was doomed from the start. You were such a masochist for even trying. You must have been consumed with your attraction to him.

Gojo was no different though— he couldn’t help himself. You both want each other too much and now you both were paying the price.

You shake your head, “You’ll just leave me when things get tough. I’m tired of cleaning after your mess. Why can’t you just let me have my way?”

Gojo has no time to be taken aback.

“Because I don’t want a family with anyone else. I’m desperate to make this work with you.” he pleads, “ Don’t push me away. I have my own doubts about myself, and I understand where you’re coming from but I wish you believed in me more.”

You pretend not to hear him.

“I’ll be here for you and our baby, even if it's not always romantic.” he adds, his voice pleading, “I know you’re terrified that I’ll just leave you but…”

You interrupt him by opening the door. As if on instinct he hides his vulnerability from you. His posture leans back coolly, waiting on your next move.

“Gojo, I’m just frustrated to always be at the mercy of your choices. Don’t you understand?”

His lips part slowly, “If you’re not ready for a family, it’s fine. But don't you want to make this last longer?”

——————————————————

“Oh, Satoru, what have we done?” you quietly murmur, staring at the ceiling of his room.

It’s your first night in his faculty dormitory. You’ve never really been before. His room is too close to the principal’s for a casual date night visit.

Gojo’s long switched off the lights but neither of you can sleep.

“What do you mean? The baby or the wedding?” he chuckles.

You shrug, “Both?”

You shift around the sheets, the linen ruffling under your movement.

He crosses his arms and turns to you, “Well, we’ve established that the first one was an accident. The wedding—well—it’s mostly so you and the baby will be under the protection of the Gojo clan.”

Gojo promised to close his open relationship status until your kid is one and you take his word for it. It is perplexing that the wedding was his idea too. However there was something about his sincerity that you could not refuse

“How long till we regret all this?” you half-murmur, half-sigh.

“Honestly, probably every time we hit a rough patch. But we’re not meant to always be happy anyways.” he sighs lying on his arm. It’s an honest enough answer.

You sit up and put your arms around your waist, “Such optimism you have there. So tell me, oh all powerful Satoru, why are we here then?”

“For me, it's to be able to find and meet you.” he says simply.

He catches you off guard with the tenderness of his words. You reach out to touch the side of his face and gently rub your thumb on his cheek. He presses your hand on his cheek.

“If things fell apart again and you had to wait another ten years for us to fix it, would you?”

He asks so quietly you almost don’t hear him.

Your face flushes under the cover of darkness.

“…Yes, I love you too much. This was never going to be just an arranged marriage for me even when we were younger…then again, I think you already know that.” you admit in a shaky whisper.

Now that you've married him, you've given yourself permission acknowledge your true feelings to yourself. You have always been in love with him. And being apart did not changed that.

Propping himself up by the elbow, you realize his face is so close to yours. You can almost feel the wisps of his long lashes on your cheek.

“I know this isn’t your ideal wedding, but this is more than just a shotgun marriage for me too. You are my fated. And you are the only being I want to go through this with—sorcerer, curse or otherwise.”

You try not to giggle at the mention of curses.

“Through this life and the next?” you said with a small smile.

“Through this life and the next.” he assures firmly, squeezing your hand.

You smile widely and he looks at you fondly. These are your favorite moments with him, when you’re at the brink of losing each other in your gazes.

Gojo breaks your shared reverie.

“Can you kiss me?” he grins cheekily, “As your new husband…”

You kiss his forehead without skipping a beat. He flips over, still propping himself by his stomach.

“So what shall we do on our wedding night? Try for twins?” he smirks.

You roll your eyes extra hard to make sure he sees it. Gojo only laughs.

He shuffles out of bed and tosses you your coat, “Well if you really can’t sleep, we might as well go out and see the fireflies. They look bright tonight.”

You put on your coat and smile.

Another lifetime is too far away.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

I wrote this as a follow up for another Gojo x reader fic who used to be engaged. Check out the other parts!

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8

A/N: When I first wrote the original four chapters, I had already know that this was how the series would end (even though I didn't plan to write it all the way here). I don't know if I will continue writing. I have some extra material, but I don't really know if I'd like to write it out. If I ever make up my mind to do so, you will see me pop up in your notifs.

If not, I guess this is the end. if you've gone through all 8 chapters, thank you for joining me in this wild, heartfelt ride! Comment or message to be added to the taglist! Or write down some comments about your feelsssss

Series Taglist: @tokyo-love-hotel@samkysnks@herownescape@cherrianne192@shamelessdonutsludgebanana@kageyamakock@shirostrbl@luvang3l@cloudsinthecosmos@httpjungoo @saturnki @itstheee-ha-chan@gucci-froggy@soy1melk @dora-the-grownup @cherryonigiri @fiona782 @a--nonymousse @naturakaashi

If you’d like to continue being part of my taglist (JJK or Haikyuu), please let me know! I also write oneshots for both fandoms and soon I’ll be doing BSD too!

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

ain't it fun? | Part five

Summary: reader just needs an NA meeting before they have a meltdown, they end up with the best friend they could ever make.

Warnings: pregnancy, chronic illness, spencer's career chance - he's a high school teacher now, they have a 1-year-old, smut at the end but not graphic.

word count: 2.8k

a/n: I imagine this is in season 10, so they've been together at least 7 years-ish now, I just jumped well into the future because I wanted to! also, Cordelia's nickname is Edie and pronounced Ee-dee !!

P1 P2 P3 P4

“No.”

Spencer sighs, “are you going to like any of my suggestions?”

“When you give me a baby name that isn’t from some weird old male book character, then yes, I’ll take them into consideration,” she replies, hand on her stomach as she lays back against the pillows.

She was huge, 9 months pregnant and so, so close to the finish line. She was swollen and in pain and exhausted. Going off every single medication and recreational drugs to make a life was a commitment and a half, she was doing well but she was so ready to be done. To do a few more months of breastfeeding and then go back on her medications.

Spencer was terrific. He was googling and asking Penelope to research things, he had called doctors he knows and friends and did everything in his power to find a way to ease her pain even before they got pregnant. He’s taken the last 3 months off of work and he doesn’t know when he’ll go back. He has just been so, so incredible the whole time.

Naming a child was hard. You had to not only think about all the nicknames and what their initials spell, but you also had to think about how they’ll like it; if it’ll fit their personality and spirit. And most of all, is it going to get them bullied? There are some terrible kid names. Like Richard… how do you name a newborn Richard?

“I want something meaningful with a nice nickname and works with our names and her siblings,” she whispered towards him. “They need to all work together.”

“What are some of your favourites?” He asks, moving in closer and finding a way to cuddle in with her and her pregnancy pillow who has all but replaced him lately.

“I like earthy names, like Lennox, Juniper, Aspen, Elowen,” her voice is really soft, she bites her lip at the end as she thinks them over again. “And old things like Cordelia and Winnifred.”

“Which one sounds the best with Reid?”

“I like Cordelia Reid the most, and then we can call her Edie and I was thinking you can pick her middle name?” She’s been thinking about it for a while, but too afraid to know his opinions.

“Cordelia means core in Latin, which makes sense cause she already has my heart,” Spencer teased, he has made it very clear that their little girl is going to be spoiled, loved and a daddy's girl.

He took all his fears of being a bad dad and threw them out the window. He knew that just being there was all he wanted from his dad, and so that’s what he was going to do. He left the BAU for the time being, he was doing the odd lecture at the academy and answering calls for cases. They couldn’t just stop using his brain, there were some things too pressing to not ask the walking computer, but other than that, he was done.

He was looking into other jobs for when he finally decides to go back, he was unsure how long of a paternity leave he wanted. He was really content with just staying home all the time now, but he did miss going out and being useful during the days. The job he was most interested in, however, was a high school teacher.

A prep school in DC is looking into adding an Anthropology, Psychology and Sociology course to their curriculum, and they wanted Spencer. They thought he would be perfect for the seniors, he is fun and young and attentive, he can control a room and keep them entertained, and he’s probably the best teacher a kid could get.

It was going to make him a good dad too.

“I think Jade is a nice middle name,” he adds after thinking it over for a few minutes.

“Cordelia Jade Reid,” she says the full name for the first time and it just feels right, like they already know her.

—

She was very calm for a newborn baby.

She liked to just look around and blink, she licked her lips a lot and she was constantly breaking out of her swaddle. She was always happy to have cuddles with her dad and she pooped every night at exactly at 3 am, without fail. She didn’t cry a lot, but when she did it was still wonderful to hear.

They were so in love with her, she was absolutely perfect for them. She fit right into their sleeping schedule and their life, she ate like a pro, she slept most of the night and she was growing way too fast for their liking.

One day they’re crying over the fact they made a life in a tiny little hospital room, and the next thing they know she’s about to turn 1.

She’s sitting in bed with Y/N, she’s sitting in her lap with two handfuls of hair and a story to tell. She’s been babbling so much lately, she hears them talking all the time and she wants to join so badly. They indulge her, asking her to continue her thoughts and gasping at her gossip.

“No way, and what did you do next?!” She asked the little one sat in her lap.

Edie babbled on once more, smacking her tongue on the roof of her mouth as she pushed air past her vocal cords, humming and making the funniest sounds. She went on and on, she was so enthusiastic, like her father, as she waved her arms around to make her point.

“That is so fascinating, you are so cool, little Edie,” Y/N hyped her up, smiling at her as she leaned in close and pressed their noses together.

Cordelia laughed and it finally made Spencer giggle too, he had been watching from the doorway as his ‘wife’ and daughter talked in bed. They were best friends already, always talking and snuggling, learning or reading together. She was always happy when she was with one of them, she was needy and snuggly and very co-dependent but they didn’t mind, they preferred all the attention from her.

“Look who’s home,” Y/N whispered and Cordelia shot a glance towards the door, she smiled and screamed as she saw him.

“Hi Edie!” He waves at her with a smile, he takes his bag off and places it by the dresser followed by his blazer.

He gets into the bed and she instinctively reaches for a hug. He wraps her up and she snuggles right into his neck, with a fistful of his shirt, she just holds him there. She didn’t understand why he wasn’t home all day anymore, she missed him for lunch and at nap time but she loved the new routine of a snuggle when she woke up and he got home.

Spencer leans back against the pillows beside Y/N, turning his head to capture a kiss from her lips. They always just spend a quick second kissing when he gets home, even if it’s just a peck or a full-on passionate make-out, he always kisses her when he comes home. He smiles at the end of the kiss, pulling her into a hug too.

“I love Fridays,” he whispers, “Edie do you know what Fridays mean?”

She pulls away and sits up, she loves to listen to him. “Friday is the last day of the school week, which means I get to spend 2 whole days with my favourite people now.”

Edie smiled, almost like she understood what he meant, and then she was talking again, it was completely incomprehensible but they imagined she was telling him about her day.

“You forgot the part where we went to the park,” Y/N added.

Cordelia looked at her with wide eyes, “dada,” was the only word she said before babbling on again and they both stopped.

“Did she just?” Spencer was shocked and frozen still after asking.

Y/N sat up and looked right into Cordelia’s eyes, “who is that?” She pointed at Spencer.

“Dada!” She said it again and they were suddenly all squealing, even Cordelia was suddenly excited as she kept screaming dada over and over again.

“Can you say, mom? Or mama? Mummy?” Spencer tried his hardest to find an easy way for her to say it.

“Mumm,” she pushed her lips together to hum her M sound and Spencer was floored, he bounced her up and down a small amount as they cheered.

“Smartest girl in the world!” Spencer cheered her on before pulling her into another hug.

Y/N was crying softly, little tiny dreams that she didn’t even know she had were coming true every single day with them. She knew she wanted to be a mom when she was growing up, all those dreams died when her illness got worse and they all warned her that having kids would put her at risk of being moneyless and that working wasn’t an option to even support them. Let alone the threat of them taking them away just because of her autism or depression possibly being considered ‘too bad’ to care for them.

Spencer took all those fears and he kicked them out. Every day she got to experience the most precious gifts the world had to offer, her daughter was perfect and her husband was incredible. Together they were a perfect little family that ran on trust, love, and communication. Always talking, always hugging, always there for each other.

—

They crawl into bed much later than they expected to. Cordelia didn’t want to go to bed, she was trying her hardest to keep staying awake to spend time with them but eventually, sleep won. They finally placed her in her crib with her white noise and her complete darkness and closed her door for the next few hours of peace.

They both let out a deep sigh before rolling to face one another. “How was your day?” He asks, like always.

“Good,” she smiles, “I think having a kid and getting on her schedule was the best thing I’ve ever done actually, cause I’m sleeping on time, I’m eating when she does and I’m outside a lot more. She’s given me this purpose and it’s rewarding on my body.”

Spencer moves in so he can kiss her nose, “I love hearing that.”

“How was your class today?” She asks back, loving his little stories about all the 17 and 18-year-olds that were fascinated by him. As well as the kids who thought it was cool to try and pick on him before getting the shit verbally kicked out of them in front of the whole class.

It was interesting seeing him in a form of authority, he never really took charge at the BAU, she’s never seen him yell at his friends and he’s never really yelled at her either. He’s been incredibly calm, so to see him verbally tear someone apart by acknowledging their biggest flaws to make sense of why they feel the need to bully, it was pretty intense.

“They were a lot better today, they enjoyed the lesson and the kids that were giving me trouble skipped, I guess he really didn’t appreciate me calling him out that bad on Tuesday,” Spencer smirked, rolling his eyes like he cared.

“I still can’t believe that he thought it was okay to call you names in front of other students, where is the respect these days?”

“Well,” he’s about to do what he always does. He can never be truly mad at someone because he knows why everyone does what they do and that they can’t help it. “In his file, it says his parents are newly divorced, we get a list of all the kids information on the attendance like allergies and things, but also small info like life changes in case they act out.”

“Doesn’t mean he can call you the f slur,” she whispers, “all because you wore a purple shirt?”

“If I met his father I’d probably get an answer for that,” he adds, “if he’s afraid to show his emotions around his son, it’s probably why his son thinks colours are gay.”

It makes her laugh, “you look hot in purple too so I don’t see the problem?”

“Do I?” He teases, getting in even closer and pressing their bodies together.

She rolls her eyes before wrapping her arms around him and leaning forward for a quick kiss, “I think you look sexy all the time.”

He kisses her as a thank you, “I think the same about you.”

“Even when I haven’t showered in 2 days because she cries if she can’t see me and she cries if she gets wet?” Y/N laughed, annoyed but in love with their little monster at the same time.

“Always,” he reminds her. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she kisses him again after.

There are probably a million more things to share from the day, but they spend their time kissing instead. It’s been too long since they’ve just rolled around in the sheets making out like they did in the beginning. Before they ever had sex, before they had kids and a house and a love as strong as they do now.

A part of them missed the early days when everything was new and exciting, but she also loved the fact that they knew each other so well that they didn’t have to communicate anymore. They ran like 1 unit, always completing the other person's thoughts, needs and wants. They were so unbelievably happy.

She wants him badly and he wants her just as much, and he’s about to take her when she pulls back. “Nope, as much as I love her I can’t get pregnant again for at least another year.”

It makes him laugh as he pulls away and rolls over to look through his nightstand for a condom, “it wouldn’t be that bad?”

“You carry it then, seahorse it up,” she teased. “I like being back on my medicine, I need some time to be okay before I go through all that again.”

Once he’s all situated in the latex and back between her legs, he hovers over her, so close that their lips are touching ever so slightly. “I am fine if it’s just the three of us forever.”

“I’m not,” she smiles, “there will be 4 of us one day, just not today.”

With that, she’s pulling him into another kiss as he pushing inside. It’s a feeling she’s accustomed to but will never be used to, it’s a stretch that shouldn’t be as intoxicating as it is. She holds him closer as she plays with his tongue in her mouth.

He was so good at everything he did, especially the sex. He knew every single part of her body now and exactly how to push all her buttons the right way. She could live in the moment of his pumping in and out of her while his thumb circled her clit and his other hand groaned her breasts. Eventually, he kissed down her throat and she was a mess of breathy moans and low gasps.

Writing in the sheets, her legs wrap around him as she tried to pull him in even closer. It was impossible to get closer but he was still too far away, she wanted to absorb him and live in him forever. He was her safe place and she never wanted to be anywhere else.

As her orgasm bubbled, so did his. The both of them gasping and panting, she whined as she breached the edge and gripped his back, “Spence!”

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he whispered before fucking into her harder and faster, pushing her through it as he reached his own.

His movements on her clit never stopped and suddenly one felt like two and she wasn’t sure when the rush was going to stop and she didn’t care when it did. It was powerful, soothing and euphoric. A high she could live in for a while and return to it without problem as long as she had him.

He came with a small moan, trying to keep quiet as he muffled it into her neck, stilling his hips on his last thrust and dropping onto her more. Her hands were all over his back as she pressed kisses to his forehead, coming down but not wanting the love to stop there.

The love was never going to stop there for them. Their love was never-ending, and somehow as she held him there in her arms and felt his breath on his neck, she turned to see the baby monitor with their peaceful child sound asleep down the hall, she loved him even more now somehow.

Loving Spencer Reid was like falling down a bottomless pit. She never knew when she was going to reach the end, but she was content with falling.

smut taglist: @g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria@reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #aint it fun

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ravennm84 · 4 years

Text

The Inspector

I read a short story on AO3 a while back about a teacher or adult sending a letter to the Board of Governors about the teachers of the school and how terrible they were, and decided to write a story about the person who was assigned to look into the accusations. Got some salt and justice coming along. And I must say, this was very therapeutic to write. Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!!

Inspector Walters had a bad feeling about the Francois-Dupont College since the moment he’d received the assignment. The Board of Governors had been debating conducting an investigation on the school since one of the classes had been nicknamed “The Akuma Class” by social media and a few news sources. It became a necessity when a complaint had been filed by the Dupain-Cheng family about their daughter’s expulsion.

That complaint had surprised him. Only the Board of Governors had the power to expel a student after an investigation, and they hadn’t expelled the girl. The parents claimed that it was done on the same day as the accusations against the student, and was then retracted the following day. Again, something that only the Board of Governors had the power to do.

Looking over the incident report, the details were slim at best. Mlle. Dupain-Cheng was accused of cheating on a mock exam and the answer sheet was found in her backpack. When looking at the schedule, he saw that the mock exam had been taken the day before and the teacher only noticed that the answer sheet was missing after receiving the exams. A fact which bothered him a bit, but he’d seen a few scatterbrained teachers, as well as students make the mistake of not getting rid of the evidence. However, he also saw from her student records that she was one of the top students and always got high grades, so there was some doubt that she would have cheated.

The next thing was the accusation that she had pushed another student, Mlle. Lila Rossi down the stairs, injuring her right knee. However, there was no mention of an ambulance being called or even a trip to the nurse’s station. It was also suspect that there was no mention of other injuries that someone would have received after falling down stairs; no recorded cuts, bruises, or anything. So either Rossi had the most well placed fall that kept her from major injury, or she was lying.

The last part of the report was that Mlle. Dupain-Cheng had stolen a necklace from Mlle. Rossi and put it in her locker. Again, he was a bit skeptical considering that the same two girls had been involved with a separate incident on the same day. There was a picture of the locker, but Walters quickly noticed that there was no actual lock on the locker, something that he should be seeing since the Board had funded upgrades for lockers months ago. There was also no CCTV record attached to the incident report, meaning that the system was down and not reported, or the principal never checked them and only went by the word Mlle. Rossi.

Looking over the rest of the file, it was even more suspect when he saw that only Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s parents had been called in. Mlle. Rossi’s contact, her mother, had been listed as “unavailable”. This was yet another thing that didn’t sit well with him. Following his gut, M. Walters set aside the Dupain-Cheng student file to look more closely at the Rossi student file.

Not five minutes in, he knew that things were not right. The disabilities she had listed in the current file were not consistent with the files from her previous schools, and there were no doctors notes to support them as being recently discovered ailments. He attempted to call the number listed on the current file, but it kept going straight to voicemail. Comparing the number to the previous files, he noticed that the number did not match.

Finding himself very unhappy with the incomplete file provided by Principal Damocles, he decided that he would have to go to the school in person the following morning and see for himself what was really going on.

~oOo~

First stop he made was to the principal’s office. M. Walters had not alerted him of the inspection so that the man would not have a chance to change or hide specific documents, he’d seen that happen more than once. What he had not expected was to see a grown man playing with dolls/action figures behind his desk. Damocles quickly straightened up, hiding the dolls in a drawer before scowling at him. “What is the meaning of this? You can’t simply barge into my office without-”

“Actually, M. Damocles, I can,” he interrupted, pulling out his identification. “Inspector Walters, I’m with the Board of Governors, looking into a recent complaint filed against the school.”

“Complaint? What complaint?” He asked, sputtering a bit in surprise.

“The expulsion of Mlle. Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” he glared at the man.

“Oh, that incident has already been handled.”

“Is that so? Then please, explain to me how the incident was handled.” Pulling out a chair, Walters flipped open his notepad and clicked open his pen. Some of his colleagues considered the whole pen and paper thing to be a little old-school at times, but it had its purpose. He waved a hand at Damocles to begin.

“Well, Mlle. Lila Rossi suffers from a rare disease that makes her lie uncontrollably when she is stressed-”

“I’m going to stop you right there, M. Damocles. We will get to the reason why you reinstated Mlle. Dupain-Cheng in a moment. First, I want you to go through everything on the day of the incident.”

“Oh, of-of course,” he was beginning to fidget. “I was sitting in my office when I heard screaming outside of my door. When I came outside, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was standing at the top of the stairs and Mlle. Lila Rossi was at the bottom of the stairs, crying that she had been pushed.” Walters wrote this down and waved a hand for him to continue. “M. Harpele and I brought her upstairs and wrapped the knee that was injured, and then contacted Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s parents to talk about the incident, seeing as Mlle. Rossi had been badly injured.”

Walters finished writing that down before looking back up at Damocles. “And is that when you called an ambulance to look over Mlle. Rossi’s injury and check to make sure there were no other injuries?”

It was no surprise to him when Damocles mouth did an impersonation of a fish for a moment. “Well, um, no. I did not call an ambulance-”

“Then I can only imagine that you called the school nurse to your office to look her over and deem whether or not a trip to the hospital was necessary?”

Again, he began impersonating a fish. “I-I didn’t think it was- Mlle. Rossi claimed that she was fine and that only her knee was injured.”

“You just told me that you believed Mlle. Rossi was, and I quote ‘badly injured’, and yet she received no medical attention?” Walters hummed in a disbelieving manner as he looked down at his notepad and wrote down his thoughts. “That was quite irresponsible of you. I’ve read your personnel file and nowhere does it list that you have a medical background. Yet, you thought yourself qualified to treat and diagnose a girl that claimed to have been pushed down the stairs and could have underlying injuries, such as a concussion, broken bones, or internal bleeding?”

To his satisfaction, the principal began to sweat, but he was nowhere close to finished yet. “I can imagine that Mme. Rossi was upset when you called her to the school for the meeting with M. and Mme. Dupain-Cheng.” Just as he suspected, Damocles wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You have contacted Mme. Rossi about the incident, have you not?”

“Well, Mme. Rossi is an ambassador and is very busy-”

“Are you meaning to tell me that you failed to alert a parent that their child was injured while in your care?” When the principal looked away again, Walters glared before double clicking his pen and writing down more notes.Taking his time as he wrote to allow the man to sweat and worry about what was being written.

“We will return to your failure at contacting parents and guardians later. Now, tell me what you observed when you reviewed the CCTV footage of the stairs at the time of the incident.” Just as he suspected, the man became flustered and refused to meet his eyes. “Are you telling me that you did not, at any time, look over the footage to corroborate whether Mlle. Rossi was pushed or accidentally fell?”

Hesitating again. “I, um, thought it unnecessary. It was clear that she was pushed-”

“And you know that for fact, how, exactly?” He glared as he kept writing.

“As I said, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng was standing at the top of the stairs while Mlle. Rossi was at the bottom of the stairs, crying that she’d been pushed-”

“You also said, and I quote ‘I was sitting in my office when I heard screaming outside of my door’. Meaning that you did not actually see whether Mlle. Rossi was pushed or simply fell. Am I to understand that you believed one child over another without gathering evidence to prove or disprove the claim?”

Walters watched as the man’s parlor turned a pale green while muttering multiple failed excuses, which only served to anger him further. So far, Damocles had failed to show him, in any way, that he was qualified to run this school and had let an innocent girl suffer for his mistakes. “You are going to pull up that footage right now, and have it prepared for a meeting I will be setting up with Mme. Rossi later today. And not just the stairs, but the footage of the classroom to see exactly who stole the test answer sheet and the lockerroom to see if the accusations of Mlle. Dupain-Cheng stealing Mlle. Rossi’s property is at all valid. And allow me to make something very clear, you are already looking at being brought up on negligence and abuse of power, seeing as you expelled and reinstated a student, something that only the Board of Governors has the power to do. If I find out that the footage is somehow ‘missing’, I will have no choice but to assume that you have purposefully erased it to protect yourself and will have you brought before the Board by tomorrow morning. Am I clear?”

The man gave a shaky nod, as he immediately got on his computer and began pulling up the footage from that day.

Getting on his phone, Walters called the number that Mme. Rossi had listed in the previous files and it went straight through. He easily scheduled a meeting for later that day and hung up.“I will be sitting in on Mme. Bustier’s class for the rest of the day, until Mme. Rossi arrives at 1pm for our appointment. Have all the footage ready by then.” Without another word, Inspector Walters left the office and made his way down to the Akuma Classroom.

~oOo~

Lunch had finally come and Walters was anything but impressed by what he had seen. To her credit, Mme. Bustier had been polite and understanding towards his presence in the classroom and seemed to go about teaching as usual. She was also a very upbeat type of personality, something needed in a city plagued by akumas. But that was the extent of his compliments towards the teacher.

During the first half of the day, he witnessed the woman allow her students to become disorderly multiple times. Three of which stood out to him beyond the normal rowdy teenage energy that is normal for a classroom.

The first was how a boy in the front of the room kept flinching and curling into himself whenever another student, who just happened to be Mlle. Lila Rossi, touched him. She was sharing his desk in the front, sitting inappropriately close, clutching his arm in a possessive manor, and ignored him when he asked her to let him go or give him space. All this was done in full view of Mme. Bustier, and she did nothing.

During the literature lesson, they were studying Bram Stoker's Dracula, Mlle. Rossi interrupted and began telling a story about being a descendant of Vlad the Impaler. A complete falsehood since Vlad’s only child had been killed as an infant. This was a fact that the teacher should have corrected or told the girl to pay attention to the lesson, but she did nothing. Allowing the girl to prattle on for close to 15 minutes before returning to the lesson.

The worst though, was when Mlle. Rossi, made another scene when she began complaining about how her left knee was still hurting from when Marinette pushed her down the stairs. The other students proceeded to glare and speak harsh words about the girl. It was at this time that Mlle. Dupain-Cheng stood from her seat in the back and attempted to defend herself. Mme. Bustier did intervene this time, but she did not reprimanded the other students that were ganging up on the one girl. Instead, she reprimanded Marinette and told her that she was not setting a good example for the class. Then forced her to apologize to Lila for upsetting her. Blatant victim blaming, right in front of him, and the teacher had the nerve to smile at him as if to say that she had handled the situation.

Walters had written everything down, already deciding that he would need to call the Board at the first possible moment to alert them to the incompitent administrative practices of Damocles, as well as the toxic teaching methods of Bustier. It was now little wonder why this class had produced so many akumas. It was a miracle that there were any students left in the class that hadn’t been akumatized. But seeing as one student was clearly being bullied and the other was being sexually harassed, it likely wouldn’t be long.

He was just barely able to fit in the call and look over the CCTV footage before his meeting with Mme. Rossi in M. Damocles office. That had been interesting, to say the least. Before the meeting had even started, Mme. Rossi was voicing her worry about the amount of time that the school had been closed due to akuma attacks…

Once that had been cleared up, M. Damocles got to the matter at hand. Beginning with requesting information and doctors notes at her earliest convenience pertaining to her daughter’s injuries, disabilities, as well as requesting more information about her lying disease. Again, that had been a very interesting conversation that resulted in the woman yelling at Damocles in French and Italian about how incompetant he was and why hadn’t he gotten ahold of her sooner?

But the worst reaction came when Damocles told her about the day of the incident. They showed her the footage found of Lila, and yes it was Lila, stealing the answer sheet off of Mme. Bustier’s desk and then slip it into Marinette’s bag on her way back to her seat. Then the footage of Lila breaking into Marinette’s locker and planting the necklace. And finally, Lila smiling at Marinette before walking down the stairs and sitting on the ground before she started screaming.

By then, another inspector from the Board of Governors had arrived to assist in the situation that he had reported during his earlier phone call and the students had returned from lunch. Walters requested Mme. Bustier to join them and to bring Lila along. When the girl entered the office and saw her furious mother and principal, she paled immediately and started lying.

Even when Walters, Damocles, and her mother tore apart every one of her lies, she kept trying to turn things around and make herself a victim. And to Walters’ horror, Damocles was actually buying her lies! It was at that moment that he decided that the man had no right being a school administrator and would be put on leave, pending the end of his investigation and the Board of Governors decision.

Bustier attempted to side with Lila as well, claiming that the girl suffered from a disease and shouldn’t be punished. Completely ignoring that Mme. Rossi told her that her daughter suffered no such ‘disease’. The other inspector, Marchand, looked on in disgust before pulling out his phone and calling the Board of Governors right there, relaying his support of Walters’ recommendation against Damocles and Bustier.

Walters took charge of the situation, forcing Damocles out of his chair to take his seat. “Mme. Rossi, as an inspector of the Board of Governors, I must ask if you fully understand the situations that your daughter has caused?”

The woman took a deep breath before slowly letting it out, all the while retaining a firm grip on her daughter’s arm after she had attempted to flee the room earlier. “If you would, please go over everything from the top.” The woman requested, her voice a bit hoarse after yelling at the principal, the teacher, and her daughter.

Giving the woman a sympathetic nod, he flipped open the notebook and went over his notes while Marchand kept Damocles and Bustier quiet and standing in a corner. “I have personally observed your daughter disrupting class, bullying a student named Marinette Dupain-Cheng, lying to her peers, leading them to also bully Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, and sexually harassing another student who verbally asked her to stop. We have video evidence of her committing theft, harassing the same student I witnessed her bullying, framing that student for assault, as well as framing that student of theft and cheating. All that, as well as your testimony of her lying to the school administration about different injuries and illnesses, fraud in regards to changing your contact information, and four months of truancy.

“At this point, the school has no choice but to suspend Lila, pending an investigation to be completed by the Board of Governors,” he said, handing her the paperwork to sign, which she did right away. “At the time the investigation is complete, she will have the opportunity to plead her case to the Board. However, I want to make it clear that, from what I have seen, it is very likely that your daughter will be expelled.”

To her credit, Mme. Rossi held her head high as she nodded and handed back their copies of the suspension papers. “I suspected as much. However, I do request that a meeting be scheduled with Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s parents so that Lila may apologize in person. I also want her to apologize to the class and admit her lies to them so that there won’t be any backlash on that poor girl.”

Lila turned to her mother in a panic. “No, Mom! Please don’t make me-”

“YOUNG LADY, you are going to tell the class everything you lied about, apologize to that girl, and admit that you have been bullying her. Am I clear?” Walters was impressed that the girl simply nodded as she curled into herself before Mme. Rossi looked back to him. “I will not allow Lila to escape her punishment, that includes telling the truth to the people she has wronged.”

He nodded in understanding. “I’ll see about arranging a meeting. However, the suspension will be taking effect immediately, if you wish to have her confess to the class, I suggest doing so right now before school lets out.” Walters then turned to give the teacher a hard look that had her wilting under his gaze. “I’m sure Mme. Bustier would have no problem with that, I will also accompany you. M. Marchand, would you mind keeping an eye on M. Damocles?”

“Of course, I would like to word with him in private, myself.” He said, sending the man his own scathing look.

Mme. Bustier quietly escorted the Rossis and himself back to the classroom. The gym teacher, M. D’Argencourt had been watching over the class while Bustier had been in the meeting. Walters asked him to stay, and that they would only be there for a moment before turning to nod at the other teacher.

“Students, may I have your attention, please?” She waited a few seconds as the students put away what they were doing, likely hearing the tremor in the woman’s voice. “As you know, M. Walters, from the Board of Governors, has been sitting in with us today. It has been brought to my attention that one of our students has not been honest with us and has been causing a fair amount of trouble.”

Looking back at the girl and her mother, Mme. Rossi forced her daughter to step forward while keeping a hand on her shoulder. At first, she didn’t say anything. Then her mother leaned forward to whisper something in her ear, causing her to slump and tears to fall down her cheeks. “I-I lied, about everything. *sniffle* I don’t know any celebrities. I’ve never helped charities or been to Achu. *sniffle* I don’t have tinnitus, arthritis, or anything like that. I’m not Ladybug’s best friend and I’m not related to Vlad the Impaler. And-and…”

“And…” Mme Rossi said in a forceful tone, ignoring the stunned looks they were receiving from the class. Lila tucked her chin to her chest, muttering the rest of her confession under her breath. But her mother wasn’t going to allow that. “Speak up so everyone can hear you, unless you want to be grounded for twice as long with no allowance at all.”

The girl’s hands fisted at her side as she spoke loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “Marinette never bullied me. I-I bullied her. I told her that I would take her friends from her. I pl-planted the answer sheet in her bag. *sob* I put my necklace in-in her locker. She never pushed me down the stairs either, I faked it to get her expelled.”

“And why did you do all of this to that girl, Lila?” Her mother asked, making it clear that she had to answer.

“Be-because sh-she knew that I was lying *sob hiccup sob* and I wanted her gone.”

“And what do you have to say to Marinette?”

Lila lifted her chin, glaring dangerously at the girl sitting in the back. “Sorry,” she snapped.

Mme. Bustier looked up at the girl, giving her a kind smile. “And do you accept her apology, Marinette?”

That really pissed him off, that woman had no right to put that girl on the spot after Rossi had done everything in her power to ruin that girl’s life. Before she could say anything, Walters stepped in front of Bustier. “Marinette, you are under no obligation to accept her apology, that is completely up to you.” Waiting a moment he saw the absolute relief on the girl’s face before quietly shaking her head and settling back in her chair.

Walters then instructed M. D’Argencourt to continue with the class while he escorted Bustier back to the office while Mme. Rossi took her daughter home.

There was still a lot to do in this school, it was clear to him that the two educators, and he used that term loosely, needed to go. There was paperwork to fill out, more CCTV footage to go over, interviews with the students of Bustier’s class, and calls needed to be made to the Dupain-Chengs and the Agrestes about Lila Rossi and what she’d done to their children. The investigation literally had weeks of work to do, but it had to be done. But Walters knew, by the time they were done cleaning house, the students and school would be better off for it.

~oOo~ Four Weeks Later ~oOo~

Walters was working on the last of the paperwork having to do with the Francois-Dupont College debacle, greatly relieved that it was over.

Lila Rossi had been officially expelled after the investigation for bullying, harassment, theft, sexual harassment, cheating, destruction of property, fraud, and truancy. During her trial before the Board, the Dupain-Cheng family had been present and she had been forced to apologize to them for what she had done to her daughter. From her file, he saw that the Dupain-Chengs, as well as the Agreste family, had placed restraining orders on the girl. The Agreste family were also pressing charges for sexual harassment. Mme. Rossi had mentioned a reformatory school for delinquent children in Italy, stating that she had already enrolled her daughter, despite the outcome of the Board’s decision. He was glad that the woman was taking everything in stride and seemed to be doing the right thing.

The investigation into M. Damocles had uncovered even more skeletons than Walters had expected. Negligence and abuse of power, those were easily confirmed. They also uncovered proof of favoritism, taking bribes to ensure that certain students were not punished for offenses or that they passed their classes, despite failing grades. But the nail in the coffin was when Walters tracked down the money that was supposed to go to upgrading the lockers, Damocles had embezzled it to fund his vigilante superhero activities. He had officially been fired and blacklisted from ever working for the educational system or any branch of the government. The new principal was a vice principal from another school, well versed in bullying situations and had degrees in accounting as well as education. She would be going over all the books to see exactly how much money Damocles had embezzled over the years, so the Board of Governors would be able to sue for the proper amount of restitutions.

The issue of Mme. Bustier turned out to be an interesting matter. While looking into her qualifications, it had been revealed that her teaching license had been suspended before she had been hired by Damocles to teach at the school. Not trusting her file, Walters contacted her previous school and found out that they had fired her for much of the same reasons he had put her on leave. She had enabled bullies, blamed the victims, and pressured her “star pupil” to take on the work of a teaching assistant. When that same student complained and refused to help anymore, Bustier had told his parents that the boy was a troublemaker, refused to follow instruction, and was talking back. The boy had insisted on talking to the principal, who had cleared things up with the student and his parents. Bustier had been fired for her behavior and her license suspended until she completed anti-bullying classes, which she never attended. She simply applied to a new school, where the principal didn’t look too closely at her paperwork, and resumed her toxic teaching methods. Because of this; Bustier had been fired, blacklisted from ever teaching again, as well as arrested for teaching without a license.

The whole of Bustier’s class had been assigned counselling sessions for the foreseeable future until the toxic habits that the teacher had instilled in the class could be rectified. Though Walters was pleased to see that there seemed to be progress, as none of the students had been akumatized since the day he had gone to the school. A new record for time between akumatizations. The substitute that had been hired was stern, well versed in squashing bullying habits, but was sympathetic to the victims. That was what that class needed for the time until the Board could find a suitable, permanent replacement.

All in all, Walters felt that he had done his job with investigating the Dupain-Cheng expulsion, and was happy to hear that the girl was doing much better. Her record had been cleared, her grades were still at the top of the class, and she had given the Board a basket of baked goods on the day of Lila’s trial, which had been like eating little bites of heaven. She had even given him a custom notebook cover, that he was pretty sure she made herself, and a matching pen. It was a very kind gift, and might have thought it was a bribe if anyone else had given it to him, but he could tell that she was just grateful to him for listening to her and making her school life better.

That was the reason he enjoyed his job.

Taglist:

@7-sage-7 @fantasiame @seraphichana

@t1dwarrior-of-earth @ghostmaster83 @izang

@ulmban @plushbookworm @corabeth11

@ramos123 @darkened-flame @caffeinetheory

@iamblinkmarvelarmy @abrx2002 @cheshire5210

@delightfulcookiesrecipespizza @raiderofthelostbooks

@plz-excuse-my-inner-ravenclaw @chocolateherringtacofan

@city-of-all-tunas @aadnrsstar @kitten12113

@interobanginyourmom @pandacatxd @zoiechance

@nerd-nowandforever @jesussavedevenme

@the-smallest-kittenz @will-zeke-thomson @omgpercabethadrinette

@ironspiderstark @goblinwhoships @toodaloo-kangaroo

#bustier salt #lila salt #lila gets exposed #marinette deserves better #ml fic #mlbjustice #ml au #marinette dupain cheng

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writingabouteverything · 3 years

Text

The Perfect White Flower--and Other Nonexistent Things

a/n YALL THIS IS PROBABLY DUMB BUT I HAD THIS IDEA ABOUT A HARRY STYLES X READER FIC THATS BASED ON THE PLOT OF JANE THE VIRGIN AND I WANTED TO WRITE IT SO BADLY I MADE THIS ACCOUNT

disclaimer--wont follow the show exactly

Pairing: Harry Styles x latina! reader (a key factor of the show revolves around the lead being latina, and im latina and honestly love writing for us but anyone can still read and understand/hopefully enjoy and the fic doesn’t involve any physical descriptions:))

Series Summary: Y/n l/n has had the world figured out since she was a child. She won’t be a writer because it’s risky, she’ll just focus on school and becoming a teacher. She’s never been a child, because her mother had her at sixteen and hasn’t aged a single year since. That’s part of the reason the promise she made to her grandmother means so much to her--if she doesn’t have sex before marriage, her child will never have to grow up as quickly as she did. And Harry Styles is at the top of the world--his music has never been more successful, he has a lovely girlfriend, and he’s never been more in demand. He has everything in the world...except a child, and through a series of unbelievable events--y/n might be his only chance to have one. Ever.

Chapter One Summary: Who knew getting a pap smear on two hours of sleep and three cups of coffee was as bad as having unprotected sex?

There’s something dangerous about taking public transportation in LA. And no, I don’t mean it in the ‘there are bad people in the world’ type of way. I mean it in the ‘I live in one of the casual influencer, celebrity, tourist hubs of the world and each time I step onto the bus I find myself mesmerized by all the stories I see in them’ way. Kind of pathetic, I know, but sometimes a child with blonde pig tails or a woman streaming on instagram live will catch my eye and the urge to pull out my lap top and start something I’ll never finish.

I know that writing isn’t some kind of disease. But I can’t let myself fall in love with it the way I want to. There’s nothing wrong with writing a short story or two, but trying to write a novel? That’s impractical. It will distract me from school, from the four year plan I’m almost done with.

Sighing, I brave taking at my surroundings. I deserve this today, after the anonymous, rude costumer at the hotel today, I need positivity. No one is particularly inspiring. The bus stops and I watch out the window. At first the crowd is ordinary, and then i see them...paparazzi. Flashing cameras from all angles, grown men violating all rules of personal space. It never sits right with me, but I guess it’s just part of living in LA. The bus starts moving again. When it stops again, I see even more paparazzis, but their cameras aren’t flashing. Good for whoever escaped that.

The bus door opens and I snap my attention back to my computer screen. I rub my eyes as I stare at my word document. How is there more that needs to be edited? This professor is the harshest grader I’ve ever had, and my friend, Gisa, is kind for giving me even more notes. But I’m exhausted. Two tests and an essay due before 12:00. And it’s...11:38. Great--I have to upload it the second I’m at my doctor’s office and have WiFi again.

I spend some time highlighting and rewording sentences, and once I’m done I reward myself with more people watching because I deserve it and I can’t fall asleep here. I’m kind of invested in the girl live streaming her bus ride...maybe she’ll say her instagram handle.

But when I look up, she’s not on the bus anymore. Almost no one is. An elderly couple is sitting towards the back. A woman with a toddler sit two rows in front of me...and there’s now a man directly across from me. I blink for a moment, imagining a story for someone who’s face I can’t quite see beneath such dark sun glasses. His dark waves and strong jaw do most of the imagining for me--he deserves a mystery, a dramatic one with a happy ending and just enough romance to keep the people interested. A good romance, too--not too sappy. Enemies to lovers, maybe. A mysterious stranger that’s not really a stranger because something about him is just...familiar.

He turns his head and I drop my gaze immediately. There’s no doubt he caught that, but I still pretend to edit the title of my essay. “You’ve been typing stubbornly since I first got on the bus.” There’s an accent--of course he’s english. But it’s more than that, I’ve heard that voice before. I’ve been...soothed by it. And--oh my god, I’m sitting across from Harry Styles.

Okay, don’t freak out. Don’t freak him out. He’s probably on here to escape the the whole ‘oh my god, you’re Harry Styles!’ thing.

“What are you writing?” Harry Styles just spoke to me. I greeted my one direction poster every single day in middle school, and Harry Styles just spoke to me. Okay--relax, breathe--it’s only weird if you make it weird.

There’s a kind of curt curiosity to his question. He could have been ruder, considering how blatantly I was staring at him. “I um...an essay.” I’m temped to turn the screen so that he can see I’m telling the truth. Though he wasn’t hostile, a part of me is paranoid that he thinks I am writing about him. It’s a fair assumption, for all he knows I’m drafting a tweet about who I saw on the bus this morning or preparing to send something in to some gossip girl-esque blog. “It’s due today at noon and normally I’m way more on top of things, but I had this last minute doctor’s appointment rescheduling because my usual doctor is out of town and--” I cut myself off before I can tell Harry Styles that I’m ovulating and that if I don’t go to my OBGYN now, I have to wait an entire month and I’ve already been off birth control longer than I’d like. I might not have actual sex in my near future, but my cramps have been extra terrible. “An essay, I just finished an essay.”

He nods once. Maybe he feels bad for so thoroughly startling me into such a rambling, because the corner of his mouth tilts upwards. A soft smile adds even more grace to his features, I focus on the dimple that appears in his cheek. “An aggravating essay, I take it, considering the death glares you’ve been giving your laptop screen.”

I smile at his polite humor. “It’s for the harshest grader on campus. She took three points off of my first essay freshman year because I spaced my bibliography wrong.”

He cringes in sympathy. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” I hum, proud of myself for not letting him know that I know who he is. The bus stops, I can see my doctor’s office behind a few paparazzi. “This is my stop.”

Harry nods once, ducking his head slightly. A tiny part of me feels sympathy for him; from what I’ve gathered, he genuinely loves his fans and the relationship they have, but it must be draining to never have a moment of privacy. Especially when it’s people who care more about selling your picture than your mental health.

I linger on the bus’s step, watching the men with large cameras look around. “Excuse me, are you guys looking for Harry Styles?” Most of the men disregard me, but one looks at me. “I know he’s near here because I’m a really big fan and my friend just texted that she saw him.” This gets me the attention I wanted. “He’s at Northfield--a cafe like three blocks down. I just know that if she got a picture with Harry in like a magazine or something she’d totally lose it--in a good way, and she’s been having a bad time so if you see her can you try to make it happen? Knowing her she’ll be at his side, she’s blonde, shortish hair.”

The men seem skeptical, but I guess they realize that this is the best lead they have. I think the fact that I gave a reason to justify selling Harry out for no reason helped. They disperse together, heading at least three blocks away from Harry. I don’t know if I’ve actually helped him, but I hope I have.

“Essay girl.” I freeze, half cringing. Did he hear that? That’s embarrassing. I consider darting away, but decide that would just make me cringe more. So I turn on my heels. “You...you forgot your phone.”

He just saved my life. “Thank you.” I take my phone from his outstretched hand, ignoring the slight thrill that runs through me when our fingers brush. “You’re my hero--the last thing I needed today was to run all over the city searching for my phone.” I finish the awkward admission with a partial laugh.

“Least I could do,” he mumbles, “especially considering what you just did.”

...He did see that. “Oh um--it was nothing, I just kind of made a connection and assumed the only reason you’d be on a public bus is because you were trying to avoid some things, and you make really great music and a lot of people happy, so you deserve that break.” Why does it feel like I’ve been talking forever? “Anyways, thanks for the whole phone thing, and I hope I got them off your tail.”

My joke seems to somewhat land. His lips part, like he’s planning on saying something else. A timer on my phone interrupts him. I instinctually look down--great, the alarm on my phone warning me that I’m only ten minutes away from being late. “I’m late.” I turn towards the bus’s exit. “I gotta go, but thanks again, and I hope you have a good day.”

I disappear after that, still not sure that that whole thing wasn’t some kind of hallucination. Did I just meet Harry Styles? He...he gave me my phone. Harry Styles has touched my phone. I can’t wait to tell Gisa, she’ll lose it.

I’m still thinking about Harry Styles when I finally reach my OBGYN’s office. When I get there, things are a lot more hectic than I thought they’d be. Many people crowd the waiting area and the receptionist’s desk is clearly understaffed. Two young girls are trying to address multiple upset pregnant women and take phone calls at the same time, all while practically buried in a sea pf paperwork. Wow, I didn’t realize that transferring was such chaos. One of the girls waves me over and barely checks my name before shoving a form towards me. I fill out as quickly as possible.

I upload my essay quickly after checking in. Who knows, maybe Harry Styles’s blessing will get me an A? A third person in scrubs emerges from the back after a moment and ushers me into a room. I tell myself to focus on going over the facts I need for the test I have to take in a little over an hour. Or to focus on the fact that I just met Harry Styles. But instead, I feel my heavy eyelids fall shut.

I don’t know how long I sleep, but I know that I wake up during the middle of a doctor’s sentence, “...I know I’m not your usual, so I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“Hm...Yeah, yeah I’m comfortable.” She nods once, her wide eyes slightly red. “But I do have a class today in like an hour, so I was wondering if this was going to take longer because of the office’s move?”

“Oh, no,” she shakes her head. “Just because Dr. Rodriguez gave us no notice before deciding that she no longer wanted to work here...or in the country. Or even live in the US, despite the fact that we just signed a lease on a place together...” Tears well in the stranger’s eyes, pity settles in my stomach.

“That sounds incredibly complicated, I didn’t mean to rush you.”

She blinks twice, her expression blanking as she fights against the pain of what’s clearly a terrible break up. “No, no--you have every right. Today is your day and if..honestly, if you’re strong enough to go to a class after this, and do what you’re about to do by yourself, then I’m strong enough to get through today.”

Um...didn’t realize a pap smear counted as something that needs moral support, but I’ll chalk it up to her heightened emotions. “Thanks.”

She snaps on her medical gloves. “No, thank you for your patience. Now lay down.”

I do as told, preparing for a sensation I haven’t often experienced. A moment passes and I know she’s started. She’s moving away from me much faster than expected. Oh--I guess pap smears are a lot shorter than I expected.

“That’s it?”

“Yep,” she hums, pulling her gloves off. “Now just take it easy, and hydrate.”

Weird...but that’s like general doctor advice. “Thanks!”

I’ve never wanted to keep a secret from Gisa, but sometimes I really regret telling her I met Harry Styles. It’s been almost a month and I find my mind wandering back to the moment in which our fingers brushed more than I should. Sometimes I let myself wonder what he might have said if my phone hadn’t rang. I was probably just imagining the way his lips parted, but my ind refuses to let it go.

“...You know it’s kind of sad, I read an interview in which he spoke about the fact that he has some genetic condition that makes it hard to have kids. He has so many godchildren, and I feel like he’d make such a great father.”

I try to keep up with Gisa’s words, but the dull ache in my head makes it feel so far away. “Yeah...he seemed really patient.”

Gisa nods, turning to face me. “You alright, you’re looking kinda green?”

“Yeah...” I reach for my canvas bag. “I think I just...I probably just need some water.”

My hand grazes the metal of my water bottle and then the corners of my vision blur into blackness. I sway, Gisa’s hand is on my shoulder...and then it all goes black.

I sit uncomfortably on the hospital’s cot. Gisa is a traitor for telling my mom that I fainted. I knew she’d just drag me here--hispanic mothers, they either believe they can cure you with vic’s vapor rub or they want you in the ER. No in between.

“I know you didn’t want another test, but you’ve been throwing up in the morning for days and now you’re fainting.”

“Fainted,” I correct, “it happened once.”

“C’mon, mija, it’s just one doctor’s appointment.”

Speaking of, an ER nurse returns. “Fainting and nausea spells explained,” he says, glancing at his clipboard, “you’re pregnant.”

My mom and I can’t help but exchange a look before bursting into laughter. Pregnant. If I’m pregnant then the second coming is here. “That’s impossible, I’m a virgin.”

He glances at my mom, “maybe we should have this conversation in private.”

“No, what you say in front of me you can say in front of my mom.”

My mom raises an eyebrow. “Y/n, did you and that guy from your english class--”

“No! No, we did not. I am a virgin and there’s no way I’m pregnant.” I glare at the nurse.

He then ushers me to a bathroom so that I can provide a urine sample. After I’m finished, he shows me a pregnancy test strip. “Pink means pregnant.” I bite my tongue as he tests the strip in my sample. He pulls it out and it’s...it’s bright pink.

“I’m calling my doctor, because this has to be a mistake. It has to be like a hormonal thing.”

“Exactly, pregnancy hormones.”

I glare even harder, calling the doctor that I saw last week. “Hello, Dr. Ash? I was wondering if I could get a consultation because I’m in the ER and some crazy doctor is trying to tell me I’m pregnant.”

Silence on the line for a long second. “...I actually cleared my calendar for you.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #jane the virgin #jane the virgin AU #lot #hslot st louis

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