#because of the constant interruptions. and my mom just doesn't Get that when she interrupts me its not just for that 5 minutes she

[ectonurites]

i just need to like. make everything explode forever. <3

[happy74827]

White Lies

[Spencer Reid x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You have constantly lied to your mother about your private life, as she was one to disapprove of everything, but those "harmless lies" become a lot more serious when you forget to cancel plans with your closest friend.

WC: 3036

Category: Fluff, Fake Dating, Sassy!Reid {TW: Reader’s mom is Authoritarian}

Another drafted idea that I finally wrote up because Spencer is the definition of pookie, and you cannot change my mind. This is also a dedication to my girl, @yoursacredqueenmother, for matching my crazy delulu fantasies 🫶💖

『••✎••』

Your mom has always been a force of nature—a whirlwind of opinions, expectations, and unsolicited advice that sweeps through your life like a hurricane. She’s the kind of woman who believes she knows what’s best for you, even when you’re pretty sure she doesn’t. Ever since you turned 30 last year, her visits have become more frequent, and her nagging has reached a fever pitch.

"You’re getting old, sweetheart," she’d say, her voice dripping with concern that felt more like judgment. "You need to settle down, find a nice man, start a family. I’m not going to be around forever, you know."

The words were always delivered with a smile, but they stung like a slap. You love her, you really do, but her constant pressure makes you feel like you’re failing at some unspoken test of womanhood.

So, to get her off your back, you’d started lying. Little white lies at first—"I’m seeing someone, Mom, it’s just early stages"—but they quickly snowballed into more and more elaborate fibs. Soon, you were telling her that you were dating a doctor who wanted nothing more than to start a family with you but was waiting for the right time.

It was easier to make up a fictitious doctor than to explain the real reason you were still single.

Because the truth is that the man of your dreams is already in your life, he's been here for years, and he's always been the perfect friend. The problem is that he's a little hard to read. You have no idea how he feels about you or if he sees you as more than a friend.

You'd tried to tell him how you felt about him before, but the words had stuck in your throat. He’d seemed so confused, so shocked by the mere suggestion of romance. Maybe he just didn't see you that way. Maybe you’d ruin your friendship by even mentioning the idea.

This led to where you are now: alone, frustrated, and trying to figure out how to keep your mother from butting into your personal life. You’d thought maybe she’d drop the issue after your birthday, but she’d come by to "surprise you" last night and is now currently sitting at the kitchen table, looking around your apartment with an expression of vague disappointment.

"Honey, you’re an adult now," she says, not looking up from her coffee cup. "You can’t keep living like this."

She gestures at the living room, which is scattered with discarded letters and half-read books. The mess is a symptom of the chaos in your head as you’ve been too preoccupied with thoughts of him to worry about cleaning up after yourself.

"It’s not that bad," you mumble, though you know it is. Even he’d commented on the state of your apartment when he’d last stopped by, and his place is usually worse than yours. Messy, not dirty. He’s a bit of an organized hoarder.

"Well, maybe not for a single girl," she sighs. "But what if Doctor Whoever comes over? Don’t you want to impress him?"

You bite your lip, trying to keep your temper in check. This is the problem with your mother—she has a habit of steamrolling over your feelings, and you've never been able to stand up to her. You’d thought you were done having this argument when you turned 30. Apparently, you’d thought wrong.

"Mom," you begin, your voice firm. "I told you, he doesn't care about stuff like that. He's more concerned with things like—"

The doorbell rings, interrupting you mid-sentence. Thank God. You’re not sure what you would have said, but any excuse is better than none. You figured it was the mailman, late with that package you’d been expecting, but when you just so happen to glance at the calendar (the one your father bought you last Christmas, with pictures of cats wearing hats), your stomach drops.

March 21st, which may not seem important, and it really isn’t, unless you look closer and realize that the cat in the picture is wearing a lab coat and is holding a beaker. Because that, my friends, is not just a picture. It is a reminder.

The one thing you had not wanted to forget.

The one thing, apparently, you had forgotten.

You’d been so busy trying to avoid your mother’s questions about your non-existent boyfriend that you���d completely lost track of time. The calendar sits there, taunting you, and all you can think is:

Oh, no.

Because the person who had rang the doorbell? It was him. He and his adorable grin, hazel-like eyes, and messy brown hair. He probably even brought a bag of those terribly expensive chocolates you love.

You want to cry. Of course, it had to be that day, the day of all days, the day you'd been secretly anticipating for all month.

Chess day. It was a monthly ritual you'd started with him when he'd discovered that you, too, were a fan of the game. You were absolutely terrible at it, and he won every time, but honestly, you didn't care. Chess day was just an excuse for you to spend time with him.

Except today, you have company, and it’s not exactly the kind you want him to meet.

You were supposed to call him, but in your haste to please your mom, you completely forgot.

Your mother’s gaze shifts to the door, and her eyebrows rise as if she can sense his presence on the other side. "Well, aren’t you going to answer that?"

No.

That's what you wanted to say. Instead, you hear yourself saying:

"Yeah, just a sec."

And, like a complete idiot, you open the door.

You open the door, and he’s there, all bright-eyed, smiling, holding a box of chocolates and his perfectly polished travel chess set. You feel like the biggest jerk in the world.

"Uh, hey!" he chirps, his voice making your stomach flip. He doesn’t seem to notice the tension in the air or the fact that your mother is standing right behind you, peering curiously over your shoulder. "I know I’m a little early, but I needed to pick up some things and..."

He trails off as his gaze settles on your mother. She’s eyeing him like a hawk and doing what she does when meeting a new person: leaning forward slightly, squinting her eyes, and tilting her head. You can see the wheels turning in her mind.

"Is this him?" she asks, her eyes wide with excitement.

Before you can stop her, she grabs your wrist and pulls you aside. You stumble into the kitchen, and she takes your place, smiling warmly at him.

"So, you’re the doctor," she says, her voice full of approval. "My daughter has told me so much about you!"

Oh, this is bad. So, so bad.

"Uh," he begins, clearly caught off-guard. His eyes dart to yours, and you were expecting his classic confused puppy look, but this time, it’s different. He looks... honored? No, that can't be right.

"She… talked about me?" he stammers, looking back at your mother.

She nods. "All the time! In fact, I was starting to think she’d made you up. It’s good to know my daughter has such a handsome young man in her life."

You want to die. Right there, on the spot. But, somehow, you manage to force a smile, even as your heart pounds with anxiety.

And your mother? She beams.

"It’s lovely to meet you finally," she gushes. She reaches out and shakes his hand, and he stares at her with a dazed expression. "My daughter has always been a bit shy, and she tends to keep things close to the vest if you know what I mean."

"Mom, please," you cut in, mortified. "Stop."

He still hasn't said a word, and the silence is killing you.

"Well, come on in, then," your mother continues, ignoring your protests. "I insist. After all, I can't wait to learn more about my future son-in-law!"

And this is when the situation goes from bad to worse.

This is when he freezes, and the box of chocolates threatens to slip from his fingers. You watched as he struggled to form a coherent sentence.

"I... Uh, that's not... we’re not..."

"Yes! Yes, we are!" you shout, desperate to cover up his stammering. He looks at you, his expression shifting from confused to shocked, and it’s like a punch in the gut. "That’s right, Mom. This is him. My boyfriend. Doctor Whoever."

"Oh, sweetie, this is so wonderful!" Your mother is so busy clapping her hands with delight that she doesn't notice his reaction.

"Doctor… Whoever?" He looks offended and a bit hurt. "What’s that supposed to mean—?"

"Shush!" You hiss, silently pleading with him to keep quiet. He must have caught your desperation because he shuts his mouth.

It allowed you a moment to process everything. Your mother is smiling widely, her face filled with delight. She doesn't even seem bothered by the fact that he’s currently dressed like a college professor with an evident love for scarves.

Meanwhile, he’s standing there, blinking stupidly, looking as if his entire world has been flipped upside-down. He seems torn between anger and elation, and honestly, it’s confusing as hell. You want to grab him and apologize and explain that this was all a mistake, but you can’t. Not with your mother right there.

So, you knew what you had to do.

"Mom! Say, would you mind doing me a huge favor and just give us like a few minutes? We have some important totally-not-boyfriend stuff to discuss."

"Sure, honey." She grins. "I'll do some unpacking. How about that?"

"Perfect!"

She practically skips into the other room, leaving the two of you alone. There’s a long, uncomfortable silence, broken only by the sound of the bedroom door clicking shut.

The sigh you let out is one of relief, tinged with the faintest hint of dread.

Though, he was the first to break the silence with words.

"I didn’t realize we were dating," he says, his voice low. He's not quite glaring at you, but it's a close thing. "Last time I checked, statistically, dating requires at least two people. Which leads me to the logical conclusion that you are, in fact, a liar. Unless this is some strange, newfangled term for friendship, in which case, I think it would be more appropriate for me to refer to you as the "teller of lies" rather than a—"

"I know, I'm sorry." You blurt out, your cheeks flushing with shame. "I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. She was asking all these questions, and I couldn't tell her the truth, and then she just kept talking, and I couldn't get a word in edgewise, and... I panicked. Okay? That’s all."

"What do you mean, couldn’t tell her the truth?" He narrows his eyes. "Is something wrong? Did you get yourself into trouble?"

"No! No, nothing like that."

"Then, what is it that you can't tell her?"

He steps closer, and the concern in his eyes makes you feel even guiltier.

"Look, don't worry about it, alright? It’s not important." You turn away, refusing to meet his gaze.

"If it isn’t important, then why are you so embarrassed?"

"I’m not embarrassed."

"Your cheeks are flushed," he points out. "And you tend to rub your thumb against your forefinger when you’re feeling nervous or stressed. Which, coincidentally, is also something you do when you’re lying."

Damn it. You should’ve known better than to lie to a profiler.

"You don’t know what it’s like to be interrogated by my mother," you snap, harsher than intended. You soften your voice before continuing. "It’s like she’s constantly see-sawing between disapproval and pity. She means well, but when she’s around, I feel like I'm being crushed under the weight of her expectations."

He opens his mouth, but you cut him off.

"And I know, I know, that’s not an excuse for lying. I just... I’m sorry, okay? It was wrong and selfish and... I didn’t mean to drag you into it."

You brace yourself for the inevitable rejection, the anger, the disappointment. Instead, you hear him let out a sigh, followed by the familiar look of resolve that comes over him when he's faced with a challenging puzzle.

"You know, when we first met, you used to lie all the time." He glances at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "You would say things like, 'I don't watch rom-coms,' and, 'I have a real job,' and, most infamously, 'there's no such thing as aliens.'"

"Hold on a minute—"

He ignored your protests, his smile growing wider.

"You’re not that bad of a liar. Actually, you’re pretty decent, considering your lack of social skills. So the fact that you’ve managed to fool your mother is pretty impressive."

"Hey—"

"And, honestly, it’s a little flattering."

"I— Wait… what?" You gape at him, trying to figure out what's going on. "Flattering?"

He shrugs, but you can tell he's trying not to blush.

"Liars tend to use people they know well or trust implicitly when they need a cover story because they have more information about them and are therefore more believable. So, by lying about your fake boyfriend, that being me, it suggests that you trust me enough to make a convincing cover story, and the fact that you are embarrassed about the deception implies a certain amount of fondness."

"You can't know all that from a simple lie."

"Can’t I?"

There's something in his tone, the slightest hint of a tease, that makes your heart flutter. He's always been like this, so damn perceptive. You never knew what to make of it.

"It’s actually a well-established behavioral theory," he continues. "Deceivers typically show affection toward the person they are attempting to deceive. In fact, a study in the 1970s—"

"Spencer, please." You hold up a hand. "I get it."

"I'm not so sure that you do."

There's an intensity in his gaze that makes your stomach do backflips.

"Because," he murmurs, moving a little closer, "if you did, I wouldn’t have had to spend the past three years of my life wondering why my best friend keeps avoiding my gaze."

"You noticed that?" You squeak, suddenly finding the floor very interesting.

"I notice everything."

He takes a step toward you, and it’s so quick, so unexpected, that you can't help but glance up. He's actually extremely close, his face mere inches from yours, and you find yourself frozen, unable to speak, unable to think, as his eyes lock with yours.

"I notice that the color of your eyes changes depending on the lighting." He pauses, and his voice grows softer. "And I notice that your pupils dilate when I'm near. I notice the way you breathe, the way you laugh, the way you chew your bottom lip when you’re deep in thought. And I can’t help but notice that the closer I get, the faster your heart rate becomes. That could be a number of things, of course, and not just an indication of arousal, but considering the context, the likelihood that it’s due to anything other than sexual excitement is simply—"

"Spence," you breathe, your pulse pounding in your ears. You’re not sure what to do, so you blurt out the first thing that pops into your mind. "Do you want to be my fake boyfriend?"

There’s a moment of silence, followed by a quiet snort.

"I thought I already was."

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, but the tension between you has lessened. Now, he’s simply staring at you with a smug smile, and it's like a dam has burst. The words tumble out of your mouth, spilling out like water from a leaky faucet.

"Well, then, you should know that my boyfriend is absolutely infuriating and has a tendency to ramble about obscure facts at inappropriate moments. And he’s really, really bad at taking a hint."

His smile widens, and his voice takes on a teasing tone.

"Oh, he is, is he? Tell me, is he good at chess?"

"No, he’s terrible at it."

"Then, he sounds like a total loser."

"Yeah," you admit, biting back a smile. "He’s the biggest loser I know."

"In that case, you should know that my girlfriend is incredibly frustrating and a compulsive liar who uses her boyfriend for cover stories. She also tends to cheat her way to victory despite still losing most of the time."

"I do not cheat!" You protest, playfully punching him on the shoulder.

"No, you just make up rules on the spot in order to justify why you lose so badly."

"You’re one to talk. You’re the one who’s been letting me win all this time."

"Perhaps," he grins. "Or maybe I’ve been letting you believe that."

You narrow your eyes.

"Are you admitting to me what I think you're admitting?"

"What is it that you think I’m admitting to?"

"I think you’re admitting to me that you’ve been throwing our chess games all this time."

"That sounds like the ramblings of someone who cheats and is trying to project their own faults onto others."

"Oh, you know what—"

And that's when the bedroom door swings open, and your mother's voice cuts through the air like a knife.

"Ahem."

She's standing there, smiling, and holding a box filled with old pictures and baby toys. Your father had sent it to you last year, hoping that you’d have children soon and use it, but you’d put it in storage, intending to deal with it later. Apparently, your mother had decided now was the perfect time.

The both of you share a look, and it's clear that he’s thinking the same thing as you.

"Not interrupting, am I?" She asks, glancing from him to you and then back again. Her smile was practically glowing, and she had a strange look in her eyes as if she were a cat watching a bird. "I was just looking for a place to put these old things and thought maybe my daughter's boyfriend might be interested in seeing them."

The shared look between the two of you solidified what was going through both of your minds. This was indeed going to be a long, long afternoon.

[dingochef]

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x You (OFC)

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (MDNI 18+ Only), Stalking, P in V, oral (female and male receiving), Semi-public sex, light spanking, light bondage, blindfolds, shitty parents, nightmares, arguing

Summary: You and Jake work through the details that make marriage work and deal with a few bumps in the road. News from your Dad doesn't help.

Word Count: 5.0k

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

A Rose By Any Other Name

You're walking home, (and still in constant awe and adoration of your engagement ring) from the ferry terminal towards your house. When your phone rings, the display showing "Dad". You keep walking and answer the call.

"Elsa, Congratulations on your engagement," your dad practically shouts on the phone.

"Thank you, Dad," you reply cautiously, "Is Mom there?"

"No, she isn't."

You're not sure how to continue the conversation, so you go with the 'running away' tactic.

"Well, I'm almost home, so anything else you want to talk about?" you ask, hoping he says no. The awkwardness palpable even from 2,000 miles away.

Your Dad takes a deep breath,

"Yeah, Elsa, I have a few things to talk about with you, if you want to."

You reach the front porch of your house and sit down on it.

"Umm, yeah, I'm listening."

"I've been doing a lot of thinking about what happened at Christmas. I heard everything; I apologize for being a coward and staying in the kitchen."

You give a small hum of assurance that you're listening. He continues,

"I'm so sorry that I failed you for so long. I know now I should have done more to balance out your mom. It's not an excuse, it's a regret."

He pauses and takes another breath, "I was checked out, should have been there more."

"Dad, what's done is done. This is feeling a little like Cat's in the Cradle," you answer, finally having something to say.

He laughs,

"There's that wicked sense of humor," he pauses, "I want you to know how incredibly proud I am of you and what you've become."

"It's good to hear you say it, Dad, but all our family dysfunction isn't going to be solved in one day."

"I get that, Elsa, I really do. But it's a starting point."

"There's something else I need to tell you, your mother and I are separating."

You croak out a very surprised, "What?"

"Christmas was a wake up call, that I haven't been happy in our relationship for a long time, but I stayed because it was comfortable and familiar."

Jake pokes his head out just as you say,

"It seems like a drastic step to separate, did you guys try couples therapy?"

Jake looks at you and mouths

"Who is that?" to you.

"My dad," you cover the phone and whisper back. Jake's eyes narrow and his brows furrow together. He goes to say something, but heads back into the house.

Your dad has taken his time in responding, he sighs,

"I invited her to go with me, I've been going on my own since Christmas, or find a new one, but she didn't want to go, or try."

Your dad's voice cracks on the word try. He is starting to cry and for the first time in a long time you wish you were in Michigan to give him a hug, this is the most vulnerable moment you've ever experienced with him.

Jake has reappeared and hands you a gin and tonic and squeezes your shoulder as he gives you space to talk.

Your dad draws in a deep breath to settle him and starts to talk again.

"My time left on earth is a diminishing resource,"

you interrupt him, "That's a little grim." He huffs out a soft laugh.

"I had the epiphany that I want to spend it with the people that make me happy, not just out of habit. A big part of it is how she never let go of the argument from Christmas. I won't be with someone who is driving away our children chasing the past. You kind of inspired this, by the way."

"That kind of sounds like I caused your separation when you say it that way," you try to joke.

He laughs on the other end, the tight band around your heart loosens a little.

"That's not what I mean exactly, just you've built this world of people who love you for just being you. Every time you've faced something that would decimate most people, you jumped back up and kept going to do what made you happy. Like you know that the love you share with Jake is worth fighting for, even if it means a fucked up relationship with your mother. I need to do what makes me happy and loved, and right now that's not being with her."

You laugh a bit darkly, trying to keep the tears at bay that threaten to spill,

"Dad, don't know if you didn't notice, my relationship with Mom has always been a bit fucked up."

"Yet another thing I ignored, I've missed so much, Elsa, I'm so sorry for that."

"It's okay Dad, you're at least self aware now, plus it's another thing you can add to your therapy list, you know in case you run out of stuff to talk about. Want to use every minute of that hour, get your money's worth."

"Did you just make a cheap dad joke about therapy?"

He's laughing and you can feel him lightening even over the phone.

"Yes, I did. You're the only person I've ever known to cut open the toothpaste tube to get that last little bit."

"Hey, it works. There's at least two more tooth brushings in there," he's at least joking a bit.

"Well, I'll let you go Elsa, you probably want to eat dinner with your fiance and not talk about an old man's laments. I want you to know how proud and amazed I am at what you've done with your life. I think Jake loves you deeply and he's good for you."

"It's really good to hear that," you pause,

"You might want to consider a trip out here, alone, actually get that visit in. I love you, Dad."

"I love you so much, Elsa."

"Bye."

You hang up the phone and hold the cold drink to your forehead as though the coolness could soothe your inner turmoil. When you go inside Jake is sitting on the couch, pretending to read a magazine. He chose his spot on the couch because he could keep watch over you outside on the porch. A wave of warmth rolls over you to know how protective and loving he is. He starts to get up and you motion for him to stay. Putting your drink on the coffee table, you flop down on the couch next to him. He waits patiently for you to talk and pulls you into his arms.

You break the silence,

"I didn't think I'd have to add 'Parents Getting Separated Likely Divorced' to my Matthews Family Dysfunction bingo card, but here we are."

Jake is visibly surprised,

"That's out of left field, you were talking to your Dad, right?"

"Yeah, he called to congratulate us on getting engaged and decided to let me know about them separating at the same time. You know for efficiency reasons, couldn't have those be two different phone calls," you snort thinking of the range of emotions in one phone call.

"So, they're separated. Any particular reason why?"

Jake is cautiously wading into the emotional quagmire.

"He said he's been doing a lot of thinking and therapy since Christmas, and realized he wasn't happy in their relationship and hadn't been for a long time."

"Wow, you'd think that he'd just run the last mile of the marathon and stay with her and not start over so late in life."

You laugh,

"I got the impression it was more of a 'I'll be damned if I'm going to run my last mile with you.'"

Jake at least rewards you with a light smirk.

"Part of it was my mom's insistence on holding onto the past, he said he wouldn't be with someone who would drive his kids away for something that could have been."

"So, how do you feel about this?"

He pulls you closer for a hug as he kisses the top of your head.

"Surprised and not at the same time, my parents have always been together but I don't know that I ever saw them in love with each other. I remember Dad as a little kid being really bright, laughing, and funny. Always smiling, that started to fade over time, I don't know if that was the toll of a strained relationship or if it was him kind of checking out trying to cope with it."

"I'm glad he's going to therapy, that's pretty smart of him," Jake offers.

"He said he has regrets from my childhood and how he let my mom dominate my life, so he's at least aware of that. He also said he is really happy for us and thinks you love me deeply and am good for me, which I'd have to agree."

You lean over to give him a peck on the cheek. Jake can tell you're still processing the conversation and will likely talk to him again about it.

"You ready for some dinner? I made a stir fry," he asks quietly.

"That sounds lovely," you stand up and wrap your arms around Jake's torso.

"I love you so much, Jake Seresin."

He replies,

"I love you very much, Elsa Matthews, soon to be Seresin."

You know you have to talk about some of the details of married life like keeping your last name, but you're emotionally spent for the day.

–

It turns out that conversation happens very soon on the next sunny Saturday afternoon. You and Jake have convened at the dining table to discuss “Life Stuff” as you called it. A file folder of your financial stuff, your laptop open to your financial tracking software, and Jake's tablet are laid out on the table. He keeps all his financial info electronic so that he can access it from anywhere the Navy sent him.

You start,

"So, I want to get married sooner than later, I don't want a really long engagement because we're trying to plan the 'perfect wedding.'"

"I agree, we'll have to see what's available for locations and work from there," Jake nods.

"Okay, that's good, that's probably a whole nother day of effort, but I thought we'd tackle the hard things first before picking wedding colors, you know the things that actually make marriages work."

Jake is smiling his panty dropper smile,

"God, I love it when you get all engineer on me, planning stuff, solving problems. It's kind of hot."

He smirks as he slides his hand up your thighs under your dress.

"Jake," you stop his hand and pull it off your leg,

"This is important stuff and you doing that is highly distracting and you're not going to get me all wet and bothered to discuss whether we do a prenup or combine bank accounts."

"Okay, I'll behave for now," he raises one eyebrow and gives you that smirk again.

"So, I came up with these things to discuss from my research. Not that this is the only time we'll talk about it."

You look down at your list,

"First, what debt do you have? I'll start, I have," you scroll through your accounts on the laptop,

"$367 on a credit card that is paid automatically each month from my checking account. You?"

He scrolls,

"Credit card only, $582. Also paid automatically each month."

"Okay, that was stupidly simple, by some stroke of luck, we have no student loans, car loans, mortgage, or a crippling gambling problem."

Jake laughs,

"You know this might be easier if we just swap the laptop and tablet with each other."

"Okay," you shuffle the tech around and scroll through Jake's accounts. Checking, savings, credit card, investment account, and what looks like a retirement account. All of which are healthy and reasonable.

You look over to Jake and he looks shocked,

"El, I didn't realize how loaded you are, maybe I should have made you pay for dinner more often."

You laugh,

"Most of my net worth is in this house, I've been maxing out my 401k and Roth IRAs since I started working. That's a lot of it, but also I don't really live an extravagant lifestyle as you've noticed. I drive an 8 year old Honda, probably the second most expensive thing I've bought in the last few years has been my bike. I've been putting the equivalent of a monthly payment for a house, since I don't have one, into a money market account since I bought this place. That's all because I really do earn good money at my job, six figures."

Jake has been nodding the whole time,

"So, level with me, what was your gross salary last year?" he asks.

"$150,000," you answer, waiting for Jake's response.

He has a pleased look on his face, none of the insecurity or jealousy you've seen from guys before,

"Nice, beats my $85k a year."

"It doesn't matter who makes more money, because I think it's our money when we get married which leads me to the next question. How do you want to manage money? Combine accounts or keep separate accounts?"

Jake answers,

"I think that combining is the way to go, it seems complicated and kind of petty to have to balance out every transaction to make things even. If it's one account, it's our money that we use for our lives. You?"

"I'm in favor of the combined account, pretty much for the same reasons. I see you're a member of a military credit union, so that might be the place to have our accounts. We can compare that stuff and choose the best one."

"Sounds good, what's the next question?"

"What purchases can we make individually and what ones do we need to consult each other on?"

"Obviously the big ones, houses, cars, anything that you might consider taking out a loan for. I'm not sure if there's a dollar amount that would trigger it, because spending $500 on a couch is different than spending $500 on shoes. Not that you're the type to do that," he looks at the ratty Chaco flip flops you're wearing.

"Hey, they still work. I'll get a new pair when they break. It's just my Midwestern soul and the ingrained thriftiness. I think it's context dependent too. I'm going to go with the 'when in doubt ask' policy."

"Agreed, what's next? This feels like a job interview almost."

"We should discuss if we want a prenup."

Jake starts,

"I think it would be wise to protect your assets, Elsa."

You scoff,

"It feels really cynical. Like we're expecting this not to work. The big thing is the house, it's in my name obviously, I was considering adding you to it, so you'd get if anything happened to me, or we can set up a trust that automatically transfers it to you. A trust might not be a bad idea if we plan on having kids. Hah, that's the next question."

You look at Jake and he seems a little overwhelmed,

"Are you okay over there?"

"Who knew getting married would be so complicated. El, I don't want the appearance of me marrying for your money. Your mother has already made me paranoid about not being enough."

"Jake, if you wanted a sugar momma, you could have reached way higher. There's plenty of rich old ladies on Coronado Beach looking for a young buck like you."

He relaxes and laughs a little,

"Who says I'm not playing the long game for when you'll be a rich old lady?"

It's your turn to laugh now,

"Jake, this is our house, I need to set up a will anyway and we can discuss options with a lawyer if you want."

Jake looks satisfied with that answer. He looks at the list of questions,

"So, kids, yes or no, and how many?" he asks.

"I do want a family, not giant, but at least two kids. All the only children I know are kind of weird. Seeing you with Ellie and Gigi made something click on in my uterus, because I was definitely filled with the urge to give you babies."

"I'm sure I could help you with that primal urge," he jokes,

"I'd like a family, but as I said before you get to make the ultimate decisions on all of that because it's your body and you'll bear the brunt of it."

"Fair, would we both work if we had kids? I don't really think I'd like to be a stay-at-home mom, I'd like to keep building my career."

"While in an ideal world you or I could take a multi year sabbatical and raise some kids, I'd expect that we'd both want to work, and I'm okay with hiring a nanny or daycare, are you?"

"Yeah, I am. I was a daycare kid as my mom was a teacher. I went during the school year and I think there's some good to it, the socialization. It just depends on finding the solution that feels right."

"Alright, hit me, what's next?" Jake asks, rolling his shoulders.

“How do you feel about me keeping my last name? You've casually mentioned me changing my name."

Jake thinks for a moment,

"I just assumed you would, you know tradition and what not, why wouldn't you?"

"My whole professional life is under Matthews, my patents, licenses, and journal articles. All under Matthews, keeping that consistent is important to my professional reputation. Plus, it always felt a little patronizing and demeaning to me. It feels like a relic from the past when women were just traded around by fathers to husbands like property."

Jake's face twists into a disagreeable expression, his mouth pulled tight.

"I guess, I've always thought of it being a unifying thing, like 'Team Seresin'. Not you submitting to me like property."

He looks worried as he continues to speak,

"Do you not want to be Mrs. Lieutenant Seresin? Were you going to change it for Liam?"

"No, I wasn't and that's not what I'm saying, it's just arbitrary that it has to be the woman who changes her name, do you want to be Mr. Dr. Matthews?"

He shakes his head,

"Why would I change my name? It's not what people do."

"Jake, just because it's been done that way for a long time, doesn't mean we have to do it. We can be committed to each other without the same last name."

You sigh a little louder than you should.

"I just thought that it would be something that brings us together, being the Seresins, a family unit. What if we have kids, what is their last name going to be?" he asks and clenches his jaw waiting for the answer.

"I'm more than fine with them having Seresin as a last name. I wouldn't want to burden a kid with a hyphenated last name."

"You could hyphenate, what about being Elsa Seresin-Matthews?"

Jake raises his eyebrows like he's found the magic solution.

"That's a giant pain in the ass and you know it." you huff, feeling your cheeks heat up. Jake's eyebrows drop and furrow together as he considers what he's going to say next.

"Elsa," you're surprised he's using your full name and not just El,

"I can understand why you wouldn't want to change your name, but it just feels like you're bucking tradition just to do it."

"That's what you got from this discussion? I'm just being contrary for the fun of it? Please stop saying it's tradition, because sometimes tradition is a word for the stupid way we've always done things."

You wince internally at the last part, momentarily forgetting how much of Jake's life is ruled by tradition and the Navy.

Jake's mouth stretches into a thin flat line, his anger telegraphing across the room.

You and Jake are now staring each other down, obviously both angry. You're about ready to leap in for another round like the hot headed idiot you can be when Jake holds up his hands in a surrender motion.

"Let's hold up a second. You've said your piece and I've said mine. I think we need to cool off and separate for a bit before we make this nasty. I know how I can be a righteous asshole when I'm pissed off and I don't want to go there."

You take a deep breath,

"Fine, I'm going to go for a bike ride, might as well use this energy for something."

Jake nods curtly, acknowledging you.

You change into your workout gear and head out on your bicycle. As you round the corner of the block, your phone dings with a message from Jake,

"Went for a run."

You snort that he's also expending angry energy in a physical way. Your conversation plays over and over in your head. Changing your name, beyond the professional reasons, just always felt off. Like you know intrinsically that you're Elsa S. Matthews, PE, PhD. The way Jake didn't really get the professional reasons why keeping your name the same was probably what hurt the most. He knows how important your career is to you. Changing names and not having that continuous professional history could undermine your career. Just another piece of bullshit female professionals have to deal with. Another mile and your white hot rage dims and your brain fixates on the rhythm of "Elsa S. Matthews". The syllables syncing up over and over in time with your legs pushing down the pedals as you try to burn this frantic electric energy.

You stop to look out over the bay and it occurs to you that there is a compromise here, the S standing for Samantha, a name you don't care about. You weren't named for anyone, your mom said she read it in a novel when she was pregnant and liked it. How easy would it be to change your middle name to Seresin? Elsa Seresin Matthews. You can keep your professional name the same, Elsa S. Matthews. That feels right to you, like the joining of names not obliterating one for the other or tacking on a clunky name at the end of a full name.

Your ride home is quick and you fall into the same rhythm as before except to Elsa Seresin Matthews. Desperate to find Jake and resolve this, you pick up your pace.

Arriving home and you put your bike away as fast as you can, desperate to see Jake. You walk in through the back door just as Jake walks in through the front door shirtless, sweaty, and wearing rather skimpy running shorts. His golden treasure trail just peeking out of the waistband. Your brain automatically wants you to wrap your legs around his waist and fuck him as soon as possible, but you know you and Jake need to talk.

You meet in the middle of the living room and start talking at the same time,

"El, I didn't–

"Jake, I was being–"

He cock his head when you laugh.

"This feels like a rom com where the characters fight over something to add a conflict to the plot. Like we both just enter the house at the same time and start talking over each other."

He cracks a smile and starts to talk, "El, I didn't think through all the professional implications of changing your name. I can see how that would upset you, given how hard you've worked and how much your career means to you. I was wrong to diminish that."

You swear you see a light bulb go on above Jake's head. Like he unlocked the Rosetta Stone, and figured out what bothered you most.

"Did anyone ever tell you you're a smart one?" you tell him. He smiles and shakes his head.

"You're right that's why I got upset. I don't fault you for assuming that I'd change my name, a lot of women do. I also can see how it looks like I'm rejecting your name and in a way you."

Jake looks away for a second.

"It stung, and I fixated on us having the same last name as something critical to being married, when it's not."

He takes your hands in his,

"Us being married and committed to each other whatever our names are is the important part."

"I have a proposition," he raises his eyebrow and takes a step toward you. You laugh at him as you stop him with your hands on his chest, his hands landing on your wrists,

"Not that kind of one, yet. Keeping my name as Elsa S. Matthews is important for me, but the S stands for Samantha. A name I have no affinity for, my mom got it from a trashy romance novel. I want to change my middle name to Seresin. A name that means a lot to me and to you. What do you think?"

The panty dropper smile blooms wide and open on his face,

"You're calling me smart, but you are the smart one. I would be very touched if you took my name as your middle name. I was at peace, okay, a grumbly peace," he slightly rolls his eyes, "With you keeping your name, but I really like this idea. Elsa Seresin Matthews, sounds good."

You lean up to kiss him,

"I'm glad. And we just had an honest to goodness fight, didn't we? I think we came through it all right, good communication skills, go us."

You wave a tiny pretend flag with your hand in celebration.

Jake pulls you close to him, and whispers in your ear, his voice low,

"Know what the best part of a fight is?"

A shiver rolls along your spine as Jake drops a light kiss just under your ear. His hands sliding down your back to grab your ass and pull you close to him.

You stutter a little as you answer,

"N-no, what's the best part?"

He smirks into your neck, stopping his efforts to give you a hickey he replies,

"The make-up sex."

A wave of arousal flushes down your body as you gaze into Jake's eyes, the green blown out by his pupils wide with desire. His hands slide from your ass to under your thighs. He lifts you up with ease and your legs finally wrap around his waist. You kiss him like you're both running out of oxygen and you're trying to steal it from each other's lungs. He backs you up to the nearest wall and pins you up against the wall, his legs supporting you and your hands around his neck. You are grinding at each other desperate for some friction. You whine because you're wearing padded bike shorts, and you can't feel Jake like you need to.

"Need more,” you pant against his lips,

“Need you,” he also pants against your neck, where his head had slipped down.

He unzips your bike jersey to get more of your skin against his, and he huffs,

"Stupid sports bra.”

"Put me down for a second."

He lets you down gently and you peel your clothing off as fast as you can. Jake has the same idea and pulls his running shorts and underwear off in one smooth motion. As soon as he can he pulls you back up to him, moaning at the contact of skin on skin. He steadies you against the wall again, your legs wrapping around his waist on instinct.

"I didn't think you'd be able to rip through my bike shorts like you did my underwear," you gasp out as Jake enters you. Jake's only answer is a string of curse words and sex babble, "Fuck, god you feel so good, El. Love you so much."

“Love you so much, Jake.”

He starts a fast rhythm, your mutual need to be close and chase your highs spurring him on. The feeling of being completely surrounded by Jake and his hard wall of muscle, his scent, and the feeling of your sweat mixing as you slide against each other is amazingly overwhelming. Your brain is reduced to one thought as he pounds into you,

“Jake. Jake. Jake.”

Jake lifts you a little higher, grips your thighs a bit harder, and you are seeing stars as his cock hits the deepest spots in you.

"Love you, oh fuck, right there, so good. Don't stop," you plead with him.

The pleasure is overwhelming with each thrust, the room is filled with only your heavy breathing, moans, and the obscene sound of fucking and skin slapping on skin for the next few minutes.

"Touch yourself, El, make yourself come, so beautiful when you come on my cock,” Jake grits out as he grips your thighs and ass harder. You comply, and snake your hand down and start rubbing your clit frantically, trying to match the pace. You look Jake in the eyes and start talking,

"I wanted to wrap my legs around you the second I saw you come through the door, half naked, sweaty, and my god, your chest. Want to fuck you all the time."

Jake's reaction is to pound harder and faster, erasing your ability to form coherent sentences.

“Fuck, El. I want you all the fucking time. I can't believe this pussy is all mine.”

"Fuck, I'm so close, Jake, so close. Come with me, please."

Your climax slams through you like a car hitting a brick wall. Your eyes close involuntarily, and you can see stars dance across your eyelids.

“Fuck, El. Milking me so good, so fucking tight,” Jake grits out as comes, right on the heels of your orgasm. His hot come filling you up as you spasm around him on each wave of residual pleasure. Somehow Jake holds you up through the aftershocks, his head on your shoulder as you catch your breath. He kisses you sweetly on the lips, and says,

"I'm going to put you down now, you good to stand?"

You just nod and hum as he pulls out and sets you down. You wrap your arms around his torso to lay your head on his chest, only to realize how sweaty it is. I pull my face back and suggest,

"I think it's time for a shower, we both are sweaty and reek of sex."

"Excellent idea." He responds, and you can see from the look on Jake's face that he has more thoughts for later.

Chapter 20

@kmc1989

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[foryourxyz]

The Daughter

Something that I hate is being called lazy. And that I think stems from shame as well. From the conviction that I AM those things my ex called me: a moocher, a lazy bum, unmotivated. Or, even more simply put by my mother: just plain lazy.

“When are you going to wash that?” My mom is on the couch, and I’m at the kitchen table in front of my laptop, working.

I'm overwhelmed. Every time I get interrupted I feel rage course through my veins. I reign in my temper. Try not to snap at my child. Or my brother. Or my mother.

“Are you going to leave it forever? It doesn't take long”

“I know. I have one.” I try to remember what I was doing, “I had to scrub mine with kosher salt and a halved potato to get rid of the rust “

“But if you just wash it and put it on the stove to dry it won't rust,” she says calmly.

“I know. I have one,” I repeat, then pull my eyes away from the screen to look at my child, who is calling me repeatedly. I'm holding my breath. It's the opposite of what I'm supposed to do, but in the moment, I don't notice. My body is tense. My shoulders are hunched up near my ears. 

“Look at this!”Child says, and slurps spaghetti.

“Well did you forget? Or was it just laziness?”

My back aches from the tension. Not my lower back, but the middle bit, the muscles behind my lungs. I don't answer. My child is still asking me to look at the spaghetti slurping and asking if it’s fast or slow, but asking me to say fast if I say slow. I don't answer my mother. I no longer remember what I was working on. 

“I've never forgotten,” she continues, unaware of what’s going on inside of my body.

“Well, you're not sick in the head like me,” I snap, a lot softer than I want to. I'm surprised I said anything at all. These days, my way of getting through each day is to disclose as little as possible about myself, my life, and especially my feelings. I don't want any interactions. I don't want more stress. I don't want anything to be harder than it already is, because it already feels impossible. 

My brother makes a comment about hitting me with the pan. Or maybe it was my mother, once my brother had repeated my comment to her. They're too alike for my memory to distinguish them sometimes. 

“You can't blame your illness for everything!” My mother chides. 

Well, seeing as how it feels like a constant crippling weight now that I'm unmedicated, uninsured, and without a therapist in a high-stress, uncomfortable situation from which my body wants to either flee or claw through everything in sight in a blind rage and yet I somehow do the impossible and keep myself from doing either, then yes, mother. Yes, I think I can blame my “illness” for lacking both the presence of mind and motivation to wash the damn pan. 

“I'll buy you a new one,” I say without thinking, eyes moving back to the computer screen, my right leg bouncing a mile a minute. 

“That’s ridiculous.” She says and repeats the statement about it not being that hard. Then: “I think it's just laziness.” 

I feel her looking at me. I don't look back. I just sigh, then turn away from my screen once again and tell my toddler to yes, please, slurp the spaghetti fast not slow. 

[aquaaquila]

Ah yes, because you can get perfect sound quality from someone at the top of the Ferris wheel, and you certainly would know who or which Kagami it is. And for a very public area, it rather deserted quickly (no Alya-like peeps around when cars are being thrown left and right) and with the logic of people noticing Kagami, one could wonder how no one noticed Marinette or Adrien.

And even if Kagami's identity was compromised, Chloe herself clearly had no idea as she was surprised to see her. Like who even told you Chloe knew Kagami's identity, the show clearly didn't. My point still stands as the cast is not as much in the loop as the audience is.

Sometimes, not always, and just because she sometimes picks people related to akumas does not mean she will always pick them. Like for example she didn't bring Viperion to Crocoduel, even though his parents were akumatized. Only Purple Tigress was needed.

Alya's parents were in danger in sentibubbler, which Shadow Moth took advantage of to convince Alya to betray LB. Rena's illusion however was on point regarding LB's thought of process of already being two steps ahead and sensing somethin's off, hence she benched Alya and promised to find another holder for the job. It happens, there's no one concrete rule regarding such stuff as otherwise Shadow Moth would exploit it and use it to his advantage (which he actually did in Loveater).

Chloe didn't fight back, she only defended hersel. And at that point, LB was used to Chat Noir's constant sacrifices and wasn't this tired of them yet as much. And it was also a matter of quick reaction, if Nino got hit instead, it would end up the same.

And yet you frame it as an actual struggle when she had no time for that.

I disagree on it being a dick move as while Chloe tied her sense if purpose to the bee miraculous, it was not her property, nor LB's at the time. Not only LB doesn't owe Chloe to bring the hair comb everytime, she also just can't with HM taking particular interest in her. And while she interrupted the date, she didn't ruin it entirely. Like seriously, fir a Chloe defender who points out Chloe's emotional state affecting her, you fail to put the same thing to Marinette. Marinette was not being purposefully petty, simple as that.

Also, am I tripping or do you actually can't see Ryuko's capabilities? For starters she's much quicker and elusive than QB, so she wouldn't get caught immediately. And she also can do fine damage without getting very close. Not to mention her focus, and far better combat experience. QB could try to use her venom only to be immediately shot. Good job, wasted a miraculous. And LB was literally about to execute her lucky charm, the fight was going in LB's favor per usual. That is, if that was the actual point.

Marinette literally has no idea what it's like to be abused or how abused kids feel. She rather has a pretty good homelife so it's hard for her to imagine a mother not loving her kid. And it's not like Marinette could bond this two other than callousness they share as Chloe either doesn't have any worth-noting to Marinette or something Audrey would appreciate. And mind you, at the time she did not intend to help Chloe redeem herself. This happened later, at that moment Mari probably thought it was the first and last time Chloe used a miraculous, but at least she got her mom back which is what Chloe wanted, but definitely not what she needed. Oh and Mari didn't call Chloe useless to her face, she called her exceptionally malicious.

Marinette did what she could and handled it as best as possible. It might've not been enough for Chloe, but it doesn't mean Marinegge shouldn't have tried at all ir that she's responsible for her downfall and it's her who made it worse. That is Hawk Moth's blame, along with the adults that refused to follow LB's example of trying to reach out to her. And Marinette did something while Adrien did nothing.

Shdow Moth lirerally eavesdropped the conversation Mirage Alya and LB had about her being benched. Sentibubbler was there, SM heard everything through him and was surprised to learn she still uses miraculous afterward.

Like look dude, I'd love to debate more, but now it appears you kind of bend the truth and events rather than interpretting them and you salt on Mari way too hard to make it a valid point. Like, I advice taking step back and rethinking your stance before this conversation will completely devolve into pretty much "Marinette's so evil, Chloe did nothing wrong" which is an extreme no one would take seriously. Heck I'm arguing for the sake of cutting slack from Marinette here anyway, I don't disagree with Chloe being let down by people around, I just don't think Mari should take most credit for this.

that time TA tweeted "you can behave like the worst garbage, all you need is a micro-good deed for all of a sudden, many will forgive everything." as an insult to people who saw good in Chloé and liked her as a character despite him saying over and over again that she's bad and a bully and yet he wants us to believe Felix is one of the "genuinely good guys" after all that he did in his debut ep and S4-5 like. eugh.

Well, you see, the difference between the two is that while Chloe betrayed Ladybug and stole all of her Miraculous, Felix betrayed Ladybug and... stole all of her Miraculous...

Okay, while Chloe used her Miraculous to endanger innocent lives the second she got it, Felix used his Miraculous to... endanger innocent lives the second he got it...

Give me a minute here. Ah, got it! While Chloe views anyone who isn't like her as expendable, Felix views anyone who isn't like him as... expendable...

Yeah, I got nothing that really justifies this.

[kampfkuchen85]

Say you won't give up - Part 6

Characters: Keisuke Baji, Manjiro ‘Mikey’ Sano, Takashi Mitsuya, reader

Note: the story takes places during the time when Toman was just founded, so the boys and Y/N are ~13 years old

Genre: Angst!

Part 1 - previous - Part 6 - next

Masterlist

===============================================

He was at your house the next day as he promised, even at the exact time you two met each other yesterday at the shrine. He knocked on the door and waited, but instead of you or your aunt, who he had already seen yesterday hiding behind the curtain, a small girl opened the door.

“Huh?”

He remembered that you mentioned a cousin yesterday, but you didn´t told him that it was a maybe 6-year-old girl, looking at him with wide eyes and reminding him somehow of Mitsuyas sister.

“How can I help you?”

“Um…”, he needed a moment to find his voice, “is Y/N there? I want to pick her up.”

She was holding the door frame like she didn't want him to take a look inside.

“She can't go outside. Nee-chan is here, but she is having one of her ‘bad days’.”

“One of what?”

“Sorry…”

The small girl closed the door right before his nose, so he couldn't ask anymore questions.

“One of her ‘bad days’?”

Were you on your period? He heard something like that before. A monthly sickness only girls get where they're just staying in bed because of the constant pain. How long does that last? He didn't know. Maybe he should ask Mikey - he could ask his sister Emma.

He's putting his phone back into his pocket after he tried to call you, recognizing that your phone is off, and making his way to the other guys at the Musashi shrine.

___________________________________________________________

“Hey Baji. Where's your girlfriend?”, Pah yelled over the whole place.

“Do you mean Y/N?”, he grumbled. “She's not my girlfriend, she's just my pal.”

“Yeah, yeah, Romeo, where is she?”

“I was at her house to pick her up, but her little cousin said that she can't go out, because she's having one of the bad days.”

Everyone looked at him confused.

“What does that mean?”

“I don't know. Maybe girlyshit like periods or something”, he shrugged his shoulders. “So…what's up, guys? Wanna recruit some new members for Toman? Our gang has to grow.”

Mikey nodded in agreement and splitted the six founding members in three pairs - Baji and Kazutora, Mitsuya and Pah, while he was going with Draken.

Mitsuya was the only one who knew what Bajis' words meant.

‘One of the bad days? Tell me this is a joke…’

He was deep in his thoughts while he was walking around with Pah, who already forgot about that comment.

You didn't seem like you were ill. Did Baji already know? No, his reaction would have been different at the shrine.

Pah wasn´t the right contact person, so he had to wait till they met again at the shrine and then talk to Draken or Mikey - they´ll know what to do, right?

_________________________________________________________

“Mikey, can I talk to you for a minute?”

The meeting was already dismissed when Mitsuya called out Mikey's name.

“Sure.”

Mikey was confused why Mitsuya suddenly wanted to talk to him in private, but he agreed without hesitation while he sat down on the stairs again.

“What is it?”

“Um…”, Mitsuya couldn´t find the right words at first, struggling to express his concerns, “I wanted to talk to you about what Baji said earlier…about Y/N.”

“That she's on her period? Yeah, I know how that works. Emma told me. It´s-...”

“No”, Mitsuya interrupted him. “That's not what I meant. I meant the part with ‘one of the bad days’.”

Mikey waited for an explanation, because he had no clue what Mitsuya meant.

“It's a term used by or for sick people. I remember that my Mom used that term when she talked about my grandma and she was sick then too. There are good days where you can´t tell that they're sick and then there are the bad days where they aren't able to leave the bed.”

“I understand what you mean”, Mikey nodded, “but Y/N doesn't look sick.”

“That's why she's showing up only on her good days and if her cousin really used those words….maybe she doesn't want us to know about her condition…I don´t know….maybe I read too much into it.”

He felt like a foul. Maybe it was really just your period, but those words were stuck in his head.

“....and the fact that they met each other twice at the same spot, in a hospital….sorry, but I have a bad feeling about this.”

Mikey laid his hand onto Mitsuyas shoulder to encourage him, giving him a wide smile.

“You´re such a pessimist. Think positive. She's not sick. She's too young to be sick.”

“Probably you're right…”

He didn't agree with Mikey's opinion, but he had said everything that was on his mind. No one was too young to be sick, the reality is much crueler, most of the time it hits the wrong people, no matter if you´re 80 or 13 like you are now.

“We´ll keep an eye on her and support her when she needs something, okay? That's what Toman is about.”

These words were just whispered, but they relieved him immensely.

“After all she´s Bajis girlfriend, right?”

============================================

Taglist: closed

@amajikisupremacy @satsuri3su @bontensbabygirl

________________________________________________________

Don’t copy this story to another website nor translate it into another language without asking me first!

[virtual-luvr]

Take a look at my boyfriend!

Pairing: Reki x Reader

Pronouns: he/him

Content: gay, gay, more gay..

Description: you catch Reki talking about you to his mom

Note: another reki fic....im sorry i cant help myself. Also this isn't really a song fic i just wanted to use like two lyrics from Cupids Chokehold :p

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

Reki loved you so much, you had been there for him since the start. Through the highs and lows, you always seemed to cheer him up immensely. He didnt know how to describe it.

And you had met his mother already, many times since you usually slept over at his. She loved you almost as much as Reki did, she always had cake ready for you too.

Though you usually gave it to Rekis little sisters...

You didn't mind though, you loved his siblings a lot, they were basically your siblings as well sometimes.

Speaking of sleeping over, thats exactly what you were doing right now.

You said your goodbyes to your mother before stepping out of the car, grabbing your bag, and walking to Rekis house.

Before you could even knock Reki had already opened the door and pulled you into a soul crushing hug, happy to be able to see you again.

"I missed you.." he says, you could basically hear the pout just by his voice.

The snuggling at the front door was quickly interrupted as Rekis sisters run up to you, happy to see you again and wanting you to pick them up.

"Up?" You ask the twins and they excitedly jump up trying to grab at you.

You laugh as you grab both of them and hold them close, trying not to lose your grip on them as they thrash around happily.

Reki grumbles as your attention diverts from him, to his siblings. Its so loud you look up and hes glaring playfully as the twins.

"Rekiii its fine we can hang out together in a second"

At your words Reki whines while closing the door behind you, still annoyed at how he isnt getting any attention.

At Rekis constant whining, his siters snicker. They always laugh when they do shenanigins like these because they know it riles Reki up.

"Hey thats my boyfriend you know!" He says and the twins only snicker even more.

You walk for a bit before meeting with Rekis mother in the kitchen. Like usual, she was preparing a cake.

You gasp once you see how good it smells.

"Ah your back! I'm so glad to see you again, Reki did tell me you might be coming"

You greet her with a small hug after placing down the twins on the floor, despite their protests they still let you out them down.

As soon as Reki sees your hands are empty, he rushes towards you and grabs your hand happily before running with you to his room.

You hear his mother scold him before her voice is barely audible, the only sound you hear is the blankets on Rekis bed softly shifting as he lays down waiting for you to go lay down with him.

He makes grabby hands towards you, waiting not so patiently.

You swiftly lay your bag on the floor before dropping on top of Reki. He yelps before rolling on top of you instead and pinching your cheeks. Determined to make you annoyed for, not only, ignoring him for his siblings and also for dropping on top of him.

He pinches your cheeks lightly making you form funny faces. You groaned lowly as he kept on and on, not stopping at all. Even if you grabbed his wrists he wouldn't stop.

"If I gve ya- a kss wll you stOp-" You try to talk as best as you can but the aggresice pinching of your cheeks doesnt help at all.

Reki laughs as he finally stops, but he doesn't moge from on top of you. At this point he was basically suffocating you on the bed.

"What was that hm??" He teased

"I said...if i give you a kiss will you stop"

At the mention of a kiss he leans over excitedly, leaning in for a kiss.

But before you could kiss, you place a hand to his mouth.

"Im not giving you a kiss anymore, you already stopped"

At that Reki whines even more. His whining could beat a puppys at this point, he grumbled as you dodged any of his kisses and it made him incredibly angry.

"You're my boyfriend, let me kiss you!" He yells now getting increasingly frustrated.

At this point you let the joke go and decide he can actually kiss you now and as soon as he knows you'll let him, he dives in.

He gives you a few airy kisses before actually giving you a full on kiss.

He runs his hands through your messy hair before pulling away and placing kisses all over your face.

The blush that adorned your face and the laugh that fell from your lips made him feel all soft and mushy on the inside.

He just stood there staring at you, nothing but love in his eyes.

"I love you"

It felt out of the blue but his heart told him to say it, he needed to let it out. And as soon as he did he felt much better.

You look at him before pushing back the hair from his face, before placing a kiss on his forehead and whispering an "I love you" back.

In that moment Reki had started blushing, overwhelmed with the affection you were giving him. It was a very cute sight to see, you wished you saw it more.

He kicks his feet a bit as he tries to compose himself and you only let out a breathy laugh before placing another kiss on his skin, this time on his temple.

Rekis face was now completely red and he stammers as he tries to pull an excuse, saying he has to "go to the kitchen and help with the cake" even though it was already fully prepared and ready to be baked.

You let him off, knowing he was just flustered.

You decide to wait a bit before yiu started to get bored and decide to go walk out of Rekis room and go look for him.

As you don't see him anywhere yiu decide to visit the kitchen and see if he was there.

Walking to the kitchen you hear two voices, one being Rekis mother and the other being Reki himself.

You hear him sigh out before his mother interupts him.

"I see how you look at eachother, you really are in love arent you"

Reki nods slightly, knowing his mother was right.

It wasnt a bad thing either, he just felt so happy about it that he didnt know exactly how to react when thinking about the relationship he had with you.

His breath hitches before he says some words that make your own heart melt.

"I know im young but if I had to choose him or the sun...I'd be one nocturnal son of a gun"

[1197 words; mar/3/21]

[runwithwolvcs]

You Know I'm No Good - t w o

Temptation vs Freedom

Warnings (future chapters): Drugs/Alcohol, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Jealousy, Mental Health, (Mentions of SA, but no details)

I don't like memories because the tears come easily, and once again I break my promise to myself for this day. Its a constant battle . A war between remembering and forgetting.

Back in her darkened bedroom, Tallulah still couldn't wrap her head around her current situation. The rest of the night consisted of her being introduced to people who seemed to know more about her then she had wanted, clearly word spreads fast around La Push. Josie had introduced her to some of her friends that had arrived later, after the tribal stories. Clearly only there for the party. They seemed nice, but they were definitely not the type of people she would choose to be friends with herself.

Lenna had made herself scarce throughout the entire, to which her twin stated was typical behaviour. But Tallulah figured it had more to do with her presence than anything else. Tally couldn't help but look for the tan boy she had locked eyes with, something about him was so alluring. It was almost frustrating, Tallulah Forester doesn't get captivated by anyone, not ever. She was the captivating one, at least that's what Xander had always said. “You're like a tornado, with pretty eyes and a heartbeat. Luring in bystanders until you’ve ruined their lives..That's what I enjoy so much about you”, that was the last thing he had said to her before she had left his house party the night she had been caught. Their relationship was a mess, both of them struggling for control, even if it meant hurting each other in the process. It was a rollercoaster of emotions, but it was all she ever had. She craved it in an almost masochist way.

Tallulah's phone had been off all night, not in the mood to deal with the onslaught of messages she was sure to get, now that she had a moment to breath by herself she figured she may as well read them, 1 5 messages from Lina and 3 missed calls, her best friend, was more than likely freaking out, consumed by guilt over the fact that their lies to their parents had been crossed. 7 messages from Kit, who she figured was already trying to plan how to spin this to make herself the victim, as Kit does, and 1 lone message from Xander, the only one she read before she shut off her phone to go to sleep.

That sucks :(

Was all that it said.

-

After a lot of tossing and turning in the bed that was almost too soft, mixed with the pillows that weren’t soft enough, Tallulah drifted off to sleep. She dreamed of the boy who had taken her by storm, his smile seemed brighter than the sun and the way he laughed was like music to her ears. They were on a cliff overlooking the ocean, she could see that he was talking, but couldn't hear what he was saying, she watched as he stood up and walked towards the edge of the cliff, looking as though he was about to jump, she stood up in a panic--

Tallulah startled awake to Kira shaking her shoulder gently, a soft smile graced her face. It was raining, but Tallulah could tell it was early morning.

“Tally, sweetie, you’re dad and I would like to speak with you before he goes to a meeting” she said quietly, “Get dressed and meet us downstairs in ten minutes,” she spoke, the smile never leaving her lips. Tallulah groaned, not one to be a morning person in the slightest, she swung her legs out of bed, toes touching the cool hardwood floors. She could hear low murmurs outside her door as she heaved herself out of bed, still not used to her surroundings she walked to her two duffle bags and sifted through the clothes before settling on an oversized, green long sleeve to cover the stick and poke tattoos that littered her arms, with ripped, loose, blue jeans. One disappointment at a time, she thought to herself as she got dressed. She grabbed her hairbrush from her bag and ran it through her hair, leaving it to lay in its natural waves down her back before quietly heading downstairs to whatever talk she was awaiting.

She was met with Kira and her father sitting at the kitchen table next to each other, and as they beckoned her over to sit, she noticed the thin, blue rectangle laying in the middle of the table. The same blue rectangle she had so carefully hid in her room back in Seattle, or so she thought. She could feel anger begin to bubble in her belly as realization dawned on her, her mother had been through her room.

She sat expectantly, waiting for her dad to chastise her for using drugs, or even alcohol, as a minor and how that could affect her future, but he looked to Kira to begin. The gentle smile that was near permanent on her stepmom was almost comforting in the moment, almost. “Tally”, She starts, “We are aware of your.. pastimes, in Seattle, however, we will not be encouraging that same behaviour here.” she sounds like a damn counselor, Tallulah thought to herself. She’d honestly prefer being yelled at. “We have a few ground rules that we expect you to follow, as we do Lenna and Josette.” Kira continued, “Under no circumstances, will we allow drugs under our roof, including nicotine,” she says referring to the vape sitting in between them, “Or alcohol that does not belong to your father and I. If you are to partake in these activities and are caught you will have consequences.” She looks at Joseph, as if they had rehearsed their own parts, looking towards her dad expectantly, “Secondly,” He speaks up, “As we expect with the twins, any boy, or girl, that you are,, having relations with, we expect to meet, no sneaking them through bedroom windows.” Tallulah cringes internally, it was one time, she wanted to yell. “Curfew will be 11:00 pm on school nights and midnight on Fridays and Saturdays, no exceptions.. Understood?” he asked, looking at his eldest daughter. She wants to argue with them, tell them that policing her life won’t make her change, not the way that they wanted her to at least. That was something her mother learned the hard way. She had taken the door off her bedroom when she had found out she was sneaking out in the night, which only caused Tallulah to start sneaking out the front door instead, right in front of her.

“You done?” she asks, yawning, this wasn’t new to her at all, and she really didn’t care to be frank. The two adults look at each other, Kira nodding her head in Tallulah's direction, Joseph sighed before tossing a key chain on the table next to her vape. A small house key was connected to what looked like a car key. “Choose one.”

Temptation or Freedom?

Tallulah spent the rest of the day running errands with Josie, who had offered to show her around the reservation. They had stopped at Monets, the local cafe, run by the Littleseas, its the go to hangout spot, according to Josie. Who happens to be friends with Colin Littlesea, the eldest son of the owners.

Tallulah picked at the half eaten muffin sitting in front of her as she waited for Josie to return with a refill of both of their coffees. They were so different from each other, Tallulah drinking hers black, while Josies consisted of mainly cream and sugar, just like their personalities, but for some odd reason they clicked.

The car her father and Kira gave her was originally supposed to go to Josie, so that the twins no longer would have to share their current one. Finding out that alone made her reconsider her choice, at least a nicotine addiction only really affected her, but with a lot of reassurance from Josie, and the simple ask that Tallulah help run her errands eased her guilt. She didn't want to upend the twins' life, it wasn’t their fault her parents decided to force her to move to La Push. While Josie seemed to enjoy her presence, Lenna did not, and it's clear now she was avoiding her.

Tallulah gazed around the quaint yet homey cafe, its hand painted walls consisted of the same trees that surrounded the reservation, it was peaceful. She looked towards the door as it chimed, alerting the staff of new customers entering, a group of extremely tall, good looking men walked through the door, causing the calm energy to shift with their booming laughs, everyone seemed to be used to this behaviour, considering she was the only one to look in their direction.

Her eyes followed the group of boys, taking each one in, by the time she reached the last, he was already looking at her. Paul Lahote. The largest of them all, in height and muscle, she thought to herself as her eyes raked his body.

Josie setting her coffee down in front of her broke her concentration on the boy, her attention fully shifted to her half-sister. “What do they feed the men here? They are all so tall” Tallulah asked jokingly, to which Josie laughed, shaking her head. “Not all of them. Just the ones who hang around Sam Uley. Some people say he's giving them steroids but dad swears against it. So does mom.” She watched Josie grimace, and cut her off before she could correct herself, “--I’ve seen boys roided, they look nothing like them.” she spoke before taking a sip of her coffee. Josie nodded, an almost fascinated look on her young face, “So it's true then..” At this, Tallulah raises her eyebrows, “ what's true?”

“Your mom sent you here because you got mixed up with some guys who did drugs or whatever. At least that's what Lenna said she heard dad say”

Of course she did, so much for a fresh start, she thought.

Tallulah rolled her eyes, “Sort of, I guess --”

Now she was being interrupted, a large looming figure was now standing at the edge of their table, greeting Josie, she watched as the younger girl blushed in response, before saying “Hey, Ethan. Uh, this is my older sister, Tally or um, Tallulah,” Josie fumbled over her words as she introduced her. Tallulah looked up at the towering boy with a half smile, nodding her head as a way to say ‘hey’ , Ethan nodded back before asking, “I didn’t realize you guys were sisters. Do you go to school off the rez?”

Tallulah shook her head, “I did but I just moved here from Seattle. I start at the rez school tomorrow.”

He nods before engaging with Josie in conversation about some project they were working on and she can’t help but look over at the boisterous table in the far corner, she can see Paul and another boy glance at her as they talk, she excuses herself from Josie and Ethan, the coffee in her mug no longer appetizing and itching for her little blue rectangle in that moment.

Tallulah makes her way up to the bar-like counter, the waitress coming to take her order almost immediately. She orders a sweet tea, hoping to wash some of the lingering bitterness from her mouth, hoping it would help curve her cravings. She can feel someone come up next to her but doesn't bother to look who it is as she fiddles with a napkin, the waitress comes to take their order and their voice sounds like velvet in her ears despite the hint of gruffness to it.

“You're Joseph Forester's daughter, right?” She hears him ask, she looks in his direction to see he's already looking at her, a small cocky, smirk toying on his lips. He already knows the answer clearly. She wants to roll her eyes and tell him to fuck off, but she can’t bring herself to do so. So, she nods and softly says, “Yeah, Tallulah.” This causes him to actually smile, like he's thankful she didn’t just blow him off. That hot, cocky persona is nearly untraceable now,

“I’m Paul Lahote.”

[ironmariposa]

Tattoo Confessions

Rated: MATURE

Also found on Ao3

He’s nearly asleep when he feels fingertips brush lightly over his shoulder blade. It happens again and he blinks his eyes open. Heather is there, her head propped up on a pillow, her fingers brushing lightly over his bare skin. They’re both still naked from their earlier activities but neither are shy about it. It’s still new enough between them to be exciting but not so new that Heather isn’t so shy about being nude in front of him. At least not anymore.

And well, he’s never had a problem with being nude. In front of anyone.

“Eighteen. What are they for?” He realizes she’s talking about his tattoo, which is in the spot she had been touching.

Ray takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. He doesn’t talk about the tattoo much. Luke and Sarah know. Tyler probably does. But it’s not something he really cares to share with just anyone.

But Heather’s not just anyone. So far from just anyone. She’s everything he never knew he could dream of. She’s his past, his future, his right now.

Her fingers smooth across his brow and he opens his eyes again, “I’m sorry.” She whispers, “I don’t need to know if you aren’t ready.”

“It’s not that.” He says as he takes her hand in his and turns to his back, pulling her to him until her head is on his chest and his arm is around her. He lightly starts to trace over her hip and she shivers in his embrace. He knows she’s not cold. Her body is so sensitive to his touch and he can’t say that it doesn't thrill him. He takes great joy in it.

“Each mark represents how many years my dad has been in jail.”

“Oh.” She whispers and tilts her head to look up at him. He meets her eyes with a soft smile of his own.

“Each year marks another year he’s been gone from my life.”

“When did you start getting them?”

“When I was fourteen.”

“So young.” She whispers and he hums in agreement, “Luke gave them to me. Adds a new one each year on my birthday.”

She’s quiet after that confession. And soon her breathing grows heavy. He’s hard again having her naked body against him, but he lets her sleep. They still have plenty of time before she has to pick up Lily. And anymore these days he’s always hard when he’s with her. It’s a constant ache he has for her.

Summer is over. A new school year has started. A new group of Seniors, their friends off on their own adventures, and Carp has grown quiet. It always does this time of year. It won’t stay that way for very long but for now it’s enough for them to enjoy it. To soak in the quiet. With Sarah and Lily back in school, and Luke finally back at work, it gives them plenty of alone time. This, them, is still so new and they can't seem to get their fill of each other.

Ray doesn’t think he ever will with her.

So they spend a lot of time in bed. He’s certain she’ll grow tired of him. He just hopes it’s not anytime soon.

Heather wakes an hour later and slides on top of him. His absolute favorite position because he can watch her body move over him. They take their time, something they both just recently discovered they enjoy. For the first few weeks they were so desperate for one another, it always happened so fast between them. And though the desperation was still there, they have learned to slow it down, take their time, that dragging out their orgasms was just as satisfying.

More satisfying in his opinion as he pushes his arms back behind him to lift his upper body to take a nipple in his mouth. Heather throws her head back with a groan and starts to move faster. His hands find her hips as he helps her along. He’s incredibly close but doesn’t want to finish until she comes first.

His mouth moves to her ear as one of his hands moves between their bodies, his fingers finding her clit, “Look at you riding me. Fuck Heather. It feels so good. So fucking good. Look Heather. Look at us together.”

She pulls her head back and her eyes open to meet his. He leans in for a kiss before looking down at where their bodies are joined together. With a squeeze of her hip and final cry, she comes. Her hips hitch and lose their rhythm. Ray flips them over quickly and pumps inside of her a couple more times before he’s coming. She’s still breathing hard and it feels absolutely amazing as they both come down from it.

He stays inside of her as he begins to kiss across her collarbone and down to her breasts. He spends some time with one then the other before finally lifting his face to her. She’s smiling brilliantly at him. Her hand lifts up to drag through his hair and he leans in for a final kiss before pulling out of her.

She groans with disappointment and he grins at her. She’s always talking about not stroking his ego more than it already is, but that groan there always does it for him.

As they dress, they discuss evening plans with their sisters. They discuss when they can next be together. Alone. Naked. He teases Heather that with fifty thousand they could get a lot of alone time in a hotel room.

Her laugh as she slaps his arm makes the joke worth it. He’s not serious. Of course he’s not. He knows she’s putting the money to good use. For college and for Lily.

But there’s a small part of him that wouldn’t say no if she agreed.

“What was your mom like?” She asks him

They’re out on the boat. Alone, as the sun attempts to shine through the cloudy sky. It’s October, but it’s south Texas so it’s still as hot as ever. Heather is wearing cut off shorts and a bikini top, he’s only in his swim trunks. They’re lounging in the back of the boat, she has her head in his lap and her eyes are closed as he lazily runs his fingers through her hair. He had been fishing but nothing was biting so he gave that up to give Heather his full attention, making her come with just his fingers.

She turns on her back and opens her eyes to look at him. His blue eyes meet hers and he knows what she wants to hear. A fairytale. A fairytale on how he had once been loved unconditionally, and it hurts, more than he ever imagined, that he’s not able to give that to her.

He wants to. He wants to weave a tale of a beautiful woman that loved and cherished him and Luke. Of how dinner was always on the table and lullabies were always sung to them.

No, instead she gets….

“Not really much I remember about her.” He tucks a stray hair over her ear, his head tilted as he follows his fingers over her bare shoulder, “Truthfully, I think she was a typical Meth Row mom. Not really involved with us, too caught up in her own demons.”

“Oh.”

“I remember her being mad a lot. I remember her being sad too. Anytime Luke or I would get into trouble she would say it was our dad in us. That we would end up locked up just like him.” His eyes flash to hers, “The drugs are what killed her, like most people out here. Luke found her. I think that messed him up for a long time.”

“Of course it did.” She whispers. His eyes find hers again and he gives a half shrug, “It’s fuckin Carp.”

She’s silent for so long after that. Her eyes searching the clouds for what he doesn’t know. He chews on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from interrupting her. He offers a soft smile when she finally focuses back on him.

“Fucking Carp.” She says and he laughs jostling her. She sits up and straddles him. His hands find her hips and pull her closer. He’s already semi hard from their earlier activities but having her center up against him has him straining. He grins as he lifts his hips to rub against her and she moans. Her mouth finds his and they make out like that for a long time. It feels so good and he’s finding he doesn’t need to rush things to enjoy them.

His hand tangles in her hair before untying her bathing suit top and letting it drop, exposing her breasts for him. He pulls back from her mouth and groans as he watches her grind down on his crotch.

“Fuck, you’re hot.” He moans as she throws her head back, pushing her chest out. He doesn’t hesitate as he takes one of her nipples in his mouth, his hand taking care of the other.

He growls as she pushes away from him and stands up but soon realizes it’s to relieve herself of her clothes. He quickly pushes his own shorts down and she straddles him again. She wastes no time positioning him at her entrance and he slides in her easily. He drops his head back hard against the headrest as she starts a fast, hard rhythm. He’s glad she’s already come because he’s not going to last long with her bouncing on him like that and he doesn’t. Grabbing her hips he comes hard and fast, his mouth finding hers again as his orgasm shakes through him over and over again.

“Ray?” She whispers against his mouth. He answers with a hum, his mouth too busy with hers to give a proper response. She doesn’t say anything and so he pulls back after a moment, his eyes finding hers. His fingers dance across her skin and she shivers.

“We won’t end up like them, right? We won’t be another Carp zombie, will we?”

He cups her face and squeezes, maybe a little too hard but she doesn’t react. Her eyes are pleading. She needs his reassurances and it floors him that she will believe anything he says. No ones ever needed him like that before.

“You won’t Heather.” He promises, “I won’t let you.”

Her own hands come up over his, “But what about you?”

He pulls his hands from her as he shrugs, “Don’t worry so much, darlin.”

“Ray.”

But he lifts her from his lap and stands to pull his shorts up. He hands her her own clothes and tilts his head to the water, “Let's swim before we have to head back.”

On his nineteenth birthday Ray hands the tattoo needle to Heather to add another line to his back. She takes it and studies him for a long moment before turning it off, placing it back on the table. “You don’t need him.” She tells him as she brushes her fingers across his old tattoo.

Looking into her eyes, he agrees.

[weabooweedwitch]

People with narcissism don't accept blame for things becaue a) the idea that they're imperfect or have made a mistake causes them intense shame and b) they lack empathy for the people around them and don't genuinely care about how their behavior impacts others. It sounds like generally your mom is more interested in getting herself out of the hot seat than actually addressing any issues you're having which must be super frustrating to deal with :(

I just, I dunno I'm on the fence because like, she really has tried to do a lot for me? Working hard to support me and my sister growing up, fighting to try and get me good doctors and try different medicines, taking me to therapy, all sorts of stuff, and I think, I dunno, if she really had NPD would she have done all that for me?

But then you compare that to "one time when I was a minor I got mad and told my mom that after I told my therapist a lot about her that they agreed she was abusive and now she doesn't want me seeing that therapist anymore because 'they don't have a right to speak to me about her like that'" and it's. Conflicting, you know. I remember there were times growing up where I felt like, at least I was feeling hurt enough to feel like, that her love was conditional, depending on me obeying her and agreeing with her, and that she cared more about me listening to her than what I wanted to do

Like you can tell her no and she'll ask a few more times in differently aggressive ways rather than just give up? Just to wear you down? I literally had a therapist tell me "yeah, she straight up badgers you until you feel too bad to say no". Like she would literally text me saying to get her a glass of water saying she had a headache. She has fibromyalgia so on and off or depending on the meds these headaches could be CONSTANT. And I get she couldn't help it but these texts for extremely small, minor favors were nonstop. I grew up like one of those kids whose parents call them in from the other room to fetch them the remote that's just slightly out of reach.

And I'd say "mom these tasks are genuinely so small that it makes me upset you want me to completely drop what I'm doing and do them for you" nd she would just quip back something like "its such an easy thing to do, why won't you do it for me" and she literally still does this to this day and to be honest sometimes she'll start saying "hey can you do me a fav--" and I interrupt her mid sentence because I've told her, I've literally honest to God told her, to never ask me for any favors besides like chores because she has asked me for so much over the years that her asking me literally anything can make me absolutely furious

And of course she still does it. And of course it's always stupid bullshit she can do herself but just doesn't want to. Its like I'm being fucking obedience-tested? And I don't think she realizes I'm legitimately, legitimately, as much as it hurts to say, losing the ability to love her? I just look at her sometimes and I just feel. Such anger and disappointment. Such disappointment. Did I, uh, ever tell you guys I basically don't speak to my sister anymore, and it's partially because I just can't deal with both her and my mom right now.

Like, back on track I guess but, I dunno i don't think she completely lacks empathy but there's something wrong here. Years ago when me, my mom, my sister, and my grandmother were all under the same roof we would kind of all tell her "yeah mom you DO do this thing/hurt our feelings/made a mistake" and she would just say we were ganging up on her? Literally saying "you're ganging up on me"

Anyways I'm just. Burnt out. I always have to yield to her and if I don't then it's harder on me. But I'm losing so much respect for myself and my own autonomy when I'm just constantly having to just bowl over because it's easier than setting boundaries. It's bad enough to be mentally ill and think so poorly of yourself or think your opinions don't matter, but the pain of a parent enforcing that is just... it's a lot. She tells me she loves me but I can only speculate how much, you know 😔

[s-and-n-writes]

another long day

crimson and bluebell: part two

summary:

Marinette Rossi is tired of everything: from Lila’s constant berating and Madame Rossi’s preferential care of her ‘angel-like’ daughter, to how everyone at school (even Alya) seems to believe her evil stepsister over her.

It’s like she’s Cinderella, except without the fairy godmother and the happy ending. She doesn’t even have a prince.

Or so she thinks.

Between the appearance of a new boy who seems to have captured her heart, and a gala run by her fashion idol Gabriel Agreste, Marinette hopes for an escape the constant ignorance, workload, and bullying she endures, and get a blissful life of her own.

With the help of one tiny god and a meow-velous partner, she might finally get a chance, but not everything is that simple.

They say ladybugs are lucky, so will being the elusive Ladybug bring Marinette the luck she oh-so-desperately needs?

quick links:

< previous chapter | first chapter | next chapter >

| miraculous masterlist | series masterlist |

a/n: so hi again, it’s me, n! im so so so sorry that i didn’t post for a long time, school caught up with me and everything’s getting v stressful these days. regardless, my new year’s resolution is to post more of these, and i’ll actively make an effort to do that hehe, in the meantime, enjoy!

also i’m appalled at the fact that this was 15 pages long and took more than a month to write how are you doing

Marinette had thought that the whole coffee spill, glass breaking fiasco would be relatively easy to clean.

She was wrong.

It takes her all of 10 minutes to clean up the glass, and another 20 minutes to try and clean up the coffee.

Key word: try.

Marinette ends up at school 30 minutes late, the coffee-stained carpet rolled off to the side at home, effectively ruined. She hasn’t even thought about the cracked glass table yet, which she hid by placing a tissue over top of it after Lila left.

Needless to say, all of this puts a little bit of a damper on her day.

As Marinette walks up the staircase of Francois Dupont, the school she goes to, she spots Alya Cesaire inside. Alya is Marinette’s closest friend, and despite having moved to Paris only a year ago, it feels like Marinette has known her for their entire lives.

“Girl, girl, girl…” Alya sighs as Marinette walks through the doors. It’s a free period, and students litter the area. Marinette spots Lila walking with one of her friends on the other side of the school, and luckily, Lila doesn’t see her.

There’s one good thing about school that Marinette adores: she doesn’t have to see Lila. Lila’s always had Madame Mendeleev for homeroom, and Marinette’s had Madame Bustier. Because of this, their schedules never interact, which allows Marinette to avoid Lila for the duration of the school day.

“I’m so sorry!” Marinette pleads, running up to Alya and shrugging her backpack off her shoulder. “There was a coffee spill, and glass broke, and-OH GOD I MISSED THE MATH TEST!!!”

“Marinette, chill,” Alya laughs. “The math test got rescheduled, but Ms.Bustier is pretty mad about you being late,”

Marinette sighs. “That’s a relief,”

“But you still missed a lot of news~,” Alya says, singing the last word.

Alya aspires to be a journalist, so on the occasions that Marinette wasn’t late, Alya would give her anything and everything interesting she’d dug up that week.

"I know, I know," Marinette sighs, fingers loosely picking at her shirt again. The seams stay intact, but Marinette's mind doesn't. The coffee spill and the glass breaking is constantly on her mind; she's not sure what to do. 

"Nice shirt, girl," Alya smiles, breaking Marinette away from her thoughts. Alya's good at that, and she notices when Marinette lets her mind wander, something that happens a little too often for her tastes. "Did you make it?" 

Marinette bursts into a grin. "Yes! I used that gorgeous thread that Sabine bought last week for my birthday, you know, the one I kept talking about, and it was absolutely amazing! I had to make this! What do you think? Do you like it?" 

The shirt is simple; a white base with flowers of varying sizes lining the edge. Marinette pairs it with her old, pink jeans (the fabric for the flowers on her shirt came from some leftover ones she had when making the jeans) and a dark-gray blazer that Lila used to own. 

"It's beautiful," Alya smiles, "But hey, I’m more excited for you-know-who’s reaction," 

Marinette rolls her eyes, hiding her face as an involuntary blush rises to her face. "Alya! You know I don't like him like that!," 

Alya grins. "Just teasing," 

“Well, anyways, tell me what I missed during lunch, I’m off to the classroom, before Ms. Bustier comes looking for me,” Marinette smiles, turning and running up the stairs. 

“Good luck, girl!” Alya says, waving goodbye and pulling out her phone. 

“Good luck, girl!” Alya says, waving goodbye and pulling out her phone.

The day passes quickly, and lunch comes sooner than Marinette expects.

She meets Alya outside of Francois Dupont, and they both head to Ville de Soirée, a cafe which isn’t nearly as expensive as the others in the area. They both order their usuals, and sit in one of the booths as they wait for their drinks.

Marinette sighs and leans back. “Ok, ok, tell me,”

Alya, who is most probably on the verge of exploding from her excitement, gears up. “Ok, so you know Nino, right?”

“You mean the boy you’ve been obsessing over since we met him?” Marinette teases. “Oh hey, I might have an inkling,”

Alya blushes, her cheeks tinting rouge. “Shut up,”

Marinette giggles. “Ok, go on,”

“Anyway, Nino texted me yesterday that his parents finally agreed, and he’ll be starting school starting Monday next week!”

“Ah! That’s so exciting! I’m so happy for you!” Marinette laughs. “Now you can actually make a move!”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, I’ll let you play matchmaker when the time comes,” Alya laughs, “there’s also something else, and this one I know you’ll be even happier about,”

The barista interrupts Alya, placing two steaming drinks in front of them. They both reach for their drinks, with Marinette holding the cup in her hand and Alya taking a sip. She grins.

“Nino’s friend, you know, Adrien Agreste, is also coming too,”

She pulls back, looking smug as she tries to read Marinette’s face.

The girl in question sighs, shaking her head. “Who even is Adrien, and why does everyone keep mentioning him to me?”

Alya facepalms, groaning.

“Girl, sometimes I swear you live under a rock,” Alya sighs, shaking her head. “How do you not know who Adrien Agreste is? His ads are literally everywhere!”

Marinette pouts. “Well maybe I just haven’t seen him,”

Alya rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Ohh no, there’s no way you’ve missed him ,”

She pulls up her phone and momentarily scrolls as Marinette waits.

“Here,” she says, “That’s him,”

The photo on Alya’s screen is from last February, Marinette recognizes. She remembers how Lila bought a copy of the magazine it came in, although she wasn’t allowed to see it.

But the boy is familiar. His face is similar to someone’s, but Marinette can’t pinpoint who it—

Oh.

Oh.

He’s Gabriel Agreste’s son.

Marinette leans back.

“That’s Monsieur Agreste’s son! I should’ve known, how could I have missed it when Madame Rossi told us about him?”

Alya squints her eyes. “Wait what?”

“There’s a fashion show that Adrien’s dad is hosting, and the embassy’s holding a huge event to greet all the fashion officials that are coming. Madame Rossi got us all passes to go,” Marinette says.

“That’s the one my mom’s cooking for! It’s next weekend right? She would not stop talking about it all weekend. I can try and score a pass, to you know, keep you company?”

Marinette gasps suddenly, burying her face in her hands, “Ah! I forgot! I won’t be able to go, since Li— I mean I, spilled coffee all over our new carpet,”

Alya raises an eyebrow.

“Fine, fine, I cracked some glass too,” Marinette sighs, face growing redder. “Madame Rossi’s gonna ground me for sure!”

Alya shakes her head. “Somehow I can believe it. You are the clumsiest person I know,”

She nods thoughtfully, fingers closing around the fox necklace on her neck. “Well I can’t deal with the whole glass situation, but maybe I can help with the coffee stuff? Happens to my mom all the time,”

Marinette perks up. “Really? Would you? Oh thank you Alya!”

Alya laughs. “No problem girl, I’ll come by after your shift at the bakery,”

Marinette pauses. After work would be...when Lila comes home.

Alya has always been a fan of Lila, but despite knowing Marinette, she’s only admired Marinette’s less-than-wonderful sister from afar. This means that so far, Marinette has managed to keep Alya and Lila separate.

Does she really want to risk that?

Weighing in the situation, she sighs. Would she rather have a shot at attending a potentially life-changing event, or safely escape Alya meeting Lila?

Knowing the both of them, Marinette remembers, they’d be a deadly combo.

But Marinette really wants to go to the event so, maybe this time, she might just give in.

“Great!” Marinette says, happiness laced with fear. “That’s...great!

Alya nods, smiling, watching as Marinette giggles.

“Now about setting you up with Nino…”

Alya turns away, blushing, “Marinette!”

Today

Lie-la 😒: sup loser

Lie-la 😒: im going to the mall with my friends after school

Lie-la 😒: if my mom comes in early

Lie-la 😒: you know what to say

Lie-la 😒: type, maribrat. use those lousy fingers.

You: yea, sure lila.

Lie-la 😒: good.

Marinette sighs and pockets her phone. For today, she is safe.

And that’s all she has ever wanted.

Marinette’s day ends with her feeling happier than when it began. Alya’s coming over to wash out the coffee stain, Lila won’t be there when she gets home, and she’s heading to her shift at the bakery!

It’s normal for work to not be exciting to most people, but for Marinette, it always is. Heading to the Dupain-Cheng bakery is always the highlight of her day, and working there is even better. The owners, Sabine and Tom, are like the parents she never had, what with them spoiling her with all the food they give and teaching her how to bake. Customers even tell Marinette all the time that she looks strikingly similar to Sabine, but she doesn’t see it.

In truth, she’s only ever even thought about becoming a designer because of the Dupain-Chengs, and if it weren’t for their motivation, she’s sure that she would be in a much different place right now.

But that’s not what Marinette worries about right now. Despite school ending early and the bakery being right across the street from where she is, she still manages to be late.

She exchanges a quick goodbye with Alya, who chuckles at her frazzled state, and dashes off towards work.

“I’m here!” she shouts, running into the bakery, the familiar jingle of the store’s door’s bell ringing in her ears. “Sorry!

Sabine laughs as she hands a box of pastries to a customer, waving as they leave. “Just on time. Hello Marinette,”  

Marinette winces as Sabine holds out her apron. “Sorry again, Sabine!”

Tom laughs from the kitchen behind the store, the sound booming through the bakery. “Marinette!”

“Tom!” Marinette says back, her lips curving into a smile.

Sabine eyes Marinette as she ties the apron behind her, quickly joining the older woman behind the counter.

“So?” she asks. “What’s new with you?”

Marinette sighs. “Not much, not much...oh! Madame Rossi has an embassy gathering to welcome a couple of famous people into France. And not just any people, people who work in the fashion industry!”

Sabine nods, smiling at Marinette’s delight. “And why exactly are these people coming?”

“It’s for the Gabriel event. I don’t know when it is, but apparently Gabriel Agreste is holding a huge gala, something about searching for a fashion assistant?,”

Sabine perks up at fashion assistant. “Marinette, you should enter!”

Marinette gasps. “I couldn’t! There’s no way! I mean, my designs are barely adequate, let alone Agreste worthy!”

Sabine shakes her head. “Everyone knows that isn’t true. Don’t put yourself down like that!”

Marinette blushes. “Thanks Sabine,”

The woman smiles. “Well, anyways, are you allowed to go to the embassy event? It’s a great opportunity, you wouldn’t want to miss it,”

“I mean, Madame Rossi did invite me and Lila, but Lila spilled a bunch of coffee on the carpet, and cracked the dining table this morning. It’s all a stunt, she did it on purpose. She’s blaming it on me, which means I’ll get grounded, and I won’t be able to go, and you know there’s nothing I can do about that,”

Sabine sighs, placing a hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “Oh dear. The next time I see Lila, I’ll tell Tom to get that girl and her mother arrested!”

Marinette laughs. “As much as I’d like that, where would I live?”

The rumble of the oven from behind the store dies down, and Tom walks into the main room. The room seems friendlier all at once, his large personality filling the space.

“Here, with us,” he declares proudly. “You’re like a daughter already,”

Marinette giggles, her cheeks growing red. “Alright guys, we’ll see,”

Sabine and Tom laugh as Marinette runs away to help a customer. Their afternoons with Marinette pass by quickly, and while they wish it was longer, you know what they say: time flies when you're having fun.

By the time Marinette gets off her shift, it’s 5:30 in the evening. Paris’s sky starts to fade from its normal cotton-candy blue to a marmalade orange. The hustle and bustle of the busy streets start to die down, and once she texts her address to Alya, Marinette makes her way to the bus stop.

While her time in the bakery is her favorite time of day, her time on the bus doesn’t prove to be too bad either. She likes the quiet silence, and enjoys her time away from the world around her.

The bus is probably her favorite mode of transportation (but her only one as well). When she volunteered to work at the bakery after school, Madame Rossi decided that ‘the streets were too dark at night for Marinette to walk alone’, and she was given a bus pass.

It was a small and random act of kindness that Marinette wouldn’t ever get again. It was also the only gift she ever got from her adopted mother, and despite not being too fond of Madame Rossi, she did treasure the gift.

Madame Rossi paid for her bus rides until Marinette was actually hired at the bakery. It was then that she decided to have Marinette pay her own bills, an action that most certainly helped Marinette for the future.

The sound of tires skidding against the pathway jolts Marinette out of her thoughts. She turns to see her normal bus waiting in front of her, and grabbing her bus pas, waits in line behind a couple others to get on.

That is, until she sees what’s about to happen.

Marinette watches as a man across the street tries to cross. He’s old, as his grayed hair and aged face tells, but his most identifiable quality is the red Hawaiian shirt he wears, embossed with a white hibiscus floral pattern.

Besides that, there’s also a car coming straight for him, and though it’s a little while away, there’s no doubt that he’ll get hit.

Marinette does the only thing she can think of. She runs.

The street is narrow, and Marinette manages to pull the man across the pathway before the car comes. She huffs, turning to the man to smile.

He has an odd look in his eyes, lips curved into a mysterious smile as Marinette quirks her eyebrow.

“Thank you, young lady,” he nods.

“You’re welcome!” she smiles, turning to look at the bus, which has started leaving. “Goodbye and stay safe, sir!”

The old man watches as Marinette just manages to catch the bus, stopping it and shouldering her backpack as she climbs on.

Marinette seats herself as the bus starts once more, and turns to her window to look for the old man.

But by the time she does, he’s gone.

Alya gets to Marinette's house at just the right time. When she reaches, Marinette has done a couple of her chores, cleaned up the living room, and put out the carpet in the first floor bathroom. Against the white rug, the coffee stain is obvious, and Marinette sighs as she inspects it.

How were they ever going to get it out?

There’s a knock at the front door, and Marinette knows it’s Alya. Smiling, the girl heads to the living room to open it.

Alya gasps as she sees the house. From the marble kitchen to the hickory-brown wood flooring, everything is pristine and clean, as if the Rossis live in a mansion.

(They don’t, but the house is still fairly big. Marinette sometimes has to clean it all as part of her chores, but luckily that hasn’t happened in a while.)

“Dang girl,” Alya sighs, “you rich or what?”

Marinette nervously laughs, cracking her knuckles. “Uh, I don’t know,”

“I’m joking,” Alya smiles. “But, random thing, where’s Lila?”

“She’s out. Doctor’s appointment for her, um, wrist,”

“Aw, that’s too bad. Tell her I said get better soon!”

Marinette sighs. She doesn’t like lying, but it’s far better than what would happen if she told the truth.

“Yea. Anyway, how are you getting the stain out? I tried all morning, but it was stuck,”

“Just watch me, girl,” Alya smirks. “Before we start though, you already blotted the stain,right?”

Marinette furrows her eyebrows. “Blotted? What do you mean?”

Alya demonstrates with her hands. “Like, did you take a paper towel and try to get as much of the stain out as you could?”

Marinette nods. “Yeah, that’s why I was late this morning,”

Alya nods. “Ok, so now we just have to make the cleaner,”

Marinette raises an eyebrow. “Make? This is getting a little crazy,”

“It’s really not,” Alya laughs, “I’ve done this a thousand times before. My sisters knock over my dad’s coffee way too much,”

Marinette laughs. “Alright then, show me what to do,”

Alya makes her way to the kitchen, filing through multiple cabinets. “Where’s your dish soap?”

“Bottom-left drawer next to the sink,” Marinette points.

“And your white vinegar?”

“Fridge. Anything else you need?”

“Just water,” Alya replies. “Warm, that is. And two cups of it,”

Marinette nods. “Got it,”

Alya takes out a steel bowl from one of the cabinets. “And can I use this?”

Marinette nods again. “Go ahead,”

“Great,” Alya says, pouring a spoon of dish soap followed by a spoon of vinegar. She waits for Marinette to get the water before adding that in as well, and then mixing. “That should do,”

“Work your magic then,” Marinette laughs.

“Just watch and see girl, I totally will,”

Alya finds a cleaning rag from a drawer in the island, and she runs over to the carpet. “Grab yourself a rag, Marinette, and let’s get started!”

Marinette laughs, and runs over to help. The time passes quickly, and by the time the coffee stain is gone and the carpet is dry, two hours have gone by. Their hands are sore and their legs are tired, but both can say that they had fun.

In the midst of it, Marinette almost doesn’t notice when Lila texts her.

Today

— 2 New Messages —

Lie-La 😒: open the back door

Lie-la 😒: im right by my house

Almost.

“Alya!” Marinette gasps, both sitting on the couch after the carpet was rolled back underneath the dining table. “It’s so late, don’t you have to go at 7?”

Alya tilts her head, confused. “No?”

“Oh well then I must have said it,” Marinette laughs nervously. “Yes that’s right! I’ve got work, haha. Bye!”

Marinette practically pushes Alya to the front door, while Alya looks lost and puzzled.

“Didn’t you already have work?” Alya asks.

“Yep, but gotta save up for uni right? Haha. Haha,”

Alya nods, squinting her eyes as she walks out the door.

“Um, bye? See you at school, girl,” Alya nods, quietly laughing.

“Bye!” Marinette smiles. Once Alya is farther away and out of sight, Marinette runs to open the back door. She can faintly hear the sounds of Lila’s friend’s car pulling into the driveway, so she dashes back upstairs as fast as she can. The last thing she wants to do is talk to Lila, much less be alone in a room with her.

She hopes that Lila won’t try anything while she’s in her room.

Sighing, she smiles when she stops at the attic door, and heads inside.

Before Madame Rossi found her and decided to take her in (how she came to that conclusion, Marinette would never know), the attic was all set to be Lila’s playroom. The entire room was painted pink from head to toe (even the carpet was a light shade of pink). There was a wooden wardrobe for all of Lila’s toys, and a desk with markers, painting supplies, and coloring pencils galore.

But then Marinette came along.

For one reason or another, she was given the attic as her own room. Out went the ideas of toys and tents in the room, and in came Marinette.

Madame Rossi didn’t give her anything. From the age of 2 till the age of 4, she slept on the ground, the lack of a bed present to her each night.

Until Lila outgrew her bed of course, which was then given to Marinette.

It was simple. Since Marinette was smaller than Lila, and slower at growing, she was often given Lila’s old things. All the clothes that Lila didn’t want, Marinette had. From her bed to the old beanbag in her room (one of the only things Lila gave her as decoration) everything was a hand me down from Lila herself.

Marinette sighs, and then flops into the bed. She’s lucky that Lila doesn’t bother if Marinette doesn’t get on her nerves.

Hopefully, until she can get out of this place, she’ll manage without angering Lila too much.

Standing up, Marinette locks herself in the attic, a faint click of the door behind her, and gets out her phone. Opening up Spotify, she starts her playlist, and goes over to the desk.

For the next hour, she does homework and finishes a project, all while sketching out designs for new dresses.

And hey, if she’s lucky, she might just be able to make one for the gala.

Marinette shuffles through her desk drawers, pop music playing through her earbuds. It’s nearly 8 PM and she’s searching for the special gold thread she had bought a couple weeks ago. It cost nearly a month's pay, and she’s been saving it for a special occasion.

With the dress she was sketching, she wanted to know if it was now.

She’s still searching through the drawers on the left side of the desk when she finds a box.

One that she feels might not have been there before.

(Then again, she rarely looks through all her drawers, so there’s always a chance that it could’ve been.)

Marinette feels confused. The box is made of a dark brown wood, and shaped like an octagon. The top of the box is embossed with a red design. Glimmering red circles meet wavy, thin lines, but Marinette is preoccupied with figuring out what the box is for.

In the end, she decides to open it. There can’t be much inside, can there?

Turns out, Marinette is wrong.

The moment she opens it is a frightful one. In that second, there’s a bright flash of light. It swirls around her as Marinette gasps, dropping the box onto the carpet as two solid-black earrings fall out.

That’s not the amazing part of it all though. After a second, Marinette comes face to face with a spotted red creature.

Needless to say, she screams.

“Hi Marinette!” the spotted creature says. “My name is Tikki! It’s nice to meet you!”

“Mouse!” Marinette hollers, “Bug! Bug-mouse! Talking bug mouse!”

Marinette scooches back, her hand grabbing books and papers off her desk as she throws them at Tikki.

“I’m here to help!” Tikki says, dodging the objects. “I’m here to help you!”

“Liar!” Marinette calls, searching for more things to throw. “This must be Lila’s version of a joke ! I can’t believe her!”

She takes her water-bottle from her backpack, and quickly moves to trap Tikki in it.

“It’s ok Marinette, I won’t hurt you,” Tikki smiles. “But if this makes you feel better, then this is ok!”

There’s a pause, and then Marinette sighs and chooses not to answer, leaning back, and quickly grabbing her school tablet off her desk. She points it at Tikki, trying her best to look intimidating.

“Who are you?” Marinette asks, “and what do you want?”

“Like I said, my name’s Tikki! I’m a kwami!” the tiny bug says, (still trapped in the bottle but floating in midair, Marinette notes) “And I want to help you!”

Marinette sighs, lowering her weapon tablet. “Did Lila send you somehow?”

Tikki furrows her forehead in place of her eyebrows. “No? Who’s Lila?”

Marinette bitterly chuckles, standing and throwing her arms into the air. “This. This. This is why you can’t help me. No one can. Anyone who meets Lila thinks she’s an ‘absolute angel’, and no one else knows her. How is someone supposed to help me if no one knows that my problem exists?!”

“Marinette,” Tikki sighs, “I promise you, I can help, if you’ll listen to me. Please let me explain, and then you can decide if you want to trust me or not, ok?”

Marinette pauses, considering the situation, and sits a fair distance away from Tikki, keeping her tablet in her hands.

“Ok,” she responds, facing the little bug. “But you have 5 minutes,”

Tikki smiles again. "And that's all I need,"

quick links: < previous chapter | first chapter | next chapter >

a/n: i resolve to post the next chapter soon lmaoo, thanks for reading! have an absolutely amazing day, you deserve it! 

taglist:

i’ll be tagging the people that i had tagged before, along with a couple others who liked the previous chapter for this series. if you don’t want to get tagged, i’m very sorry! just shoot me a private message, and i’ll take you off the tags. if you do want to get tagged, just tell me with a private message or an ask and i’ll add you to the taglist. thank you!

@reddragonofemeraldflame  @nomiegnome  @18markers @katbab @emmathedestroyer @bluesesameseed @cyborgcandy @karukofox21 @aestheticnpoetic c @magnificentcrapposts @miraculouslylee @lonestarfangirl2014 @lambdaarietis @miraculous-twilight @miraculous-twilight @silver-twilight @emmarosemary11​ @whiterosequeen23 @whatschooldoesntteachyou @shaykaleen @itswelphereiamuniverse​ @seraphichana​ @ladynoirotphell​ @tinynuggetofterror​ @tinkabella256​ @coopermaggie​

[xnchxntmxnt]

If the match up is still open I’d love it if you could do one with me and someone from Ouran. My pronouns are she/her. I graduated from college May 2021 with a degree in bio w/ zoology concentration. I am an introvert until you get to know me then I never stop talking. I’m also extremely loyal once you are my person you have to do a lot to change that. I’d prefer a male but love the female characters too lol I love your work! Thank you!!!

ooooh fancy human ur a scientist nowww

im half asleep writing this i apologize in advance BUT congrats on graduating!!!!!

also thank u for saying u love my work that warms my heart I get so hype bc 9 times out of 10 you reblog my stuff. yes I notice it makes me happy lol <3

you're being matched with...

haruhi fujioka!

alright alright ik. ik you said male character but 1) nb haruhi rights 2) the vibes were too strong i couldn't help it

smart people!! you guys are both super cool i swear lol

bitching about classes together

rambling about that One Niche Interest in that one class you have together

she's very introverted and likes her alone time, but you both can have alone time together if that makes sense?

her favorite days are when you guys can just vibe together and enjoy your peace and quiet

quiet chill music in the background

you can scroll on your phone or read or whatever

she's next to you with her head on your shoulder probably reading

that is until tamaki calls and interrupts everything because he somehow has the best and worst timing in existence

i think you guys are just kinda stuck together? she gives me the vibes of someone who doesn't enjoy constant change, so once youre her person, youre her person and thats that

that means that she will do whatever she can to make you happy and i assume you'll do the same

she loves cooking with you?? she's been cooking since her mom died and honestly enjoys it

if you can't cook? no worries she likes spoiling you

if you can? wonderful. help her out/make dinner for her

dates are usually at home, although you guys go to the occasional party

usually hosted by one of the former host club boys

they all love you btw

haruhi was really nervous to introduce you to the boys but when you got along w them she was suddenly less nervous and just happy for you

tamaki is ur biggest fan i swear to god #1 shipper here

anyway yall r cute <3

[heartshattering]

I'm really tired but I feel like I should mention this anyway... basically my mom says she's getting rid of our Internet tomorrow, because I'm still not "helping enough"

/// TW for paranoia and religious stuff under the 'Read More'

She also says I'm letting demons into our house through the computer too and that they are attacking her and that it's my fault?

Pretty much, this is because she is convinced that a particular relative put a curse on her (to cause my mom physical pain), and my mom thinks I've been looking at this relative's social media which she says causes 'the curse to get worse' (give my mom pain flare-ups), and that I've been inviting demonic entities into our house when I use the computer.

Regardless of whether she gets the Internet disconnected or not I just don't know how much time I'd be able to spend online anyway with the constant interruptions and with her health getting so bad and my own health (mental and physical) being far from picture-perfect either.

I feel absolutely miserable, like a complete failure who can't even help her mom correctly, to the point where my mom is thinking that demons/curses are what's causing the chaotic shit that goes on in our house, she doesn't want me using the computer, but she also doesn't want me writing, or watching Netflix, or doing anything besides tending to her 24/7...... do you all see what I mean when I say I would just rather sleep the day away than put up with this kind of shit every day? :'))))) fuck I hate it here

[malfoys-demigod]

Hi, can I request a fic where Reader meets Spencer's Mom for the first time? So like, at the start Spencer is talking to his Mom about reader on a visit, and shows her photos of you, saying how much he loves you and how much he wants to marry you and she insists on meeting you. Reader is nervous as she doesn't have a good relationship with her Mom, but it turns out Diana adores you and shows you pictures of baby Spencer, little baby facts about him and tells Spencer how perfect you are for him💜

She’s Perfect - Spencer Reid x Reader

Requested by anon!

SPENCER’S POV

“She’s ready to see you, Mr. Reid.” said the nurse in the front desk. 

Despite having a pants dropping schedule at work, I always managed to find time for Y/N, and of course my mother. Even if I write to her everyday, being able to physically be with her hits differently. I get to entertain her by discussing how my day at work usually goes. I never brought up Y/N. I figured she didn’t want to see her son fly away into the arms of another woman but Y/N has been something special to me and it’s about time I share that part of my life with my mom. 

I take a big deep breath as I see my mom cleaning up her checkers game. “Hi, Mom.” I walked over, greeting her with a big hug. 

“Spencer, good to see you!” My mom looked at me, happy to finally see a familiar face again. “How have you been? It’s been awhile since you’ve visited.” 

“I’m sorry, work has recently been demanding. We’ve been receiving so many cases that sometimes after every case, we start a new one the next day! It’s been super crazy that our boss Agent Hotch considers sleeping overnight in his office! I can’t even get to allot myself time to spend time with either Y/N or you-“, Mom stopped my rambling as she heard an unfamiliar name, “Y/N? Who’s Y/N?” She asks, placing a finger on her chin.

 “She’s the love of my life, mom.” I said, smiling like a schoolboy in love, “I’ve been a proud boyfriend for 5 years and counting. I actually have pictures of her! Here.” I excitedly said, pulling out my phone which contained several hundreds of pictures of her. “This is her on our first date. We spent the day at the library, showing each other our favorite books.” 

I grinned even wider than before that I saw mom looking at me as if she’s never seen me this happy. “You must really love her, don’t you Spence?” She asked, rubbing me in the back. 

“With all my heart, mom.” I nodded. “From the very first day I laid eyes on her, I already knew she was going to be someone special to me. Being in love is a magical thing, but it doesn't always look the same for every couple. Some people fall in love and never express that love, others fall in love with someone who doesn't feel the same way, and sometimes people fall in love but can't make it work. Then, there are the lucky ones like me and Y/N who fall in love and whose love is returned. The admiration is mutual, we put each other first despite both having challenging jobs, and we feel safe in each other’s arms. I’m positively sure that I’m ready to ask for her hand in marriage, mom. I’m scared and nervous but receiving your blessing will help me overcome my anxiousness.” I reply whole heartedly, shedding a tear from my eye. 

She so happens to see it and quickly wipes it off my face. “Spencer, I am extremely proud of you in every way possible and now seeing that you have somebody in your life who can be your true anchor is something special in life. I give you my blessings…” 

“I feel like there’s a but after that.” I said, waiting for a response. 

“But I insist on meeting your soon to be a fiancé. It’s about time I meet the young lady who’s been putting a smile on my son’s face for all these years!” She playfully demanded, putting her hands into a prayer form. 

I truly wanted her to meet Y/N so I nodded, promising her she’d see her by the end of next week. I now just had to convince Y/N to find time to go with me to see mom. 

The minute I got back home, I wanted to make tonight special, hoping the chances of asking Y/N to meet my mom would be higher. I cleaned up our shared apartment, cooked her favorite meal, and lighted up the candles to set the mood. 

She arrived exactly 20 minutes after I arrived, looking surprisingly calm after a hard day’s work. Big heart eyes were formed as she saw me waiting by the dinning table with a fully prepared feast awaiting her. 

“Spence, you made us my favorite!” Then her big heart eyes popped, forming a nervous look, “Oh my gosh, did I forget our anniversary? Do we have a special occasion? Oh my gosh I-“ “Not to worry, love. Just felt like making your favorite!” I interrupted, calming her. 

“Just felt like it? I have a hunch that there’s more than that. Did you secretly do something bad and you’re trying to make up for it? Did you lose my favorite sweater? Did you break something?” she vivaciously guessed. 

“Not quite.” I chuckled. “So I went to see my mom, and I finally told her about you!” 

“Aw! That’s so sweet of you to do. How is Diane?” 

“She’s intrigued by you, Y/N! I told her I’d bring you by next week to finally meet her.” 

“Oh.” was all she said as she walked over to the dining table and quietly took a sip from her water. Sitting across from her, I reached over to hold her hand, trying to get her to look at me. “Is there something wrong, Y/N? You don’t seem excited to meet her. Do you not want to meet her?” I questioned, looking sad. 

She finally looked up as she placed her hand over mine, “No, I’d love to meet her but I’m nervous Spencer but for reasons not concerning her but concerning my mother.” she quietly replied. “Obviously you’re fully aware that I may not have the perfect relationship with my mother. I used to be extremely close with her at a young age but as I started to grow older, I despised her for personal reasons, resulting in constant fights with her, tremendously damaging our relationship. The minute I turned 18, I decided to move away from her, only being in contact with my father. Sure, there are times where I have to see her, but my interactions with her are different. I can barely share eye contact with her or continue a conversation with her after more than 5 sentences. What I’m trying to say is, what if I develop a similar relationship with your mother, Spence? What if it turns out that she doesn’t like me? After all, I’m taking her only child away from her. I’m not after all a ‘mom person’ so what if I don’t have a good relationship with her in general? I’m so frightened by all the possibilities!” she broke down, heavily sobbing. 

I quickly stood up from my chair across hers to sit down beside her, giving her a bone-crushing hug, rubbing her back, “Love, it’s alright. Let it all out.” I whispered in her ear, “Y/N/N, you know why she’s intrigued by you? It’s because of all the things I told her about you. Do you know how I love you? First of all, I know what love is because I feel it. I believe that when you are in love with someone, you feel the feelings that you read about in books. When you see your person, your heart leaps a little bit. You long for their touch, and you want to know everything about them. Spending time together is lovely, and you care about their hopes and dreams. Second, I never question our relationship. One way to know I love you as much as you love me has to do with how much time I spend questioning the relationship. Do you think that I want to be in this relationship but just aren’t sure? Do I think about whether I’m making a mistake in committing to you? Do I find myself rationalizing my relationship more often than not? People who love someone else as much as they love them don’t constantly question the relationship. They are secure in the fact the love is real and equal and that a commitment to it is a smart one. Finally, my attention for you never wanders. My eyes are always set on you and you only. They never wander around, looking for other potential mates as they are devoted to looking at you forever. You’re special, Y/N. My mom can feel it and it’s time she sees it.” I told her, kissing her in the cheek. 

“Wow, Spence. I’m speechless.” she chuckles, “I guess it’s time I meet the mother who gave life to this genius right here.” she nods, embracing me. 

-- 

One week has passed and I could sense that Y/N was genuinely excited, more excited than me perhaps. We walked hand-in-hand, entering the care home where my mom awaited to see my girl. 

As we walked in, mom unexpectedly noticed us first, speed walking over to us, opening her arms for a hug, “You must be the very special Y/N Y/L/N. It’s such an honor to meet my boy’s girlfriend.” she smiles, “Come, sit beside me.” she walks over to the couch. 

“The honor is all mine, Mrs. Reid! I’m delighted to finally meet the mother who raised the special man in my life.” Y/N politely said, sitting down beside her, “I brought you some baked goods I made for this special day.” she said, excited to give her the goods I helped make. 

Mom gasped, happily taking the goods. She then looked at me with a proud face, “Beautiful and thoughtful. She’s a keeper, Spence and honey, please call me Diane or Diana.” she nodded, giving me a thumbs up. 

“I know she is.” I proudly say, wrapping an arm around Y/N. 

“I’m so lucky to have a smart, caring, and handsome man, Diane.” Y/N said, placing a small peck on my cheek. Mom raised a finger in the air, “Speaking of handsome, I have baby pictures of our handsome man right here.” she said, digging up pictures from her bag.  “Wasn’t he a cutie pie?” she asked, presenting baby pictures of me. Usually I would be embarrassed, but seeing my two constant rays of sunshines, I couldn’t help but watch them gush over me together. It was something I was definitely remembering for life. 

As hours passed by, mom had dozens of pictures to go about with you as with every picture shown, she’d give out a single fact about me when I was a baby. You know how time passes real by when you have fun? I for sure, felt that. If I can recall, we arrived at 1pm and even though it felt like only a couple of hours passed by, it was already 7pm as visiting times were ending. Neither Y/N or I wanted to leave as we both felt safe and sound in the presence of mom. But rest assured, mom told Y/N that we were always welcome to swing by at any time as she loved having the two of us fill her day with happiness. Before we left, Y/N took the time to go to the ladies room, leaving me with mom, who took the chance to tell me something before we left. 

“Spence,” she said, grasping my hand, “I don’t know how you did it but you just found the perfect girl to walk this world. Like I said, she’s definitely a keeper. She’s perfect. I don’t want you to lose her or let her go. I can recognize a life long-lasting partner when I see one, and that’s her. Your relationship will last a lifetime, kiddo. If you’re planning to marry her like you said, ‘anytime’ is now, Spencer. Marrying Y/N will make me the proudest mama on earth.” she said, looking at me with a smile on her face. 

“Thank you, mom. I will make you the proudest mama on earth.. soon” I said, nodding in agreeance. 

[archiveofidentityconstellations]

cass won't share her cheese nibs and bruce doesn't love me and i think?? that i deserve better??? than this???? i'm moving to alaska where NO ONE CAN TELL ME WHAT TO DO

the sequel to that one trix yogurt fic

I feel like I should tell you that I am MASSIVELY fucked up right now 

 like i am such a garbage heap that oscar the grouch took a look at me and said 

 “fuckk off!! i have standards!” 

anyways

it’s Brimothy, bitch

what is UP mothertrucksrs it is Me i am back here to write a report on the UNBELIEVABLE SHIT I JUST HANDLED.

okay so u know how Gotham city is on crack cocaine all the time. with like some LSD and heroin and never ever any weed except for like who is that pig guy?? nevrm he doesn’t have weeeed but like he is definitely a Pig. what the fuck is his name. what the fuck.

 okay so anyways 

 is it Goyle

 Doyle

 Pigoyle 

 tin foil? lmao

OKAY FUCK anyways the City, who Also May Be My Lover, is in a constant life crisis (which i relate? a Lot) and do you want to know this s h i t

Crocodile

Killer Croc

who Steve Irwin would be v disappointed in

Is climbing

into people’s FUCKING TOILETS

???????????????

THIS ISN’T FLORIDA

THIS IS NEW JERSEY

WE WEAR SHOES IN THE WINTER

WHAT SORT OF FLIP-FLOP WEARING CUCKER DOES HE THINK HE IS

okay so obviously KC is a big guy. a Dude. a whack-o whaler of a Male. a Big Boh. the largest banananana in the pack. he is Big. so he cAn’t fit into most people’s toilets. he can, however, fit into Big People’s toilets (big as in wealthy, not As in Tom Hanks)

so KC (crispy,,,nuggest…i wonder if fried alligator is good—not that im thinking of eating him, though someone really should threaten him with cannibalism, like if you’re going to be a bitch about it then you deserve the same done to you, it’s just manners) is in cahoots and canoodles with Someone Who Shall Not Be Named (not bc i don’t know, I do, that’s how detectives work. it’s my JOB to know, and i was a prodigy) but bc there is a whole other report detailing this person and their movements and its case file #4461 if u don’t believe me, but i ain’t no snitch, but i will say that tonight’s events connect to file #4461 so Dad if you’re reading this you should already have it out bc it’s your JOB

speaking of jobs ding ding here is mine coming round the mountain as she comes bc the apple bottom jeans the boots with the fur will be coming round the mountain when she comes shE’ll be coming round the mountain she’ll be coming round the mountain she’ll b e coming round and getting low low low low low l ow low

It was a crisp October night. The sun was blinking its sleepy lids, setting the ballroom with an incandescent glow. Bruce Wayne strode across the floor, his daughter Cassandra accompanying him. They wore matching expressions that the privileged always wear: guarded, yet hungry. Hungry for what? Probably for the crab cakes just out of reach. Neither of them had an allergy, and Cassandra in particular had a propensity to shove anything edible in her mouth, so it really was a tragedy that those crab cakes were all the way across the room. There should really be a table right in the middle of the dance floor just for snacks. That way caterers wouldn’t have to do so much leg work, which is actually a good thing, because that ballroom floor is slippery af. This narrator should know, he has Died A Few Times getting there. Suddenly, the night’s festivities were interrupted by a social faux pas: a scream.

You don’t just scream at regular parties, it’s uncouth and hysterical. But you can scream if the social boundaries have already been crossed, and boy, were they crossed.

You see, Dear Reader, there was a man in the toilet.

I use the term “man” loosely, as his glaring yellow eyes do wonders when you might just crap your pantaloons. You start imagining things, like dinosaurs whcih i am personally a big fan of bc Jurassic Park has a kid named Tim in it and I am also Tim.

 hI y is our toilet so big that Killer Croc could wiggle his way up? also how long can he hold his breath. 

 it seems to be impressively long

 hey Bdad how long can he hold his breath? please let me know if you can, and if you won’t i will eat all your wafers becauzs i wa

Mrs. Trenton screamed and fled the impertinent bathroom guest, who wasted no time in ripping the commode to pieces. There was a roar and all the guests paused, unsure if it was merely pipe problems or if they were under attack.

Reader: They were, in fact, under attack. 

The guests, deciding that Mrs. Trenton was a social entrepreneur, followed her lead and began to scream. Killer Croc had made it to ballroom, standing at an impressive height just outside the doors.

He was Not wearing a shirt.

okay have u ever noticed that Killer Crog hasn’t got any nipples????? where are they? he’s got pecs but no nipples?? 

where did they go where are his nip nops i kno people don’t like to think about this but i hAve wondered since i was like 13 like where did they go. has anyone ever asked him. 

did they fall off

“Take the crab cakes!” shouted Matthew Fielder, a lil bitch.

“No, take me!” said Cassandra Wayne, who would literally rather die than give up those crab cakes.

Killer Croc paid them no heed. He desired one thing and one thing only, the sweet satisfaction for his carnal craving: Humain Flesh.

(alliteration hell yeah hell yeah take that Mrs. Johnson i do know shit and im creative as well u jusy don’t know how my brian works it’s like a golden goose egg trap ye ye ye)

 i just Realized 

 i am…a high school drop out

 i don’t know why im doing this

Dear Reader, as an Aside: Smoking can lead to many health issues, especially if one begins smoking at a young age. Harmful side effects include increased risk of stroke and brain damage; muscular degeneration, eye cataracts; cancer of lips, nose, tongue, and mouth, and nipple loss.

 Jason you may want to have a talk with you and your mipples

The terror in the air was stifling. Cannibalism conduct was not something conveyed in etiquette classes. Rich people never expect to be eaten.

Reader, everyone hardly breathed. Something deeply primal had occurred. 

From the doorway the golden eyes struck. Deadly. Lethal. Hungry. 

This was more than vengeance. It was a sadistic occasion of play.

  okay good thing Dames wasn’t there because he fucking HATES KC he gets all huffy and shrieky about him like “he’s a HYGIENE PROBLEM” and it’s like,,,,,.ur right but i don’t want to agree with you because where do we stand if i do that?? as brothers???

 i think the fuck not 

anyways i just realized i’ve been calling Waylon Jones KC the entire damn time (NEWSFLASH ASSHOLE) but to be fucking h, he wants to to be called that. i called him Allen once and he was so PISSED so i can only think of actually calling him by his name. he wouldn’t even be chill with me naming the sewer alligators even tho they were awesome names. i called one Dundee. that’s fucking genius. that’s just. i’m fucking amazing. stupenous. and unappreciated.

 maybe his nipples fell off because he swims in shit every night?????

 question: why do i swim in shit almost as often 

 what the dfck

 what are my life choices

 i feel like there should have been some fine print involved here 

 “Robin duties include scraping shit off your asschreks 3 times a week”

 mahbe,,,,maybe not what i want 

 personal choice

though i haven’t really seen any alligators in the sewers for years now, which is

oh my god OH MY GOD HE ATE THEM  HE ATE THEM OH MY GOD  OH MY GOD !!!!!!!!!!

HE FUCKING  HE FUCKING. HE. HE ATE HIMSELF  HE FUCNING ATE HIMAELF AND HIS FAMILY HIS COUSINS HIS CPOUSINS  HIS FAMILY OH MY GOD  THIS IS LIKE MY 8TH GRADE GRADUATION ALL OVER AGAIN

im so disturbed……..i like, need to eat something. Fucking hell. this Not what i had in mind when i decided to be alive.

i feel like as if i woke up one day and i was the only one in the entire world who remembered Caillou. also could pull off my face and eat it like taffy. imw so. i.

mom i know i refused to go to Shabbat when i was ten so i don’t get to say this but:

this is Not kosher 

oh heyy i want some pIckes

i was also thinking of takin a spin class?? like fuck it i like to bike. fuck it. and maybe iwdont want bruce and nigtwink fucking watxhing me with their beady eyes. like get those off my calves. my cleavage is up here, gentlemen. stop talking about proper form. some people can do things and suck at them. i’m never going to be like a professional ice curler. and i shouldn’t feel bad about that. who the fuck curls for fun. maybe Canada???????

note to self: look up the history of the sport of curling 

i’m going to get good at it to piss off Jason

Back On Topic:

Killer Croc took a step forward. His mouth trembled, watering in anticipation. He took another step.

Mrs. Trenton drew in a breath. 

The room was silent. 

Far across the room, Bruce Wayne clenched his champagne glass. Cassandra Wayne stopped chewing the crab cakes.  Reader, I won’t mince words: Waylon Jones crossed the threshold.

  and the instant he put his foot down on the ballroom floor he fucking slipped like a drunkass toddler

like when Damian is really really tired bc he’s like 2 years old (only an evil 2 years old like chucky) and Jason tries to give him a high five 

gremlin still doesn’t get that “down low” precedes “too slow” 

and he like. faceplants

onto the fucking concrete 

and then Bruce yells at Jason 

and then Jason yells back

“I NEVER ASKED FOR SIBLINGS”

like it was something we all did, like wrote it down on our batmas lists for Brucie Claus 

and im sitting there, a perennial Forgotten Middle Child

and Damian is like still. on the ground.

anyways KC is just slipping across the ballroom, slippering and sliding bc the floor was just waxed and it’s silent except for the wet slaps of his feet against the floor and the screech his tail makes every time he trips (sort of like this) and when he sometimes falls it makes that sound of when your thighs SLAP against the mats and it sounds like a wet walrus coming to cheer you on while a Giant simultaneously swallows a liquid-filled gummy worm down his throat like QAWAGGHHHHHHH only his falls reverberated against the ceiling panels and the cherubs looked down in like. disgust.

Cass began chewing the crab cakes again by the time Killer Croc fell for the twelfth time so idk it was an embarrassing situation

 we all did that Thing people do when a social barrier is breached 

 we like…..avoided each other’s eyes and made light conversation 

 meanwhile Killer Croc’s body screeched in the background

anyways Matthew Fielder was like “so I hear you dance ballet” and Cass responded “uh huh. tap too” and the chewed up crab cake crumbs fell out of her mouth and onto the floor

 i CAN’T

scrambled cock on a cracker, Cass why does Alfred let this happen????? what is this??????  like she can snort creme puffs like cocaine but GOD FORBID i put my elbows on the table and call damian “a poisonous little bitch” because he ate my croutons

 the standards in this family are unbelievable

So everyone is just talking and Mrs. Trenton is sipping champagne now and Luis Alvarez is doing that thing where he starts trying to eat caviar one teeny tiny egg at a time and KC is just like WHUMPH for the thirtieth time

finally dad takes pity on him and crouches down and is like “hey how you doing slugger” which???? Offended me. Very Much.

that’s MY nickname 

has Waylon No-Nipples Jones been adopted by Bruce Wayne??? has Waylon No-Nipples Jones retrieved HIS sorry ass from time?? i don’t fucking think so 

the audacity of this man

but before Killer Croc can reply

Red Hood

BURSTS INTO THE ROOM

guns out, voice modulator kind of fuzzy like a broke refrigerator that makes an “eeeeeeeeeee” sound ever since i tripped over it and fell on it

 which wASN’T MY FAULT 

 IM NOT “deformed baby zebra clumsy” FUCK YOU JASON 

 MAYBE HE SHOULDN’T KEEP HIS EXPENSIVE HELMET ON THE FLOOR THEN 

 you know what? I’m GLAD i tripped over it.

 yeah. suck it. 

 im glad you sound like a 90s japanese transistor radio 

 off brand too

 fuck you 

 I GOT A BRUISE NOT THAT ANYONE CARES 

 even Bruce was like “hey tim you need to watch where you’re going”

 ???

 how about YOU watch where YOU’RE GOING 

 “where” as in TIME TRAVEL 

 REMEMBER THAT BRUCE 

 REMEMBER THAT?!???????

 HUH BIG GUY?!???????!!???

 no one is allowed to criticize me from now on

 i am Above Reproach 

    anyways yeah Red Hood appears at the party and shoots KC and Bruce was like “why the FUCK would you SHOOT HIM” as if he has some misplaced paternal feeling for Waylon No-Nipples Jones because he called him slugger which is something he calls one of his other kids but whatever im not bitter im just insecure and sad all the time but don’t worry about it maybe i’ll die one day and you’ll all be sorry especially about Certain Things like not sharing cheese nibs huh Cassandra

so RH and Bruce Wayne kind of argue. like. literally sniping at each other bc SOMEBODY forgot that Red Hood is a criminal and not their misplaced son and RH is like “it’s!!!!! a tranquilizer!!!!! ya big hoe!!!!!” only he doesn’t really say it like that but everyone isn’t even listening at this point because this party has already been so goddamn weird and we’re all suffering from secondhand embarrassment

i am Assuming,,,,,that Killer Croc Jones “Jonsie No-Nipples” has been taken away to be put into jail and studied for his non-nipple properties but at this point i’ve been sitting here huffing that cold medicine or whatever Bruce gave me. which

 oh yeah i was crushed earlier 

 it was by “slugger” but whatever

 yeah his body broke mine 

 it was because Bruce and Jason were fighting again and not paying attention so 

 KC was tranquillized and like 

 fell on me 

 he drooled on me too 

 those ballroom floors really hurt 

 like my head feels like mush 

 Alfred’s oatmeal 

 on its second day 

 because i refused to eat it on the first day 

 that man has a spine of Steel and he Does Not Let You Waste Food 

 btw he fell on me because i pushed Luis Alvarez out of the way 

 he was really transfixed by those tiny fish eggs 

 it’s fun to put them on your tongue and let them like slide around 

 so i pushed him out of the way and was promptly crushed to death 

 B said something about a broken collarbone 

 i am more worried about a broken butt 

 fuck

 my coccyx

PROFESSOR PYM wait no shit that’s a comic book character

anyways my butt is broken and im hungry and dad wouldn’t let me get out of the chair so i write up this report because I am A Real Life Detective and I do my JOB

once again im the best

hey red jood can you get me some cheese nibs cassandrA won’t share which is p mean especially since i was all for being eaten to give her those crab cakes  red hoof red  why isn’t he responding to me i want xheese nibs red hanz  red  red  Red Hood please I require sustenance  red fhau red gjji red hhood ted joood redb hood red red edds red red edd dedd red red red red red wd red  what the fuck what a right bastard sometimes oh hi Badaman

EDIT: His name is “Pyg.”  Fucking. Pyg. Points taken off for unoriginality.

decided to have a tumblr version too ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[anastasiaskarsgard]

Link to my masterlist for earlier chapters or other stuff I've written

His Queen

Part 3

Bri ripped open the letter, amazed it was handwritten and in cursive! Knowing Roman, he had an assistant write it, but she felt a warmth in her chest knowing he’d truly loved her all along.

To My Queen, Briana Godfrey,

(Admit it! That sounds way better than Tucker, have the lawyers change it.)

Oh, and before I get into it, I wrote this myself. No assistants, so fuck you for thinking it.

Bri smiled a sad smile at how they still knew how the other thought.

I have to start off by saying thank you for reading this letter. That means you're at the white tower. I don't deserve you. I've turned into everything I never wanted to become. Everything you made me believe I could escape. You are the light to my darkness and I'm so sorry I disappointed you. I don’t have a lot of time, but I needed a plan in case I fail. You’re the only person I trust with my company, my money, my daughter, my legacy, my heart, all of it. I am an absolute crack head level blood addict, and I couldn’t trust myself when we got overly emotional to keep my head. Because I love you so much, you can make me so upset, and That last fight we got into, I scared myself. I don’t blame you for slapping me, but to hold back from returning the blow, I literally broke my own hand... but this is not what this letter is about.

Peter and my sick half-sister Annie have stolen my daughter. Peter is hell-bent on destroying me because he killed Destiny's trash fiance, and lied about it, so she blamed me and attacked me and I hurt her bad enough to foresee issues with peter, so I broke her neck to avoid problems figuring it was showing her some mercy since she was heartbroken. Annie was there and when I refused to carry on an incestuous relationship with her, she turned on me and told Peter about Destiny. So he came after me and fucking shot me, we fought and I won, but didn't cut his head off so I knew he’d be fine. Well, he calls me and has my kid and won't turn her over, and says he's going to kill me so even though I doubt it, Nadia needs someone to raise her, and if I'm killed it's not my whore of a sister Annie. I need you to find Nadia and take her home and raise her as she deserves. She’s such a sweet baby and she adores you.

Find Shelley and she can help you maybe. She’s in love with this weird old poet and chooses to live at the old steel mill. Calls it Rooster Poop. Can’t make this shit up.

The entire security team is trying to find Nadia, so contact them and see where they’re at with it.

you are the love of my life and I refused to ever say so, even though we both knew it was true. I would bullshit and say it’s cuz I was saving you from myself, but I’m not that fucking noble. You scared me more than anything ever scared me in my life. God, it's great to admit I love you. Like I need to make up a new word for how I feel for you cuz love isn’t strong enough.

there’s a pretty poem I saw that reminded me of you;

I’d still choose you.

In a hundred lifetimes,

in a hundred worlds,

in any version of reality,

I’d find you and I’d choose you.

Even though I knew you were going to break my heart again and again.

I’d still choose you.

It’s crazy how happy I am writing you a letter, even with every aspect of my life in shambles, you’re my light.

You get everything. Fuck all of them. You were right about everything. If I survive this shit, I am winning you back if it takes 100 years and I have to spend every cent. This is literally a reset.

I tried to forget your baby girl but I never could. No amount of drugs, money, blood, or bullshit could ever distract me from the constant ache in my heart for only you. You’re the only pussy I ever wanna see again. I ran thru a fantastic amount of pussy after you left and none of them made me forget you for even a moment. I pictured you or I could not get off. It was pathetic. I hope I get to see you again and rip up this fucking letter.

I looked back over this and there’s a reason I have other people write shit up for me. A few requests to seriously consider:

-->Blitzky should take over for Pryce. Not only is he a genius, he's a good guy. He's a bit soft, so you may have to be the bad guy.

-->Get a new nanny. The current one looks good on paper but she's an idiot.

--> Live in the white tower. It's secure and safe and you can make as many floors as you like home.

--> if an animal killed me, it's Peter and he's still a wolf. He’ll be white. Kill him, cut off his head and burn him up in the incinerator.

--> if Annie comes around at all, kill her. She's very manupulative and acts religious and nice. She's crazy and not to be trusted.

-->try and convince Shelley to live in the mansion and have her little homeless community there. She doesn't care about money but she cares about people, so offer it as a safe haven. Make sure it stays stocked in necessities like toilet paper, soap, cleaning materials, etc and write it all off as a charity contribution. Make the whole endeavor a big tax write off, but don't tell Shelley that part. Just tell her it was my dying wish she had a home.

--> the loser she's with has legal problems. Have the legal department solve them so he's got no reason to desert her.

-->if Peters mom comes sniffing around, don't tell her a damn thing. I doubt she will tho, she's a wanted fugitive.

--> don't trust any gypsies.

--> Nadia is very intelligent. She can read minds, influence dreams, and kill anyone or anything just by looking at them. She's dangerous and shouldn't be allowed around animals or people until she can understand the concept of death and consequences. There's no way to control her, I have found.

--> I promised a homeless man I ate that id pay for his sons school. Anonymously pay for Mathew Shandwicks classes, books and dorm at Penn State for all 4 years. His father traded his life without a single complaint so it's imperative you keep my word.

-->make sure Nadia isn't a spoiled brat like me. Teach her about her mother and her father and all the good things about us. Leave out we were related if you can swing it. Just say we were young and loved each other very much. I enclosed a pack of photos of me and Letha for her.

I wonder what you’re wearing... That reminds me; if I’m really dead, you have to be in mourning at least two years. That means all black suits and dresses that cover you up, black nails, big black hats like you just left a Catalina Yacht Mixer or you’re going to a royal wedding. I even got you black lab coats just in case.Don’t half ass this. It’s important.

Also I want “Fuck you” by the Archives played at my funeral, if it comes to that.

Hopefully, you never see this letter because I got everything fixed here, and went and found you and you ran into my arms and we lived happily ever after, and I have a whole lifetime with you... But just in case...

All my love,

Roman Godfrey

P.s. - since you're a genius, hopefully you can fix me or bring me back. I hope you still love me even 10% as much as I love you, because then nothing can stop us.

Brianna stared at the page as her tears fell on it swirling the ink in designs and spirals. She knew he’d always loved her, but it was bittersweet seeing him finally admit it. She took the photos out of the envelope and looked through them.

Looking through the pictures was heart-wrenching. There had to be a way to fix all this! She tried to remember everything she’d learned about Upirs from that dreadful Russian women and Pryce. Luckily they’d been a bit of an obsession for her that she delved into when Roman pulled his shit. Being obsessed with Upirs had distracted her from obsessing over the real issue.

Just as she started to wonder when Mueller and Edwards would be back, as if by magic, the elevator doors opened. They had brought Dr. Blitzkey with them as well.

“Oh my gosh! You’re alive! I’m so happy to see you’re ok and still here!” Bri said as she ran up and embraced Blitzky. “Where is Roman? I need to see him.”

Blitzky looked at the ground nervously before meeting your eyes. “It’s not fixable.”

“No matter. I just NEED to see him. Please?” She begged.

“Okay. He has several severe traumatic injuries so please prepare yourself for that.”

“What happened to him?”

“Some Type of animal attacked him in the old mansion and pushed him out the upper story window, fracturing his spine and neck which most likely left him paralyzed and vulnerable. His throat and heart were then ripped out.”

“Peter.” Bri said darkly. He was going to pay for his betrayal. She would make sure of that.

“I mean that’s the most logical conclusion but after all Roman did for that little degenerate, ” Blitzky muttered.

Bri nodded solemnly.

“Hate to interrupt your happy little party but we have several forms that need immediate attention, to get this shit show back on the road,” Edwards interjected.

“They’ll have to wait till after I see Roman. You lead the way Blitzkey, you two stay here.” She said firmly stepping into the elevator with the doctor. Both lawyers looked furious but did as they were told since they were honestly intimidated by this young woman that had all this piled on her, and seemed unfazed.

As soon as the doors closed she sank to her knees and screamed. The tears came flooding out of her eyes as her body was wracked by sobs. It’s like she’d been hit by a truck. The realization that Roman was really gone finally sinking in.

Blitzky didn’t know what he should do. He was a genius, but completely clueless when it came to social and interpersonal skills. He hesitantly patted Bri on the head like a golden retriever, unsure how long was comforting so he just kept doing it. “You’re strong.”

Bri glanced up at Blitzky through her foggy tears and couldn't help but agree. She WAS strong.

The elevator opened to their floor as she looked down at the floor.

“Well” Blitzkey peeped, unsure of what to do, “this is it.”

“We have to fix him Blitzkey. There’s got to be a way.” she said rising to her feet, as if the little display he just witnessed never happened.

“You’re the boss.” Blitzky said as cheerful as he could muster.

“I’m giving you Pryce’s position. I trust you.”

“Thank you! I wasn't sure if maybe you'd want to take charge.... What will you do? Take over for Roman?”

“Until I can bring him back, I guess I’ll have to. I will bring him back Blitzkey.... If I have to make a deal with the Devil himself.” Bri stated adamantly before setting off down the hall like a woman possessed.