#listen hes a great uncle but he Would swear in front of a child
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
cigamfossertsim · 1 year ago
Text
jason: fuck!
lian: thats a bad word uncle jason
jason: oh mind your own business lian
58 notes · View notes
lunarxdaydream · 1 year ago
Text
Soothing notes of lemon blend with mint rise from the tea’s surface. A slow inhale welcoming its warmth into her, every thought silenced now that the day had come to an end. A stray lock is tucked away. Her back resting into the cushions of her office chair, momentarily allowing herself to forget the stack of work laid across the desk. At this rate she may have to take her dinner here again.
“Oh thank goodness!” Door bursts open with Anna rushing inside. 
— So much for enjoying her break.
Porcelain cup is set down to give Anna her undivided attention. Her chest panting, no doubt from having to run across the grounds for who knows what reason. No sirens were going off. Guards were not rushing. Certainly not an emergency to dictate her friend’s current state. “Is everything well?”
Tumblr media
“Hmm?  Oh! Oh yes!” Laughter fell from Anna before she dropped into the chair across. “But there is a favor I have to ask.” Her elbows leaned on the edge of her desk. A sheepish little smile tugging on her lips. “And … I was hoping to catch you before the list was finalized.” Her head motions to the violet folder tucked on the back table alongside a stack of letters.
Loraine’s brow rises with skepticism and confusion. Since when did Anna concern herself with the details of the tournament? Aside from participating on occasion. Turning around for a split second, Loraine collects the folder to reexamine the invitees. Her name is listed so certainly could not have been that issue. Fighters representing the other countries, some known to them from prior engagements, also present.
“Everything looks fine to me.”
“I know but …”
Her eyes set back on her friend. A grin slowly beginning to spread as her chin is cradled by an open palm. Eyes flicker with amusement. Maybe mischief.
Tumblr media
“But?”
— Oh no … what is she planning now? Or maybe the better question is: what did she do?
“Seelie is not represented.”
“Correct.” The document is lowered. “I hope you are not suggesting that I —”
“Oh come on!”, Anna begs with those big set of eyes. “I know someone that would love to join and —“
“And what?” Digits rub at her temples. Honestly, how did she even get this idea in the first place? “Just because your recommendation might be willing does not mean the King will allow it.”
Tumblr media
“That stuffy King wouldn’t know fun if it came and danced in front of his face.” There she goes pouting again.
A giggle slipped. Touch of guilt following close behind as Loraine shook her head in disbelief despite the humorous imagery. Could she be right? Possibly. Though the other hand, running a realm left little room to freely enjoy whatever one’s heart desired. But to call the poor royal ‘stuffy’? “Now that is a little harsh.”
“It’s true!”
“Anna, listen —”
“I already spoke with your brother and the tournament master.” And before she can rebuff her statement, two sealed letters are withdrawn from her inner pocket with an eagerness of a young child. Any more and Loraine could swear her friend might jump up from excitement.
“He signed off on it after running the idea through Lord Ardell and Lord Calore.”
— Of course her uncle and Kaval had some hand in this. Surely Elias was not foolish enough to sign an approval regarding another noble without another set of eyes. Not to mention how Kaval would have somehow convinced Violetta to agree had the news reached her.
Ruby orbs fell upon the second letter; inked in black with quick handed cursive the name of this ‘invitee’. Turning it over, golden wax with dusted teal is the crest of her uncle. The temptation to tear it open and leave it elsewhere too great but … well, if he has spoken with Elias than by tomorrow at the latest the tournament master will request a meeting with her.
“And … I may have told him ... sort of ...”
Tumblr media
“What?”
“By ... mistake?”
“And how is it a mistake?”
Maybe she needed something more than tea at this moment.
Tumblr media
“Okay, so remember when I forgot the take the invitations over?”
“Yes …”
“I went to visit Lord Mèinnearach to deliver his invitation and ….”
Tumblr media
For the love of — Why? Why, why, why?
“So you want me to not only update the list but deliver this.” It is more of a statement as she stared at her friend who nodded like some small house pet. Her long braid practically bouncing along, all too eager despite the blunder this stunt may have caused. Had this ‘Lord Mèinnearach’ informed the Seelie King of his invitation by now?
“Pretty please?”
6 notes · View notes
robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago
Note
Lao Nie and Nie Mingjue have a good day together and bond. What was their relationship like before the qi deviation?
Boys - ao3
“Two paths, hmm?” Lao Nie said, squinting at the road markers in front of him. “Well, I don’t see why we can’t go down this one to the right –”
“No.”
“No? Why not?”
“Because little uncle asked me not to let you meet any new dangerous women,” Nie Mingjue said, looking as serious as ever – only his little hands, swinging to the side, revealed that he was just a ten-year-old. Still a child, no matter how mature he tried to act. “And a place called the Springtime Ghost Valley sounds like it probably has dangerous women.”
“Hey,” Lao Nie protested mildly. “Who’s the father here, me or you?”
“If a-die wants a new wife, little uncle will find one that isn’t inclined to kill him.”
That sounded like a recitation.
“Then what’s even the point,” Lao Nie grumbled, and reached out to ruffle his son’s hair, enjoying how Nie Mingjue yelped when he did, glaring up at him with offended dignity.
In all honesty, Lao Nie had no idea how he’d ended up with a son as serious and sincere and earnest as Nie Mingjue – he himself hadn’t taken anything seriously in years. Probably it was his mother’s influence.
Now that was a woman.
Not that his foxy second wife hadn’t been woman enough to blow him away either…
Hmm.
Perhaps they had a point about his taste in women.
“How about men?” Lao Nie suggested. “If it really means so much to you, I could swear off of women entirely –”
“A-die.”
“Mm?”
“Leave Sect Leader Wen alone.”
Lao Nie cracked up.
-
Because Lao Nie was the father, however easy-going he might sometimes be, they ended up heading down the right-hand path regardless. They were supposed to be night-hunting, after all – it was the perfect bonding experience according to Jiwei, though Lao Nie suspected his saber of having selfish intentions there – and deliberately avoiding a place with ‘Ghost’ in the name was hardly appropriate for scions of a Great Sect like theirs.
Although the reference to springtime was admittedly a little worrisome.
If it turned out to be a brothel, with the ghost thing being just a clever if somewhat tonedeaf marketing ploy, Lao Nie was turning around and taking them both home at once. He wasn’t going to risk little Nie Mingjue turning out anything like that awful Jin Guangshan – or, nearly as bad, having to explain anything more about the joys of sex to those earnest little button eyes and dimpled cheeks with no time to prepare first. He still hadn’t recovered emotionally from the last few times Nie Mingjue had asked him a question like that.
When they finally reached the end of the path, turning a corner to behold a clearing that was probably completely ordinary during the daytime, Lao Nie found that he’d been both right and wrong.
“It’s a ghost brothel,” he marveled. He’d never seen anything like it in his life.
“Dangerous women,” Nie Mingjue reminded him.
“A-Jue! Let your father live a little!”
Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes.
Lao Nie virtuously ignored his slightly judgmental brat of a son. It wouldn’t do him that much harm to go visit for a while, with the risk of Jin Guangshan-ness being relatively minimal; they were ghosts, after all. It was the duty of every cultivator to fight against evil, wherever it lived, no matter its form –
“Fighting? Is that what it’s called?”
“Who taught you sarcasm?” Lao Nie asked, knowing perfectly well that the answer was himself. “I ought to smack them.”
Nie Mingjue crossed his arms over his chest and pouted at him. “Fine, it’s fighting, we’ll go fight them. Do you want me to start drawing ghost-repelling talismans?”
“Liberate first!” Lao Nie sang out. “Come on, let’s go see what they’re like – er, that is, I mean, see what grievances they have that are keeping them here, of course. There’s no harm in dangerous women. Just don’t let them eat your yang energy!”
“It’s not my yang energy that I’m worried about, a-die…”
-
The ghostly madame was an extraordinarily charming person and Lao Nie liked her at once.
Not liked her liked her – he’d fallen head over heels with both of his wives from the first word, and that hadn’t happened here – but still, conversing with her was an extraordinarily enjoyable way to spend time.
She was witty and clever, with a broad range of knowledge and a gift for keeping a conversation lively and exciting; she could meet every verbal riposte with ease, and looked utterly gorgeous and composed the entire time. Sure, she kept trying to lure Lao Nie into an orgy in which all of his yang energy would be slowly sucked out before his body was ripped to pieces and his bones cracked open so that the ghosts could consume the marrow within, but what a way to go, right?
Nie Mingjue spent his time making friends with the ghost prostitutes.
Lao Nie wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting.
Well, he supposed he’d been expected a range of things – anything from Nie Mingjue getting suckered in by one of the ghosts and needing to be rescued by his father to Nie Mingjue just pulling out his Baxia and trying to stab them because he felt offended by their existence. He wasn’texpecting his ghostly conversational partner to suddenly frown mid-sentence and say, “What is he talking to them about?”
Lao Nie turned his head slightly and started listening.
“– just because you’re a ghost doesn’t mean you have to work allthe time, surely,” Nie Mingjue was saying, completely serious and earnest in the way he so often was. Lao Nie’s son had in fact inherited his sense of humor, only it tended to be buried fairly deep down and make its way up to the surface in an understated way in the most unexpected times; the rest of the time, he was straightforward to a fault, treating everything sincerely. “The birds in the trees, the animals in the fields – even among prostitutes, even the street-walking ladies know they need to take time to rest! I can’t believe you really have to work every single night. How long has it been since you had a night off?”
The ghost prostitutes around him had contemplative looks on their faces.
“Isn’t the whole point of becoming a vengeful man-eating ghost that you have more power than regular humans? I don’t know, it kind of seems like a bad deal if you have even worse conditions after all that –”
“I’m sorry,” the ghostly madame said, looking irritated underneath all her carefully painted smiles. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment…”
Lao Nie had to bite his hand to keep from laughing out loud.
-
“I think we’ve all learned a valuable life lesson today,” Lao Nie announced.
Nie Mingjue was pouting again.
“I don’t think we did,” he said, sounding profoundly skeptical. A filial child like Nie Mingjue shouldn’t sound so skeptical of his beloved father’s words of wisdom, really; if Lao Nie wasn’t so heartless, he might be offended. Of course, the skepticism might have originated from the heartlessness, so it was all six of one, half a dozen of the other in the end. “Those poor ghost ladies! They were still fighting each other by the time we left!”
“I’ve never seen a ghost pull another ghost’s hair before,” Lao Nie conceded. It had been brilliant. “One day, someone’s going to figure out a more reliable way to use ghosts to fight ghosts, mark my words.”
“Isn’t that demonic cultivation?”
“Oh, sure,” Lao Nie said, still cheerful. “If whoever it is does too much of it, eventually it’ll build up into a backlash that’ll kill them in some grossly horrific manner. Probably ripped into pieces by the backlash. And that’s not even counting how they’d be ostracized and hunted by the cultivation world first! But still, imagine how exciting it’d be in the meantime!”
“A-die…”
Lao Nie patted Nie Mingjue on the head again, earning another glare. “Immortality is a lie, A-Jue. We’re all here for a short time, each and every one of us, and only the length determined by fate and man. All that matters is what we do with the time that we have, and whether we’ve used it well.”
“To fight against evil wherever it lives, no matter its form?”
“To leave the world a better place than when we entered it, and to let our memories linger in the hearts of those that love us,” Lao Nie said. “Fighting evil is the best way to accomplish the former, and living a good life the latter. And you might as well have a good time doing it, if you can! Everything else is just extra.”
Nie Mingjue thought about that for a moment. “And a-die likes to have second helpings of extras?”
That was true. Lao Nie was a man of prodigious appetites of all sorts.
Despite that, he protested, “That wasn’t the point I was trying to make. I was being serious for once.” Seeing Nie Mingjue’s skeptical look, he made a face. “I can be serious, sometimes!”
“Can you?”
“It’s been known to happen! A date written on a wall will be right once a year.”
“Not if the wall gets painted over.”
“Ouch,” Lao Nie said. “I don’t even understand the metaphor you’re making, and I’m still going ouch.”
“Uh-huh,” Nie Mingjue said, utterly unimpressed. “You know, if you wanted one of the ghost ladies to be Third Mother, you would’ve been better off with the one playing the qin, not the ghost madame. She was much more powerful.”
Lao Nie arched his eyebrows. “Was she?”
Nie Mingjue nodded. “She had claws like a lizard.”
Lao Nie tried to remember which one of them had been the ghost girl playing the qin. He couldn’t quite remember at first – the women there were all surpassingly lovely, almost to the point of over-saturation – and then suddenly an image came into view, a beauty with a veil and sharp sword-like eyebrows, leaning over the qin with the shining pearl hanging in the center of her forehead dipping down.
And, yes, claws like a lizard.
“Hmm,” Lao Nie said. “That might have been a dragon, actually. You should be careful of those, they’re tricky.”
They’ll rip you and three dozen other cultivators besides into more pieces than can be picked up without blinking an eye, he meant, and you won’t even know what hit you. Avoid at all costs.
“Oh,” Nie Mingjue said, blinking. “Oops.”
“…what do you mean, oops?”
“Nothing bad! If I’m not supposed to interact with her, does that mean I should go and give back the gift she gave me?”
“She gave you a – give me that,” Lao Nie said. “This instant.”
“But a-die, you said there’s no harm in dangerous women –”
“For me, you foolish child!”
-
“I suppose it’s fine,” Lao Nie finally concluded, having inspected the dragon pearl from all angles several times over. “I don’t know how you do this, A-Jue.”
“Do what?”
Lao Nie thought about how his foxy second wife had cooed over his eldest son with a (slightly disturbing) fervor that she otherwise reserved only for eating snacks, and how viciously she’d dealt with anyone who’d even thought of interfering with Nie Mingjue in any way. He was fairly sure he himself had only survived his second marriage on account of having such a charming son.
“Don’t worry about it,” he finally said, mostly because he wasn’t entirely sure how to explain – or if he even entirely understood. “Anyway, it’s nothing dangerous. Rather the contrary! Dragon pearls like this are given to baby dragons to protect them.”
Nie Mingjue frowned. “What feeds on baby dragons?”
“…I think it’s mostly to protect them from themselves,” Lao Nie said, feeling a little uncertain about it himself. “And if it’s not, I don’t think I want to know, to be perfectly honest. There’s fighting evil, which is only right, and then there’s suicide, which is a waste – a wise man should know how to judge the difference between them. Anyway, that wasn’t the point I was trying to make.”
“It wasn’t?”
“It wasn’t, and you aren’t allowed to start worrying about the fate of theoretical baby dragons – I forbid it.” Nie Mingjue scowled. He’d probably started worrying already. “My point was actually that a pearl like this is a remarkably powerful protective tool for cultivators – one of those things that can only be found by chance and not made. Keep this on you, and you’ll never have to fear your opponent in battle.”
Nie Mingjue looked thoughtful.
-
“What do you want to do with that pearl, anyway?” Lao Nie asked after they’d gotten home and split up just long enough to take a nice long relaxing bath and gobble down dinner. “Do you want to put it in the treasury?”
Nie Mingjue blinked twice, which for him was practically the same as looking terribly shifty-eyed.
“You already did something with it,” Lao Nie deduced. “Something that isn’t using it as intended.”
“Oh, no,” Nie Mingjue said, looking shocked at the mere suggestion. “I’m definitely using it as intended.”
Lao Nie looked him up and down. “You’re not wearing it.”
“Well, I wouldn’t use it. Protection from your opponents in proper battle – that seems like cheating!”
Lao Nie felt a slight headache coming on. People who said they wanted a good boy for a son had no idea what they were getting themselves into, he reflected. Why couldn’t he have birthed a complete rascal instead?
“All right,” he said, instead of saying any of that because at the end of the day, bewildering as he might be, Nie Mingjue was his son and he loved him more than anything. “So what did you do with it?”
“I gave it to Huaisang.”
Lao Nie blinked. He supposed that really was using it for its intended purpose – protecting babies from themselves – although he suspected the dragon lady had been thinking of Nie Mingjue as the baby.
“Although…”
Lao Nie raised his eyebrows.
“…I think he may have swallowed it.”
My boys, Lao Nie thought, and had to sit down and hold his ribs because he otherwise feared he might split his sides from laughing so hard. Only my boys.
206 notes · View notes
handsomelyhiddleston · 3 years ago
Text
The Nanny - Tom Hiddleston x Curvy Reader
“Papa!” India ran towards her father, Chris Hemsworth.
Hemsworth picked her up, looking around for whoever had the other two. When he spotted you, he waved and laughed seeing both boys clung to you. You had one on each hip. A big perk of being curvy is that it makes it a lot easier to tote the little ones around.
It was rare that him and his wife, Elsa, both had projects going on at the same time, but when it did happen, they had a close friend nanny the children near one of the projects. With the twins being a year old and able to be away from their mother for a short time, Elsa reluctantly took a month-long job where she would be doing quite a lot of traveling. Chris put her worries at ease and told her she had put her own career on hold quite a lot for their family. You had met the couple back when you nannied for their manager. When they had India, you helped them navigate having a child while working in Hollywood. When the twins arrived, you once again moved in with the family and helped smooth the hectic schedule involved in being a parent to three kiddos while working in such a high-demand and publicized job.
“India, I told you to wait for me” you gently scolded the young girl.
“…but I saw papa n unca Tom” she replied, hiding her face in her father’s neck.
“India, you know you need to listen to Y/n. She just wants you to be safe” Hemsworth said, rubbing her back with his hand.
“…m sorry” she said, peeking her face out and smiling at you.
“Thank you” you replied.
“You look like you’ve got your hands full” Tom said, a soft smile on his face as he looked at the two boys sitting on your hips. “I think we’re done for the day” he added, gaining the attention of Tristan, one of the twin boys.
Tristan reached out a hand, making grabby gestures towards Tom. “Looks like you’re about to have your hands full” you quipped, safely passing the 1 year old to Tom who happily took him into his arms.
“Hey, buddy” Tom said, smiling as the young boy gently played with the wig he was wearing. Tom was great with everyone’s kids. It kind of made you wonder why he hadn’t had any of his own.
Hemsworth spoke to India, bouncing her up and down. “Papa and uncle Tom need to go get out of our costumes and then we can all go home and eat. Does that sound okay?” Chris was talking to India, but he looked at you and Tom as well just wanting to confirm that this plan worked for everyone and making sure Tom knew he was welcome to join.
“Sounds wonderful” Tom replied.
“India, why don’t we go get dinner started for everybody. I could use some help.” You knew that India LOVED to help cook.
“Your papa takes a lot longer than me to get ready…” Tom teased, making Hemsworth laugh. “So why don’t you let me walk you back to the car with Y/n so he can get a head start?”
India started squirming, wanting her dad to put her down. “Make sure you hold uncle Tom’s hand the whole way.”
When you got back to the car, you put Sasha in the first child safety seat and turned to grab Tristan from Tom. “Thank you for walking them back with me”, you smiled up at your always generous friend.
“No need to thank me” he said, passing off the second boy. “You’re incredible with them, but I know it has to be a lot of work.”
Strapping Tristan into the second child safety seat, you replied. “You’re a natural with kids, Tom. You’re going to make a wonderful dad someday.”
Slightly blushing, he replied. “Well, I’ll take that as the highest compliment coming from you.”
Tom’s sincerity kind of stopped you in your tracks for a second. “I’ll take that as a compliment as well”, you failed at hiding the grin he’d put on your face. “India, say bye bye to uncle Tom. He needs to go get ready so him and papa can come home.”
The girl gave Tom a hug before reaching for you. “I’ll see you guys soon” Tom said, waiting to leave until you got the third child strapped in so he could open your door for you.
“Always a gentleman” you smiled at Tom who was still in full Loki garb.
As you climbed into the car, Tom said “A woman such as yourself deserves to be served by the gods.”
You felt your cheeks warm as you thanked him again. “Remind Chris that he promised he’d bring home ice cream for India.”
When you got to the house where you, the kids, and Chris were staying during filming you pulled into the garage and unloaded the kids. The two boys were in their safe gated area in the living room so they could play, and India was sat on the counter helping you tear apart lettuce for the salad.
“Good job, sweetie.” You said, finishing up the grilled chicken and squash. “Can you go wash your hands for dinner while I get the boys set up in their high-chairs?” you asked, setting India on the ground. “Make sure you use the bathroom downstairs. No stairs without an adult!” you called out. You continued making the salad at the counter
“Dinner smells wonderful” you heard, feeling a hand on your shoulder. You were startled, not knowing the guys had arrived home.
“Shit!” you yipped, turning and almost dropping the bowl in your hands.
Tom grabbed the bowl, trying to hold back laughter. “I’m so sorry” he laughed out, setting the bowl on the counter and wrapping his arms around you.
“You made me say a bad word” you replied, laughing into Tom’s chest. You wrapped your arms around him and leaned back against the counter for stability. Looking up at him you added, “No swearing in front of the children”.
“Well, I’m not the one that said it, darling” a smirk present on his otherwise serious face.
“You’re supposed to leave the mischief at work” you laughed, dropping your arms from around him and turning to finish the salad.
“What fun would that be?” he said quietly into your ear as he reached around you and snagged a vegetable out of the salad.
When you turned around, he was stepping over the child gate to grab one of the twins and get them set up at the table. You shook your head as if you could shake away the very inappropriate thoughts you were having about your friend.
You could hear Hemsworth laughing in the other room, India giggling along with him. “Well, are you going to tell me the secret?” he said. “No one else can know?” he questioned. India must have been trying to tell him something. “Well, they can’t hear you, just whisper it to me.” It got quiet for a moment. “Ah, I see. I’ll have to pay attention and see for myself.”
“Are you telling secrets?” Tom asked after grabbing the second twin and setting them up at the table.
“Mmhmm” you heard her say as you brought the platters full of food to the table.
“Do I get to know?” you asked, turning to grab the twin’s bowls since they weren’t eating adult food yet.
“Maybe” she answered before telling her dad she could get in her own chair. She was quite proud that she wasn’t in a high-chair anymore and she wanted to seat herself.
“Do you need help with anything else, darling?” Tom asked, following you back into the kitchen.
“Help me grab the cups of water?” you answered, handing him two full cups before grabbing your own and a small juice cup for India.
“Dinner was delicious” Hemsworth said, leaning back in his chair with his hands over his stomach.
“It truly was” Tom added, standing to gather the dishes.
“I’m glad” you replied, gathering the dishes Tom hadn’t grabbed. “You don’t have to clear the table.” You said, reaching for the last dish.
“Nonsense” he replied, grabbing your hand before you could grab the last dish. “You worked hard preparing this wonderful meal. The least I can do is help clean up.”
He wouldn’t let go of your hand until you conceded. “If you must” you said with a smile. “Thank you.”
You saw India crawl into her dad’s lap and whisper something to him. “I see” he answered, looking between you and Tom.
You shot him a look, letting him know you were suspicious of whatever they were talking about. Hemsworth shrugged, acting innocent.
After dishes were done and leftovers were put away, Chris put the twins to bed. You could hear him singing along with the giggles of the twin boys. “India, do you want to take a bath before bed or in the morning?”
“Tomorrow” she answered, crawling up the stairs to her room with you right on her heels.
“Tom, there’s a bottle of red wine already out on the counter if you want to grab a few glasses. I’ll be back down in a few.” You called down the stairs.
When you finished getting India dressed in her jammies and got a movie playing in her room, you headed back down the stairs. You could hear the guys talking in living room, but you couldn’t really make out what they were talking about. “You make it sound a lot easier than it is” you heard Tom say before you made it to the bottom of the stairs.
“All good?” Hemsworth asked, getting up to go say goodnight to his daughter.
“As per usual, she’s a dream. She’s watching Big Hero 6.” You answered, walking into the living room.
“Come sit” Tom said, holding out a glass of wine for you.
You grabbed the glass and sat in the spot next to Tom. “Thank you for pouring the wine” you said, taking a sip and sighing, laying back against the soft couch.
“Long day?” Tom asked.
“Not nearly as long as yours. I can’t imagine going non-stop all day like you guys do.” You answered, turning your head to face Tom as you took another sip of wine.
“Ridiculous” he said, tapping his glass against yours. “You take care of three tiny human beings that have all of the energy and attitude of their father”, he laughed. “I’d argue that your job is harder.”
“They’re great kids. The only reason this week has been a bit tiring is because the twins are teething. Sasha seems to be getting it worse, though” you explained.
“Poor thing” Tom said.
“I know. He’s been clung to my side all week. I’m surprised Chris got him to sleep, actually. He’s been fussy at bedtime and usually ends up passing out in my arms.” You felt Tom’s arm slip from the back of the couch to your shoulders.
“Well, enjoy the break” he said, pulling you to lean into his side a bit. “Though I can’t blame him for wanting to sleep in your arms.”
You looked up at Tom. “You’ve been awfully complimentary today.”
“I’m just saying, you’ve got a wonderfully voluptuous figure, darling.” He cleared his throat. “I imagine anyone that gets to fall asleep in your embrace is going to sleep well.”
“Well, if I thought you were interested, I might just tell you to find out for yourself.” You could hear Hemsworth coming down the stairs.
“Tom, I got the spare room all set up for you so we can ride into work tomorrow. No point in going to your place since we both have to be in the make-up trailer at 7 tomorrow anyways.” Chris said, laying out on the couch across from the two of you after grabbing his wine glass. “Y/n, I checked Sasha. He’s still asleep.”
“I’m glad. Hopefully his teeth aren’t hurting him as much.” You answered.
Chris looked at how you and Tom were sat and made eye contact with Tom, raising his eyebrows and looking between the two of you. “Anything you two want to tell me?” He asked, grinning like a little kid.
“Whatever do you mean?” Tom smirked, drinking the last of his wine. “Would you like more wine, Y/n?”
“Yes, actually. Thank you.” You sipped the last of your wine, handing the glass to Tom. When he got up, you watched him walk away with a smile on your face.
When he was out of earshot, Hemsworth imitated him. “Oh, whatever do you mean?” He laughed, looking at you and waiting for some sort of response.
“I have no idea what’s gotten into him” you shrugged, unable to keep the smile from your face.
“I’d wager a bet that I know what’s gotten into him.” He looked you up and down, sipping his wine, as if to say ‘duh!’ You’d become practically family to Chris and Elsa, and unbeknownst to you they’ve always thought you and Tom would make a great pair.
“Then why now?” you asked.
Chris shrugged. “India’s big secret earlier was that she thinks uncle Tom over there thinks you’re pretty because he looks at you like I look at her mom.”
Your face softened, thinking that was the cutest damn thing you’d ever heard. “Your daughter is officially my favorite of your children. You aren’t allowed to tell the boys. Or their mother.”
Chris laughed. “But seriously…give it a chance. Trust that I know something you don’t.” He was trying to help without breaking Tom’s confidence.  
You could hear Tom walking back. You whispered, “I didn’t know I had a chance!”
“Here you go, darling.” Tom sat back down, opening his arms so you could resume your earlier position.
“Thank you” you answered, snuggling further into Tom.
The conversation went back to normal after Tom came back. The guys talked a bit about what they would be filming tomorrow, and they answered questions as you had them. Chris talked about the fact that Elsa would be coming to visit for a few days since Tom and him had two days off from filming after tomorrow.
“Y/n, Elsa will be here for 2 nights, 3 days and she wanted to make sure you knew that you didn’t need to work that whole time. You’re obviously more than welcome stay with us and keep your schedule, but she wanted you to know you could make plans.” Chris explained, knowing that you usually stayed and helped even when one of the parents was going to be around full time for a while.
“I don’t think I have any plans to make, but I’ll keep it in mind” you answered.
As the night wound down, you could feel yourself drifting off while cuddled up next to Tom. “I think I’m going to call it a night.”
“It is getting quite late” Tom responded, his hand running up and down your arm.
“Thank you two for a nice kid free night” you laughed, pulling yourself from Tom’s embrace to stand up.
Tom watched as you slightly adjusted your clothes, his eyes gazing over your body as you stretched. “The thanks should go to you, love.” He stood, grabbing the three wine glasses so that they could be rinsed in the kitchen.
“You have to stop giving me all the credit” you replied, grabbing the glasses from Tom. You leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before taking the glasses to the kitchen.
When you were far enough away, Chris started teasing Tom. “Oh, whatever do you mean?” he repeated from earlier.
Tom threw a pillow at him, leaving the living room to find you in the kitchen. “I don’t want to startle you again” he spoke before he entered the kitchen, peeking around the corner with his hands raised.
“I didn’t even know you guys were home earlier” you laughed. Your hands were in a sink full of water, rinsing the wine glasses.
“I just wanted to come and say goodnight.” Tom walked up behind you, placing his hands gently on your hips and kissing your cheek from over your shoulder. “I hope you get some well-deserved rest.”
“You too” you answered, but he was already walking away when you turned to look at him.
When you got in your room, you felt like you were floating. Today felt crazy. Sure, you and Tom had been fast friends from the start. You’d certainly grown close, but today felt like something entirely different.
“Chris said to trust him.” You stripped out of your clothes and took the time to decompress in the shower. You towel dried your hair, threw on a pair of short spandex shorts and a baggy t shirt, and crawled into bed.
You were woken up by the baby monitor in your room. “Oh, Sasha.” You crawled out of bed and quietly made your way down the hallway. “Come here, sweetheart.” You picked Sasha up and he threw his arms around your neck. You walked back and forth, bouncing him in your arms.
“Is everything alright?” You heard Tom quietly ask from the doorway.
“I’m so sorry if he woke you” you said, feeling bad that they had a full day of shooting tomorrow.
“Don’t be” he replied, walking into the room and rubbing Sasha’s back comfortingly. “I take it his teething woke him up?”
“Must have.” You answered. “I’ll get him back to sleep if I take him to my room.” You turned to check on Tristan and he was standing up in his crib with tears running down his face.
“I’ll grab him” Tom said, moving to pick the boy up out of his crib and holding him to his chest. “What do you normally do when they both wake up?”
You couldn’t help but smile at how cute Tom was in his pajamas and glasses. “I’d take them back to my room with me. They usually fall asleep pretty quickly after that.”
“Would you like some company?” Tom asked, kind of in awe of how easily you handled the craziness of taking care of three very young children.
“I’d love some” you answered, turning and walking to your bedroom. Holding Sasha to your chest with one arm, you pulled back the blanket and crawled into your bed. You were sat up, just a bit, with the already half-asleep boy draped across your front with his head snuggled into your chest.
Tom followed suit with Tristan draped across his much leaner figure. “Come here” he said, lifting his arm so you could tuck the two of you against Tom’s side.
“I hope you aren’t too tired tomorrow” you said, feeling yourself already drifting off to sleep.
“Don’t worry about it, darling. Get some sleep.” Tom pressed a kiss to the top of your head before dozing off, himself.
You woke up to Hemsworth trying to wake Tom with the biggest grin on his face. “Brother, we need to leave in a half hour.”
Both boys were still passed out on top of the two of you. You rolled out of bed, still holding Sasha. “Let me go put Sasha in his crib and I’ll be back for Tristan.” You walked to the boy’s room and laid him down in his crib. Before you could even turn towards the door, Tom walked through with Tristan. “Good morning” you whispered.
Tom set the boy down in his crib and gestured that the two of you leave so you wouldn’t wake them back up. “Good morning, beautiful.” Tom gently closed the boy’s door and pulled you to him in a long, lazy hug.
“You’re not allowed to be charming this early in the morning.” You laughed against his chest.
“Nonsense” he said, letting his hands slowly slide to rest on your ass. “If I’m not allowed to be charming then you’re not allowed to be irresistible.”
“That road goes two ways” you said, sliding your hands under the back of his shirt and grinning up at him.
“Oh, does it?” Tom replied, dipping down to kiss your cheek before whispering “I think you should stay at mine while Elsa is here.”
“Tom!” Hemsworth whisper-yelled down the hall. “Get your hands off my nanny’s ass and get ready for work.”
You both tried to quiet your laughter as not to wake the boys back up.
“Consider it?” Tom said, releasing you and walking towards Chris to get changed and on their way.
You quickly walked to your room to brush your teeth and wash your face. You threw on a more modest pair of shorts and quickly put your bra on so you could go make the guys some coffee for the road.
Once in the kitchen, you brewed some coffee and got two travel mugs ready. You grabbed a piece of fruit and a protein bar for each of them before Tom walked in. “I hope you got enough rest”
“Actually, I feel incredible.” He said, eyeing the coffee and breakfast you’d set up for him and Chris. “I don’t think it has anything to do with rest, though, if I’m being entirely honest.”
“It must be something in the air” you blushed, ducking your head.
Tom took a step towards you. “At this point, I don’t think I could spend all day trying to pay attention to my lines and cues and such if I’m preoccupied with wondering whether or not I’ve made my feelings clear.”
You looked up at Tom, realizing this is the first time you’ve ever seen him look nervous. “Was your invitation serious?” you asked, filling the gap between you and sliding your arms around his neck.
“Very” he answered, holding you tight against him.
“Then, yes” you answered, going onto your tippy toes and pressing your lips together in a slow, gentle kiss.
“Brilliant” he breathed out, dipping back down to connect your lips once again.
--------------
Part 2? Let me know! (I haven’t edited this so I apologize if there are errors. I’m too sleepy.)
292 notes · View notes
whimsicallyreading · 3 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
For Rowaelin Month day 17
 “A sick day”
CW- PTSD, mentions of violence
Aelin considered herself a fortunate person.
She has survived genocide, her family's murders, losing loved ones, slavery, torture, and the Great War. Now she is a queen, a mother, a beloved Mate.
Her life had changed since those bleak days where she'd wondered if she would ever escape captivity—the days when Aelin didn't know if she would ever be free or find love again. Every morning she woke up curled into Rowan's side, and while she drank her morning tea, Aelin could count on her young daughter snuggling into her lap.
Yes, she was swamped most days, but that was normal for a queen. But even the moments between boring meetings brimmed with life and laughter. Rowan's hand on her thigh beneath the table. Fenrys' theatrics when conversation spiraled off-topic. And even the hardened lords thought it was hilarious when their three-year-old princess barged into councils and demanded her mother's attention.
Her family gathered for dinners at the end of every day. Aelin's little family, Fenrys, Emrys, and Malakai were the regular attendees. Aedion, Lysandra, Elide, and Lorcan joined when they were present. It was a time reserved for family only, and it was by far Aelin's favorite part of the day.
Aelin had a good life now. Her family was growing, and her country thrived beneath her rule.
So it always took her by surprise when a bad day came.
She had woken up fine. Delly had slammed open the chamber door with a gust of wind and squirmed herself between her and Rowan in the early morning. Usually, Aelin treasured the moments when her daughter joined them, but being pregnant again had taken a toll on her sleep.
Rowan tried to stop their child before she entirely collapsed onto Aelin but was a moment too slow. Delly flopped onto her mother's chest in a disarray of wrinkled nightgown and golden curls. Soft sobs were sputtering out of the tiny figure.
I'm sorry. Rowan whispered into her thoughts. He knew how hard pregnancy was on her and took his mate's comfort very seriously. It troubled him that their toddling daughter woke Aelin so abruptly.
Aelin blinks the sleep from her eyes and sends him a happy smile to assure him everything is fine.
"What's wrong, Dell?" Aelin soothes a hand up her baby's quaking form.
Adelia sniffles harder, unable to talk through the tears. She'd started to have bad dreams in recent weeks, but never had she been so inconsolable.
Aelin shifts as Adelia's arms tighten uncomfortably around her bump. Rowan sees her discomfort and reaches around to pull Dell to him instead, but it is met with resistance.
"No," Adelia finally wails. "Mama. I want Mama."
Rowan frowns. Adelia was a daddy's girl to the bone, and this was the first time she'd ever refused to go to him. Their daughter squeezes harder and burrows her face into Aelin's torso.
"Dell," Rowan leans next to her and whispers, a cool breeze brushing against her flushed cheek. "What's wrong little love?"
Adelia lifts her head, and Aelin's heart contracts painfully. Her cheeks are red and swollen from the intensity of her crying, little sobs still stumbling from her chest as Rowan settles her down enough to speak.
"Mama was gone. She was hurt, and she couldn't see me." Dell sniffles, her green eyes glassy. "Can you see me, Mama?"
Aelin tugs her daughter in closer, unable to stand the sight of her so sad. "Yes, of course, I can. I'm right here."
"You were in a box. She wouldn't let me see you," Adelia whimpers in a small voice. "She told me she was gonna keep you. I don't want you to go, Mama."
Aelin's face blanches. It wasn't possible. Her little baby couldn't possibly have seen what was coming to her mind. She looks at Rowan, and his face is pinched with worry.
"It's not real, Dell." Rowan uses a thumb to wipe the tears off her cheek.
Adelia flinches. "Uncle Ress told me it was. He told me Mama had got stollen and put into a box by the bad lady and that she should have stayed there."
Aelin's heart stops. Nausea crawls up her throat, and Rowan tugs Adelia away just in time for her to crawl out of bed and gag into a potted plant. The sickness grips Aelin, the shudders in her arms only growing worse with her daughter's mumbled cries.
"Daddy, I want Mama to stay here." Rowan hushes her and murmurs quiet reassurances. "Don't let her get stollen."
Ress had said that? In front of her daughter? Aelin tries to close her eyes against the visions creeping into her mind. The places her scars used to be ache, and her hands pulse with the remembered pain of reconstruction.
The baby in her womb squirms under its mother's stress, and Aelin throws up again.
She should have stayed there.
Cairn brings the hammer down onto her frail knees, the ringing of cracking bone splits the air.
She should have stayed there.
Aelin opens her eyes to endless darkness. Sweet smoke wafts through invisible holes and sends her to sleep- leaving her mind vulnerable to Maeve's manipulations.
She should have stayed there.
More and more memories swarm behind her eyelids until a pair of grounding arms wrap around her shoulders.
"Fireheart, you are home. You are safe. Can you breathe with me?" Rowan sighs loudly behind her shoulder, and Aelin tries to force her own breath out.
Breathing in is harder, but Rowan's scent fills her nose and loosens the binds on her lungs. Soon, Aelin is doing the exercises independently, and Rowan nuzzles his face into her neck. His hands snake under her bump and lift some of the pressure, easing more of her tension.
"There you are," Rowan kisses her cheek as Aelin comes back around. "Are you okay?"
Aelin shakes her head and sinks into his arms. "Can you take me back to bed?"
Her legs feel like jelly, and her stomach is weak from turning. Rowan lifts her with ease. His arms are warm, and he murmurs sweet nothings into her ear as he carries his mate back to their bed.
"Adelia?" Aelin looks around for their daughter.
Rowan pulls back the duvet and reveals the sleepy from nestled right into the middle of the pillows. "She fell back asleep quickly."
"I can't believe Ress told her those things," Aelin can feel a tear slipping down her face. Ress had never forgiven her for her days as Celaena. Darrow had grown to accept her, but Ress never warmed up to having Aelin as his queen despite her efforts.
She hadn't realized the extent his hatred went.
Rowan scowls as he lays Aelin down next to their daughter. "Ress is young and foolish. I have forgiven a lot of his hostility and ignored most of his juvenile antics, but Aelin, I can't forgive this."
"He should never have said those things to Dell." Ress's words linger in her head. She tried to do right by her title and live up to her parent's legacy. Aelin took a lot of pride in listening to the demands of her people and tending to their problems personally. But the odds of Ress being the only one to feel this way are slim. Did they wish she'd never returned? Was she arrogant to take the crown just because it was her inheritance? She'd never had the formal training as ruler and relied a lot on Rowan to help manage foreign affairs. Despite the loss of her fire, many still feared her and considered her a murderer. No matter how hard she tried, Aelin's history as Adarlan's Assassin proceeded her.
Tears burn Aelin's eyes, and Rowan's scowl deepens. "He should have never spoken of you like that at all."
Aelin shakes her head, "It's his right to think what he wants. Maybe he has a point."
"No." Rowan growls, and Dell flinches in her sleep. Taking a deep breath, Rowan softens his voice. "He's wrong, Aelin. Ress was wrong to scare Dell, and he has no right to demean everything you've sacrificed. You've suffered for your people."
"I closed the lock because I had to Rowan," Aelin argues. "That doesn't automatically make me a good queen. What if I'm failing?"
Rowan pulls their duvet up to Aelin's chin, and Dell instinctively snuggles to her mother's side. Her daughter was a leach for warmth, and Aelin could feel her remaining flames writhing in her veins agitated.
"You are a wonderful ruler, Fireheart." Rowan bends down and kisses her lips reverently. "I've met my fair share of emperors, kings, and queens. None of them have given up so much to better the lives of their people. They care for you in return."
Rowan steps away from the bed, and Aelin makes a displeased noise. "Where are you going so early in the morning."
"I'm awake now. I feel like a flight through Oakwald. Go to sleep, and when you wake up, I'll bring my females breakfast," Rowan pulls on a plain white tunic. "Sleep, love. You both need your rest."
Rowan can read her too well. Aelin can feel her eyes drooping despite how much she wants to deny it. "Very well, but there better be tea and pastries."
As Aelin drifts back to sleep, she swears that a mischievous smile passes across her mate's face.
~~~
"Aelin," Maeve twirls a lock of blonde hair in her fingers. "Where are the keys?"
Cairn twists the blade in her thigh again, and Aelin screams, "screw yourself."
Aelin writhes beneath the pain and the dark queen's gaze. Her torturer goes to twist the blade again, but Maeve holds up a hand. "Wait. There is a smarter way to go about this."
"I won't tell you anything," Aelin gasps, the blood seeping from her thigh pools onto the table. "There is nothing you can do."
"Not even to spare the princess?" Maeve smiles as the cell door opens. Connall walks into the room, a squirming girl in his arms.
"Let me go," the girl screams, and the air in the room turns frigid. Her blonde hair whips around as she twists and fights. The little girl's head turns, and she freezes when she catches sight of Aelin. "Mama?"
"Adelia?" Aelin asks, confused. "You can't be here. You aren't supposed to be here." With renewed energy, Aelin thrashes against her bonds and bares her teeth at Maeve.
Maeve takes Adelia from Connall and strokes her hair. "Such a pretty one."
"This isn't real," Aelin hisses. "I wasn't pregnant when you took me. Adelia was born in Terresan."
Maeve hums a sympathetic note, "It seems you're confused." Aelin fights as the dark queen sits with a frozen Adelia in her lap. "Begin again, Cairn."
A hot iron is lain against Aelin's neck, and Adelia's screams rattle the stone chamber.
~~~
Aelin wakes with a gasp. Her chest is seizing in uncontrollable fits, and little hands cup the sides of her face.
"Mama?" Adelia's concerned face hovers over Aelin's. "Why are you crying?"
Relief washes over her at the sight of her daughter, safe and sound. She tries to take deeper breaths, but her body fights against her. The baby in her womb squirms uncomfortably. Aelin feels guilt that they are so subject to her moods. She tries to open her mouth to speak, consol her frightened daughter, but Aelin can't get any words out.
"Daddy!" Dell screams, frightened tears gathering in the corner of her eyes.
Rowan bursts through the door, "Dell?"
Adelia sniffles and kisses Aelin's face sadly, "Daddy, what's wrong with Mama?"
Aelin grabs at her chest, trying to ease the tightness there. She was scaring her daughter. What kind of mother would do that? Rowan sits beside her, and a cool wind goes up her nose and fills her lungs.
"Fireheart," Rowan lifts Adelia and sits beside her. "Is this a sick day?"
It was the code they'd come up with for the days when the past came back to haunt them. When the turmoil in their mind forces their bodies to rebel, and they can't seem to put on their usual facades. It used to shame Aelin, the days she couldn't rise from bed and do her duty. But her mate's unwavering love soon cracked that lie and eased her burden. Rowan had convincing arguments. Aelin's people needed their queen at her best, and on sick days, she wasn't able to give that to them. Their court was strong. They wouldn't allow Terresan to fall while she recovered. Aelin deserved time to heal.
Rowan must have been able to tell that she wouldn't be able to settle herself this time as his winds continued their push and pull in her chest. "Yes," she rasps dejectedly.
Dell buries her face into Rowan's shoulder. Her mate rests a hand on the side of her face and soothes her cheek. "To whatever end, Aelin. We will get through this just as we do everything else."
Rowan kisses the side of Dell's face. "Little love, do you think you can go to the kitchens and have someone bring Mama tea?"
That fae instinct to fuss rears its head in their child. Adelia perks up at the opportunity to do something useful. "Yes!"
Rowan sets her on the floor, and she takes off in a blur of untamed hair and swishing skirts. They wince as a gust of wind slams the doors of their chambers against the wall.
"She's a handful," Rowan talks, aware of the soothing effect his voice has on her. "But we always knew our children would be. I can't wait to see what kind of chaos our son brings into our lives."
Aelin wraps her arms around him as the remnants of her dreams finally fade away. "You think it's a boy?"
"I know so," Rowan pinches her side, and Aelin smiles. He'd also been confident that their first child would be a girl. His smugness after Adelia's birth was unbearable.
"Rowan," Aelin whispers. "Can we just lay here today?"
"I could never deny you anything," Rowan leans against their headboard and kicks off his shoes. "You don't need to ask, Aelin. It's okay to take time for yourself."
"What if I'm just proving Ress right?" The insecurity slips from her lips before she can stop them. "What if there is someone more capable?"
"Ress won't be a problem anymore," Rowan rests a hand against her bump, and the baby withing kicks at it, bringing a smile to his face.
Aelin narrows her eyes, "What have you done?"
"Nothing that anyone will blame me for," Rowan assures. "He would be in a lot more trouble if the rest of the court learned what he said in front of Dell. Ress should be grateful I didn't do a lot worse."
Aelin sighs, "I don't understand why I can't just let it all go. Why do I allow myself to be so haunted?"
"It's not that simple," Rowan shakes his head. "I'm hundreds of years old, and no matter how many years pass, there are things from my past that haven't healed. The mind is different from the body, and sometimes it takes longer for it to recover. There is nothing wrong with that. You gave up everything for the people you loved."
"Because I had to," Aelin contradicts.
A hardness comes over Rowan, "because no one else could."
Rowan rolls over her body into a plank and looks deep into her eyes. "No one else that day would have made the same sacrifices out of love. Not even me. I was too selfish to let you go. You gave up everything, and by the strength in your soul, you came home to me. In all my decades, I have never met someone so remarkable, and I never will again. Take as many years as you need to recover, Aelin. This world owes a debt to you, and I will make sure it pays. You deserve every happiness."
His hand threads through one of hers and drags it up to rest on the bump between them.
Happiness.
Dell darts back into their room, a cup of tea sloshing in her hands as she runs. "Daddy, I put extra sugar in it. Uncle Fen is coming with more cups, but I made this one special."
Rowan pulls away from her, and the laughter on his face is contagious.  
Aelin smiles and accepts the tea from Dell's hands. She even manages a few sips without cringing from the sweetness. Fenrys follows behind her shortly and sets a fresh cup covertly on her bedside table.
There may be hard days, Aelin realizes as her family gathers around her, but the love they showed her every day made it all worth it.
159 notes · View notes
watermelonlipstick · 4 years ago
Text
Dean’s Jeans 2
What better day to post a sweet little family oneshot than Mother’s Day? This is the same setup as Dean’s Jeans, just a different late summer afternoon on your cul-de-sac with Dean, Sam, your daughters, and their cousin DJ. I already have bare-bones drafts of a few other installments for these cuties, especially considering this one got a little deeper than I had intended. Stay tuned!
Title: Dean’s Jeans 2
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Word Count: 5561
Summary: Spending the afternoon working on the driveway with Dean, Sam, your daughters, and nephew.
Warnings: fluff, some family angst, minor injury, little dollop of smut at the end
Tumblr media
           It was a big day for driveways and garages.
           You had been sitting in the apron of Sam’s drawing loopy pastel paths with DJ and your eldest daughter for your youngest to roll her cousin’s old matchbox cars down, watching adoringly as everyone’s palms and knees got covered in chalk dust. When the concrete was relatively full and the older two started getting a little antsy, you decided to try to stave off any bored bickering ahead of time.
           “Babe, is our garage unlocked?” you called over to Dean where he was trying to snake an extension cord out of Sam’s front door and down the porch.
           “Should be. Why, what’s up?”
           “I thought maybe DJ could take Picasso here over to the park to break in her new bike.” You turned to your nephew, sitting with his arms resting on his knees. He was just barely starting to fill out around the delicate Winchester features that had made him such an angelic looking child, the angle of his jaw seeming to sharpen every day, growing rapidly though you might still be able to throw him over your shoulder in a pinch. Hopefully it was a sign that he wasn’t destined for the late puberty you knew had frustrated Sam so much when he was younger; at least he could have one gift from his other parent, lost otherwise to the wind without as much as a periodic birthday card. Not the time for that thought, you reminded yourself, refocusing on the child’s glossy hair, carbon copy of his father’s with sun-lightened tips this late into summer. Dean would’ve taken him to get a haircut about a month ago, but as you and Sam both reminded him: not his hair, not his kid. It made you smile and likely made Sam proud that at his age, where so many kids were rebelling against their parents, DJ didn’t mind looking exactly like his dad. Somehow you had a hard time believing Sam would want to rush that process of teenage rebellion along. “What do you think, Deej?”
           Your elder daughter squealed and threw her arms around his neck, nearly tackling him onto the driveway. “Please please? Maybe Sarah and Davey can come too.” Her inclusion of the Fiore siblings into the mix was smart. They lived between your cul de sac and the park and were pretty similar in age to DJ and your older daughter. You suspected she thought on some level that DJ was on the cusp of being too cool to hang out with his baby cousin, but hanging out with the Fiores as a group gave them a little more social grace. Hopefully she’d realize, as you had, that DJ absolutely adored her and would likely rather catch some flack from his peers than drift apart.
           “Yeah but I’m not carrying your bike up the hill if your legs get tired,” he grinned at his cousin, who immediately took off across the street to get her bike from the garage.
           Sam and Dean had to move their whole setup from in front of Sam’s garage door so DJ could get his own bike out, the step ladder, extension cord, and electric drill going into the lawn next to the rest of their project, the basketball hoop. He almost got to the end of the driveway, swinging his leg over the seat, before Sam stopped him. “Nice try. Helmet, please,” he called out after his son, who reluctantly dropped the mountain bike onto the pavement and trudged back into the garage to pull a sticker-covered helmet out of a box and throw it on his head. By the time he made it into the street his cousin had done the same, yelling out over her shoulder for you to Mommypleaseclosethegaragethankyou as she tried to pump petite legs to keep up.
           You were thankful that your youngest seemed to be fully engrossed in the chalk patterns on the driveway and hadn’t seemed to notice the other kids’ leaving, not interested in having an argument about whether she was too little or not to go with them alone. Trusting the older kids or not, she was small and curious in a way that led to her sometimes running off to explore, and you didn’t want to add that into the mix. After a while, she picked up the green again, moving up the driveway to draw a picture of a dragon and immediately swipe hair out of her face, covering it with fluorescent dust. She got to her feet, and the amount of colorful powder on her made you beyond thankful that it was Dean’s turn to give her a bath that night. Crossing the driveway in a few skittering steps, she wrapped herself around Dean’s legs, practically leaving a silhouette imprint of herself on his jeans as he ruffled her hair. The way they had worn out and lost much of their dye over the years highlighted the contrast.
           “Daddy, come look! It’s a dragon!”
           Dean and Sam exchanged a smirk and Dean winked at you. “A dragon? Sounds scary.”
           “No, he’s a nice dragon,” she insisted, grabbing his hand and dragging him down the driveway, leaving Sam to drill holes into the wood above his garage door.
           “A nice dragon, huh? What’s his name?” Dean asked, grinning as he let her lead him.
           “Maurice,” she said, so matter of fact it made you laugh out loud. Sam did too, pulling the drill out of the wall to keep from wiggling the holes. “Can you do the fire?”
           “’Course I can, princess. How big are we talking?” He eased down to sit cross-legged next to Maurice The Dragon, accepting when you offered him yellow and orange sticks of chalk. You leaned back in the afternoon sun with a lap full of matchbox cars listening to the radio Sam had brought out to the porch, the chalk scratching on the concrete, and the rhythmic drilling of holes into siding for a few minutes.
           “Dean?” Sam asked, backing down the step ladder.
           “Got it,” he answered, putting a little flair on a lick of fire that went around Maurice’s nose and handing your daughter the chalk. “I need to help Uncle Sammy for a minute but I can come right back, sound fair? Your mom is better at scales anyway.” The girl seemed to consider it for a second then pouted her lips out in agreement, tilting her head to the side just like her dad did all the time. Dean got up creakily and brushed off his hands on his back pockets, the orange joining the other stains like an abstract painting.
           “You guys need any help?” you called over to Sam, who was trying to stabilize the hoop with long arms and struggling a little bit to keep it balanced in the light wind, powerful muscles rippling in his forearms and impressing upon you how heavy it must truly be if even he was having trouble with it.
           “Actually, yeah, that would be great,” he chuckled, jerking his chin to Dean to suggest his brother help him hold it up. He did, grabbing one side and having to reach up to his tip toes to match Sam’s stretch.  They were both standing on a kind of bastardized stool Dean had thrown together for this purpose, a few planks of wood balanced on some huge cinderblocks that had been in the garden holding up one of Sam’s compost setups. “It’s just those 12 screws, holes should already be lined up.”
           You climbed up on the ladder with the drill, having to crane to reach over even with the added height. When the last was in, the Winchesters carefully removed their hands. Seeing that it didn’t immediately fall, Dean grabbed the bottom corner and tried his best to rattle it to no avail. “Good job, babe,” he said, lightly smacking your ass as you backed down the ladder.
           “Watch out,” Sam said over your shoulder, and you saw him walking backwards a handful of steps down the driveway, being cautious to avoid his niece and her drawings.
           “Dude, there’s no way you can—” Dean started, cut off by Sam taking a running jump and leaping into the air, catching the rim of the hoop like nothing and doing a baby pull-up on the metal.
           “Can what?” Sam cackled, punching Dean’s arm playfully as he dropped to the pavement. “Don’t be jealous, old man.”
           “Jealous of Sasquatch? You can practically reach it standing, Lurch.”
           “Yeah, okay. Let me know when you can get up there without a stool and a trampoline.”
           You were giggling as Sam and Dean started putting all their tools way when DJ’s bike came flying around the corner. Neither he nor his cousin were wearing helmets, and she was wrapped around his chest like a novelty monkey backpack, her legs circling his waist and her arms clinging to his neck. He had to arch around her to see, but you could tell from the half-block length away that he was saying something to her. By the time they got close enough to get reprimanded for the lack of helmets, or for one of their dads to ask where the other bike was, you could hear the crying.
           Sam crossed over to his son in long, purposeful strides, holding his handlebars so he could dismount without letting go of your daughter. “What happened?” he asked, taking the girl from DJ’s arms and smoothing her hair back with a soothing palm. As he turned, you could see the blood trickling down her raw knees and elbows.
           DJ was visibly rattled, trying hard to calm his breathing down and tensing his bottom lip when it began to quiver. “Davey and I went down that big hill and, she—she was going too fast, and, um, she fell—I, I told her we could practice later but these guys were saying only babies couldn’t do it, I swear I didn’t know she would—” and then his voice broke, fat tears finally breaking through and crashing down his face. Sam nodded to you and Dean, murmuring some comforting things to your eldest as he carried her up the porch steps into his house. At the exact same time as if practiced—that same rapid, implicit communication they’d had on hunts now used to coordinate hugging their children in tandem, you thought to yourself—Dean wrapped his nephew up in a big bear hug, cradling the boy’s head and sweeping his hand up and down his back.
           “Hey, come on, you’re okay. She’s okay, she’s just shaken up, kid. Shhh shhh shhh, hey, come on, deep breaths. You’re okay,” he hummed into DJ’s hair. He gave you a tight nod over the kid’s shoulder to keep drawing with your daughter. Only a few steps away, you could still hear him as he continued. “I’m so proud of you, Deej. Got her all the way home on your bike, that’s pretty badass.” He waited for a few moments of silence until his nephew caught his breath a little. “Probably scared you, right?” he asked, his voice low and calm as DJ nodded through tears into the growing wet spot on his uncle’s chest. “That’s okay, chief, I would’ve been freaked too.”
           You noticed he was rocking a little, almost like he did when he was trying to get the girls to sleep as babies, and it really emphasized the way that no matter how wise DJ seemed or whatever signs of puberty he might be showing, he was still a child, still the same baby you’d fallen in love with when Sam had gotten that call however many years ago. It took a few more minutes for the crying to subside to hiccupping breaths and seeming to sense that the moment had passed in some way, your baby girl grabbed your hand gently. “Mommy, is DJ okay?”
           “Yeah, sweetie. He was just scared for a minute.”
           “That’s why he needs a hug?”
           “Exactly. Everybody needs hugs sometimes.” Just as she had before when considering your ability to draw cartoon scales on a dragon named Maurice, she tilted her head and pouted in agreement. When you realized what she was about to do next you almost had to wipe a quick tear away yourself, watching her get up to hug DJ and sandwich him between herself and Dean.
           “It’s okay, DJ,” she whispered, the high tender pitch of her voice like one of those unsettlingly extreme medieval harmonies with her dad’s but so much sweeter, the bright welcome sting of lemon juice in a dense poundcake.
           A moment later, Sam came out onto the porch with his eldest niece. One of her knees was wrapped in gauze but the other and both elbows had what looked from the driveway like a collage of Spiderman band aids. Sam appeared to have a matching one on his forehead, and both of them were giggling, though her eyes still looked a little puffy and red.
           Dean looked up and turned DJ to see both of them, cradling the back of DJ’s head in one palm. “See? She’s okay, just needed a couple band aids.”
           Sam winked at his brother as he walked over and patted his son on the back, taking the band aid off his forehead as he went. “Buddy, we’re going to go grab the bike and your helmets. Is there anything else you think you left at the park?”
           His son shook his head up at his dad and leaned back from Dean’s embrace to rub his eyes. “Are you mad at me?” he croaked.
           “Mad at you? Why would I be mad at you?” Sam asked, crouching down to a squat to look up at DJ. You had noticed he tended to do this in sensitive moments with all the children, trying his best to seem less looming. The first time you’d identified it, it made you a little sick to your stomach, realizing it likely wasn’t part of how inherently good he was with kids but because he knew what it was like to have an angry man towering over you. Thinking of it now had the same effect, especially compounded by the emphasis Dean had put on telling DJ he was proud of him even if his daughter had gotten hurt, that he too knew a protective kid was still just a kid.
           DJ sniffled hard once more, finally able to take a truly deep breath. “I didn’t wear my helmet home because I couldn’t see arou—”
           “Aw, DJ. No way am I mad at you.” Sam hugged his son and stood up, planting a kiss on his forehead. “I’m proud of you for getting both of you guys home safe. That was really smart, to get her on the bike with you like that.” You caught DJ’s tiny smile of pride at his father’s praise, watched it deepen a touch as Sam kissed his hair again. “So just the helmets and the bike?”
           He nodded and rubbed his eyes before peeking around Sam a little bit to see your daughter. “You’re really okay?” he asked, as though he didn’t trust the adults to be telling him the truth and would have to ascertain her safety for himself. You wondered if Sam and Dean would find that nice or insulting, that ultra-fierce, trust-but-verify loyalty.
           She nodded sort of sheepishly. “Sorry I didn’t listen about the hill, DJ.”
           “It’s okay.”
           The moment seemed a bit heavy for a half-second before Sam wrapped a big hand around your daughter’s shoulder with a reassuring smile. “Let’s go find that bike.”
           After helping Dean get his wheels back inside, DJ went up to his room. You had to resist the urge to follow him, cuddle up with him like you used to when he was small enough to tuck into your lap. If he wanted to be alone, he was old enough to decide that for himself. Dean put the rest of the tools and things from putting up the basketball hoop away and walked over to you where you were laying on the ground so your youngest daughter could trace your body with chalk.
           “I think we need a pick-me-up around here. How do you feel about i-c-e-c-r-e-a-m for dinner?”
           You smiled, knowing you only had a bit longer of these spelling secrets left as your baby got closer and closer to proficient reading age. “Works for me. I think we have 2 or 3 kinds in the garage freezer.”
           He smirked down at you. “Can you bring him over in about 15 minutes? They should be back by then.”
           You tossed him a thumbs up and watched him walk across the street, the way the denim draped around his bowed legs as he went.
           It was only five or six minutes later when Sam came up to the driveway, jogging alongside your daughter with DJ’s helmet in his hand. Of course Sam would know that she needed to get back on that bike right away, and of course he’d come up with something to make her laugh all the way home, even if that meant he had to run the entire distance on a late summer afternoon. He was slightly out of breath when he helped her dismount in the driveway.
           “My kid okay?” he asked, taking the other helmet so your daughter could go back to what was becoming a pretty spectacular chalk surrealist piece spanning the driveway.
           “He’s in his room, I think he will be. Your brother’s got a very Dean style plan for dinner in a few minutes if you’re hungry.”
           Sam looked down at his watch. “Yikes, I didn’t realize we were even close to dinnertime. Let me go wash my hands and grab DJ then we can go over together?”
           “Sounds perfect to me. And hey—Sam? Make sure he knows everyone thinks he did the right thing.”
           He nodded, and you watched his Adam’s apple jump in his throat as he swallowed hard. Sam reached down and squeezed your hand, saying thank you without reopening the situation in front of the girls.
           They came out a few minutes later, Sam in a fresh t-shirt and DJ looking a little more cheerful coiled into his dad’s side. You bundled up the girls and walked over to your house, tipping your head in thanks as Sam opened the door. The girls were the first to see the spread and took off squealing into the kitchen, where Dean had effectively set up a tiny ice cream shop on your kitchen island. Sprinkles of all different kinds, those 3 tubs of ice cream you’d been right to remember were in the freezer, syrups and whipped cream and cherries and bananas and even chopped up peanut butter cups and Butterfinger bars from the stash Dean hid from the kids. He was already handing out bowls before you got into the kitchen.
           “Ah, ah! Hands need to be washed before anyone gets ice cream,” you insisted, shooting Dean a look of teasing reprimand.
           He rolled his eyes to your oldest daughter, sending her giggling conspiratorially to the kitchen sink. DJ, presumably having already washed his hands at his place, helped your youngest daughter reach by picking her up to the faucet when her sister was done. You crossed over to Dean, kissing him on the cheek and grabbing his hands for inspection. “Babe, you’re literally covered in chalk.”
           “You should be happy about me getting some extra calcium,” he winked, sticking out his tongue at you as you grabbed his ass on the way to the sink. “Mrs. Winchester!” he said in a faux-scandalized voice.
           As you washed your hands Sam manned the ice cream scoop, doling out much bigger bowls than he would normally, seeming to know as Dean did that a little levity might help the events of the day pass faster. After all the kids doctored up heaping mounds of ice cream and toppings to beat the band, you and the Winchester brothers stood around the island while they piled onto the couch to find a movie they could all agree on.
           “How’s our champ?” Dean asked, keeping his voice low.
           Sam shook up a can of whipped cream as he spoke. “He’s okay. Just feels guilty, I think. He says he should’ve stopped her from going down the hill.”
           “You think any kid of hers would’ve let someone tell her she couldn’t do anything?” Dean ribbed, accepting the gentle elbow you hit his side with.
           “I know that, but you know what it’s like. I think once he sees she’s really okay and no one blames him then he’ll be fine.”
           “Poor guy. Feels like that Winchester ‘weight of the world’ thing must be genetic.” You were partly joking but also partly not and they both knew it, looking pitiful and pitying for a beat before trying to cover with smiles. “He’s a great kid, Sam.”
           “Pretty much feels like you guys raised him as much as I did, I should be thanking you,” he murmured, drawing a lattice of butterscotch syrup over his whipped cream.
           You snaked an arm around his waist and gave him a sideways hug. “No, we’re lucky you let us know him.”
           Sam bent over and pressed his lips to your hair. “Seriously, thank you. I’m—I don’t know where we’d be if we didn’t, you know, I mean if we—”
           “Don’t strain yourself, Sammy,” Dean smiled affectionately, giving Sam a merciful out. “Tell you what, I sure wouldn’t have made it in damn Themyscira without you two around.”
           Sam chuckled down at the counter while you disentangled your arms. You took the chocolate sprinkles from in front of him and scattered a few in your bowl. “Themyscira? The hell is that?”
           Dean set down his ice cream exaggeratedly and rolled his eyes so hard he put a backwards bend in his spine, holding onto the island to keep his balance. “Babe. Themyscira. Home of the Amazons? Wonder Woman?”
           “Riiiight. I forgot I was married to such a dork.”
           “As long as you don’t forget how this ‘dork’ makes you screa—”
           “Dude, enough,” Sam groaned, exasperated. Dean waggled his eyebrows at you as his brother followed into the living room with the kids, taking the opportunity of temporary privacy to slip his tongue along your neck where it sloped into your shoulder.
           “Dean,” you hissed playfully, pushing his chest away from you. “They’re in the other room!”
           “You taste like chalk,” he smirked, before holding your gaze for a gooier beat than you would’ve expected. His eyes softened and he glanced down. “Thank you for letting me—letting us—take that, today. I know you’re better at the Mommy Dearest stuff or whatever, but it sometimes feels like, ah, getting a redo?” He cleared his throat where it had gotten a little thick. “You know, um, like proving that it doesn’t have to be the same?”
           It was a specific vulnerability he doesn’t often let you see, but you could tell by the softness both he and Sam had with all the kids, how they beat themselves up for days if they raised their voice for even a second, that they both thought about it all the time. In so many ways they were still those same little boys who wished they could’ve drawn on driveways with their parents, that their dad could’ve given them Spiderman band aids and told them everything was going to be okay.
           He didn’t have to explain further, and you gripped his hand to tell him so. “They needed you two, not me. For what it’s worth, I think you guys were a pretty great team today.”
           Dean smiled, and it was almost like the sleepy thankfulness he had on those nights when he got home and you’d charitably done a couple of his chores for him. He closed his eyes in invitation and you leaned forward, meeting his lips with the smell of ice cream in the air. “So come on, Super Dad. Let’s go watch a movie with these great kids everyone keeps talking about.”
           The ice cream had gotten put back in the freezer immediately to keep it frozen, but the toppings had all been left out during School of Rock. Sam and DJ had left a bit after the movie, playing a round of LIFE that had been pretty ambitiously started, considering the time, and ultimately abandoned when all the kids’ yawns started to sync up. You came downstairs after trading with Dean for bath/shower duty to get out of cleaning up all the sticky dishes, the girls falling asleep too quickly for a bedtime story after you’d made sure they were thoroughly scrubbed clean and any wet gauze was replaced.
           He was rinsing some bowls in the sink, the majority of the toppings slid to one side of the now wiped-down island. You sauntered up behind him, putting your chin on his shoulder. “Your jeans are still covered in chalk,” you sighed into his neck.
           “Your kid was practically using them as a napkin, so I’m not surprised.”
           “Like father, like daughter.”
           You felt the rumble of his laugh through your chest where you were pressed up against his back. “Can’t argue with that. They asleep?”
           “You’d think I drugged them.”
           He chuckled again, putting down the last bowl in the sink and shutting off the water before drying his hands on a dishtowel deliberately. When he turned around, his face was inches from yours. “Is that right?” he asked, and his voice was as smooth and silky as any caramel drizzle you could’ve eaten that night. You nodded into a smile as Dean slid a washing-warmed hand to the nape of your neck and wound into the hair there, pulling you into him where he leaned against the sink and slipped his tongue into your mouth. He tasted like maraschino cherry and chocolate and you pushed up into his kiss hard, jamming him into the counter in a way that made him groan into you, tug that hair tighter. “Careful, baby. Been thinking about scandalizing the mother of my children for hours,” he growled, smirking through a voice rough like the sandpaper calluses of his hands.
           You bit his bottom lip and dragged it back, leaning away from Dean just enough to reach over to the island behind you, finding the whipped cream and starting to shake it fast. “That’s funny, because I’ve just been thinking about sundaes,” you purred into his ear, nipping at his earlobe before tipping back. Dean’s eyes practically glittered as his pupils blew wide. His shirt was off so fast you almost didn’t see it, feeling like you blinked and opened your eyes to him already yanking his belt open to shuck off those chalk-covered torn jeans. Before he could, you turned over the whipped cream on top of his collarbone, dripping a stream of white foam down his chest and letting it drift for a second, melt down his skin then lapping it up with a tongue flattened wide.  You shook the can again, draping a strip onto Dean’s stomach that trailed to his belly button and laying a palm on his chest, leaning him back to the counter on his elbows to watch as you licked the whipped cream with lazy swirls until you were at the hem of his boxers, sinking to your knees and taking them down his legs along with his now-opened jeans. He was already hard as rock when you took him in your palm, laying one last spray of whipped cream along the length of him and humming in delight at the “holy shi—” that punched out of Dean and fizzled into the ether when you sucked it off.  
           It was only a few minutes before he couldn’t take it anymore, bending down to kiss you rough and dirty, tongue darting out to get the little dribbles of cream around the corners of your mouth and dragging you to your feet. With one hand Dean flicked open your jeans, using the freed slack to dive into your panties, middle finger dipping into you as he held your jaw with the other palm. He breathed hot and sticky along your jugular. “Not even close to how wet I want you.” The viscous pour of his words onto your neck sent goosebumps spreading over your skin in a delicate fan and you couldn’t help but smile as he scooped under your thighs and lifted you easily onto the island, slipping the denim off your legs as the same time he stepped out of his. You relaxed onto your elbows, watching those long eyelashes drift open and closed as his kissed a path down your abdomen, gripping handfuls of your t-shirt to get to skin. A lazy hand offered Dean the can of whipped cream.
           The smirk he gave you, bare shoulders between your thighs as he kneeled on the kitchen floor, might as well have been through a time machine for the way it made you see the cocky playboy you’d first met over a decade ago, before the faint wrinkles of years in sunny cars and staying up nights with colicky babies that accessorized his big doe eyes now. It had the same effect on you in a t-shirt that was older than DJ as it had when you were pounding through shots with eyeliner artfully smudged by the power of hangovers: pooling all the blood in your stomach and making you lightheaded. He slowly bit his bottom lip. “You taste way too good to be adding anything,” he rumbled, and when you threw your head back in a shaky laugh his tongue reminded you exactly why smudged-eyeliner girl was ready to drop her independence, jump in the Impala and follow that mouth to the end of the world.
           Dean built the earth up and cracked it into pieces beneath you twice perched on that kitchen island before grabbing the counter edge to haul himself up. “Were these tiles always so fucking hard? Feel like I just took a hammer to the kneecaps.” He shook out each of his bare legs, spring of his erect cock as he did looking silly and out of place with the glisten of his lips and chin, the sultry cast of his eyelashes on angled cheekbones. The juxtaposition made you laugh, breathy as it was with muscles that had been turned to jello, thrown in a blender, and scattered about the room by the deft movements of Dean’s tongue and fingers.
           “You’re thinking about your knees right now?”
           “That’s how hard these fucking tiles are,” Dean chuckled, deep and still sexy somehow, bending forward to catch your lips. When you reached down to stroke him, a hand wrapped around your wrist. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, I’m nowhere near done with you,” he murmured through kisses, a shade of playful challenge in his throat.
           You giggled, leaning back as he dragged a wet path of suction down your neck. “I don’t want to torture those legs, old man.” Running a hand through hair you’d sent spiking in all directions in your writhing, you dragged Dean’s head back on his neck, giving you a chance to meet his eyes, still the same dusted olive they’d been since that first wink. Long past the honeymoon stage when it was appropriate to do that kind of thing, you’d been content to spend hours searching them, cataloguing every spindly muscle of iris for posterity, trying to gather up every grain of him for when he inevitably was lost forever to a hunt or the solitude of the road.
           But here he was still.
           Here you were still. Living a life—living two selves—you never thought you’d get, lucky to have grown in and around each other like mangrove roots. Those eyes still every inch as beautiful, every spark of that electric heat still there now cloaked in layer after layer of what you’d built together: the complete trust and fanatical admiration he had of you flowing out like fountains of sunlight, strong enough they streamed through any raunchy waggle of his eyebrows.
           No time to think about it now with a hungry coil of desire tightening in your stomach. You traced the length of him with your fingertips, feather-light and teasing. “If you give me fifteen seconds to get my sea legs back I’ll show you who’s got tougher knees.”
           “All right, that’s it,” Dean said. He tipped his head forward and bit your bottom lip with that impossible pressure that made you whimper. “I’ll show you how old these knees are.”
           Before you could react, he’d put his shoulder below your sternum and thrown you over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. When you squealed he smacked your ass. “You’re going to wake up the girls,” he buzzed, starting toward your bedroom without a stitch of clothing on, you draped over his back.
           “Dean, Jesus Christ,” you giggled. “Get the clothes at least!”
            “Don’t need any jeans for what I’ve got planned—quit—squirming—or I’ll give you something to squirm about,” he continued, lowering his voice to a lascivious whisper and giving one of your upper thighs an impish bite as he headed up the stairs.
-
Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!
Tags: @sams-sass​ @vxnderlindes​ @deanwinchesterswitch​ @akshi8278​ @itsjensenanddean​ @flannellover67​ @weepingwillowphoenix​ @tj-drinks-tea​ @whatareyousearchingfordean​ @winchest09​ @winchestergirl2​ @samwisethegr8​ @nurse-sarahrn​ @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love​ @deanwanddamons​ @stressedoutkitten​ @winchestershiresauce​ @tatted-trina6​ @percico-heronstairs​ @downanddirtydean​ @queenoftheunderdark​ @lyarr24​ @wonder-cole​ @that-one-gay-girl​ @fairlyspnfanfic​ @treat-winchesterswith-kindness​ @mimaria420​ @jensengirl83​ @zooaliaa​ @superfanficnatural​ @deangirl93​ @cockslut-padalecki​
And as always, if you want to be on my taglist, were on the taglist and changed your handle, or I lost track of it, please let me know!
164 notes · View notes
walkwithheroes84 · 3 years ago
Text
Pasion de Gavilanes, Season 2
I was excited to hear about the second season, but hearing some people discuss it - have they ruined the main couples from season 1? 
Let’s talk about the  Reyes-Elizondo family.
Should I watch this? Am I mistaken about anything?
Spoilers follow:
Norma and Juan: Look, I never found them to be that exciting. But, they sound down right boring in season 2. They look for lost horses. Juan stares at people in an intense way. They have a meal with Juan David. They discuss Leon and Erik. They look for horses. Meanwhile, their twins are assholes, and I know these two wouldn’t raise assholes.
Óscar and Jimena: Firstly, I thought she was going to have a child at the end of S1? Or am I remembering Tierra de Reyes? But, instead they are the fun aunt and uncle, who own a store. Which is great. 
I could see Jimena as being the fun aunt, who listens to the problems of everyone. Jimena was always a sweetheart. Spoiled sweet, as they say.
But, Oscar. ..yeah. I know he was always a bit of a money-hungrey jerk. HOWEVER, he was loyal to Jimena. Now, we have him having/had haved an affair and a son from that affair? And gaslighting Jimena! She’s seeing people wonder around their garden, and he’s basically telling her she’s seeing things that aren’t there. 
Sara and Franco: I completely understand that Michel Brown was too busy for the show, and they originally plan to have Sara as a widow - with Michel Brown coming in for a few days to film flashbacks. But, even when Michel Brown was able to film longer - they should have still kept to the orignial idea. 
Having Franco disappear on Sara and their children three years before the start of the season doesn’t sit well with me. (Even if he was kidnapped or something). Couldnt they just say he was overseas on business?. I get that they had to refilm things when Michel Brown was able to film more, but having him leave/be kidnapped feels like drama for drama.
Rosario: First, I could swear that Rosario went to Sara and Franco’s wedding to tell them that she was sorry for everything she did to them and that she was off to find her own happiness.I get that she married an abusive man and ran back to her home town. That alone could be a great story - especially as he’s looking for her. But, now we have her in a story that doesn’t really flow with her character arc from season one. (At least two me), 
The season shows her singing, sleeping with Juan David, and whine about Franco being the love of her life. 
Gabriela: I thought she would have become a better person after 20 yrs -especially after the events of season one. Nope. She’s horrible toward her daughters, granddaughter, sons-in-law. She only listens to the twins, who are horrible people.
Juan David: He’s sleeping with Rosario. But, he had a ‘love at first sight’ moment with Muriel, who happens to be Rosario’s daughter. 
Leon and Erik: Norma and Juan’s twins. They may or may not have killed a man. They appear to be idiot jerks most of the time. Let’s hope for character development.
Gaby: She’s Sara and Franco’s daughter. Of course she’s smart. And of course her grandmother ignores everything she says.
Andrés: I believe he’s Sara and Franco’s son? But, I don’t think he has munch going on. I know Rosario flirted with him in front of Sara and it seemed super awkward.
Sara, Norma, and Jimena: Twenty years ago, these ladies were out solving mysteries. Now, they really aren’t? I understand that the show is trying to focus o on their children/the younger generation. 
But, the  Elizondo Sisters I knew would not leave things be. They’d really be working on solving everything. For example, Jimena finds a house on their land. It’s a brick house with a smoking chimney.  The Jimena I know would have gone back, get her sisters -maybe grab Juan - and they would have gone back. Not just ride away. Norma and Juan would be taking care of things for Leon and Erik. Not let them (badly) deal with solving the myserty of who really killed the man they are said to have killed.
19 notes · View notes
crystalirises · 4 years ago
Text
This Poor Fox
Fundy was many things.
A soldier. A friend. A follower. A lover. A son.
--------------------
A soldier
Fundy was but a young kit when the war began, his crayon-colored suit heavy upon his shoulders as he listened fervently to the promises of freedom and independence his father continuously spoke of. He looked up to his father then, hoping for the day that he could prove himself.
Then the inevitable end came.
“It was never meant to be.”
His friend… Eret traitortraitortraitor
His home, torn to pieces by The Tyrant.
His uncle younger than he and yet he already knew of war dueled and lost.
But for the price of his uncle’s discs, they gained their independence.
He stood beside his father, the dawn of a new day rose upon their great yet broken nation. He cheers, tears of joy cascading past his cheeks. They were finally free.
Yet he does not miss the look on his uncle’s face, his nearly empty gaze as he handed his precious discs over to The Tyrant. He watches his uncle – Tommy – celebrate and sees the pain of loss in his eyes. They had all lost something of value to this war.
And as Fundy looks over their country from the top of the caravan.
He wonders if it was worth it.
--------------------
A friend
The lull that came after the war was bliss.
He forgave Eret. It took a while, but he did. Their little prank war a symbol of their friendship, as strange and chaotic as it may have been.
They didn’t talk about the war. Fundy didn’t want to talk about the war. Eret would remain his friend. Eret was the only friend he’d ever had in the war. He remembered their jokes, their schemes, the houses they built together…
And even if Fundy’s nights were plagued by those haunting white eyes, he would rather have his friend than nothing at all.
Then Niki came and the war felt as though it happened in another lifetime.
They had started a bakery together, the sweet smell of freshly baked bread wafting through the streets of L’manburg. Their hands may have been caked with flour, but it didn’t matter. For once, Fundy finally felt at peace.
Then…
Fungi didn’t deserve to die. Not to The Arsonist, and certainly not to anyone else. Fundy’s anger was uncontested then, provoked to the point that he had challenged The Arsonist to a duel.
He knew he would lose, but he had to try. For Niki. For Fungi.
--------------------
A follower
Schlatt was not an easy man to follow.
Fundy couldn’t pin heads or tails with him. Some days he would stagger around L’manburg Manburg, drunk out of his mind as he muttered an incomprehensible jumble of words. And some days… it felt as if he couldn’t do or say anything without Schlatt knowing.
Fundy didn’t know why he had stayed, why he didn’t run the moment his father was exiled. But a seed of a plan had begun to form in his head as he watched his father escape. He would be a spy. A spy for his country, a spy for his father.
And he needed to gain Schlatt’s trust… through any means necessary.
The days ticked by. The walls were gone. The flag was burnt. He did that, didn’t he?
But… there were some days… where… Schlatt made sense.
Well… Schlatt was elected president… and… the people wanted him, didn’t they?
They elected him for president, what did they expect?
And Schlatt… Schlatt listened to him. He gave Fundy a position, a role to play. He wasn’t just Wilbur Soot’s son anymore. He was someone.
So Fundy follows, he follows and smiles.
He forgets what he stayed for.
--------------------
A lover
The Tyrant— Dream.
Who would have thought he would have ever fallen for his father’s greatest enemy?
It began as a joke. A teasing suggestion to watch Treasure Planet with him.
Then Dream had said yes and Fundy almost couldn’t believe it.
Fundy had taken them to a restaurant, far away from Manburg and the SMP. It was just the two of them. Two people on a date. Definitely, normal.
Fundy had been nervous. This was, after all, the man who had torn his country apart. But the night had been… well, great.
They talked for hours. Fundy’s fear dissipated as the night grew longer. As the minutes blew by, Fundy had a hard time imagining that this was the very same man he had once called a tyrant.
That one date evolved into two… then three… then four… then…
His hands were shaking, the air tense as Fundy kneeled on one knee, a diamond ring in his hand as he looked up at his beloved.
“Dream, would you marry me?”
Dream was silent, then…
“No way…”
He felt his heart shatter into two.
“Yes. Yes, I will marry you Fundy.”
He had never felt so alive. He was engaged!
--------------------
A son
The festival came and went. Tubbo left. Niki left. Quackity left.
He was alone. With Schlatt. The man who he thought he could follow. The man he had begun to see as a father figure. The man who had publicly tried to execute a child. The man who had imprisoned his friend. The man who had driven his own vice president away.
How could he have been so blind?
He leaves. The book in his hand felt heavy as he made his way through Pogtopia, to his father… to his family.
He sees the manic look in his father’s eyes and wonders if he had been too late.
“My traitor son!”
“I despise you, Fundy.”
The words sting. His own diary – he had worked so hard on that! – discarded as soon as his father was done reading it.
They don’t want him, and he feels his heart begin to ache.
So he burns.
He burns and burns and burns, until the forest he had stumbled into is nothing but ash.
“You know who would be proud of me? Mr. Soot.”
And he lies. He lies and lies and lies. Because his father hates him…
And maybe Fundy hates him too.
--------------------
Fundy is...
He doesn’t know what he is anymore.
His fiancé betrayed them.
His home was gone.
His father was dead.
Tubbo was president.
And… he had nothing.
Nothing to his name. Not even a single shred of family left.
Tommy probably hates him.
Phil didn’t want a fucking furry for a grandson.
And Techno—
“You’re an orphan now, Fundy!”
You know what Techno does to orphans, don’t you?
He shudders, hugging his knees closer to his chest as he watches the sun rise over the rubble that he used to call home.
He watches as Tubbo and Tommy run around the ruins, doing everything they could to piece back what they had lost.
Oh… what they had lost.
Fundy sighs, the thought of running away surfacing to the front of his mind.
Before the war… he had joked to himself that he would make a cabin away far, far away. Where no one could ever reach him again.
He stands. His mind made up.
There was nothing here for him. Tubbo and Tommy had each other. They would be fine.
And as he walks away, he swears he could hear the haunting tune of a guitar waving its goodbye.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Hello! This is my first try at writing something so pls don’t kill me hahah. Anyway, this is just a small writing idea I wanted to entertain. So, yeah. :)
274 notes · View notes
pynkhues · 4 years ago
Note
prompt! #35 - running your finger down their spine. beth x rio!!
THANK YOU THIS WAS PERFECT TO HAVE WAITING FOR ME IN MY INBOX AFTER TONIGHT’S EP.
35. running your finger down their spine
She can feel it.
The ropey cord of it. Feel it spinning up the waist of her dress, hooked beneath her bra, the underwire holding it beneath her breast almost uncomfortably, leaving it to dig into her skin. She wonders if it’ll leave a mark, she wonders what it’s picked up, she wonders - -
“You want some more?”
Beth blinks, swallows, gaze flicking up to see Rosa standing at the head of the table, a bowl tucked against her chest, a serving spoon in her hand, and - -
Right.
“Just a little would be great.”
Beside her, Rio hums, and she twists enough to see him only to realise that it’s not aimed at her, but rather Marcus across the table, who’s babbling happily about soccer and Pokemon while Rio cuts up his dinner, elbows tight to his chest so he doesn’t knock her in the process, and there’s something in it that makes Beth exhale. Makes something in her loosen, because this much she knows, even if she doesn’t know it exactly. Has seen Rio pull out juice boxes for Marcus at the park as he rolled his eyes at Beth’s attempt to negotiate a better cut, seen him tie up yellow, Pikachu shoelaces (Danny had the same ones) while Beth tried to talk about Boomer, Turner, Boland Motors.
God, that feels like so long ago.
She shakes her head, focus drifting to where Paige beside her talks to one of the other women about something on Netflix, where a guy talks about his daughter’s quinceanera plans (they’ve booked out a whole restaurant for the afternoon, and they’re trying to get her playlist under control – “she shared it with me and her mom on Spotify, it’s fourteen hours and she said she wants no skipping. I’m starting to wonder about that school we’re paying all that money for, because I don’t think she knows how time works.”)  
Across the chatter, the smell of cumin, garlic, chili, cilantro hangs heavy in the air, and Beth inhales deeply, unbuttoning her jacket as the warmth of it all starts to settle, and it’s only then that Rosa drops another spoonful of the potatoes onto her plate.  
“Oh, no, that’s too much,” Beth says, halfway through taking off her jacket, and Rosa waves her off, passing the bowl over her head to Paige, who takes it happily, starting to serve up the back half of the table. “Thank you.”
“Don’t worry, she’ll tell you when you’ve had enough.”
There’s a bounce to Rio’s voice as he says it, something rolling and warm, and Beth looks sideways at him, but he doesn’t look back, just passes Marcus’ plate back across the table – all the food now cut into child-sized bites. Beside Marcus, opposite Rio, a man hums, glancing between them, a look on his face Beth can’t read, but before Beth can even begin to process it, a little voice sounds down the table.
“How do you know my uncle?”
Which - -
She lifts her head, feels more than sees Rio do the same beside her, and god, how does she respond to that?
Well, sweetie, I robbed a grocery store that your uncle used to wash cash through before I got him arrested. Among other things.
She runs her thumb down a fork, feels the wire sitting flush to her breast.
“She’s just a work friend, bud.”
Beth blinks. Is that what they are? His nephew casts a disbelieving look between the two of them, and Beth aims for something approaching a smile.
“What does she do?”
Rio hums, the sound loud, and Beth drops her gaze to the meal in front of her, shifting some of the food on her plate. She feels too hot suddenly, isn’t sure if it’s from the proximity or the line of questioning or the knowledge that somewhere just beyond here, two agents sit listening in. That every word here has an audience beyond this table. It’s dinner party theatre at its best.
“She helps me out,” he says after a moment, and she feels his gaze shift to her. “That right?”
And there’s something in it, that’s all.
Something in it that makes her blink, makes her think of Dean, makes her think of the empty years on her resume, and she drags her fork a little harder down the plate. All those years of just helping out with nothing to show for it. Thinks of Phoebe, listening in, of Turner, who didn’t believe for so long she was anything but a - - what had Fitzpatrick called it? Side dish.
She pushes her shoulders back a little.
“We’re partners,” she corrects, and she feels him shift beside her, feels something in it, feels the tightness in her not wind or loosen but move somehow, and she’s ready for him to retort, ready for him to say something about 30% or being off payroll entirely, when the man across the table interrupts.
“Is that all?”
The sounds down the end of the table have gotten quieter now – all talk of Netflix and quinceanera playlists stopped short, and beside her Rio’s radiating a sort of tension she’s not used to, and this man is looking between them, gaze lazy in a way that gives her pause, and she clears her throat, scooping up a forkful of salad.
“I’m married.”
And she almost misses it – the way Rosa’s eyes slide from this man to her, her expression easy but considered. A deliberateness to her that makes Beth drop her fork again.
“How many children?”
“Four.”
Rosa nods, amusement sparking in her eyes, and Beth remembers to breathe when she says:
“She’s married.”
It’s enough to make Rio hum and Rosa laugh, but there’s something to the moment that sits uneasy, and it’s the wire, Beth thinks. It’s the way it digs into her skin, the way she can feel it burning up against the curve of her chest, the end stuck to her churning belly. Beside her, Rio eases slightly – ever so slightly – away, only to stop when the man across the table says:
“Where’s the ring?”
And then Rio’s tensing, and Beth can feel it in a way she usually can’t – the nakedness of her hand – and he must’ve noticed it earlier, because her left hand’s been under the table since she took her jacket off, and does that mean he was paying attention to her? Does that mean he’s been clocking her? Observing her?
Assessing her?
Is he Rio’s boss, is he - -
“Let the girl eat,” Paige says, interrupting Beth’s thoughts, and the man drops back into his chair, laughing, the sound loud and braying, but Rio isn’t laughing. Rio’s radiating heat in a way Beth is too used to – knows the telltale signs he’s pissed off well enough now, and god there really must be something wrong with this wire, because she swears it’s getting hotter.
“Come on! I’m just playing.”
“My cousin,” Rio tells her, gaze flicking sideways, and Beth’s head jerks back up from her plate, gaze fixing, wire promptly forgotten, and it’s weird, the way something in her chest flutters, the way she suddenly can’t stop herself from taking this guy in. She can see it – in his ears, mouth, the line of his jaw, but his eyes are different, not so open, not so bright – and god, she did not just think that.
“Brother.”
Beth blinks, watching him watch Rio, lets her gaze flit back, only to hear Rio correct him again.
“Cousin.”
In the moment, something smarts, holds tight and pulls, and it’s the cousin who releases it, his own focus finding Beth again, only she drops her gaze, stabs at a bit of cucumber, shifts back in the seat.
“Heard a lot about you, Elizabeth.”
And that smarts for a whole different reason. Beth glances up, wets her lips, shakes her head.
“It’s just Beth.”
The man just shrugs, tilting his head a little.
“Okay, Elizabeth.”
It’s the wink that gets her.
That has her staring back down at her plate, feeling the wire at her breast and there must be something wrong with it, because it feels - - hot. Uncomfortably so. Like it could burn into her skin like a brand, like it wants to sear it’s own memory into her flesh, and it’s just that, she tells herself, because god, the guy’s just calling her her name, but then Rio’s shifting beside her and she feels the warmth, the weight, the motion of his hand, sliding across her back, and she forgets how to breathe.  
“You better watch out for that one,” Rio tells her, and somewhere beside her Paige laughs, but Beth can’t hear, can’t think, can’t focus on anything that isn’t the fact her lungs don’t seem to be working.
“You better watch out for both of these men.”
And then the man says something again, but Beth can’t hear it. Beth can’t hear it because Rio’s hand is on her back, his thumb starting to move in a slow circle, like the tiniest of caresses, and she knows it too well, knows that feeling, knows this touch, and she blinks and she’s at the pool, watching Kenny swim, Rio dragging his hand across her back as he passed her. She blinks and she’s in the bathroom, his hand pushing her forwards, holding her down as he pressed against her, she blinks and she’s in her bedroom, his fingers dragging down her spine while she lay nude on her belly beside him, before she got up, got dressed. Before she left him.  
She smells chlorine, she smells beer and sweat and old bathroom spray, she smells - -
Him.
Just him.
The chair scrapes against the bricks when she pushes it back.
“Is there a bathroom?” she asks. Her voice doesn’t sound like her own.
“Oh yeah, inside, sweetie, off the den.”
And she’s up, and she’s out, and the wire is burning and she needs to take it off, and Rio’s still at the table behind her as she gets into the house, as she passes the den, as she stumbles into the bathroom, breaths harsh, coarse, desperate, raw, but it doesn’t matter.
She can still feel his hand on her back.
93 notes · View notes
daiseukiis · 4 years ago
Text
: ̗̀➛𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆
𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙞 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙮 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙘𝙝𝙞 ?
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
─꒱ in which we peak into how jujutsu kaisen characters handle their child on a daily basis。
─꒱ feat. gojo satoru, fushiguro megumi, kugisaki nobara & itadori yuji
─꒱ warnings ; none
─꒱ notes ; suddenly i’m having jjk as parents brain rot after a night of reading megumi smut
─꒱ JJK AS PARENTS PART TWO
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
─── ➴ GOJO SATORU
꒰꒰ he’s a great dad trust me, spoils his child like no one’s business. you want the entire set of the haikyuu manga and crunchyroll premium? give him five minutes to purchase them. want front row tickets to see nct in korea? yeah, he’ll get it for them and thats plane tickets on first class
꒰꒰ but don’t get me wrong,,, he’s a doting father but sometimes it might be just too much.
꒰꒰ for starters, mans gotta know where their kid's heading on a daily basis. gotta shot him a text that heading to shibuya with your friends or taking a flight to okinawa or hokkaido. he just wants them to be safe !!
꒰꒰ expect him to text his kid almost every time he’s out buying anything. he’d be all the way in osaka, they're in class they will randomly get a text from him if they want uncle rikuro cheese cake or kuidaore taro pudding.
꒰꒰ not to mention !!! he will text you it’s an emergency and they have to call him, a matter of life or death situation. knowing he’s a shaman, he could die but there’s like a percentage of a chance that could happen, it's percentage rivals how fast he can activate his expansion domain. which isn’t much. but when they pick up the phone, he’s just gonna ask the. which top would look better or say there’s a hot deal for these sweets across the street and if they wanna go
꒰꒰ his favourite thing to do it probably embarrass his kid in front of their friends. maybe. yeah. baby pictures and all
꒰꒰ if he has a daughter his father radar is SO high. a boy gives even a glance her way, he will probably threathen them. spoils her with so much it even HURTS to look at his bank account but he's rich so ;;; takes her out shopping and half his camera roll is photos of her or selfies of them
꒰꒰ if it's a guy, he will cheer him on every time a girl confesses his love for his son. probably even gives him condoms and tips but you didn't hear that from me. with no doubt gloat to his students how amazing and manly his son is, takes him out on missions when he wants and goes sweet store hopping with him
꒰꒰ if his child returns home crying for whatever reason, a boy broke her heart or someone beat their kid up for doing the right thing;; bitch gojo is gon beat the shit outta them no cap
꒰꒰ he's the dad every teacher flirts with at parent teacher conferences, and the dad every girl in the friend with has a crush on
─── ➴ FUSHIGURO MEGUMI
꒰꒰ amazaing dad, but probably should work more on the expressing it to his kid area
꒰꒰ he won't spoil them rotten like gojo, but if he sees its something that they truly want and sees that it's of use or valuable, he will get it for them because he wants to see his kid smile
꒰꒰ he's not big on affection, probably a hug time to time and an appreciation pat on the head. if his kid falls he would just crouch down and ask if they need a hand, or is their baby girl starts crying he'll pick her up into his arms and pat his head
꒰꒰ if he has a daughter he would be reluctant to go shopping with her, but he does like the fact that his kid is smiling and showing him her outfits. he better have a say as well if there's an attire that shows to much skin, he just wants the best for his girl. if a boy looks her way with a look, he will emit an aura enough for the boy to piss his pants
꒰꒰ if his kid is a boy, you bet hes gonna teach his son to beat up half the delinquents up the area too ‼ he has so much trust in his son, they would spar sometimes and he would take him on to missions. he sucks at giving advice, probably around the words of 'just be yourself?' he won't show it but he's cheering for you
꒰꒰ he's a chill dad, if their kid ever forgets anything at home and he's off to drop it off at school, he would be a bit reluctant cuz why did they forget it to begun with, but he's gonna do it anyways <3 the one parent that everyone calls pretty
꒰꒰ he'll text his kid basic and short messages, a how's your day or do you want anything from here kinda texts when he's out on missions. he wants to be sure that you're given enough space to be yourself within his reach
꒰꒰ fushiguro screams like the type of dad that would have a family photo in his wallet. i just find that cute and UGGH yes <3
꒰꒰ if his kid comes home crying, he's going to immediately comfort them. bad test or shitty day, he's gonna be slightly awkward but he'll take them out for their favourite food or arcade
꒰꒰ he's also the typa dad that will check up on you before he goes to bed or when he comes back from a mission, when you're all asleep just to make sure you're safe
─── ➴ KUGISAKI NOBARA
꒰꒰ listen,,, listen, kugisaki is a bad bitch mother and it radiates that energy
꒰꒰ if she has a kid, she's gonna raise them to be the baddest bitch in all of tokyo, in all of japan if all i care. she gives her kids credit for even trying to beat gojo up, but if they can't she's still gonna be happy if they tell her they kicked a guy's kneecaps in for taking their lunch money
꒰꒰ a little reckless, her parenting methods are a bit questionable but like its kugisaki here, she does whatever the hell she wants. her kid falls to the ground? don't cry pussy, get up you're better than this
꒰꒰ kugisaki's that mother who probably buys take out food every friday, or takes her kids out to a mf buffet only to tell them to pay for her because she gave birth to their ungrateful asses
꒰꒰ she's the most chill mother out there, all her kids' friends probably want to be adopted by her because she's fun and knows how to kick ass
꒰꒰ if she has a daughter, definitely wants them to be famous instead of a shaman. she wants to see her kid rocking those magazines or fuckin it up in movies or j-dramas, so she got rights to stroll through the red carpet as the most beautiful mother
꒰꒰ if she has a son, definitely will end up making him into a loyal, bad boy who knows how to drink his respect women juice on a daily basis. the son who also get absolutely wrecked by his own mother in smash bros. doesn't matter how old kugisaki is, she would still be able to beat her son even if he's a first grade shaman
꒰꒰ if her kids come home crying, i bet you she'll only scold them. she'll ask why the hell you crying over this guy/girl, they're way low of the standards and are not even it. she would convince them that they're so much better (?) to make them feel good about themselves. and then she'll probably head lock the kid to crush on a better person
꒰꒰ she's the type of mother who wouldn't sit down to talk to her kid often, sometimes she also socks at communicate like fushiguro but at least she knows it. she would be the type that would comfort her kid by bring food ( typical asian parent shit tsk iykyk )
꒰꒰ she's also that type of mother when they tell her that someone makes fun of something to the point that their kid is broken by it, she will get out that car and pick at fight with the kids, and then wipe their ass on the floor, and the mop the deck with their parents
─── ➴ ITADORI YUJI
꒰꒰ this man is the personification of a fun, chill and laid-back father
꒰꒰ he would be the dad that would wake their kid up in the morning so they're not late, pack their food or bring food to their school if they forgot to bring any
꒰꒰ he doesn't really spoil his kid, but you bet he'll take them to fun places like arcades, escape rooms and even go street food binging. definitely would have a movie marathon too
꒰꒰ if he's back from a mission early and near the school his kid goes too, you bet he's going to catch them by the end of school just to walk home with them and take about his mission
꒰꒰ he's the kind of dad that wouldn't mind if they're swearing around the house, but they gotta watch their mouth still, he doesn't want them to be as bad as sailor nor does he want them picking up nasty habits
꒰꒰ if his kid is a girl, he will give her space and room for anything, be it needing some time alone after a bad test or constantly wanting to go out with her friends to get her mind off things that he might not be able to fix. he doesn't mind going shopping, definitely would give an opinion to any outfits with a thumbs up. takes pictures with his daughter on any shenanigans they do together and send them to his group chat with kugisaki and fushiguro
꒰꒰ having a boy, he would want to play sports with them and go on missions. sometimes they would go to the arcade to try the punching game to see who has the highest and then bet the lower pays for food after. he likes giving advice, even though it won't be helpful or will be, he's gonna say it either in hopes that it'll be brought up in their head in any moment they're in
꒰꒰ he's the type of dad that has a selfie of him and his kid as a lockscreen i jUST KNOW IT
꒰꒰ if his kid comes home crying he will be so worried. like whats wrong, what happened, who hurt you, does he have to punch someone?! he's going to pull them into his arms and take them out for food, maybe even a walk. he's they type to want to cheer them up no matter the situation, and probably when they're all good and dandy, he will personally talk to solve the root of the problem behind their back
꒰꒰ when there's something to be settled, i bet you that they settle it with a game of rock-paper-scissors out five ‼‼
─── ➴ SUKUNA ( BONUS )
꒰꒰ what makes you think this man wanted a child, if he did have one ; probably either got it killed during the heian era or he killed it for his superiority complex </3
Tumblr media
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
DO NOT REPOST 、 MODIFY 、 CLAIM WORK OR LAYOUT AS YOURS.
© MGUQIIS 、 2020
226 notes · View notes
moonlit-imagines · 4 years ago
Text
Headcanons for being Jane Foster’s child
Jane Foster x child!reader
Thor Odinson x Foster!child!reader
warnings:
a/n: no not a foster child, jane foster’s child 😌 also im so super glad you liked those!!! hope these are just as good!!! and im genuinely so sorry these took so long
prompt: anonymous: “Hey! I just read the Tony Stark x Potts!child!reader HC and I loved it! Would you do the same but with Thor and Jane? ❤️”
Tumblr media
no babysitter = go to work with mom
dr. selvig gave you a rubik’s cube to keep you entertained
“fuck that! here, y/n, you can play my DS” -darcy
“can you not swear in front of my child?” -jane
you thought tonight would be boring, but then your mom and darcy collectively hit a homeless guy with a car!
“holy crap, we’re all going to jail!” -you
“don’t say ‘crap,’ y/n! we need to get him to a hospital!” -jane
ngl this dude was kinda funky
darcy used her taser and your mom covered your eyes, but you still peaked ;)
ride to the hospital
“don’t touch him, y/n”
“sorry, doc”
and the very next day you guys stole him 💕
“mr. thor, where are you from?”
“i am from asgard! it is much different from this realm, but your’s is adequate, i suppose”
“thanks?”
you could see the way your mom looked at him, though
he ate all the pop tarts >:(
she gave thor her ex boyfriends clothes
“yeah, donald was a real ass—” -you
“don’t say ‘ass.’ darcy curses too much” -jane
“sorry, mom...anyways, donald forgot to pick me up from soccer practice like, a dozen times. he sucked” -you
“this ‘donald’ doesn’t seem like a very good man...also, what is ‘soccer?’” -thor
you grabbed a soccer ball and tried to show him how to play but there was some other stuff the *scientists* had to take care of
you were a regular at izzy’s diner (well, mom was) and they always made you cute pancakes in different shapes!!
“ah, it’s a smiley face! that’s adorable!” -thor
“yeah! they like to surprise me whenever i come in. they’re pretty awesome” -you
*your mom literally beaming at how good thor is with you already*
you and thor were drawing on paper placemats
and then he broke a glass and you started giggling hdhshshs
but he had to leave
“no, thor, please don’t go!”
“i hope to meet you again one day, little one. hopefully fate sees it through”
:((((
no time to be sad bc ur mom’s lab got hijacked by the government
“hey, no fair! that’s my diary!” -you
“sorry, kid. there are constellation drawings we have to observe” -coulson
“aw, you draw constellations? wait, not now. you can’t just take all our stuff. especially that! that belongs to a child!” -jane
“sic ‘em, y/n!” -darcy
“don’t listen to darcy, y/n” -selvig
chilling in the trailer and missing thor bc he was the most interesting thing to happen to you and your mom in a while
and you wanted her to be happy even tho he was kind of crazy
“hey, mom? do you want to watch the stars tonight like we used to do? we could make s’mores?”
“that sounds like a great idea, baby! i’ve gotta go take care of some science stuff, so i’ll pick up some s’mores stuff while i’m out. love you!”
yeah she went to go see thor and he kinda got arrested but your mom came back home so you could watch the stars!
“so, do you like thor?” -you
“what? what makes you say that?” -jane
“it’s cool if you do, i think he’s awesome. a little weird, but at least he’s nice”
then thor and selvig came home and selvig was drunk as a skunk
*poking him while he giggles and tells you about thor*
“i wish your grandfather could have met that guy! he would have loved him...i wish you met your grandfather, too” -selvig
thor inviting you back outside
“i’d like you to teach me more about this ‘soccer’”
by the time you guys were done, it was 3am and you were too pumped to go to sleep
so thor told you stories of his home and battle and family
you didn’t want him to stop, you were fascinated by it all
and uhhhh yeah then earth kinda had some vikings show up
they told you that you’d “make a fine warrior one day”
and then yall got attacked by a ????? a what??? a destroyer???????
“get y/n out of here now! they shouldn’t have to see this!” -thor
you were still nearby and saw thor become thor again
after he was done fighting the destroyer, you ran to give him a hug
“that was awesome! can i hold your hammer?”
“maybe someday, little one”
then you didn’t see him for 2 years
which upset your mom a good bit, you had to help her through that episode. lots of sitting on the couch and eating ice cream together talking about how he wasn’t worth her time even tho you missed him too
but he came back! and then your mom sent everything flying bc she had an “infinity stone” inside her and thor took you two to asgard
“y/n! you’ve grown so much, i almost didn’t recognize you!” -thor
tbh you really digged the outfit they gave you, but also you were on another planet? thor insisted on giving you a tour (by flying you around)
“i do hope you’re having fun, little one!”
worrying about your mom simultaneously bc you overheard she was sick
but asgard got attacked and you and jane were confined to a room in the palace, which sucked because you wanted to see it all
but thor sent guards to bring you anything to keep you entertained
“maybe we’ll skip the mace for now, thank you” -jane
after several events that count as child endangerment, this chapter came to an end and your mom and thor finally made it official
loki called you a rodent and then saved your life so you were kinda iffy about him
about a year or two later, your mom had to travel a great deal in order to get some work done, so you were left in the care of thor, who took you to avengers tower
“oh, my girlfriend’s child is an angel! and they’re so intelligent, just like their mother!” -thor gushing to other partygoers
“yeah, thor, your ‘angel’ is sneaking drinks from the elderly” -tony
*sipping his beer* “they’re a growing teenager”
you did have an amazing time interacting with the avengers
and once they tried grabbing the hammer, you knew you had to get in on it (but you failed like the rest)
“don’t worry, my y/n, you have to be eighteen years of age to be able to lift mjölnir!” -thor
“oh, that makes sense!” -you, while thor aggressively shakes his head at the other avengers. he just wanted to make sure you didn’t feel bad you weren’t worthy yet :(
more child endangerment but really what did you expect?
thor went off world and your mom split it off w him but you did have his email so you were still in contact with him
swearing you saw odin on the street once or twice (fast forward)
and then your mom dusted and thor found you as soon as he possibly could, it was so good to see him
he took you in since you were alone now, you moved to new asgard and became prince(ss) of the new land by relation?? makes sense right
basically you and valkyrie made all the calls while thor grieved for years
but he still took care of you
“y/n, would you like to play video games with me? i think it may be a good bonding experience, what do you say?” -thor
“duh!”
uncle korg made you help him with fortnite while thor was asleep
you wished to wield stormbreaker one day
showing thor earth media! his favorite star wars character is r2-d2 dont ask why
he taught you asgardian recipes and you taught him...earth recipes?
when he was drunk he’d ramble on about his childhood and battle and enemies and jane and loki and hela and frigga and literally anything that came to mind
“y/n, could you please get me a beer? and get one for yourself, too” -thor
valkyrie most definitely gave you some battle training so you you blow off some steam, you were glad she taught you how to fight like a true warrior
thor wanted to teach you battle tactics so you could fight alongside him, but he never got around to it
a raccoon and bruce banner visited later on, proposing a way to get your family back, thor was an emotional wreck
his debriefing on the reality stone was tense when he started crying about your mom and everyone stared at you
“hey, don’t look at me. i don’t control the god, i just keep him company”
ending up waiting 1 second for the avengers to come back from their mission, resulting in you being stuck in the middle of a very heavy battle
“y/n, get out of here!” -thor
“don’t worry, thor! valkyrie taught me a few moves!”
“you make me incredibly proud, little one!”
“i’m not so little anymore, am i?”
“you will always be my little one, y/n. blood or not, that will not change!”
victory, but at what cost? it was a rough ride, you needed to get patched up, but your mom was finally home and thor...he decided it was time to leave earth again
“don’t worry, my y/n. i will see you again.” *tearing up* “i’m so glad i got the pleasure of raising you these past few years. i love you dearly, now go be with your mother”
you straight up wanted to bawl your eyes out right there
“well, y/n, you’re next in line for the throne of new asgard. what is your first command?” -valkyrie
“actually, i think you’d make a much better ruler than me. i’ve got to spend some time with my mother now that she’s home”
“you’re so much like him, you know that?”
staying with your mother, who was diagnosed with cancer not long after returning from the soul stone (a/n: jane getting cancer is canon in the comics and confirmed for thor 4)
“i missed five years of your life and now i’m sick, that’s just our luck, isn’t it?” -jane
she was understandably upset, but she also felt guilty
“mom, don’t beat yourself up. everything is okay, we’re still together right now. i won’t be going anywhere, i promise”
taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedgiantfavs // @emygirl // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisbisexual // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @purpleskiesstorm // @ofthedewthesunlight // @canarypoint // @zoeyserpentluck //
307 notes · View notes
littlemisslipbalm · 4 years ago
Text
Little Border Town Pt. 3
Summary: It begins with a man and a woman, as it always seems to. One lives in France and the other lives in Italy, technically, but they’re also neighbors. Various issues arise between these two and they can’t ever seem to see eye to eye on anything. Will they ever move past their petty fighting or is the little town they live in doomed to only gossip about what Harry and Y/N are fighting about today? 
Part 3: the one with the boat and the beginning of a storm
Tumblr media
IT’S BEEN AGESSSS I AM SO SO SORRY I LOVE YALL SO MUCH AND EVERYONE WHO HAS EVER READ THIS THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT
also harry is wearing this fit in this part just no tie?? i think i cant remember
college has been incredibly crazy this year already and i just dont have time to write like i did before i went back. i honestly had this mostly finished and i havent reread so i have no idea what even happens so lmk what you think, i can’t imagine that it will get a lot of notes but if it did id be very happy about that - anyways lots of love and feedback appreciated as always...pls enjoy
Word Count: 6.6k | Warnings: ?? Swearing? idek, more yearning bc slow burn
Catch up here! part 1 | 2 |
-
“Isn’t the weather not ideal for boat sailing today,” she ponders as her face looks up at the sky. She’s walking into Harry’s store again after running back to her place to grab a jacket and lock up. She placed a notecard in the door’s window that says “closed today, see you tomorrow” with a smiling face as punctuation.
Harry grins, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He had sailing boots on his feet with a smart big-collared printed shirt and marigold trousers. Instead of a belt, he had suspenders that matched the color of his pants and a pearl necklace as his final accessory other than his rings. He must have repainted his nails this morning because they were a light lavender shade that hadn’t been noticeable last night.
“It’s just fine. We’re entering fall and the sun is out today!” He gestures to the sky above them and she nods in agreement that the sun is indeed out. However she wasn’t sure if she’d categorize it as a nice day to go out on the sea still. With the sun there were also many clouds, they were mostly white and fluffy, but she was sure they could turn sinister any moment.
“Ready?” He beams.
“As I’ll ever be.”
-
On the boat, Y/N felt her stomach churning. Was she giddy or unnerved? Likely, both.
Harry was tying the boat off the dock after helping her onto the deck. It wasn’t a huge boat, not a yacht or anything, but it also wasn’t a tiny sailboat. It had an upper deck where maybe four people - at most - could comfortably be. Then a lower deck, inside a hatch in the upper deck. She couldn’t discern how much space was down there, but she was sure Harry would show her. He was talking through everything he was doing on the boat. Ad nauseum for an extremely nontechnical girl, such as herself.
Still, she sat in the spot he had directed her to next to the closed hatch and watched him move gracefully around the boat. Maneuvering the sails and different parts of the boat was a dance for Harry. Each step, each twist and knot, moved by a song unknown to her. It was beautiful. He was completely in his element, surprisingly. Again, Harry surprised her. She knew he had a boat, but whenever she thought of a jerk with a boat she didn’t think of what she was seeing with her own eyes. It was beautiful - or at least, it would be, if he’d shut his big mouth that was now making her roll her eyes as he made a pun about boats.
“So,” Harry starts finally, finishing up whatever he needed to do to get the boat off the dock and on the path he wanted. They were moving out into open water, she could see the little town, but it was growing smaller by the minute. Her stomach churned again as she looked up at the man she had just trusted to take her out onto the ocean. She grimaced slightly at the thought.
“Do you want to see the inside?” he continued.
She nods eagerly, “Finally!”
He chuckles lightly before opening up the hatch and gesturing for her to go first. She looks at him hesitantly.
“This isn’t a trap right? It’s not going to be all...murder-y down there?” Her voice is pitched higher, she’s almost completely serious.
This time Harry’s laugh comes from his belly, almost doubling over at the word ‘murder-y’. Between laughs, he tries to reassure her. “God no...oh my god.” More laughter, then a deep breath. “The only evil entity on this boat is the diavola I invited on here,” he gestures to her standing in front of him and her eyes narrow. Displeasure washing over her features.
“You’re ridiculous,” her hand swats at his sternum before she turns from him and climbs down to the underdeck area.
When she’s down, she’s surprised with her surroundings and she doesn’t notice Harry follow quickly behind her. It’s neat and stylish. Well, she’s not completely surprised, Harry was very fashionable. But the neatness dissipated all thoughts of the improbable scenario where Harry had lured her on his boat to murder her. It was what she had been freaking out over when she had at first refused to enter.
There was a small daybed at the end of the hall that doubled as a couch, a door to a bathroom, a dining area, a kitchenette, and then the random area they were standing in. It wasn’t super spacious, it was a hallway with things around it, but it was clean and it smelled nice. Everything had a place and they were neatly put in their places. After a moment, she turned at the feeling of Harry’s presence behind her.
He grinned, scanning the areas her eyes had just taken in for the first time. His green eyes were filled with admiration. “Do you like it?”
“Yeah, smells like you.” She nods matter of factly.
“Huh?” His head whips to her, sure he hadn’t heard her right.
“The whole place is very you,” she looks away from him and walks down the hall to the daybed and takes a seat, “Styles-ish.”
He follows quickly behind, shaking his head out of his own thoughts.
He mumbles a thanks, not catching the play on words she’d used with his last name. She smiles to herself, pleased. He stands in the doorway, not really wanting to sit beside her. Maybe he didn’t trust himself with being in such close proximity with her anymore. No, not after last night.
Her eyes widen slightly when he leans against the doorway and crosses his arms. The sleeves of his button-up had been rolled up when he had been working with the sails. Her lips suddenly are dry and she wets them with her tongue, eyes moving to the fabric of the blanket she’s sat on top of.
“I meant to say,” Harry breaks the silence, obviously not a fan of the quiet. A hand leaves his pose and runs through his hair, rings classically tugging at his curls. He swallows before he speaks again, “Thanks, uh, for stopping me last night. That would’ve been weird…”
He trails off and her eyes go wide again, but now they’re trained on his face. His eyes are downcast now, watching the way light plays off his rings. She tries to make out the sound in his voice, the expression he’s trying to hide with indifference. Her teeth tug her bottom lip into her mouth as she thinks, silence once again taking hold of the small, small room. The air is tense, static, unmoving, the complete opposite of the water that rushes just outside the walls of the boat.
She clears her throat and Harry locks eyes with her, “No problem...alcohol and atmosphere, clouds the head. I get it.” She did, but she also hadn’t wanted the gratitude Harry had just placed on her.  
“You booze, you lose,” he smiles, straightening up and she looks at him quizzically.
“That’s such an odd phrase.”
“No it’s not!”
“It’s a play on ‘you snooze, you lose’ right?” She leans forward, face looking smugly up at Harry’s offended face.
“Well, yeah,” Harry admits.
“I can’t believe you made that up and got it tattooed,” She states breezily and then stands. She brushes past him to look around the rest of the cabin.
Harry scoffs, not even noticing the way her fingers had brushed over his naked forearm as she passed, too focussed on his indignation. “How’d you know about the tattoo?”
“Naked neighbor? Never closing his shade? Do you seriously need a refresher course already? Seriously, boat boy, I really thought you were smarter than that,” She talks as she snoops around the different parts of the cabin. She pokes at figurines and looks at little photos and paintings. Her head looks over her shoulder and she laughs happily at Harry’s face of irritation. It was so easy to push his buttons.
“Don’t call me boat boy,” he seethes, but she knows he’s not really mad. More like he’s a child who got told no dessert before dinner. A laugh rocks through her body again and bubbles to the surface. It causes Harry to soften, this time there’s no alcohol in his system to account for the feeling he just felt. He mirrors the smile she has. That is until she reaches the kitchenette and finds a rack of CDs sitting beside the sink.
She turns from him and begins to leaf through them, most of them are artists she recognizes. But then she reaches some that are just titled “Demo” with various numbers beside the word. Her fingers nimbly pick out “Demo #1” and turn back to Harry with an inquisitive gaze. His green eyes are bigger than usual, the smile gone from his face.
“These from the boy band days?” She smiles wider as he turns a little red. She crosses closer to him, remembering the sight of a cd player in the main area where the entrance to the cabin was.
“Erm..no.” She flips around again, confused again, but then it dawns on her. “Demos for my solo work.”
“That you put on hold to take over for your Uncle.”
“Great Uncle.” He corrects.
“I know.” She waited a second, where she was about to be quick to play the CD, she now wanted to get Harry’s permission. It might be a little more personal than she had first thought. “Can we listen to this one? You’d technically be taking me up on the request to play for me sometime.”
“Yeah, they’re rough - obviously. So if you could try to not bruise my ego, at least not more than you usually do,” he grins and she looks at him with dead eyes. A smile cracks on her face quickly, still.
“I wouldn’t...this is different,” she struggles to find the right words. She would never make fun of something he cared a lot about, not now. She wasn’t that person, it was odd to think he maybe saw her like that. She shook away the thought and focused on placing the CD in its player correctly.
The first song begins to play, he’s right it is rough, it’s a demo. There’s no backing vocals or beat of any kind. Just a voice and a guitar. And it’s amazing. After the guitar intro, she lets out a breath she had been holding when she hears the voice. His voice. It’s beautiful. And she’s shocked, her eyes flash to Harry. He’s nibbling at his bottom lip, watching her hear it for the first time. His voice from all those years ago.
“Brooklyn saw me empty at the news, there’s no water inside this swimming pool.”
Her eyes light up again at the lyrics and she smiles, finding it melancholic yet slightly funny at the same time. It was interesting, the words, his voice, the meaning. Some bits of information eluded her, but she knew she enjoyed the song.
“And I’ve been praying, I never did before.”
Even as the song moved on from this one lyric, she felt it replaying in her head as she watched the singer in front of her. Years older than he had been when he had written this song. She was filled with questions and paused the CD as the guitar faded out.
“That’s it?” Harry laughs, “Just one song? It was really that horrible?”
“Oh my god, no!” She is emphatic, needing Harry to understand she’s serious. She takes a step closer to his figure. He had traveled closer to her while the song had played. They were almost chest to chest and her hand goes out to touch his forearm. “I really liked it, genuinely. I just needed a moment before the next one.”
“Bracing yourself?”
“Stop, I’m serious. It was beautiful. Your voice is wonderful, Harry.”
His eyes sparkle at the praise, finally believing she’s not taking the piss. Then his eyes dropped from her gaze, “I was a lot younger then, was 21 I think when I recorded this demo.”
“So? A voice like that doesn’t just disappear, dude.” She looks at him with a finality in her expression before dropping the hand that was firmly gripping his tattooed arm and turning back to the CD player.
Harry bites his lip as another one of his early songs plays over the shoddy speakers. His voice repeats “Meet me in the hallway” over the solo guitar. There’s no echo or bass, no count in like the final song was supposed to have. It’s just him and his guitar, before he chose to leave it all behind.
His voice is sadder here, she notices and she visibly winces at “just take the pain away” and “just let me know, I’ll be on the floor” and his repetition of “gotta get better.”
How did this man, who seemed fazed by practically nothing, have so much hurt in him to write both of these songs? Her eyes welled with water, but she blinked them back still staring at the singer before her. He was watching the CD spin in the player as his voice came through the speakers. He was lost in thought, in memory. Maybe she was lucky, these weren’t memories for her, she was only hearing his interpretation of his life. She hadn’t had to live that pain first hand. This time she doesn’t pause before the next song.
The next one seems more produced than the last two. This one starts with drums, a step up from the last two acoustic demos in respect to production. A big crash and then a wailing guitar and an accompanying voice. His voice is stronger here, more sure of himself. And then it changes again, melancholic once again and her heart strings are yanked at again.
“We’re not who we used to be, we’re just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me, trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat.”
The guitar continues that sad tone for a riff and then goes back to strumming beneath his voice. She shifts her eyes to him again and sighs softly, it weighs heavy on her soul that the man next to her has seemingly been through so much heartache. He looks up at “We don’t see what we used to see” and she holds his gaze, brows knit together in confusion and sadness. She pauses this time, finger reaching out without looking.
“This is depressing, please tell me they’re not all sad songs or I might as well have turned on a pet rescue commercial.”
His smile etches on his face, in a small knowing smirk and he crosses into her personal space. She’s about to step back, but he reaches out and softly bats her finger away from the pause/play button. She smiles back, shuffling to lean against the counter beside him. It was unusual for them to be on the same side of the counter, much like last night at the bar.
“There’s six songs on this demo. Three sad, three…” he trails off, looking at her expectantly. She nods. “You gotta learn to be a little less impatient, hmm?”
“Not impatient, just trying to brace myself for more sadness. I thought I had been promised a day of fun,” she grumbles.
“I wasn’t the one who suggested a demo listening party,” his brows raise and she twists her mouth to the side at his smug response.
“True,” she finally concedes with a murmur.
He presses play and a new song comes on that is more upbeat than any of the other’s that have played so far. It also seems to be a bit more produced than the first two. Her hand rests on the countertop and begins to tap, she quirks her brow at the first lyric “she’s got a family in carolina, so far away, but she says I remind her of home.”  A girl who likened Harry Styles to the South of the United States, interesting. As she listens to the lyrics, she smirks at the massive crush he must have had to write this song. The “good girl” lyrics bounce around in her mind and her mind drifts back to last night. Would it have felt good? To kiss Harry?
Then, she’s brought out of her reverie with “I met her once and wrote a song about her”. Her eyes widen and look to Harry again inquisitively as his past self muses over how good this girl felt. He wrote about a one night stand? That woman must have been magic. That was all she had to say about that.
“Really?” She asks incredulously, folding her arms over her chest. His gaze flickers at the movement, human nature. He presses pause.
“What?”
“A one night stand earned that?”
He looked at her seriously, like the answer was obvious. She laughs before continuing.
“You’re a simp.”
“I’m sorry?” He sputters at her statement immediately.
She raises her brows as a response now. Nothing else to say.
“She wasn’t a one night stand,” he defends, “She was a blind date...and it had been after a dry spell.”
She starts to laugh, about to give another snarky response, but he adds, “And I was twenty-one.” The numbers specifically enunciated.
“You’re still a simp in my book...but I liked the song. It was catchy, rock vibes in there. I don’t know about her telling you remind her of Carolina - north or south, I don’t see it.”
He eyes her warily, still not happy with her titling him that gen z term that was super popular all over the internet. He took her in and he knew she was only three years younger than him, he was pretty sure, yet she used ‘simp’ and ‘vibes’ like they were lexicon words. He didn’t hate it, it was just different than what he usually heard in the little border town. Italian not having translations for things like that, English was so interesting, internet language was so interesting.  
“I-” He starts and stops. “She said it. Was she right? That’s not my place to judge.”
“I don’t know,” Y/N pressed, words dragging out playfully, “Personally, I wouldn’t want to be a reminder of the U.S. South, but okay...simp.”
“I swear to god if you call me that one more time, I’m throwing you overboard and I won’t feel bad about it.”
Her eyes widen and then she smiles, he cracks a smile too. They huddle back around the CD player, ready for the next song. It starts with a strong guitar and drums, again well produced compared to the acoustic earlier ones.
His voice in this is far more shaky, unsure of himself again. “Let me take my medicine, take my medicine, treat you like a gentleman,” comes through the speakers. She shivers and looks at him, her fingers tapping along to the beat. The instruments are strong where his voice is soft, it doesn’t exactly fit, but she likes the lyrics still. When it gets to the pre-chorus, that’s when she knows she loves the song.
“I had a few got drunk on you and now I’m wasted, and when I sleep I’m gonna dream of how you (tasted)”
When his voice pitches high for ‘wasted’ she loses it. Her body moves with the instruments and her eyes close and her head wiggles. Harry smiles happily as she dances for the first time to one of his songs. The last word must have been shouted by his bandmates, because she doesn’t hear him say it.
Then the chorus hits and she wonders how it got even better. Her eyes shoot open and she just stares at Harry, her jaw slightly dropped.
“If you got out tonight, I’m going out tonight cause I know you’re persuasive! You got that something and I got me an appetite now I can taste it”
His past self sings of getting dizzy and his voice moans into the mic the demo was recorded on. She’s blown away. It sounds so hot, his voice gaining confidence during the pre-chorus and the chorus to have an all around rockstar sound.
The present Harry just taps his rings together as he watches her, studying her reaction with an even-tempered expression. Why isn’t he screaming like she is on the inside? When it gets to the second verse she’s bracing herself for what’s to come. This song has her pulse racing and blood flowing wildly around her body. She’s buzzing from it.
“The boys and the girls are in, I mess around with him and I’m okay with it”
The electric guitar follows the line up and she thinks she’s going to pass out on this boat right now. Flamboyant Harry. Was this what Marie had been talking about. The wild side of Harry she really had never seen, embodied in one song. She wanted more of it. Still all she got was the Harry on the demo rocking out to his song. She can hear him smiling through the recording, the sad boy from a few songs ago was now feeling euphoric. She just wanted to dance the night away with him.
Then another pre-chorus: “I’m coming down, I figured out I kinda like it, and when I sleep I’m gonna dream of how you (ride it)”
His voice goes high again for ‘like it’ this time and her question of what is to follow is quickly answered with the bandmates screaming ‘ride it’ into the mics they must have had. It’s punctuated with the drums and other instruments. A noise escapes the back of her throat and Harry looks at her both smugly and amused. She rolls her eyes in response, trying to convince Harry that she hadn’t just had images of him singing about how good someone rides him flash in her mind. Even more so with the images of someone, namely her, being the object of his dreams. Doing the things he said he’d dream of. That, that was definitely not what she was thinking about. Definitely not. Her throat was dry and she swallowed hard. Harry’s eyes never left her face. Watching every reaction, gauging it and storing the information elsewhere for the time being.
She sings along to the chorus, trying to focus on the song, it was easy to pick up, but then the damn moans. And then there’s a guitar solo that sounds like sex itself and she’s baffled that this was an unreleased demo, not a famous rock song. Harry in front of her can’t stop himself from tapping his feet at this part, a little dance forming on his body as his eyes finally leave her figure. They close as he feels the music, the memory of his friend playing the riff clear in his mind and how much he had loved it. It builds up again and then there’s a final chorus. She watches him now as he dances in the confined space. His mouth opens to sing along to the “la la la’s”
It ends and goes straight into another upbeat song. It seemed like a complimentary song to the one that had just played.
“I don’t want your sympathy, but you don’t know what you do to me, oh Anna!”
His voice sings strong again. Harry before her composed himself again, going back to his watching position. He took in her tapping and smiling to the song. He also mouths the words slightly as it plays, the lyrics clear as the day he finished writing them almost 4 years ago. One of the final ones for this demo.
“Hope you never hear this and know that it’s for you, don’t know what I’d tell you if you asked me for the truth”
She smirks at him, now, with the earnest lyrics, about to say something, but then notices the change in the guitar. It switches from the epic riff that was going to a more familiar tune, “Faith” by George Michael. She looks at him, a cheesy grin on her face as the voice begins to sing the chorus of that song. Her body begins to dance to it, like an old man doing the twist. She’s not ashamed and Harry loves it and joins her by mirroring the movements.
When the song comes to an end, they’re one large giggling mess. She falls into his arms and he holds her steady, their laughter coming out with freedom.
“Thanks for making me be patient,” She looks up at him, “it was worth it!”
He smiles, backing up slightly, “It’s like I knew what I was talking about.”
“Ok smart guy,” she teases with a silly voice. “I’m assuming whoever Anna is, isn’t actually named Anna then...?”
Harry hums and makes a twitch of his brows, but doesn’t respond. Instead he grabs her hand and she squeaks slightly, he pulls her to the ladder and prompts her to go up. She obliges silently and lands back on the top of the boat now. She looks out and sees the little town to be off in the distances now, shining blue water all around the creamy white boat.
Harry stands behind her now and shuts the hatch easily. She looks at him warily, confused by his silence. He extends his hand to her this time and she takes it. He leads her to the front of his boat. They’re moving, but so slowly you’d barely notice. There’s a loveseat of sorts right at the front and Harry sets her down in it. She smiles at him with caution, still bewildered. He leans against a part of the boat that stands in front of the seat.
“It’s beautiful, right?” He asks.
Her eyes have been looking around her, but they’ve mostly been trained on Harry. She was mesmerized by him now. His music, his boat, his clothes, his everything. She was seeing him in a new light. In a completely brand new way that had her unable to take her eyes off of him.
She nods finally when Harry looks at her expectantly. “It’s amazing,” she breathes.
His smile is the half-sided grin again. Beautiful big teeth on display with a little part of space between them. His dimple pops out and once again her eyes are on his face. She realized going on this boat with Harry might not have been such a good idea.  
He folds his arms, her eyes flicker down. Every movement he makes, she doesn’t want to miss it. Even if she also is telling her mind to shake it off, she can’t. It’s like a spell.
“Obviously Anna is a pseudonym,” he says finally, eyes watching where the boat was taking him. She nods in approval. He pauses, watching the little waves, but she knows he has more to say.
“What did you think of the rest of it?” He asks quietly, gaze never going back to her. He knew she’d teased him a little and had danced along to some. She’d looked at him with wide eyes at some lyrics, but he wanted to know what she really thought.
She can tell he’s nervous, but she doesn’t understand why. They were all very good songs, his voice was beautiful, the lyrics were interesting. She didn’t understand his lack of confidence. His first time not exhibiting his usual self-assured - self-absorbed, even - personality. She bites her lip in confusion and his brows knit together, further showing his apprehension. The wrinkles in his forehead show up more prominently and she’s reminded that Harry is 26. He’s a different person now then he was back when he recorded that demo. Maybe there was a reason he kept them on the boat. She felt unsure in her response now.
“They were all great, Harry.” His face softens immediately. “Each one was beautifully written and sung. The ones that were acoustic sounded wonderful as did the ones with your whole band. I’m honored to be someone who got to hear those masterpieces.”
She wanted to tell them they should be famous songs, but she had a feeling that might not have the effect on him that she wanted. He had chosen a little quiet life in the little border town. She didn’t think he would want to hear how his music could have made it big time.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, just about the sounds of the sea. He lets a closed mouth smile twist onto his face, but it feels like he doesn’t fully believe her. She wants to kiss his worry away, but again, she knows it’s not possible. His words from earlier rang in her head. It would make things weird. Yeah, you’re right. Ugh, why had she agreed. She didn’t agree, not at all, not anymore.
“Did you have a favorite?” He stands up straighter with his question.
She laughs slightly, “I liked the second to last one a lot. It was hot.”
“Hot how?” He steps closer, smirking.
She jumps up from her reclined seat, in indignation, “Oh come on, you know it’s hot. Now you’re just looking for me to stroke your ego! It’s obviously about sex.”
“And? You’re the one who’s saying it’s your favorite and blushing.” He arches a brow at her, arms going to his hips and looking at her teasingly.
“Well, you’re the one who was singing about sucking dick and dreaming of how someone rode you.”
“Is that what it’s about?” His voice raises as he purses his lips and raises both of his brows.
She realizes just how worked up he’s gotten her in such a short amount of time. She huffs and turns away from him with a flick of her hand. “You’re infuriating.” Is all she can say. She looks out at the waves now, ignoring Harry even though he’s less than a foot away.
He’s laughing behind her for a little. Then when she doesn’t turn around, he quiets and she’s not quite sure where he’s gone. Then his breath fans over her neck and right shoulder, where her jacket hasn’t managed to cover her. It’s warm and a little minty as the scent travels over the salty sea air. She doesn’t turn or move a muscle for that matter.
A hand reaches out to her shoulder, but still she makes no move to turn. It rests there for a minute and she simply huffs again, letting her shoulders rise and fall dramatically. A single laugh slips from Harry’s mouth.
“C’mon diavola, don’t be like that. S’all in good fun.” His voice is low in her ear, sultry even. It reminds her of his voice in that song once he got into it. His voice sounds like sex in her ear and this time when she sighs it’s not because she’s irritated with him. No, she wants him. The sigh has an undercurrent of that desire and she hopes Harry doesn’t understand that. But otherwise she stays quiet, letting him murmur into her ear with his hand on her shoulder and his chest pressed to her back now. The only witness of this exchange is the ocean before them.
His head leans closer and if she didn’t know any better it felt like he was about to press a kiss to her neck. Instead all she feels is the brush of his mustache, it tickles the shell of her ear and she can’t keep in the giggle. She twists away from the sensation and Harry is grinning at her when she faces him.
His hand still on her shoulder and his body still pressed close to hers. He’s so warm and so close and so shiny new in her eyes, even if he still manages to irritate her. Her eyes flicker up to his as their laughter quiets down. She realizes her own hands have gone to his waist to steady herself and she follows his feet as he backs them up from the edge of the boat that she had brought them too.
It’s quiet again. They’re staring at each other intently. Her eyes are swirling with emotion because she just wants to know what’s going on in the brain of the man before her. She wants to know everything about him, but she knows that’s not how he feels about her. Sure, they’re friends now, but nothing else.
Why did she have to come on this stupid boat and find his stupid amazing music? Why did he have such a stupid amazing face?
These questions and other silly things were racing around her head as she gripped his waist. He didn’t mind her quietness, he found her gaze to be a little unnerving, but he was just glad he had made her laugh. He found that he didn’t enjoy her anger at him as much anymore.
Just as he was about to start another conversation, there was a cloud that drifted over the shining sun. It was her original fear come to life. Harry’s brows furrowed as he looked up at the clouds. They were turning grey. Fast.
“Shit, shit, shit,” He began mumbling and released his hand from her shoulder. He pulled away from her hold and began moving swiftly around the boat. He needed to get them off the water, there was a storm coming.
Her eyes went wide as she noticed the approaching storm as well. Her brows furrowed with worry as she watched Harry begin working on the boat, his only words being curses to himself at first.
Then he enlists her help, asking her to hold onto a specific part of the boat for him after he threw her a life vest and made her put it on. She wore it with great dissatisfaction. He only shrugged as he continued to move nimbly around the boat, turning them around, back to the dock.  
The boat moved much swifter into the shore than it had on their way out. The waves were growing choppier by the minute and she would admit she was more than a little scared. Thankfully, Harry knew what he was doing and got them there quickly and safely. Once at the dock, he tied them there and then helped her off the boat. She stood on the dock uncomfortably as the rain started to come down.
“Give me your lifevest!” He gestures from the boat.
She quickly takes it off and flinches when the first bout of thunder sounds from far off. He takes it from her and throws it haphazardly down the hatch along with his own before jumping off the boat himself. He surveys the boat from the dock to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. Then he looks at her. She’s wrapped her arms around herself and is ducking her head, looking like she’s attempting to ward off rain but failing miserably.
She looks up at him and he offers a soft smile of reassurance.
“Take my hand!” He shouts slightly over the growing sound of rain and thunder. He wants to get them out of the rain, but he’s also apprehensive to leave his boat to the mercy of the weather. Still, that’s all he can do.
She puts her hand in his and his fingers weave with hers. Then, they’re off racing back to their street in the little border town.
-
“I should go back to my place!”
“Don’t be silly! France is much too far for you to go in this weather!”
She laughs and grips his hand tighter as he fumbles for his key. His wet hand slipping as the rain droplets soak their clothes and skin. Even though her door is a mere few feet away she allows Harry to pull her into his shop. The warmth and dryness appreciated after running a few blocks in the now torrential downpour. There weren’t storms often in the little border town, but like the old adage said ‘when it rained, it poured’ quite literally. The less she had to travel in the rain the happier she was, even if it was three measly feet.
It also occurred to her that she’d be able to sit out her first storm with someone by her side. And she would admit that didn’t sound like the worst thing in the world. She wasn’t necessarily a fan of storms and being in a new place with a storm she’d never weathered before was daunting. Harry inviting her in was a blessing. She didn’t have to be asked twice.
Once inside the little shop, their wet frames begin to form puddles beneath themselves. Harry sighs and takes off up his rickety stairs. She looks after him in confusion but stays put when he calls a quick “Wait there!”
She shakes a bit of the rain from her and shivers as she listens for Harry’s movements barely audible above the crashing of the rain water. When he returns, her breath catches in her throat, like she just choked on something, yet there’s nothing.
As he walks down the steps, far slower now, his wet hair shakes out around his head forming some ethereal halo. The light from upstairs illuminates him and the darkness outside casts an ominous darkness as he descends.
“Un ange…” She whispers after finally catching her breath.
If he hears her, it doesn’t matter. He’s already beginning to smile widely just from seeing Y/N before him.
He skips the last step and crosses to her swiftly. “Let’s get you dried a little more,” he begins to dote. A matching smile spreads on Y/N’s face out of appreciation. She still can’t manage to fend off the shivering and Harry’s smile falters. His hands leave the towel and trace her exposed skin. Her cheek feels like ice, only slightly warming under his touch.
“You need dry clothes,” he mumbles.
Her eyes widen as she looks up at him. He’s so close and so attentive and she wants to ask him to kiss her because they’ve been going back and forth all day, but he’s right she’s freezing. His eyes are so intense though she can’t even maintain eye contact. Instead her gaze flits up to the droplet beginning to swell down one of his rogue strands of hair that flopped over his forehead moments ago.
She doesn’t respond as she watches and Harry begins to worry more. Her eyes seemingly unfocused, her shivering, and her silence. He thumbs over the apple of her cheekbone and finally breaks her reverie. The droplet splashing between them without her as its audience.
“C’mon,” he tugs her hand now to bring her upstairs.
328 notes · View notes
the-record · 4 years ago
Text
The City of Romance
Summary: On Spencer’s mandatory leave, he plans a trip to Paris, France where he meets an unforgettable face.
A/N: I got this idea during my language class. Please excuse my terrible French, I am still learning. This might be 2 parts? Maybe 3? I’ll figure it out. Anyways if you have any ideas for this or other requests let me know! 
Italics: Translation French to English.
This is more of an introduction <3
Part 2, Part 3
Check out my masterlist here!
Tumblr media
For as long as you remembered, you had stayed with your mom in France during summers and worked at her café. Specifically her café in Paris. It was a dream. She made lots of business and your family was already pretty well off. You met lots of people working this job, however one seemed to stick out to you.
“Bienvenue! Que puis-ie vous offrir aujourd’hui?”  “Welcome! What can I offer you today?”
“Sorry, I don’t speak French.” You smiled at the tall man in front of you. He was handsome and seemed kind but nervous.
“No worries. Welcome, what can I get you today?” He seemed relived at the fact you spoke English. You would’ve too. 
“Can I get a coffee, 2 boxes of macarons, and 3 chocolate croissants?” You smiled and typed in the order on the computer on the counter.
“Of course. Will that be all?” He smiled and nodded. “Great. Your total is 24.50.” He handed you the foreign currency and you started to make his coffee and box his treats. “Here you are. Have a great day...”
“Spencer. You too,” He looked at your name tag, “Y/N. I should be on my way, I have a flight. Bye!” You smiled and waved. 
The rest of the day you couldn’t get that boy out of your head. You were a little disappointed that he would have already left France but the thought of visiting your uncle made it better. You stayed with your mom in the summer and your dad the rest of the year. After he passed, your uncle had promised to take care of you while you were in America. You were a grown adult but that didn’t stop him. Even 3 weeks later, as you boarded the flight, you couldn’t stop thinking about Spencer. What did he need 3 chocolate croissants for? You need the delectable treats you brought for your uncle. He was going to meet you at his work and asked you to bring something for him. You couldn’t bring something just for him though, so you brought something for all of his team. You had never met his team but that didn’t stop you. They were his family, so they would be yours too. 
He met you downstairs on the ground floor after you got through security.
“Bella!” You smiled and basically ran to hug him.
“Uncle David!” He squeezed you tight. 
“How was Paris? And your flight?” You giggled a little.
“It was beautiful as always. You have to come visit me and mom some time. My flight was weird. Not in a bad way, I just met someone I guess and, never mind. How are you?”
“I’m good. I think coming out of retirement was definitely a good idea.” You both talked all the way up and all the way to his office. 
“Oh, I totally forgot. I brought you guys some stuff from the café. Mom started working with a local bakery and their macarons are just perfect. And don’t even get me started on the croissants.” You pulled out the boxes from your bag and placed them on his desk.
“I know just the person who would love some of these. Come on, I will introduce you to her first.” You smiled and followed him to a dark room with a wall covered with monitors. 
“Wow.” In such a dark space sat a bright colored blonde. Her outfit had lots of fun colors and her hair was curled. Her makeup and earrings were fun and exciting. Everything about her radiated good energy.
“Rossi what’s- And who is this beauty next to you? Hoping she’s not wife number 4.” You laughed.
“This is my niece Y/N. Y/N this is Penelope Garcia our technical analyst.” You held out your hand.
“It’s great to meet you Penelope. I heard you like pastries?” You held out a box and her face lit up.
“I love them! Ok wow, these look amazing, where are they from?” Her smile was huge as she looked at the croissants.
“Actually they’re from Paris.” Her jaw dropped. “My mom owns a café and bakery in Paris France. I’m just here during the year for school.” She is still stunned.
“Well wow. I don’t know what else to say. Wait yes I do. Thank for these!” You smiled.
“Of course. If you ever need some just tell David and they will be sent to your front door.” She held her arms out for a hug which you gave her.
“Alright, well I am going to take Y/N to meet the rest of the team. Bye Garcia!” She waved as you two walked out.
“I like her. She’s very fun. Not boring like you.” You joked. You saw a group of people standing over by a counter and that’s when you saw him. The man from the café. “Long time no see.” He was a little confused when he heard you, but when he saw you he understood.
“Oh hey Y/N. What are you doing here?” 
“I’m just visiting my uncle. So this is where you were rushing off to then?”
“Yeah.” You saw a small smile creep on his face. It wasn’t a lot but you noticed it.
“Woah let’s slow down here pretty boy. Rossi, who is this?” You stared over at the man next to him. He was tall with a strong build and holding a cup of coffee.
“This is my niece Y/N. Y/N this is Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, and I guess you already know Spencer.” You nodded.
“Yeah, yeah I do.” They all stared at you both positively bewildered. “Oh, uh he came by the café I work at. He got a bunch of macarons.” 
“Wait, you work where those came from?” The lady who was apparently known as Emily.
“Yeah, my mom owns it and I work there during the summer. Speaking of.” You pulled out a smaller box filled with cookies and macarons. “These are for you guys.
“Thank you gorgeous. I guess we may have to thank Spencer then for introducing us to these.” You giggled softly.
“I guess you will.” Your phone rang and you noticed the caller ID to be your mom. “Sorry. I have to answer this real quick.” You walked a few feet away before answering. “Salut maman!” “Hey mom!”
“Salut bebe! Avez-vous atterri?” “Hi baby! Have you landed?”
“Quais. Je parle en fait aux collegues de David. Puis-ie vous appeler un peu?” “Yeah. I’m actually talking to David’s colleagues. Can I call you in a bit?”
“Bien sûr. Je t'aime.” “Of course. I love you.”
“Je t'aime aussi. Au revoir.“ “I love you too. Bye.” You hung up the phone and headed back over to them.
“Well genius what did she say?” You laughed as you walked back.
“He wouldn’t know.” They all gave you an odd and ashamed look for asking him. 
“She’s right. I don’t know French.” 
“Spencer Reid. You have an eidetic memory and went to a new country and didn’t learn French?”
“Well I learned a little but I didn’t really need to learn any. A lot of the natives knew English.” You nodded.
“He’s right. And it was my mom, she was asking if I landed.” Suddenly another blonde woman popped over. JJ. You had met her before by accident. Last time you came to visit you had a late flight in and so when you came by David’s house he was having a dinner party but everyone had left except her. She wanted to get to know you and you got coffee. “JJ!” 
“Oh my goodness Y/N! What’re you doing here?” She pulled you into a quick hug.
“I’m staying with David now for school because of what happened.” She gave a sympathetic smile.
Your father had passed away from a house fire. He was a bit older and already had health issues so the smoke inhalation was too much and he sadly passed.
“That’s great. How’s school been going?”
“Pretty well. I take some extra courses during the summer so I am looking for a job currently because I have everything I need done.”
“What career are you going into?” Derek questioned.
“Teaching. Specifically elementary because I can’t stand teenagers. They do not hold back, and as great as some of them are, I want my kids to be able and come see there first or kindergarten teacher years from now. I think I may have found a school around here but they haven’t gotten back to me yet.” They all nodded. “Well I was going to get some coffee if anyone wants to come along.”
“Reid why don’t you go?” Derek was patting him on the break to try and convince him to.
“Uh sure. If that’s okay with you of course.” You smiled.
“Of course. Let’s go I guess.” You walked with Spencer out to your uncles car that he so kindly lent you for the time being. He kept your car at his mansion so you wouldn’t have to worry about it. “Where should we go? I don’t normally come down here with David so I don’t really know a ton.” You asked as you got into the drivers side.
“There’s a little coffee shop not to far from here.” He gave you the directions as you drove. When you got there you ordered a coffee and a sandwich. Truth be told you were starved.
“So what degrees do you have?” He sipped his coffee before answering.
“I have a PhD in math, physics, and engineering as well as 3 BAs.” You jaw was 6 feet under. You assumed he was smart but damn.
“Wow. That’s... Impressive.” You laughed softly.
“Yeah. What about you? You said you wanted to be a teacher.”
“I have a bachelors in elementary education and one in special education. That is more so I can be more inclusive in the classroom. Honestly it’s pretty smart to get one because all children learn in very different ways. Like me, I loved reading when I was a child but I learned better by listening and looking at pictures. Some children think noise is distracting or that bright fun colored pictures are so we have to think about all of them and not just the majority. So far I have found a lot of different teaching methods to cater to all students. It’s really interesting. Sorry I’m rambling aren’t I? I do that when I get excited.” He chuckles and shakes his head.
“Don’t worry about it. One time I told a detective that it’s safer to kiss instead of shake hands.”
“Ooh. Yikes. Don’t tell that to kids though, they will run around kissing each other and get some kind of disease I swear.” Conversation flowed easily between you both. You both took turns rambling while the other listened. It was comforting to have someone who actually listened and could understand you when you spoke a mile a minute. 
He couldn’t help but think the same. Most of his friends had teased him over his facts. You listened and asked questions. You didn’t cut him off or laugh. You were actually interested as was he when you spoke. You talked pretty fast but he managed to keep up. Before you realized it was no longer 1:30. It was 4:15. You had talked with him for hours and it only felt like minutes. You texted your uncle that you would just wait in the car for him but when Spencer got out you felt like you had to do it.
“Wait! Spencer!” He stopped and spun to see you running towards him. “Would you like to go out for dinner sometime? Maybe this weekend if you’re not on a case?” His smile was blinding.
“I love that.” You exchanged phone numbers.
“Perfect. Hopefully see you this weekend.” You placed a quick kiss on his cheek before running back to the car. He felt weak in the knees and thought he might collapse right then and there. Luckily he kept himself up until he got to the office. He was so excited and while he may not be religious, he prayed there wouldn’t be a case.
78 notes · View notes
willowbird · 4 years ago
Note
Cute uncle!Andrew and Neil with Aaron’s future kids!
Ooh! Don’t mind if I do! I hope you enjoy! <3
------
The reunion had been Abby’s idea, and while Wymack had done some obligatory grumping about the idea of having this particular group of Foxes invading their house (”I hope you remembered to hide the liquor.” “David, they’re all legal adults now and we’re inviting them over to drink with us.” “Make sure you have the fire department on standby.” “David, I highly doubt they’re going to burn down the house.” “I swear to fuck if those Minyards think they’re going break my shit I’ll haul their asses out to the park and leave them in a cardboard box.” “David, I think you’re being a bit dramatic.”) he was able to admit, at least to himself, that he was looking forward to seeing them again. 
Sure, he’d kept up with all of them individually in his own way, and they’d gotten together periodically over the years, but this would be the first time in at least a decade that the lot of them would be under one roof -- under his roof -- and he was looking forward to seeing with how own eyes how they were doing. 
He’d thought he’d known what to expect. 
After all, he’d paid attention to the pro careers of Matt, Allison, Kevin, Neil, and Andrew. He spoke with Renee at least once a year in person when she came by PSU to hand-deliver her donations (and Allison was usually with her these last few years as well). He saw less of Nicky and Aaron, since Nicholas had returned to Germany after graduation and Aaron had moved on to medical school and that was even more rigorous than the training schedule he’d put them through, but he was still aware of their general well-being. Dan he probably saw the most, as she’d gone on to coaching and was now in the same division as PSU, running a newer exy team at a small public university in northern Georgia. Kevin was always around for the holidays and visited during the off-season, and they spoke on the phone regularly -- so he was generally up-to-date with his son’s life. 
It had started out within the bounds of his expectations. Nicky and Erik had flown in the night before and stayed at a hotel in town, but Dan and Matt had arrived first because Nicholas Klose still didn’t understand the function of a goddamn alarm clock. A prompt Renee and Allison showed up a little after them, followed by a harried Nicky and an exasperated Erik. Kevin ambled in solo, followed by Neil and Andrew, who still looked unbothered by the whole damn world (probably because they were the ones typically setting it on fire, but hey - what did he know?). Last to arrive were Aaron and his wife, former Vixen and one of the youngest female neurosurgeons in the field, Katelyn. 
That was when things got... strange. 
Wymack had been in the kitchen, pouring a seltzer for his (three years sober) son, when he heard the front door open and Abby greet the final arrivals. He heard a small, excited little voice call out, “Unca Annew!! Unca Neew!!” Then there was the rapid patter of little feet followed by a squeal of delight and a deep laugh that Wymack couldn’t place because he’d legitimately never heard it before. 
Curious and confused, Wymack stepped out of the kitchen just enough to peer into the foyer and his eyes didn’t quite register what he was seeing. 
Andrew was standing in the foyer with a blond-haired little girl in his arms who couldn’t be any older than three (though frankly, he was shit at guessing ages on munchkins). He was grinning and hugging her, listening as she jabbered on about something-or-other. Neil was standing at his shoulder, also smiling, though his attention diverted and his expression softened in a way that Wymack hadn’t known the venomous little viper to be capable of. 
“U-unca Neewy?” Wymack noticed that the little girl in Andrew’s arms wasn’t the only child present. An identical child in a different colored dress was huddling behind her mother’s legs, looking anxious at the new place and the strange woman (Abby) who kept smiling down at her. 
“Hey there Pips,” Neil said quietly, crouching down and opening his arms in offering. It took a moment, then the little girl cautiously edged away from her mother before half-tripping on uncoordinated legs the five or six steps it took her to get to Neil, who wrapped her up in his arms as natural as breathing and hugged her tight. He murmured something in her ear that Wymack couldn’t hear and when the little girl nodded he scooped her up and kissed her cheek before turning to join Andrew and the other small child. 
Andrew and Neil holding children. Andrew and Neil being good with children. Andrew and Neil, smiling and laughing and comforting small little children. It was such a bizarre thing that Wymack didn’t really think when he spouted off a bewildered, “What the actual fuck?”
Seven faces instantly snapped to where he was standing and it took more will than he liked to admit for Wymack not to cower under the five disapproving adult gazes and the two shocked child ones. 
“David!” Abby hissed, and he grimaced an apology. 
“Ooooooo, he said it! He said it!” crowed the chatterbox in Andrew’s grasp. 
Andrew looked like he was about ready to commit murder and never in all the years had he known the bastard had Wymack ever felt intimidated by him -- until now. It made no sense, but somehow, he became about thirty times more effective with a small child in his arms. What the fuck was up with that?
The other child made a timid little whimpering sound and Neil shot him a similar promise of an untimely death with one scathing narrowing of his eyes. Suddenly, Wymack was very eager to cancel his plans to go see the Denver Wildcats next game. 
Then Neil softened again in that way that made Wymack feel like he’d been transported to an alternate dimension. He bounced the child gently and murmured quietly to her, and this time Wymack was able to hear what he said. 
“I know he’s big and loud, but that’s Wymack. Remember I told you about him?”
“Uh-huh...”
“Remember what I said?”
“Uh-huh...”
“Pips.” The tone was gentle, but still commanding in a way that eerily reminded Wymack of Betsy. This was getting too weird. 
The little girl hugged Neil tighter around the neck, then took two deep breaths before pulling back and peaking over at where he was still standing right at the entrance of the kitchen. She studied him warily before saying, “He’s da bear man.”
The... bear man? What... the fuck?
“That’s right. He’s big and loud but very soft. And he’ll stay far away if you don’t want him close.” 
Wymack was pretty sure he needed to lay down.
Thankfully, Aaron finally decided to speak the fuck up. Granted, the tiny fucker sounded way too amused for his own good. “Coach, you haven't met the twins yet. The little energizer bunny with Andrew is Penny and Neil’s got Piper. Piper is a bit shy, that’s all. She’s not all that great with strangers still.”
“Alright family, let’s get out of the foyer hm? Would you girls like some snacks? I bet Uncle Andrew will show you where the cookies are if you ask him nicely,” Katelyn offered with a knowing smile.
It had an immediate effect. Even the shy one, Piper, lit up like damn Christmas tree as both girls looked to Andrew like he was here to deliver them Salvation. In a childlike unison that had absolutely no right being that adorable, both girls gasped, “Cookies?!”
Andrew smirked. Then he chuckled and kissed Penny on the cheek. “Oh, I think I can find something.”
Wymack stepped out of the way as Andrew led the way with Penny, Neil and Piper right behind them, into the kitchen.
He watched them go, then just stood there, gobsmacked for a moment. Katelyn was the one to cross over to him and pat him consolingly on the shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, Neil has already offered both of them to teach them how to pick locks when they turn five.”
It did but it didn’t. 
Aaron snickered unhelpfully. “Go have a drink, Coach. If that is fucking you up, just wait until tea time.”
“Tea time?” Even to his own ears, his voice came out raspy. “What the fuck is tea time?”
Aaron cackled in response. Cackled. 
Jesus Christ, this was not what he had signed up for.
234 notes · View notes
maxineswritingcenter · 3 years ago
Text
You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 25
-----------
2005
It was the semi-finales for girl’s lacrosse. Miraculously, I was made captain as a freshman. Which meant, for some reason, people were offended and thought that I should be picked on more. Fact of the matter is that lacrosse is a game of strategy. Together; with the help of my teammates, we would play to win. Being captain wasn’t a choice, Finstock made me captain and the role was a big shoe to fill. But here we are, semi-finales.
As we made our way out to the play, I looked at the stands. Mom, Dad, Uncle Noah, Stiles, Scott on one end. Laura and Derek on the other side. 
There were fifteen minutes left in the game, the score was tied. We needed to make one more goal to win and get to the finales. For this next play, I was face to face with the other team captain, waiting for the pearl to be thrown. 
“You don’t deserve to be captain.” The girl glared, her eyes looked like they wanted to melt through my helmet and into my brain. 
“Excuse me?” 
“You heard me. I worked my ass off for four years to be captain. What makes you so special?” 
I blinked at her, a little confused as to where this hostility was coming from, “I’m just playing a game.” 
“A real captain knows the lacrosse is more than a game.” She smirked, “When we win this, I’m getting a scholarship to So Cal, so why don’t you just do what freshman do best and lose.” On one hand I felt bad for her. She probably had parents that pushed and pushed for her to be the best. And I also felt bad because I knew we were gonna win.
The ref blew the whistle starting play. And everything was going according to plan. That was until I was passed the pearl. I ran with it, tossing it to another player. Meaning that it was completely unnecessary for me to be tackled and would be considered aggressive. But that didn’t stop the other captain from using her entire body to slam me into the ground. One minute I was standing and the next I had was on the ground. My chest felt tight, like I was straining to breathe. When I opened my eyes, I saw her face over mine, smirking down at me. 
“HEY!” I heard Finstock’s booming voice, “Ref! Aren’t you gonna call that?!” No whistle, either the ref hadn’t seen it or he was allowing it. But Derek wasn’t allowing it. I heard multiple shouts and then watched the player who stood above me get shoved away, Derek replaced her. He knelt down, placing a hand on my shoulder. 
“Derek, what are you doing?” I groaned. 
“Can you get up?” He asked, trying to help me sit up. I hissed at the movement. 
Derek turned back to the bench, “Get a medic!” And only then did the whistle blow. The girl had given plenty of excuses, but they still gave her team a three minute penalty that made them lose the game. Looks like I had been right. 
I was taken to the hospital and diagnosed with a concussion but I would be fine just in time for the finales. The whole time in the waiting room, in the room itself, and even when we got home, Derek had been right beside me, holding my hand.
I had grown to hate hospitals and everything about them since the last time I had been to one I had been stabbed. The gowns with the open backs that were way too open to the public. That smell that was a cross between cleaner and the latex and rubber of gloves. The beds that were as hard as a rock and were covered in paper that would crinkle and make noise even if you weren't moving. That apprehensiveness that would build up in your stomach every time you heard footsteps coming down the hallway.
Thankfully, I didn't have to go through any of that. Since I was a pregnant werewolf, going to the hospital in Beacon Hills was a definite no-no, so the next best option is Dr. Deaton, a veterinarian and a makeshift supernatural doctor. Not to mention a full blown druid in this day and age. But from what I've learned in the past couple years, old magic was very much alive. 
I was sitting on the metal table used for the animals, swinging my legs back and forth, waiting for Deaton to come back from getting my medical records emailed to him by Melissa. He could have gotten them himself, he just figured it would be less illegal if he got them from a nurse. 
Thoughts were racing through my head for no rhyme or reason. Since I became a werewolf, every scar or scratch on my body had become only a memory. My stab wound, the acid burns on my legs, the cuts on my face from being tortured all those months ago which really felt more like a lifetime. It had been a different life, a life fabricated through magic and spells. A life that almost didn't feel like mine anymore.
"Sorry, for the wait, (Y/N)." Deaton walked into the room, his eyes scanning over the stack of papers in his hands.
"You're alright, Doc." I smiled, leaning back on my hands, "So how am I looking?"
“Very pregnant.”
"Nothing gets past you, huh?” I smirked. To be fair, I was approaching the three and a half month mark. Deaton smiled, taking my vitals and a vial of blood. 
“So I’ve been made aware that Mr. Hale is the father.” He said, pressing a cotton ball to my skin after removing the needle, “How's that going?"
“About as well as you can imagine.” 
“So not at all?” He asked. I nodded, shrugging my shoulders. 
"Everything looks normal," He smiled as he wrote everything down on his clipboard, "Just need to get a look at the little guy." He looked up, "You said it was a boy, right?" He asked, moving over to get the sonographer that I’m sure had never been used on a human before.
“Unless the baby’s sprouting a third arm. That'd be cool." I smiled, “But yeah, that’s what the ultrasound tech in Scotland said.”
He chuckled and shook his head, "Alright, lay back and lift your shirt up." I laid back on the table, lifting my shirt up. The jelly he put on my stomach was cold and reminded me of the goo that had encased Jackson when he was a lizard person. He moved the sensor over my stomach and looked into the monitor. Ultrasounds were usually a little hard to see anyway, just like a fancy warschak paintings. And the fetus? Kinda like a funky jellybean.
“There we are.” He grinned, “Little werewolf.”
Craning my neck, I looked up at him, "You can tell he's a werewolf?"
"No.” He took the monitor off, handing me a paper towel so I could wipe off my stomach, “But odds are since his parents are both werewolves, it would make sense that the child would be also. However, you had the dormant gene, maybe your child will too." He turned off the sonographer.
“Have any names picked out?”
"I have a few... I liked Jacob, which Derek hated because it was too ‘Twilight’. Then there's one other but I don't know about it." The name that Derek loved more than anything for some reason, "Nicholas." And damn was it good. 
"What about Nicholas Jacob? Just use both of them." 
"Or I could name him after Stiles" I smirked to myself, "Mieczyslaw Nicholas.”
"Maybe that would be a little too much."
“Stiles is a little too much.” I smiled to myself
-
"So Nicholas?" Sheriff looked at me from across the table, a cup of coffee in his hand. I hummed and nodded, sipping my hot cocoa.
"Nicholas?” He asked again.
"Mieczyslaw?" I raised my eyebrows at him.
He raised his eyebrows, "It was his mother's father's name." 
“I remember Grandpa Mitch, trust me." I smiled, holding my mug in both hands, “I was thinking maybe Nicholas Noah.” I avoided looking in his eyes. Emotional talks were never really his strong suit, especially after Aunt Claudia. I wanted to honor him somehow.
He smiled, blinking a few times, “Sounds pretty good to me.” After a moment he asked: "What are you going to do now?"
I finished my drink and stood up to put it in the sink, "My plan, right now at least, is that I'm going to stay here to have the baby... Then...” I washed out the mug, “Then I'm not sure. I don't know if I want to go back to Scotland or stay here." He stood up as well and pulled me into his arms for a tight hug. I wrapped my arms around him, blinking my own tears away. 
Uncle Noah stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head, "Whatever your decision, I'll be there for you. Whenever you need me. I'll always, always be there for you." 
-
My pajamas had taken a turn for the worst. No more t-shirts and shorts, it’s moo moos and nightgowns from now on. I pulled my night gown over my head, smoothing out the skirt. Did I look like I had raided a grandmother’s closet? Absolutely. I looked down at my stomach, rubbing my hand over my bump.
"Are you a little alien?" I smiled after a moment, listening deeply to his little heartbeat, “Nice.” I glanced over at my desk, then pulled back my blankets to get into bed. I stopped, my head snapping back towards the window where there were red eyes staring back at me. 
 Now, if this was two years ago I would be losing my mind over the fact that there were red eyes staring at me. But since I've gone through emotional Hell, I was feeling rather annoyed by some alpha that just thought they could mosey around my house, around my window, and around my goddamn personal space. I stalked over to the window and slammed it open. 
"Listen, pal, you have about five seconds to get out my yard or I swear by all that is damnable, I will put you through so much pain that your great-grandchildren will be sore."
The eyes came closer, revealing a familiar crooked jaw, "Nice to see you too." 
"You could have just come through the front door, ya know? If Stiles can make a spare key to your house, then he can make you one for his." Scott only looked at me seriously. It was like the kid from three months ago was gone and all there was left was a battle hardened man. 
"Can I please come in?" I stepped away from the window, watching him crawl inside and stand up.
"I've been great, Scott, I've only been in Scotland for months, crying and wondering why none of my friends or family were contacting me. How have you been?" Was it petty? Absolutely, but the hormones were raging. Even if Derek told everyone to stop talking to me, what hold did he have over anyone when Scott was around?
"I'm sorry about that, I really am. But I came to-"
I cut him off, after finally connecting, "Who did you kill?"
“What?”
"To become an alpha, who did you take it from?" 
"I didn't kill anyone!” He said in an exasperated voice, “Why does everyone ask that? Not killing people has been my thing since Peter bit me." He ran his hand through his shorter hair, it suit him.
It then dawned on me. The one thing that had little to no documentation of. Even the Lunar Circle had just the basics. It was the stuff of legend, a hear say. I didn't think it was possible. 
"A true alpha." He stared at me for a second and blinked a couple times.
"You're a true alpha." I grinned, "Oh my god, Scott, this is unbelievable." I grabbed his shoulders and gave them a slight squeeze, "Tell me everything. I wanna know how it happened and what situation you were in. How were you feeling? Were you hurt? Was your body under so much stress that it just happened?”
Scott grabbed my hands and placed them by my sides, "(Y/N), maybe another time I came here for a reason."
"Oh, right, of course." Probably looking ridiculous, “What’s on your mind?”  
"I really don't think it's safe for you here." 
"Here we go agai-" 
"Will you just listen to me before you start whining?" He growled. That certainly shut me up. I raised my eyebrows at him, but I guess I should hear him out. I motioned for him to continue.
"I'm not so much worried about you.” He said, “I know you can take care of yourself. I'm worried about..." He paused, "Uh..." 
“Nicholas.”
"Yeah, I'm worried about Nicholas." He sat in my computer chair and leaned forward, "The pack we're facing don't care who they kill or why, all they want is to hurt us. You're my friend, (Y/N). I don't want anything to happen to you. And I don't want anything to happen to your kid. Please." He rolled forward and took my hands in his, "Please, go back to Scotland. I promise you, you won't be in the dark. You don't deserve to be left out. I'll call myself, and if not me, Stiles will. It's not safe for you.” I looked down, gnawing on my lip. Scott was right, he was completely right. It wasn't safe. I couldn't be a tough alpha when I had so much to live for. Keeping this kid safe is my top priority. As much as I wanted to stay home, it wasn’t safe.
"You'll tell me when it's safe to come back?" 
"You have my word." 
I sighed, looking up at him with a half-smile, "I may be stubborn as hell, but that doesn't mean I can't admit when someone's right. And you're right, Scott. I'll go." 
He closed his eyes, like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He dropped my hands and rolled back, "I'm so glad you agreed with my first speech, if you hadn't I would have been improvising for my life." He chuckled.
Shaking my head, I grinned at him, “It’s good to see you again.” 
“It’s good to see you too.”
"So you're going back?" Uncle Noah looked over his coffee with tired eyes, spying my luggage that had only been unpacked for two days. It was a new day and another plane ride.
"It's not safe for me. It's not safe for any of you." I rested my head on his shoulder, "But I know that will never stop you from helping the ones you care about." 
A small smile pulled at his lips, "You're way too good at reading me." 
"Well, I've only known you my whole life." 
He set down his coffee and hugged me tight, like this was the last time he would see me. I know he was worried about me and Stiles, it was in his nature. This was the best option for me. As much as I wanted to stay and fight. I couldn't fight if my child was kidnapped and hell knows what would happen to him. 
Giving him one last squeeze, I pulled away, the honking outside meant that Stiles had pulled in and was ready to drop me off at the airport. 
"I'll call you when I land. Or text you. Depends on the time." I kissed his cheek, "Bye Uncle Noah." 
“Goodbye, sweetheart. Stay safe." I kissed his cheek. My head held high, I grabbed my bag and my rolling luggage and went out the door. Stiles grabbed my bags, opening the back of Roscoe to throw my luggage in. That was until a familiar black Camero pulled into the driveway, blocking Stiles in. 
"God. Dammit." I muttered to myself. My life was just going swell, wasn't it? I looked down at my stomach and sighed. I felt the burn of acid reflux in my throat, my child showing obvious discomfort as well. Me too, little man. Me too. 
There was no way around it, I couldn’t leave without talking with him. Not that I should have to begin with. I sucked. 
Derek got out of the car, coming around quickly and standing in front of me. 
“Derek, I don’t think you should be here.” Stiles stepped forward. Very sweet, but realistically Stiles wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing against Derek. They stared each other down, the air just filled with masculinity.
“Stiles...” I said, grabbing my bags, “If he wants to take me to the airport, let him.” 
Stiles eyes widened, “You’re really giving him the time of day? Really?” 
Sighing, I pulled Stiles into my arms and hugged him tightly. He hesitated, but hugged me back. 
“I know that this seems like a bad idea, and most of my ideas are bad, but I got this. Trust me.” I smiled and kissed his cheek, “I love you.” He pulled away, looking between Derek and I. 
“I love you too. Scott and I will let you know when it’s safe to come back.”
“You better.” I turned back to Derek, trying to keep up the attitude I had to keep Stiles at ease. I held out my bags. He took them without a word and we both started the trip to the airport. It was hard to get a read on him at the moment. He emotions were dull, nothing that stood out. He still looked as tense as ever. His brows were knitted together and his piercing green eyes looked hard. 
“So...” He said after a while, “What are you going to do about...” He trailed off. 
“Him?” I looked down at my stomach, “I’m just preparing and getting ready for him. I picked a name too. Nicholas.” 
A small smile pulled at his lips, but he hid it, “Hmm.” 
“Derek....” Now or never, “I just need to know why?” 
He inhaled deeply, “I wish I could tell you. I don’t even remember it happening. Like I was under a spell and I couldn’t break out of it.” So he had experienced what I had when I was under Matt’s control. In this situation, in Beacon Hills, there was no reason not to believe him. His heart told me it was true. 
“I’m sorry that I hit you.” 
“I don’t blame you.” He glanced over at me, “If I felt the same thing you did, I would probably lose control too.” 
“I’m tired of people taking advantage of you. If I see that bitch-” I hadn’t realized that my eyes had turned red. 
“(Y/N)...” He reached over his right hand, placing it on my knee, “Calm down.” I took a deep breath and leaned back against the seat, closing my eyes. Just the simplest touch could calm me down and it was something that I missed. 
“Nicholas, huh? I like it.”
Happiness welled up in my chest, “I sure hope so since you picked it.” 
“I didn’t think you liked it.” 
I sat back up and opened my eyes, “What are you talking about? I’ve always liked that name.”
“Riiiiight.” 
By the time the conversation ended, we were at the airport. I reached for the handle to open the door when he reached over to stop me. 
“I let you leave alone last time, I’m walking you in."
We got inside and checked in, the only thing left was for me to board. Maybe it was a good thing that he didn't take me to the airport last time, because now that he was here, I didn't want to leave him.
"How selfish would it be for me to ask you to drop your life here and come with me?" I leaned on his arm.
"Very. Trust me, the thought crossed my mind. I'm needed here. I have to be here for Cora."
I smiled slightly, "We're gonna get through this. Soon we'll be together again and we can have that big happy family that you deserve. That we deserve."
Derek sighed, resting his head on top of mine, "Is it cliche to hope that this all ends tomorrow?" 
My smile faltered, "Don't believe in miracles, Derek."
Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!
----------------
Read part 26 here!
Please comment below or message me to be added to the taglist!
YSM Tag:
@nyotamalfoy
@fruitloopzzz
@babygirl-angel-love
@aestheticeggs
@akuri-shinsou
@geli2297
@coruscaret
@oh-my-gosh-everything-is-taken
@bellabadacadabra
30 notes · View notes
idjitlili · 4 years ago
Text
Oh no, all the hobbits Aragorn.
Tumblr media
Aragorn x reader.
Request for Thatfoolishhuman 'I would love an Aragorn imagine! Could you do one where the Mc is a healer (like, she can make wounds disappear with her hands.) and she patches Aragorn up after a battle and he falls in love with how gentle she is.'
Summary: Imagine being apart of the fellowship, being Gandalf's niece , you learn some stuff from him whether he liked it or not. Basically following the fellowship in secret from Rivendell, until you slipped up.
A/n: Arwen and Aragorn aren't together in this imagine, he still grew up with Elrond. A pitch is a piggyback ride it's the original name for it. Totally didn’t make a meme for this
Word count:2253
Warnings: I'm British, so spelling for certain words differs, such as grey, colour, among other words, don't be mad please.
Growing up around a wizard, especially Gandalf the grey, you learnt a lot. He just left books laying around, books full of spells. Of course Gandalf wasn't really related to you, but he might as well have been. Your parents travelled a lot, so you ended up being around Gandalf most of your childhood.
Gandalf had taught you some basic spells, nothing major, healing spells mostly, children are clumsy. It was no secret your parents didn't like you running through the forests, saying it was too dangerous , general protectiveness, you guess. Many times they proved that they were right, many times you had fallen into traps left for animals. You would've probably bled out, if it wasn't for Gandalf.
Still living with your parents, no longer a child, not knowing what you wanted to do, you parents wanted you to go work in the local bakery, not wanting you to travel around like they did, dangerous times with black riders frequently on the road and such. But of course you didn't want a simple life.
Again your parents had left on business, this time you didn't go to Gandalf's house, you had maybe listened in, when going to visit Frodo , only to see Samwise Gamgee listening under the window. You know how it goes, Gandalf caught him, not you.
You ended up following Frodo, Sam , Merry and Pippin. Life is boring, might as well take a risk, you longed for adventure, like the mister Bilbo. 
Surprisingly the elves had not even noticed you at Rivendell, actually not surprising Gandalf had brought you there many times, so they probably thought you were with him. You had waited in the trees outside Rivendell's gates, for them. 
You hadn't know what was actually going on , or whether there would actually be a quest, but to your lucky there was. Not really lucky for Boromir though... soon enough Frodo and Gandalf had emerged along with 7 others.
You weren't noticed for a long time considering, Frodo's fault completely, when Frodo had fallen down the mountain in the snow, you had been hiding not so great in the snow, and of course Frodo landed facing you. While Aragorn had rushed back to Frodo, Frodo's face was laced with confusion as he stared at you.
"Y/n...?" Frodo had stood up, not realising he had dropped the ring, you rising with your backpack and coat one, with the snow littering your hair.  Aragorn had just stared too moving towards Frodo, carefully, the others travelling down to see what was going on.
"Oh, Frodo!  What are you doing here? I was just out to get some milk for my dinner." Standing calf deep in snow, freezing, yet your facing burning with embarrassment.
"I was wondering when you'd reveal yourself." Gandalf chuckling , of course he knew you were there, but what you didn't know was that Gollum had been not even three feet away from you..  Gandalf had turned back grabbing the ring from Boromir and launching it at Frodo, like he was Michael Jordan.
"Gandalf who is this?" Gimli of all of the fellowship had questioned you, he wasn't afraid to speak his mind.
"Y/n is my niece , now come along we don't have all day."
Thus, you were no longer a stalker , but part of the fellowship. Time had passed and you had lost your uncle, but it didn't feel right, you couldn't process his death, so you pretended he just slipped on some bread and was at home resting.
Soon enough you were all heading for Lothlórien, without realising it, you had stayed close to Legolas at this moment, mostly to bug him.
"If elves are so great, then how didn't you notice me? For all you know I could've been watching you pee, I wasn't but I could've been.  While you was sleeping I could've chopped your hair off and made a wig. Why do you look like your are apart of a dance routine? Why do you float? How does it feel to have a dick for a father?" Rambling on , you are surprised that Legolas doesn't whoop you, he could've, you wouldn't have been able to do much, you aren't the best person at defence.
You couldn't tell if you was annoying Legolas or not, but Gimli had kept smirking your way, as he stomped through the forest.
"Hey, Legolas? "
"Yes, y/n?" Legolas had sighed , he much preferred Gimli antics.
"Can I have a pitch?" But he had just stared at you, frowning, huffing you had walking around Legolas so you was next to Aragorn. Only for your ankle to roll, making you fall into Aragorn, it didn't necessarily hurt but. Aragorn had grabbed you and placed you back onto your feet.
"Um, Aragorn? You know you much better that Legolas..? Can I have a pitch?" You were undoubtedly attracted Aragorn, come on, he looks like a God. Fuck Thor. He didn't even answer just knelt down, allowing you to grip around his neck, and grab your calf's. Carrying on walking with ease.
Raising your eyebrows and smirking at Legolas behind you, he just never showed any emotion, except in that scene with Haldir , where he just smirks creepily in the background.
You weren't particularly close to anyone in the fellowship other than Frodo and Sam. But when Boromir died, yes it was sad, but where did the hobbits go? You had stayed close to Aragorn as he fought down the Uruk-hai as you hid in a tree. Before lifting you down, rushing to dying Boromir.
"They took the little ones,"
"Be still."
"Frodo! Where is Frodo?"
"I let Frodo go."
"Then you did what I could not. I tried to take the Ring from him."
Kneeling next to Boromir, "The hobbits Aragorn, but we shall get them back." Boromir was too far gone to be saved, the wrong brother died sadly. Boromir eyes had met yours once more , as he smiled , before he finished his speech to his king.
After Boromir was sent home, the fellowship was down to just four, rushing after Merry and Pippin.  "We must hurry! The hobbits Aragorn!" Five minutes of running , and you were already getting a stitch.  This was no time for jokes.
Soon enough Gandalf was alive, and Aragorn was dead, as Théoden had lead you all to helms deep. You had seen Eowyn, oh how heartbroken she was after she found out Aragorn was dead, that bitch knew him for what five minutes, she was already grinding up on him.
You were witch, she was a princess, obviously Aragorn was going to prefer her. Soon enough Aragorn practically marching into helms deep, injured but alive , what's with all the faked deaths.
After Aragorn had done his big speech and everyone had left to get ready for war, you had stayed behind obviously, you didn't want to confront him in front of everyone. "Uh, Aragorn?" You were unsure of yourself, honestly, you can't have a crush on a king. You swear kings have bad hair, lucky Aragorn didn't , look at the British royal family.. now that's embarrassing.
Aragorn had turned Aragorn to face you, waiting for you to speak, he definitely didn't fall from heaven, the Valar decided to test him by shoving him off a cliff.
"Um, I was wondering if I c-could help with those wounds, um, I didn't know if you needed help?" You were sure that your face was probably flushed red, it would be surprising if he could even understand you , as you stumbled over your own words.
Aragorn had nodded , before sitting down near by.  Grabbing the king foil out of your bag , along with other healing herbs, Aragorn had removed his jacket and undone some of the buttons on his tunic. Bringing a stool in front of Aragorn for you to sit.  You weren't about to chew up the kings foil,  tearing it up before trying to gently apply it to the huge gash across his chest.
A small groan had emerged from his lips as you had placed a piece kings foil to the gash too harshly. "Sorry." Looking into Aragorn's bright eyes , for a spilt second before going back to gently placing the kings foil. Aragorn stops you , by grabbing your wrist , not with force, making you look back up at him.
"Do not be sorry, I just fell off a cliff, I've been through worse." A smile reassuring smile plant on his face, but you can only think what is worse than falling off a cliff.
"Okay, sorry, I mean I'm not sorry, you are very intelligent or a king, there's warg! Let's go fight our enemy on the edge of a cliff. Um, actually that's embarrassing because I fell down a well because a owl scared me, I was stuck down there for hours, and then Gandalf found me and used a bucket to get me out. I had to sit in the bucket while he pulled it up."
Aragorn had let go of your wrist , allowing you to continue as you spoke, "you have not changed."
"Pardon?" Aragorn was smiling down at you as your eyebrows scrunched together.
" Last week I saw leaf , hit you in the back of your neck, you jumped three feet in the air." Your face flushed again, as you tried to contain a smile, as Aragorn laughed at you.
"I did not, that was not a leaf, it was a snake!"
"A green round snake, I believe you , y/n" you had stopped applying the kings foil, to put your head between your nerves , to hide your face in embarrassment . "It was a deformed snake."
"Last month, you skidded in mud and fell flat on your back, when Legolas put his hand on your shoulder briefly. Or when you kicked Boromir's cock when he was try-" sitting back up to look at Aragorn.
"You are right, next time it will be you that I will kick." Aragorn could not have shut his legs quicker, making you laugh at him, "I'll have to start wearing a shield."
"Never know when I'll strike, your balls are going to be deformed." Aragorn had gasped at you, as you brought your hand other his wound beginning to heal him as you chanted quietly.
"Such foul language, Gandalf would not approve." Looking up to Aragorn with a small smile, placing your other hand on his shoulder softly, to stop him from moving.  Really the healing didn't take very long, the cut left a blood stain though.  "Stay there," (or you get unprofessional neutering.) Grabbing the water pouch from your bag, and piece of cloth.
Before returning to sit in front of Aragorn with the damp cloth, wiping off the dried blood gently.  You couldn't help but feel like you had done something good today, you got to heal ,clean an very attractive man stopping his wound from getting infected and him dying. 
Plus,he's Aragorn, who wouldn't want to touch his chest.   As you finished, you had look down for your pouch, only to see how blood his hands were. Lifting his hand up to examine it, no way you were a doctor. " How have you not gotten infection? All that Orc blood going into your open wounds." Again having to heal all the  little cuts and slices on his hands.
It was no secret to Aragorn that he had developed a like for you, from the moment Frodo saw you sticking out in the snow like a mole heap.
“Tis the best you are going to be, after this battle you will covered again. Legolas probably glide through here, any minute asking where his beloved is.” Both of you standing up, grabbing your bag, you had leant up to press a kiss to Aragorns cheek, before turning away to head to where the woman and children were, Gandalf’s orders.
Aragorn had stopped you again, by the shoulder, causing you to turn back around. “Y/n, thank you. May I ask for something else?” Aragorns eyes looking into your e/c ones
softly, you had nodded. “Would you accept me courtship?” You had just pressed your lips slow onto his before pulling away.
The door was quickly opened “ARAGORN!” Legolas glided into the room, rushing towards you and Aragorn. Sighing “your beloved is here,” Legolas was stood between both of you, you had to walk around him, to wrap your arms around Aragorn,briefly embracing, before pulling away.
Legolas just stared, “I’m not hugging you too, leg a less, that’s what your name would be if you had no legs, because your legs aragorn”
103 notes · View notes