#this is the woman that read bedtime stories to them and wiped their tears and cooked their favourite meals
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this is extremely important to me it means so much....if u get it u get it and if u don't u dont.... (fics are all from the wonderful mother_of_houseplants btw shes amazing and so is her writing which is evident in these screenshots)
#THERES JUST SOMETHING THAT HITS ABOUT THEM SEEING THE WOMAN WHO GAVE UP HER LIFE TO RAISE THEM AS BEAUTIFUL#like because to them she is one of the most. her tenderness and warmth and care and love for them as if theyre her own make her beautiful#amongst other things#its like when people who actually have a good relationship w their mothers say that their mom is the most beautiful woman in the world#thats exactly what this is giving and im all for it#this is the woman that read bedtime stories to them and wiped their tears and cooked their favourite meals#its from such a wholesome perspective too since theyre her brothers/kids like when they think of her beauty they think of#her demonstrations of love for them and her smile and her warm kind eyes and her liveliness#i could go on about this....#its also similar to how frank calls her beautiful multiple times which im totally normal (very insane) about#âthere is a line of water across her foreheadâ shes run-down from housework and not dressed up at all but theres so much beauty in#her visible hospitality#her beauty isn't defined by it but its present within it#man. just the beauty of fiona gallagher.#+ it hits more when you realise that from their perspective there is no one else in the world who will love them as unconditionally or#no-one besides her who has done the things for them that shes done#this is the woman whose face theyve all looked into since they were babies
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Hello there. I love your work. I was wondering if you could write one where baby sainz is pregnant with charles and alexandra baby.
Oh my god. This was so hard to write. I hope I did an okay-ish job. My requests are always open! Enjoy reading! -XoXo
The Pregnancy
Amiraâs heart raced as she stared at the positive pregnancy test. She was only 21, and her relationship with Alex and Charles was still in its early stagesâjust five months old. How could this be happening? Tears streamed down her face as she sat on the toilet seat, overwhelmed by the news.
Unaware of her distress, the apartment door swung open. âDove, weâre back home!â Alexâs voice echoed through the hallway. She exchanged a puzzled glance with Charles when they received no response. Concerned, they called out to her again. âJolie fille? Are you here?â
Then they heard itâthe heartbreaking sniffles coming from the bathroom. Without hesitation, they rushed to the door. There, they found their beautiful Amira, tears staining her cheeks. âOh my god, baby, what happened?â Alex and Charles approached her, their worry evident. They immediately ran to her, took her in their arms and whispers sweet nothings in french in her ear. "Tout va bien, mon amour" or "Je t'ai, bĂ©bĂ©" was the things she heard. Sometimes Charles would even say "Niente puĂČ ferirti, amore mio".
Amiraâs sobs subsided after what felt like an eternity. Charles cradled her face in his hands, gently wiping away her tears. âWhatâs wrong, bĂ©bĂ©?â Alex asked once more. Instead of answering, Amira held up the positive test, her emotions laid bare.
She had mentally prepared herself for a difficult conversationâa potential breakup, perhaps. But what unfolded surprised her. Alex and Charles erupted in joy, hugging her tightly and peppering her cheeks with kisses. âOh honey, you have no idea how happy you make us,â Alex exclaimed.
âYouâre not mad at me?â Amira whispered, her voice trembling.
Charles grinned, leaning in to kiss her forehead. âOf course not, mon amour. After all, it takes three to make a baby.â His wink was playful, and Amira felt a rush of relief. She was no longer alone; she had her partners by her side. And in that moment, despite the unexpected circumstances, she felt a warmth that eclipsed any fear. What unfolded now was a nine moths journey.
Ah, the joys and challenges of pregnancy! Emotions running wild, cravings taking unexpected turnsâAmiraâs journey was far from ordinary. But nestled within those moments were the seeds of a beautiful storyâa tale of love, anticipation, and shared dreams.
Charles and Alexandra, devoted partners, reveled in the miracle unfolding before them. Their princess, Amira, carried their futureâa tiny life nestled within her. The princess treatment they bestowed upon her was more precious than any crown. They doted on her, their attentiveness unwavering.
Charles, ever the thoughtful one, brought home giftsâa tangible expression of his love for his three favorite people. Sometimes it was a soft blanket for cozy nights, a whimsical mobile for the nursery, or a book of bedtime stories to read aloud. Each gift held a promise: âWeâre in this together.â
And Alex? Well, she took on a new roleâthe fashion curator for Amira. It was common knowledge that Amira Sainz was a stunning woman. But pregnancy transformed herâradiance multiplied a thousandfold. She floated through sunny days in pretty summer dresses, her baby bump a testament to lifeâs magic. Alexâs choices were impeccable, accentuating her glow. The two of them weren't able to look away from their pretty girl.
Their protectiveness knew no bounds. Amira wasnât allowed to step out of a room without at least one of them by her side. Shared showers became intimate momentsâher baby bump a delightful obstacle, yet they navigated it with care. The warmth of water, the closeness of skinâthese were the memories etched into their hearts.
At night, they cocooned her. Alex half beneath her, Charles spooned against her back. Their hands rested on her belly, feeling the flutter of life within. They whispered promises to their unborn child, their love a lullaby. And if anyone dared approach their Amira, they wedged themselves between her and the world. No one touched their perfect girl without permission.
Amiraâs pregnancy was a symphony of emotions, cravings, and shared laughter. She had the best of both worldsâthe thrill of Formula 1 and the tenderness of love. As the days counted down, they dreamed of tiny fingers and sleepy smiles. And when the moment arrivedâtheir babyâs first cry echoing through the roomâthey knew their lives had changed forever.
Three hearts beating as oneâa family forged on racetracks and whispered promises. Amira, Charles, and Alexâtheir love story had just begun.
#formula 1#baby!sainz!sister#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x alexandra saint mleux x reader#formula 1 x reader
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June of Doom: Day Two - GGY: "Made to Watch" & "Scream"
A/N: Really sorry guys, I totally failed at the writing challenge. Oops. I might write one or two more, but there's no guarantee. I'm still planning to write for Whumptober. I'll make another poll when it gets closer.
Heavily inspired by Gregory's Army on Twitter. They have a lot of cool threads, so go check those out.
Trigger warning(s): Minor character death, blood/minor gore, child abuse, implied/referenced kidnapping, and implied/referenced brainwashing.
Word count: 522
---
The lights are bright.Â
A scream echoes throughout the dingy room. Gregory inwardly cringes away from the noise - unable to do anything else. He stares up at the ceiling, willing himself to think of happier memories.Â
But the lights are bright.Â
âGregory!â A woman (he knows who she is. He knows he does. So, why canât he say it?) calls out to him. âRun away! Get-âÂ
Tears slide down his face. He doesnât make a move to wipe them away. His arms remain frozen at his sides, fingers twitching as if trying to respond to the woman. To reach out for her.Â
The lightsâŠ.they hurt his eyes.
His chest burns from the effort of being forced to hold back his sobs (heâs always been emotional, so why isnât he crying now?) And his arms and legs ache from standing so still.Â
âGregory! Gregory! Baby, look at me!â Something in the womanâs voice forces him to look at her. Her honeyed amber eyes stare up at him, exhausted and in pain. Blood leaks from an unseen wound on her head and her arms are bent at unnatural angles, but she manages to smile. âMy baby,â she whispers. âIâm sorry.â The sounds of creaking metal start up again. The woman ( my mom! Itâs my mom! Say it! Say it! ) looks over her shoulder, eyes widening. âGo now!â She urges, almost pleading with him, but he canât. Not anymore.Â
The monster His new friend His father digs his pointy fingers into the womanâs back and tugs. Gregory looks up at the burning lights. Anything to distract himself from the horrifying scene in front of him.Â
Ripping flesh and blood curdling screams and in the middle of it all, he stands motionless. Like a puppet forced to stand stockstill and rigid.Â
The screams cut off abruptly with a wet gurgling sound ( mom!? Mommy!? Mommy? Wake up! Wake up, please! I donât want to be alone! Donât make me face him alone! )Â
The sounds of creaking metal lurch towards him. His father ( thereâs no one left! I have no one! ) half-stumbles, half-drags itself over to see Gregory. Its metal claws grasp him by the shoulders.Â
A single word escapes its mouth. âGregory,â it says.Â
He grunts, refusing to look away from the lights. His shoulders shake. He refuses to break down in front of this m- ( father will take care of you. Obey. Submit. And I will keep you safe! ) his father.Â
Gregory looks away from the lights. Not necessarily at his father but close enough. âThat wo- woman,â he stammers. âSheâŠI knew herâŠ.didnât I?â
âMaybe,â he answers. He lifts Gregory into his arms. âHow about I read you a bedtime story?â
âButâŠâ Gregory trails off, eyes wandering over to the lifeless womanâs body (or at least, whatâs left of it). Something sparks in his brain, puzzle pieces trying to fit together but they can't. He looks back at his father. âIâm not tired,â he whines.Â
His father laughs, heading back to their shared room. âIâll read you two bedtime stories then, how about that?â
Gregory sighs, leaning his head on his fatherâs shoulder. âOkay.âÂ
#fnaf ggy#fnaf fic#tw blood#tw childhood trauma#tw death#tw brainwashing#tw dissociation#fnaf security breach#fnaf the mimic#june of doom 2024
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Four.
Summary: Lucas & Peyton never left đ€ and almost exactly 2 years after Sawyer was born, Peyton discovers sheâs pregnant with her second child. With Lucas out of town she turns to Brooke to lean on.
"Brooke?"
âHi P Sawyer! What are you doing, girlie?" Brooke asked playfully, as she juggled her phone against her ear and shoulder while rummaging through her purse to find her car keys. When there was silence on the other end, her stomach dropped, and the keys were no longer important.
âPeyton, is everything okay? What's going on?"
She removed the hand that was covering her mouth and massaged the center of her forehead before answering, trying to collect her thoughts that were running wild. "Are you home right now?" Peyton asked.
âI was just about to run to the store, what's wrong? Where are you?" Brooke asked, with no clue what was going on.
âI think I'm pregnant.â
"What! Oh my gosh, you scared me! Wait...how do we feel about this?" Brooke asked, unsure how to react. Of course, she was excited but based on Peyton's demeanor, she wanted to know what was running through her best friend's mind. Two years ago Peyton almost died from pregnancy complications and with every pause and delayed response, she gathered that this news was a lot for her to process. Peyton began to cry and finally mustered out the words, "I don't know."
âHang on, forget the store, I'm on my way, okay?" Brooke offered.
âOkay, I love you" Peyton responded.
Brooke knew that Lucas and Sawyer were out of town visiting Karen, Andy, and Lilly for the next two weeks and that Peyton was home alone. She should have been in New Zealand with them but was forced to stay home at the very last minute. Mia's new album was finished and ready for distribution when she got the offer to be featured on a new song with Dashboard Confessional. The deal required Mia and the band to each put the track on both of their albums.
With a lot of adjustments to be made, Peyton made the call at the last minute to stay in Tree Hill due to the time zone difference and workload she now had in front of her.
âPeyton?" Brooke called as she came through the side door in Lucas and Peyton's bedroom. Peyton met her in the doorway holding her latest of four tests and let out a large sigh.
âHi..." she said as Brooke rushed over to her and wrapped her in her arms. An embrace that Peyton needed but one that caused her to smile, laugh, and cry all at the same time. When Brooke pulled away she saw what was in Peyton's hand and said, "P Sawyer, tell me what you're thinking, Mama?"
Peyton wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and let out another small burst of laughter. They both sat on the bed, their unofficial spot to divulge everything since they were kids.
"I don't know how this happened." Peyton shared.
âWell, I think I know how it happened," Brooke joked, trying to add levity to the conversation. Peyton appreciated the joke, but her smile faded quickly and she finally began to open up.
âWhat if it happens again? It's been almost two years and I still have nightmares that something happened to Sawyer and I wake up not knowing if I'm dead or alive. I always imagined having a big family, but after Sawyer was born... I can't go through that again... I mean I can and I would but I can't lose my baby."
"Honey, no, no it's okay... Just because you had complications in the past, does not mean it's going to happen again. I remember you telling me your doctor said it may not be an issue for you in the future!â
âBut what if it is?" Peyton asked Brooke.
"But what if it's not? A wise woman once told me that we waste most of our time worrying about things that never even happen and I wonder who that was?"
âFair." Peyton said as she smirked and nodded her head.
For a moment Peyton envisioned a family of four. Sawyer as a big sister. Two car seats. Lucas reading a bedtime story with two tiny faces tucked under each strong arm. How things could be.
"Talk to your doctor but first talk to your husband. I bet his first reaction will be nothing but pure happiness. That boy loves you and I see how he is with Sawyer. He's halfway around the world with her right now and the fact that he took a 2-year-old on a plane by himself automatically makes him the Dad of the year material. Youâre Lucas and Peyton. You guys can handle this. You two can handle anything.â
"Thank youâŠâ Peyton whispered as she reached out to grab Brooke's hand. Brooke smiled and said âYouâve got baby in that belly!â
âIâve got a baby in my belly.â Peyton proudly repeated and gently laid her hand on her stomach.â
#leyton#Lucas and Peyton#LucasxPeyton#peyton sawyer#lucas scott#Brooke Davis#oth#one tree hill#oth fanfic#one tree hill fanfic#fanfic#fan fiction#leyton fanfic#nostalgia
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CHAPTER NINE BABY LETS GO SUMMER ROSE IM MANIFESTING YOU READING THAT BEDTIME STORY LETS SEE IF IM A FOOL OR IF ILL ACREAM
FORWDBWE
Ok. Ok ok. So. Someone IS reading! It COULD be Summer or or or
Yâall I had to pause if itâs SUMMER IM GONNA SCREAM
MOTHERS AND FUCKERS OF THE JURY WE HAVE THE LAST MOM WE HAVE FINISHED THE COLLECTION AND OH NO SHES HOT AS HELL
SHES SO PRETTY SHES SO FUCKING PRETTY AND IM ONLY LOOKING AT HER DROM NOSE DOWN
HER SHOULDERS IM A VICTORIAN MAN I HAVE FALLEM ILL FROM HER BEAUTY
BABY YAAAAANG SLEEPING SOUNDLY BC HER MOMMY IS JERE IM
GOD sheâs so beautiful and we donât even see her face or her full outfit but it Does Not Matter fuuuuuuck
Sorry I was so focused on the most beautiful woman to ever exist I forgot to be worried about my baby boy. Jaune honey please be ok
AHHHHHHH THE PAPAER PLEASURE IS MADE OF GEMS NOW ITS STURDY NOW AND ITS THE RED ONE AHHHH
RED IS RUBY YELLOW IS YANG BLUE IS WEISS PINK IS NORA FREEN IS REN IM GONNA CRY
AND A PURPLE ONE ITS THE SQUAD AHHHHHHHHHH
OR MAYBE THE RED IS PYRRHA IDK BUT AHHHHH SEE JAUNE SEE
NO FLOOD OR FIRE WILL EVER HURT THEM AGAIN
WHITEKNIGHT SHIPPERS HOW YALL FEELING THIS IS CUTE IM CRYING
GIVE IT UP FOR BEST GIRL SHES GROWN SO MUCH FOR REAL
GROUP HUG WE JUST NEED TO DO THIS FOR RUBY TOO WAAAAAH
ok well no we still need to figure out what the cat wants they donât know it was trying to possess Ruby hang on
HUUUUUUUH?????????
Iâm gonna CRY
HERB
AHHHHHHH LOOK AT THEM
Blake being so tender with Yang and Yang being so so afraid to lose her sister oh my god oh my GOD sheâs cradling her face and wiping her tears. Any Yang haters I see will be sent into the pit
So bc Neoâs plan was to kill Ruby, or get rid of her or whatever, sheâs empty. Without Roman and without her revenge she has no attachments back on Remnant that would make her want to leave
BUT EHAT DOES THAT MEAN FOR ALYX BC I FIGURED THE CAT TRIED TO POSSESS HER TOO BUT WHAT
IS SHE REALLY JUNIPER IS THAT WHAT IM HEARING
OH NO IS SHE THE BLACKSMITH
DID THE CAT KILL ALYX??!?!?!?
Cat. If you think Anyone is gonna let you touch Ruby. Iâm sorry to Neoâs body but youâre about to be torn to shreds
THIS BITCH DID NOT TURN INTO PENNY EHAT THE FUCK
NOOOOOOOOOOO NONONONO
JAUNE
NOOOOOOOOOOOO BRING HIM BAVK
IS THIS RED LIKE ROSES BITCH
DONT END IT THERE WHAT THE FUCK NOOOOOOOO AHHHHHHHHHHHH
OH BITCH WE GOT THE FULL MODEL WE HAVE THE ARTWORK WE HAVE HER WE GOT SUMMER ROSE AFTER ALL THESE YEARS OH MY GOOOOOOOOD
Oh lordy lordy we have gotten. No /I/ have gotten everything Iâve EVER wanted like. If we ever get a team STRQ flashback Iâll die happily ever after but I know next week will HOPEFULLY be Ruby talking with her mom or something like that. I need smarter ppl to talk about the lore I am too head empty but BABY WE JAVE COMPLETED THE PARENT GAUNTLET WEVE COLLECTED THEM ALL A ROUND OF APPLAUSE
#rwby 9 spoilers#SUMMER ROSE#RUBY ROSE#HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT#JAUNE BETTER BE OK TOO I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN MY MAN
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None Like You (Geralt x Reader) [Request]
hi! can you do a geralt one shot with fem reader where she's a princess and they start falling for each other? tysm! â Request by anon
Warnings:Â blood
Gif Source: frodo-sam
Your mother had raised you to believe you were someone of importance, but life on the farm had said otherwise. You toiled just like everyone else, bleeding and sweating. You were soiled, not spoiled. Yet your mother insisted you were a princess and told you outrageous bedtime stories to lull you to sleep in your youth.
You should have paid better attention.
When King Henseltâs only son died, leaving only a marriage and no heirs, you woke one morning to the pounding of a mailed fist on the door. Your mother answered and then hurried into your room, fluttering about like a mad woman.
âItâs time,â she cried, shoving you into your best dress and raking her fingers through your hair.
âFor what?â
âTo be someone.â
Then she bundled you out the door into the arms of a military escort carrying the Kaedwan sigil on their shields and tunics: a red-horned unicorn on a yellow field.
It took you the whole day to finally coax information out of your escort regarding the whole ordeal. When they told you what you were, you nearly fell out of your saddle in disbelief.
The king must be desperate, you thought as you tried to fall asleep beside the campfire.
Then the night turned bloody.
~~
Something crunched underfoot to your right. You huddled deeper in the hollowed tree, clutching the steel in your hands. The edges had sliced open your palms, but you didnât care. It afforded you some protection, even if the creature had snapped the blade it came from like a twig.
Tensing, you waited for the sound to draw nearer, coiling to spring. It was just like killing chickens, you told yourself. One neat slice to the throat.
You leapt out of the hollow, slashing up and across.
The witcher caught your wrist easily, flinging the steel out of your hand. Stifling a cry, you cradled the injured hand to your chest, backed away from him. His eerie yellow eyes tracked you as you pressed yourself against the tree trunk, searching for an escape.
âWhat happened?â His voice rasped like feet dragged over gravel.
âDeath,â you whispered, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the massacre. âSomeâŠthing.â
âItâs dead now.â
You fixed him with a wary glance. âTruly?â
He grunted.
You nearly sank to your knees in relief. Pressing a hand to your mouth, you felt the cuts in your hand spasm. Fresh blood wept from the slashes, trickling down your arms. The witcher swept his gaze over you, eyeing the wounds. You fumbled with the hem of your dress, trying to rip the dirty fabric into strips.
âDid you fight it?â The surprise in the witcherâs voice drew your ear.
You wheezed. âI slashed it, yes, but fight? No.â
Rummaging around in the leaves on the forest floor, the witcher retrieved the broken steel, examined it. He swore.
Unease coiled within you. âWhat is it?â
âCome here.â
You hesitated. The witcher rolled his eyes and strode over to you, grabbing you by the wrist. His touch was firm but not tight, much to your surprise. You followed after him, feeling a little dizzy as he led you over to the road. A horse stood idly there, kind eyes inquisitive. It didnât shy away as you drew near despite the smell of blood.
âGood horse,â you murmured, appraising it.
The witcher fumbled through a saddlebag, searching for something. At last he pulled out a vial and took your hands, tearing off the strips to get to your wounds. He poured the grey contents of the vial out before you could protest.
You nearly screamed, the pain in your hands was so excruciating. Lighting shot up your arms as the vialâs contents fizzed on your palms and in your wounds.
âTo prevent the venom from killing you,â the witcher explained.
âIf the pain doesnât kill me first,â you hissed through gritted teeth.
A smirk tugged on the witcherâs lips, followed quickly by a frown. âWhat were you doing traveling with those soldiers?â
You hesitated again. What had you heard about witchers? That they fought for coin and hunted monsters. You had no coin, but neither did you know where you were or how to get home.
âKing Henselt sent them,â you confided slowly. âThey believe I am his bastard daughter.â
âA princess.â
You elected to ignore the mild groan in the manâs voice. âCan you take me home? The farm, not Aed Carraigh.â
His yellow eyes fixed on you again, white eyebrows beetling together. âYou donât want to go to the castle?â
âIs it safe? As safe as home?â
His lips pressed into a thin line.
âThen take me home,â you insisted. âIâm no princess.â
~~
The witcher smelled. You couldnât ignore it, not with your face pressed into his back. He wasnât made for traveling with someone sitting behind him. You could feel it in the tension of his shoulders and back, as though he couldnât relax beneath the touch of your arms. You did your best to relax your own tense grasp.
You had run nigh over a mile before collapsing in the hollowed tree trunk. The horse covered the distance easily, passing by the smoldering, bloody encampment you had settled down in the night before. You watched it pass, glimpsing the heaps of bodies scattered about.
It took several hours to draw near home. Joy fluttered in your chest as you approached.
You crested the ridge overlooking home and went still, horror rolling through you. The farm house was ash and rubble, still smoking. The animals had been let from their pens, taken for livestock by whatever had rolled through the farm.
âBandits,â the witcher noted.
Fighting nausea, you wandered down to the burnt house, searching in the ruins. The ash burned your hands and legs, but you sifted through it, yanking aside a crumbling beam.
Beneath lay your mother. What was left of her.
You retched off to the side, stumbling through the ash. You stood bent at the waist for an eternity before you felt the witcher watching you. Turning to face him, you wiped the sick from your chin. âI canât stay here.â
He frowned.
Your mother had raised a practical woman, fantastic fantasies about your lineage aside. It was all you could think to do as you stood in the ashes of your dead life. One foot in front of the other.
âI have no money,â you confessed, âbut if King Henselt sent for me, he can pay you to ensure my arrival.â
The witcher considered it. At last he growled and nodded.
~~
It would take four days to reach Aed Carraigh. The horseânamed Roach, you learnedâcould only manage that distance in a shorter time if not burdened with two riders.
You sat close to the campfire, warming yourself in the flames, shaking not from cold but from fear as the night closed in around you. The night held terrors untold, but until the night before, you had never seen them in the flesh. Knowing they lingered out in the dark set your teeth on edge.
âIâm sorry to burden you,â you told the witcher, the silence too much to bear. You watched the horse warily for signs of attack, knowing the animal was likely to hear or sense it before you.
âWhy donât you want to be a princess?â
Taken aback by the unexpected question, you shrugged. âWhy would I want to be one?â
âRiches. A comfortable life.â
âI had a comfortable life with riches untold. They just werenât gold.â
âGold is necessary.â
âGold means nothing if your life is miserable.â
The words hung heavy in the air. The witcher averted his gaze, surprising you. Frowning, you rubbed at your arms, trying to make the hair on your arms stand down. His averted face gave you the opportunity to study his features. They were rough and worn, his brow creased from excessive glowering. He was all hard edges, a larger man than even the largest farmer you had seen. He appeared both comfortable and uncomfortable in his own skin, or perhaps your presence was upsetting him.
âAm I keeping you from work?â
âAre you always so concerned for witchers?â
You shook your head. âI donât want to be a burden.â
âYet there you sit.â
You bit your tongue, surprised by the sting of his barb. Something flickered across his stern features as you ducked your head. âThen tell me where to go and I will get there myself.â
âThe road is dangerous.â
âBeing a woman is dangerous.â
He almost smiled in surprise. You could see it dancing on his lips.
âSo tell me where to go,â you insisted. âThen I can leave your remarkable hair.â
His eyebrows twitched. The silence stretched between you both for a minute, the fire crackling in the quiet. At last, he said, âI will take you.â
You almost gave away your relief with a sharp exhale.
~~
Though the witcher was a man of few words, you found you were able to read more from his face and the set of his shoulders than from anything he said. His silences were full of information, though you couldnât be sure of what exactly. You merely knew that he radiated safety as much as he did danger.
âDo you know many princesses?â you asked him.
He grunted.
âIs that a yes or a no?â
âI know one or two,â he said. âBut none like you.â
You frowned, glancing down at your soiled dress. âYes, I suppose Iâm nothing like one. The people will be overjoyed with a farmerâs daughter.â You snorted.
âI think they could use one.â
Frowning, you glanced up at him. He didnât quite smile, but the glower on his face had shifted into something softer.
âWell, when I am princess,â you said, âI will remember at least one person believes me suited for the job. Thatâs all that matters.â
A faint smile touched the witcherâs lips. You matched it with a slow smile of your own.
#Geralt x Reader#Geralt#Geralt imagine#Geralt of Rivia x Reader#Geralt of Rivia#Geralt of Rivia imagine#Henry Cavill x Reader#Henry Cavill#Henry Cavill imagine#The Witcher#requests
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earned it [05]
Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, heâs not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as heâs earned it.
cw. domestic abuse, car accident, slight angst, sexism, suggestive scenes, unedited and my naoya simping is obvious with this one,Â
notes. TEAM NAOYA LETâS GOOOO *sighs* finally got this out from my drafts. anyways, hereâs an earned it update while i recover from migraines because my schedule was so hectic last week and iâm so tired, might be sleeping a lot these days hence the hiatus :( also ik i keep saying this but future chapters will finally be more...UH SPICY AND MORE DRAMATIC, I guess? this is mostly an angst fic btw so please donât expect too much fluff of heartwarming romance. there WILL be romance,,,it just takes some time hehe, anways ENJOY...or not :)
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Women were weak. Trained to be voiceless, compliant, and unable to fight â Naoya found them weak.
His own mother was the perfect epitome of that. For years, heâd watched her leave his fatherâs room with dried tears, wiping them away with the back of her sleeves. When she saw a little Naoya standing at the edge of the hallway, sheâd immediately usher him back to his room, her tears replaced with a smile so convincing Naoya wouldnât have believed sheâd been crying if he hadnât seen it for himself.
Naoya wasnât stupid. How could he be when day and night, heâs surrounded by tutors, expected to take over his clan and lead them all to a brighter future?
How could he be stupid when he canât sleep at night, for the screams and cries of his mother, the sound of palm hitting cheek resonating just from the other room, accompanied with the insults directed her way by his own father?
How could he be so stupid when he looked up to his mother â who he believed was the only source of light in the rather desolate walls of their manor â only to see that her beauty faded with each passing day, the brightness of her eyes now filled agony, with pain, with fear? She no longer smiled; not even for him. She no longer came around his room to read him bedtime stories no matter how much Naoya pleaded because heâd gotten tired of reciting scriptures and poetry. She no longer kissed him on the forehead as a morning greeting, opting to stay in the sidelines with her head bowed, acting as if she was a servant and not his mother.
Naoya wasnât stupid. As the future leader of the Zenâin Clan, it was his duty to hear and see everything, to be wary of everyone around him and to observe. He knew his father abused her. He knew his father hated her, looked down on her, stepped on her at each moment he could. And as if that wasnât enough, Naoya found out they werenât married in the first place.
She had been nothing but a mere concubine whose role was to birth an heir. Now that Naoya had come to life, her purpose to live ceased to exist. And people who had no role in the Zenâin estate had no reason to stay any further.
âMother,â Naoya cried out, tugging at his motherâs sleeve. âMother, please donât go, donât leave me!â
She was crying again; he wished sheâd stop doing that, that sheâd stop being so weak. He wanted his mother to be strong and fight back, but sheâs not even attempting to wipe her tears away this time, displaying her vulnerability and meek self to him. Had his father been there, sheâd be scolded again, claiming that Naoya shouldnât be exposed to behaviors of surrender and weakness.
His mother cupped his face, trying her best to keep the younger version of himself from dangling onto her robes; the expensive, silk material the last evidence sheâd ever been a part of them.
âNaoya, baby, itâs okay. You need to grow up strong and be the clan leader, okay?â
âBut why do you have to leave? Why do you never fight back?â
âIâm sorry, dear...â was all she said, finally kissing him on the forehead like sheâd failed to do so for the past months. Somehow, it didnât make him feel any better. Instead, Naoyaâs cries grows louder with each minute, loud enough that he caught the attention of his manservants who paled at the Young Masterâs wails that was sure to displease his father locked inside his study. His mother sent a glance their way that expressed messages he couldnât yet understand due to his innocence. Strong arms wrapped around his smaller frame until they dragged Naoya away from his mother, the sight of a luggage behind her turning him weak in the knees.
âRemember, Mother always loves you.â
âNo!â he fought against their hold. His servants did all they could to not harm the Young Masterâs skin, but Naoya was too strong, too desperate that they were unable to hold him back.
Naoya kept running and running, uncaring of the fact his loose robes hindered him from going at full speed. He didnât stop, even as his servants had trailed after him, desperate pleas for the Young Master to come back falling into deaf ears. His mother had arrived on a nearby bus from the open roads that led outside the Zenâin Estateâs outer gates, her hand frozen on the doors with her head slightly tilted to the side.
That slight moment of hesitance â to look behind or leave everything behind â was what made Naoya stop in his tracks. He breathed hard, sweaty palms on his knees as he silently prayed to the divine beings to bring his mother back, for her to look at him one last time.
But she didnât.
And Naoya was frozen in his tracks, everything colliding into one crash and burn that he failed to make sense of everything. He stood there and watched his mother hop into the bus, her decision to leave him behind final and irrevocable. What had rung louder then? The way his heart shattered into pieces, or the loud honking of an incoming car that not even his skilled team of guards could protect him from?
Naoya figured it mustâve been the muffled cries of his mother behind the windows that rung the loudest even if he hadnât heard it.
Until now, he carried the mark his mother left behind; a gnarly scar running inches from his kneecaps that throbs until now. It reminds him every day what could happen to someone once theyâre weak, once theyâre vulnerable, the horrifying consequence of not being strong enough to face in this world like a huge slap in his face. In a way, he felt grateful for the scar; at least it was proof heâd done his best to run after his mother, and this injury just taught him it was best to face things head on instead of running away.
This scar would always tell him that running away was never the option, and that was why Naoya felt so strong, so disappointed when he met you. Naoya saw much potential in you â the wrath firing in your eyes and the will to fight back is what pulled him in on the first place â and yet you were already trembling on the ground, your sweat dripping on the floor.
âStand up!â he demanded, tapping his cane on the ground as he wobbled to his feet. âDo you really think being weak will make you survive in this world?â
âIâm trying!â
âYouâre not trying hard enough,â he spat out, matching the intensity of your glare. Had you been any lesser of a woman, a servant, heâd have your eyes gouged out. But to him, you were a vessel of hope, an embodiment of strength he could help you hone that he let you off. Still, he felt extremely let down that he expected so much from you, and youâve been pathetic so far.
Naoya shook his head as he left. âYouâre going to die the moment you step out of here. And to think I actually had high hopes for you. As expected, you women are weak and pathetic. Each one of you is useless.â
He didnât get very far when his injury throbbed again. Naoya fell to his knees and immediately bit down on his lip to conceal his groans, but it was too late. Youâve rushed to him in an instant, already pulling his slacks upwards to get a good look at his knee. Worry is painted all over your features still drenched in sweat and exhaustion, and he pried your hand away, a frown deep on his lips.
âGet away from me. I donât need a womanâs help.â
âYouâre so uptight, you know that?â you rebutted with a roll of your eyes. Naoya watched as you skipped to the nearest medical kit he always kept in his training grounds (which he rarely used) and popping out painkillers to hand to him. âJust shut up and let me take care of you. Unlike you, I donât walk around calling people weak, and you having this injury never made you weak in my eyes, but youâre not impotent either,â scoffing at him, you pushed the bottle of water to a very annoyed looking Naoya. âAt least let me take care of you every once in a while.â
His whole life, Naoya knew nothing but the familiar bitter cold. Being served tea, scaring his servants with his mere presence, the toxic view that everyone was below them drilled into his own head â that had been his life, and his feelings about it were neither hot nor cold.
To him, it was just the way heâs supposed to be.
But the warmth of your hands, the tenderness of your touch to his scars not because you found him weak but rather you cared for himâŠit tugged at his heartstrings. That had been at least five years ago and Naoya still remembered that moment very clearly.
He couldnât understand whether he hated his inability to run away or not, because to be around you confused him to no end. One moment, he saw you as nothing but his one way ticket to fortune, but when he was alone with you, he was beginning to see you more as a woman rather than a pawn to his game. Soon, you became more than that, and nothing had terrified him even more that he let someone in his heart just like that.
Did he love you? No, most definitely not. A man like him didnât know how to love. But with you â every time he saw you â Naoya is confident to admit that he could somehow understand what love meant.
It had been a hellish trip â one heâd never admit it out loud that he wished to never go on again. He was just happy to be home before he laughed, because home? Heâd never thought heâd ever say that, yet there he was, beaming at the sight of you pushing your weight off the limousine.
You looked as stunning as usual, running up to him even with your heels before wrapping your arms around his neck. Usually, Naoya didnât like public displays of affection since it could greatly deter his reputation, but everyone knew both of you werenât each otherâs weaknesses that he didnât care whether his people could see their leader grinning as his wife welcomed with a kiss. Naoya balanced himself on his cane to encircle a hand to your waist, pulling you closer and burying his face in your hair.
âI missed you,â you mumbled with your head buried in his shoulder.
Naoyaâs smile wasnât any less affectionate. âI missed you more.â And he did â a whole lot. Even as you both made it inside the limousine, the tablet passed to him per the usual to update him on what happened on the few days of his absence, Naoya couldnât keep his hands to himself. His cane balanced between his knee and the door, while his free hand intertwined with yours, mindlessly caressing the matching rings that symbolized more trust than love.
âHow did it go?â he brought your knuckles up to his lips and kissed it, his attention still focused on todayâs stock market. âDid you convince him to lend us the lab?â
âYes, my love, everything is under control. I told you I had it.â
âCunning little minx,â he smirked at the confidence and triumph dripping from your voice. Naoya shut his tablet off with a click, hauling you until you were resting on his lap. Giggles erupted beautifully from your lips as you pressed your forehead to his, both your smiles equally mischievous. âDid you sleep with him?â
âNo. Satoru is still hopelessly in love with me, so it didnât really take much to push him to the edge with a few tears and white lies,â you smiled at him, soon dropping from your face when Naoyaâs eyes darkened with an unreadable â no, unfamiliar hint of worry behind them. âNaoya,â you caressed his leg, âI donât care about him anymore, youâve got nothing to worry about. I just want to survive and put everything behind,â you cupped his face and forced him to look you in the eye, making sure he heard every bit of sincerity in your voice. âYou know I love you, right? Iâll follow you to the ends of the earth. Him coming back doesnât change a thing.â
âI know that,â he said, although deep down, in the dark recesses of his heart, something agonizing stirred within.
You were a smart woman â too intelligent that he may have feared you had he been any lesser â who could easily read through him, but Naoya wanted to be a step ahead of you that he caught your lips to stop you from seeking beneath his soul already. He knew that if you looked a little too close, youâd see everything, and that would be the last thing he wanted.
Snaking his tongue past your lips, he greedily swallowed your moans. Naoyaâs touch was possessive as he gripped your thigh, seconds away from ripping off the material of your dress. He only stopped once he saw his driver pale in awkwardness, and he chuckled to himself, squeezing your hips to stop you from grinding on his thigh. Â
âYouâre always so good for me,â he praised, âI might just reward you once we get home.â
Home. Prior to meeting you, home had been nothing but a word in his extensive vocabulary. Home had been nothing but something that carried a meaning but no significance in his living, but now that heâd met you, home felt familiar. Home smelled like rose-scented shampoos, it resonated of bubbly laughter and curious hands finding its way to its belt. HomeâŠyouâd just given him something to lose.
As per the plan, you managed to sneak past Satoruâs defenses. Naoya had once said that your secret weapon was not your tempting nature as a woman, but rather your intelligence that sometimes put his to shame. Heâd shamelessly announced his plan to use you again with the goal of taking matters into your own hands, looping Satoru into the picture until you have him wrapped around your finger again.
It turned out to be easier than expected. Truthfully, you wanted to refuse. It wasnât because you were worried youâd beat yourself in your own game and fall for Satoru again, but because it felt so uncomfortable to hold him like that, to kiss him like that.
Each second you spent with him just served as a painful reminder of how heâd mindlessly pushed you to the side from a failed plan of âprotectingâ you.
However, you couldnât complain nor deny Naoyaâs wishes. He wanted to use your abilities to the fullest of its extent and bring out your potential. Besides, you trusted him wholeheartedly that youâd never question his motives, even if it included seducing Satoru with crocodile tears and a faux broken heart to get him to bend and move at your will. After all, your will was also Naoyaâs, and that was what made the both of you so dangerous together.
Standing here now in Satoruâs laboraty, sending him phoney desperate glances as you clutched your husbandâs hand, the game had just begun.
He was giving you both a tour of what you could use from his laboratory, and Naoya had kept silent the whole time. The whole drug manufacturing was more your expertise than his. He simply observed everything with watchful eyes, his gaze darting between Satoruâs longing ones and yours. It was a play pretend of push and pull, everyone in the room except for Satoru unaware that soon, youâd bare your fangs to rip his neck apart, and then youâd stand aside and let Naoya finish the business.
You wouldâve laughed had Naoya not tightened his grip on your hand. Both you and Satoru paused as Naoya desperately shushed you up, his eyes wide and floating from one corner to another.
Suddenly, a loud explosion came out of nowhere. The blast crushed half of the building to bare rubble and concrete and you saw nothing but black, inhaled so much smoke that your lungs quivered. The ringing in your ears didnât stop as you wobbled to unsteady legs, waving the smoke away and coughing whatever filled your system. Satoru was right beside you, his long limbs quicker than yours before he hauled you up, checking to see if you had injuries but you were too scared, too desolate to care for his worry.
For your husband laid under a pile of rubble, an arm and his head the only parts of his body saved from the explosion.
âNaoya!â You screamed and pushed Gojo away, taking your heels off before darting straight to where he was. Jumping from broken debris to one another, your feet scraped and burned with each contact, the ringing in your ears growing louder along with the pounding of your heartbeat.
âNaoya, baby, no!â you tried to pick up the heavy slab of concrete that had crushed his body, tears blurring your vision until Naoyaâs blond hair swiveled with his dark clothes. âDonât leave me, donât leave me, donât you fucking dare-â
âGojo,â he choked out blood. You fell to your knees as you cupped his face and grasped his hand all the while, your entire body shaking. His name kept falling from your lips as you asked him to stand up but he pushed your hand away, not sparing you another glance as he glared at the shock still man behind you. âTake her someplace far â somewhere he wonât find the both of you. Itâs T-Toji.â
âNo, Naoya, please! Iâm not leaving without you!â It was too late. Satoru had easily carried you and threw you over his shoulder, running away from the scene because that was what he was best at. You pounded at his back as the smoke enlarged and covered the entirety of the building that had fizzled with chemicals inside, your husband starting to disappear from view. âSatoru, let me go! We canât just leave him there!â
âListen to your husband! He knows what heâs doing!â
As the smoke cleared for a split second, your world stilled. Naoyaâs face was smothered with dirt and stains, pain evident on his twisted features, and yet â he was smiling. âGo,â he mouthed, hands outstretched far enough for your matching rings to glint under the sparkling lights. âLive.â
You slumped into Satoruâs arms. It was too late.
You couldnât comprehend the events that happened afterwards. Satoru had pushed you inside his car before taking off to who knows where. All you knew was that youâd left your husband behind, and you stared emptily at the streets that flashed by, unable to feel or understand anything. It wasnât until Satoru dragged you out by the wrist and a plane whirring before you snapped you back to life, your feet turning heavy as you plant yourself on the ground.
Satoru looked back at you.
âIâm not going anywhere,â you shook your head, âIâm not leaving him behind, Satoru, heâs all I have. I need to save him â even if it means I die.â
âYouâre not going to die,â he starts off slowly. Satoru moves to place his hands down on your shoulders as if to brace you, even going as far as to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, but you couldnât really listen, not when the plane hummed to life and remnants of the explosion still clung to your skin.
âListen, Naoya is a smart man, okay? You know that yourself. Heâll survive, you just need to trust that heâll make it. Now we have to go before Toji catches up to us and we end up all dying here!â he shook you back to life when your sobs overpowered his speech that fell on deaf ears, and you cried harder, much less like a little girl who quivered in his arms. Satoru sighed, perhaps just as broken from seeing you this way. âHe told you to live. Naoya isnât asking you to die for him, heâs asking you to live and if you donât get on the plane, we canât fulfill his wish,â he convinced, but you only bit your lip, still looking back at the car. You could steal it â one punch to his nose and you could easily get away, get back to Naoya, until he said, âYou love him right? So respect his wishes.â
You love him. You love Naoya. He wouldâve wanted me to live. He asked me to live.
That was the only consolation you could give yourself as you allowed Satoru to take you inside. His right hand man, Geto or something, quietly closed the cabin doors behind you. He was making sure his boss was situated, who in turn was fretting over you. All it took was one last warning glare sent Satoruâs way before he backed off, raising his hands in surrender and falling back to his seat.
Sooner than youâd like, the plane had took off, leaving your heart right behind with each passing second. The higher you flew up in the air, the number you became.
âWhere are we going?â
âI have a base in Italy. We should be safe there for a while. Gather resources, plan our next move, contact friends...weâll be fine,â Satoru pinched the bridge of his nose. It was hard to believe things would be fine when he too seemed restless; whatever happened between him and Toji mustâve really left a scar; not that you cared. You huffed away from Satoru and stared outside the windows instead, your heart dropping the farther Japan was becoming. âHey. You should get some rest. Youâve had a long day.â
âWhatever,â you snapped at him. You couldnât stand his voice, not even if heâs saved you.
The only thing that mattered now was living up to Naoyaâs wish, and as much as you hated it, Satoru was right. You had to hope he would survive.
The chances of him making it out were low, but knowing Naoya, low chances werenât zero. As long as he had a little bit of something, he would keep pushing. You just had to place your trust in him.
Kissing your dusty ring, you wiped away your tears one last time, eyes shut tight as you chanted over and over, live, live, live for me! Live! Naoya couldnât give up that easily. You both had a long way to go, still so many places to travel, thousand more enemies to conquer and defeat. He promised you the fun was just beginning and that youâd get your revenge soon, and Naoya never broke his promises. So you had to trust, had no other choice but to believe that soon heâd be right beside you. He may not be able to completely walk anymore, though none of that mattered. You just wanted to be with him again.
You didnât realize youâd fallen asleep until Satoruâs hushed whispers woke you up. Sitting up straight, you saw him scowling to whoever heâs talking to on the phone. He looked grim, long, slender fingers caressing his forehead as he sighed. Whatever he heard, it couldnât have been good, and curiosity got the best of you before you could help it.
âWhat is it?â Satoru stilled at the sound of your voice, having not expected you to be awake. He refused to meet your eyes as he shut his phone. It angered you further and you stalked his way, slapping a palm down the table before him. âI said, what is it?â
âItâs Naoya...â he said through clenched teeth, still refusing to look you in the eye. âHe didnât make it.â
notes. team naoya...letâs go...cry đ when I said I would write more gojo x reader scenes and that theyâre still the pairing, I meant it, I just had to take a dark route anyways DO YOU GUYS UNDERSTAND WHY IT TOOK SO LONG FOR ME TO UPDATE THIS, I DIDNâT WANT TO DO THIS TO NAOYA BAE đ but on the bright side, italy arc is gonna be SHEESH
taglist open (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @sixeyesgojo @shingekiyofeels @q-the-rockaholic @whatthefuckisthatthing @rogueofbullshit @kat-su-ki @kellyyween @sebootyforlife @asshxcm @charlie-xo @aoi-turtle @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head @hannya-quinn @90s-belladonna @tinyfrogsinmybrain @kinekyuroo @evesmores @ambiguous-something @lilith412426 @kakashiharusohma @aizawap @yumeneji @dora-the-grownup @jotazinha @themrsgojo @d34r-s4t4n @marai-t @toji-bee @hai-cool @badsadbby @stesphy @peach-buns-unicorns @misslezah @riri-marley @gracefullyfallinglikeanime @iwaplantâ @mikiminaccchâ | bolder users cannot be tagged
#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo-satoru-x-reader#naoya x reader#naoya zenin x reader#gojo x reader angst#gojo x reader romance#naoya x reader angst#naoya x reader romance#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen series#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen imagines#gojo x reader imagines#gojo satoru x reader imagines#naoya x reader imagines#naoya zenin x reader imagines#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen romance#jujutsu kaisen angst#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x you#sukirichi: earned it#i hate this chapter so much#naoya bae i will bring you back to life in another series just for you
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Reckless - Jack Grealish
Warnings: Swearing, cheating mentioned, like really sad idk
Recommended listening; Reckless by Madison Beer (Slowed).
ââââââââââââââââââââââââââ-
reckless
/ËrÉklÉs/
adjective
heedless of danger or the consequences of one's actions; rash or impetuous.
Jack watched from the doorway of your little girlâs room as you sat on a stool beside her cot unaware of his presence. Closing the book you had just finished reading her a bedtime story from, you placed it on the dresser beside you. You re-extended your arm to pick up a small ballerina music box, twisting the little handle until you heard it start to chime. A soft tune filled the silent room, tears trickling down your cheeks causing you to wipe them with your warm knitted jumper. You took a deep breathe and studied your tiny human who was now fast asleep. She was everything to you.
âWhat am I going to do mama?â You asked her, knowing you werenât going to get any advice or a comprehensive response regardless as to whether she was awake or asleep. She twitched a little but remained quiet. You and Jack had been together for four years now. He was doing well at Aston Villa and the national team, you were working part-time from home whilst bringing up your mini you. You had a roof of your head, beds to sleep in, food on the table. Above all you were in love and you were happy. But Jack wasnât. He had cheated on you. And he knew you knew. But you stayed, not just for her but because he was all you had ever wanted. He was your everything too. Humming softly to the melody, you began to sing to her. You wished you were her age again. So innocent. So naive. Not a care or worry in the world. Sleeping so gently. The words parting your lips telling her how reckless your husband had been. How heâd been with another woman. How heâd told you that you were the only one for him. How heâd told you heâd never hurt you. How he had promised after the first time you found out that she meant nothing to him. You were broken. Not a clue on what to do.
Did you up and leave him? Did you try fight him in a court for custody? What if he won? Would he still let you see her? Where would you live? Would you have enough money to survive? Would you be able to raise your daughter as a single mother? Did you stay? Did you try again? Would he stop seeing her? How could you trust him ever again? Why did he want someone else over you? Was he not happy? Was he just bored of you now? Was she more of woman than you were? What did she have that you didnât? Did he know how close you were to just being done with everything? You begged for answers, every thought and scenario possible running through your mind.
âEach day goes by and each night I cry, somebody saw you with her last night, you gave me your word, donât worry about her, you might love her now but you loved me first..â you cried, singing faintly into the void. âSaid youâd never hurt me, but here we are. Oh you swore on every star. How could you be so reckless with my heart?â
Tears were now in full flow down your cheeks, droplets landing on your knees. From his position, he looked on, his heart shattering at your state. He was now crying himself, trying to be as quiet as he could. The lyrics of the song you were singing like daggers. How could he have done this to you both? You were the two most important women in his life besides his mother. He left the room quickly. Standing up now towering over your one and a half year old, you wished her goodnight and placed the music box back on the unit. Turning on her night light and turning off the lamp beside you, you turned around, convinced you had seen a shadow but dismissing the thought. Making your way back downstairs to one of the rooms the opposite side of your house, you sat in front of the large grand piano that was placed in one of the sitting rooms. Pressing a few of the keys softly, you closed your eyes and sighed. Continuing the song you were previously singing to your little girl, Jack stood outside the door, his back against the cold wall listening.
âYou check in and out, of my heart like a hotel. And she must be perfect oh well, I hope you both go to..hhh..âyou paused not singing the last word as you really didnât wish that on him. âI still have the letter you wrote when you told me that I was the only girl youâd ever want in your life, I guess my friends were right..â Unable to continue as you were now sobbing with your head in your arms on the top of the piano, Jack entered the room.
âY/NâŠâ he said softly, pain and sorrow in his voice. He startled you.
âJesus Jack, you scared the shit out of me! I didnât realise you were home, I thought you were out with the lads..â you jumped. His arms were folded when you initially saw him, but they were down by his side now in his pockets. He was sniffling himself.
âCan we talk?â he whispered, the light of the hallway now illuminating his body. You hesitated to reply but eventually nodded as he closed over the door as he motioned for you to sit on the couch. He sat in front of you on the coffee table, his fingers covering his mouth, thumb under his chin. Silence lingered in the air like stale food, only the only thing that was stale here was your romance. âI donât even know what to say.â he began, his own head in his hands now as his elbows rested on his knees. âThe song you were singing upstairs and down here, when I tell you it broke me to pieces.â he bawled. You didnât know how to react, knowing heâd heard all of it. You wanted to comfort him but how could you when you needed comfort from him more than anything? âIâm so sorry Y/N..so fucking sorry. Fuck sake Iâm such a fucking dickhead I ruin everything. Best thing in my life you two and Iâve just thrown it away.â
You couldnât form words. Instead you just cried and cried, shaking your head. Looking up at you from his position, he closed his eyes before reopening them and joining you on the couch wrapping his arms around you. You just broke in his grasp, his hands rubbing your head, constantly kissing the top of it. There was a long silence, until you finally got something out.
âDo you love her Jack?â you asked.
âHuh? Of course I do, sheâs my little princess.â He stated, thinking you were talking about your daughter.
âNot our child Jack. Do you love the woman youâre sleeping with?â you murmured. He was taken aback but responded quickly.
âWhat? No, no I donât.â he answered confidently. âI promise you I donât.â
âThen why? Why did you go near her?â you said now coming up to meet him, his face sending you over the edge every time.
âI donât.. I donât know. It was a drunk mistake. The biggest mistake Iâve ever made. She got me hammered but Iâm done with her I swear on our kidâs life. I never want to see her again and I never will. Look I know wonât believe me and you probably will never trust me again Y/N, but I promise to stand by you both for the rest of my life no matter what. I know I havenât be a man in the past, but from this night fourth I will do everything in my power to try to be the best man I can be. I love you both to the ends of the earth and I will never ever put myself in a position like that again. I canât lose you both..â he trailed off, his brummy accent so thick.
âWe canât lose you either Jack.â you whispered as he wiped your tears and pulled you back in to him.
ââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
#jack grealish#footballer#premier league#soccer#sports#imagines#one shot#england#aston villa#avfc#JG7#champions league#fa cup#euros 2020#euros21#england nt#england national football team#football#footballers#Jack Grealish x reader#SoundCloud
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Taking Chances Ch. 28:Â Summer Changes (School)
AO3
Prev
A week after the Disney movie marathon, Marinette was finally back on patrol. No thanks to her dad though. If it was up to him, sheâd probably never patrol again. Luckily for her, (unluckily for him) her brothers were adamant on her coming back to the field. Which led to her current problem. Hanging upside down from a gargoyle near Wayne Enterprises.
âUkht, what have you done?â Damian asks, and though she canât see his face, she can tell by his voice that heâs exasperated. Join the club, she thinks, at least youâre not upside down.
âWhy do you automatically think I did something?â She asks, trying desperately to turn around so that she can talk to him. It was really awkward talking to someone when you couldnât see them but you knew they were near you.
âBecause you are the one hanging upside down,â Damian says flatly. She huffs.
âItâs not like I want to be, Robin. It just kind of happened,â She says.
âAnd how exactly did it happen? I have never seen your yoyo betray you like that before. Not even in the videos when you were still very new.â Damian says, and she swears heâs smirking. Heâs definitely laughing at her on the inside, and as much as she wants to be frustrated, she canât. It wasnât easy amusing her little brother (unless you were an animal) so she wasnât about to ruin it.
âHood made a bet relating to this exact gargoyle and Iâd never been this way before and I just, I donât know. Somehow I misjudged where my yoyo was going and next thing I know, Iâm tied up and Hood is gone.â She says, sighing.
âWhere did he go?â Damian asks.
âOver here so I could record the dumbass trying to untie herself.â Jason says with a snort, she manages to turn just enough so she can see him and stick her tongue out at him. He chuckles. âYouâre the one who somehow tied herself up with a magic string, Iâm just getting the proof so I can show Wonder Woman.â He says and Marinetteâs jaw drops.
âYou wouldnât dare!â She screams, struggling against her yoyo, finally able to get the string to loosen slightly.
âOh, Iâd dare.â Jason says and Marinette just knows he has a huge smirk underneath his stupid helmet.
âBut Wonder Woman is the coolest person ever and she canât see me like this!â Marinette complains, trying not to grin when she feels the string start to move the way she needs it to. She ignores Jasonâs next remark, instead focusing on the string and- yes! She free falls for a moment, laughing at her brothersâ panic before she swoops up and jerks Jasonâs phone away from him.
âYou little shit!â He calls after her, starting to chase her.
âYouâll get it back once I delete the videos!â She calls back, laughing as she continues swinging through Gotham, a warm feeling in her chest as she looks over the city that has quickly become her second home.
---
âHAPPY BIRTHDAY!â A voice screams, making Marinette jump out of bed with a yelp. She clutches her hand over her heart, glaring at her oldest brother.
âAre you trying to make sure I donât make it past my fifteenth birthday?â She asks with a huff. Dick just grins.
âHappy birthday kiddo! I canât believe youâre already fifteen!â He exclaims, picking her up in a giant hug. She wants to complain, ask him to let her down, but itâs nice, so instead she returns the hug the best she can. Until she glances out the window.
âRichard Grayson.â She says in a tone she usually reserves for enemies. She feels him stiffen, the hug turning into more of a restraint than a cuddle.
âYes?â He says.
âDid you honestly wake me up, before the sun, because itâs my birthday?â She asks.
âYes?â He says, his voice cracking slightly. She purses her lips and lets out a long sigh.
âDad has a no killing rule.â She says, and suddenly sheâs back on the ground.
âOh would you look at the time, Marâi needs another bedtime story loveyousomuchgottagobye.â Dick rushes out, practically sprinting out of her room. She just smiles and shakes her head. Sheâd learned intimidation tactics from Jason and Damian, who both claimed her size made her an easy target against bad guys. They were right, of course, so she was fine with a few extra lessons. Seems they were working. Deciding to call her Maman and Papa since sheâs already awake, she frowns as it goes straight to voicemail. It would be nearly eleven in Paris, so the bakery shouldnât be too busy. She quickly checks the Akuma Alert App to make sure she hadnât missed anything while she slept. Nothing. So why werenât they answering? She had assumed they would be waiting for her call since it was the first birthday sheâd spent without them. Sighing, she lays back down on her bed, closing her eyes and trying to fall back asleep.
As she lays there, she frowns as a realization hits her. This was the anniversary of her birth motherâs death. Her mood instantly sours and her stomach churns. It was the first year that she could do something about it, the first year she could visit her grave. Quickly making a decision, Marinette throws on a pair of black leggings and an oversized black hoodie. Hopefully no one would spot her.
âKaalki.â Marinette calls out quietly, not wanting to wake Tikki (who had somehow slept through Dickâs intrusion).
âOooo, Guardian, are we sneaking out?â They ask, an amused smile on their face. Marinette frowns.
âYes, but itâs for a good reason.â She says, and Kaalki snorts.
âWhatever the reason, Iâm happy to be of assistance.â They reassure her. Marinette smiles and calls the transformation, opening a portal in the cemetery where her birth mother is buried. Her Maman had taken her once, right after telling her she was adopted. It was extremely hard to avoid being akumatized that day, and Marinette steels herself before dropping Kaalkiâs transformation. Today would probably be even harder. Pulling the hood over her head to try and hide her identity, she glances around the cemetery, unsurprised to see the small place empty. Despite its small size, it was well taken care of, with beautiful trees adding shade and creating a melancholy feeling. Taking a deep breath, she walks over to the tombstone in the far corner, underneath the Willow tree. Bridgette Le. Died July 9th. Marinette barely notices the tears that start to form as she sits down, tucking her knees into her chest.
âHi Mama. I-Iâm sorry I havenât really been by to see you much. Did you know Iâve been spending the summer with Dad? Sometimes, I wonder if you wouldâve been okay with that. None of us really know why you left, why you didnât tell him. Iâm not blaming you, I just wonder if you wouldâve been okay with me knowing him.â She talks, though she knows sheâll never hear a response. And she tries to pretend that fact doesnât hurt her. âI have brothers. Four of them. Theyâre all great in their own ways, but they all also make me want to rip my hair out. Three of them are older, Damianâs younger than me. He kinda acts like a big brother at times though. And I have a big sister, Cass. She doesnât say much, but sheâs awesome. Sheâs in Hong Kong right now, so most of our conversations have been video calls. I have a niece, too.â Marinette stops, wiping furiously at her eyes. She didn't want to cry. At all. But knowing her birth mother would never be able to be part of her life, would never know any of these people like she did- it was hard.
âGuardian, please breathe.â Kaalki says, floating up to sit in front of Marinetteâs face. Marinette blinks at the Kwami before listening to them. If they were worried, then Marinette was more lost in her head than she originally thought.
âAnd todayâs my birthday. I was excited at first, and then I remembered the other thing that this day was. Remembered that itâs also the day you-â Marinette pauses, and grits her teeth. âI am so sorry, Mama. I am so sorry that I caused your death.â She chokes out, dropping her head onto her knees, trying to suppress the sobs threatening to break out of her chest.
âWe need to go. Marinette, we need to go.â Kaalki urges, patting her cheek urgently. Marinette calls the transformation and falls through a portal, closing it quickly to keep the butterfly that was surely after her from following. She definitely didnât need to test how far the victim had to be to be akumatized. The second she lands, she lets the transformation drop and the sobs break out.
âShit Pixie.â Jason curses, and suddenly sheâs wrapped in a warm hug, sobs tearing through her as she continues to apologize.
---
Jason Todd had been through a lot of weird shit. Waking up in a pool of green water after being fucking murdered by the Joker, was weird. Emotional baby sister falling through a portal into the room and sobbing? Also weird. But also heartbreaking. He grabs onto her and just holds her, desperately trying to give her some type of comfort.
âShhhh, itâs okay Pix. I got you.â He mumbles, holding her close. Damian rushes in, sword drawn, face scrunched up when he sees them. Jason shakes his head, this wasnât something that they could fix with a sword. He wasnât exactly sure why his baby sister was crying so hard, but he had caught a couple of muffled apologies, so whatever it was, he didnât think it was something that he (or Damian) could kill. Or, rather, maim, since she was against murdering people that were against her for some reason.
âHas anyone seen Mars, sheâs not in her room-â Replacement starts, freezing as he walks into the room.
âExcellent situational awareness, Drake.â Damian mutters, glaring at him. Jason shoots both of them a glare, now was not the time to be fighting. Especially since the kidâs other parents were on their way to celebrate her birthday. If they showed up and she was sobbing, theyâd take her home and never let them see her again. And Jason was NOT going to let that happen.
âAnyone know if Mâs decided to not kill me yet?â Dick asks, walking into the room with a huge grin that falls the second he sees whatâs happening. Jason resists the urge to roll his eyes. Apparently none of his brothers could read a fucking room. Instead of staying at the edge of the room like Damian and Tim, Dick walks over.
âHey kiddo, itâs okay. Weâre here.â He says softly. The kid pulls away from him, though he can tell itâs a little reluctantly, before launching herself at Dick, her sobs starting to die down. Jason lets out a short huff, running his fingers through his hair as he tries to think of what could have set her off. There were no akuma alarms, but she fell out of a portal. Which means she was out of the manor when she got upset. He watches as Dick pats her hair gently and whispers to her. God, heâs such a dad. Then again, heâs been mother henning him and their other brothers for years, so itâs not really a surprise.
âIâm sorry guys.â Marinette says suddenly, her voice small as she stays hidden in Dickâs arms.
âNo need to apologize, Pixie Pop.â Jason reassures her. She finally pulls away from Dick and Jasonâs heart, honest to god breaks at the broken look on her face.
âShe died in childbirth, you know.â She whispers, and suddenly it makes sense. Why she was sitting there sobbing on her birthday, why sheâd fallen out of a portal.
âThat is not your fault.â Damian says firmly, walking over and standing face to face with Marinette, something Jason knew annoyed the girl. Damian was two years younger, but a little taller than her. She didnât seem to mind now, though.
âBut it was. If I hadnât been born-â She starts and Jason frowns at the thought.
âThe world would be a much shittier place.â He says with finality, not leaving room for her to argue. âPix, youâre amazing, and the world would really suck without you. Never be sorry you were born.â Jason says firmly, stumbling slightly when she launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around him tightly.
âThank you Jay.â She mumbles, and he can tell sheâs crying again, but this time itâs not sobs, so he thinks itâs fine.
âCome on, letâs all watch a movie.â Repla- Tim suggests and Jason raises an eyebrow at the idea, briefly wondering what kind of movie heâd pick. They all pile on the giant sectional that Bruce had bought specifically for impromptu movie nights as Tim sticks the DVD in. Jason just snorts as the title card for âThe Addams Familyâ comes on, settling back in the couch, ready to watch one of the greatest movies ever.
---
âThank you again for flying us out here for her birthday.â Sabine says, smiling at him. Bruce returns the smile and nods.
âOf course, thank you for letting her spend the summer here. I know sheâs appreciated the break from her classmates.â He says, his smile quickly fading at the confused look on both Sabine and Tomâs faces.
âWhat do you mean?â Tom asks.
âMarinette hasnât told you?â Bruce asks, suddenly regretting bringing it up. Why hadnât she said anything? They were her parents too. Sure, sheâd made it clear they couldnât know about Ladybug, but her class wasnât a hero problem. They were a civilian problem.
âWe knew that she wasnât hanging out with them as often, and that she didnât talk about her class as much as she used to. We just assumed that she was busy.â Sabine says, her face a mixture of sadness and anger.
âMy apologies, I assumed sheâd talked to you.â Bruce says, feeling as if he had crossed a line. Would they be mad at him, for her telling him something she hadnât told them?
âSheâs always looking out for others first,â Tom finally sighs, a tired smile on his face. âShe probably thought she was saving us from being akumatized.â Bruceâ jaw clenches. Had Marinette really suffered in silence to avoid being forced to fight her parents?
âWe can continue this conversation later, right now we should focus on her birthday.â Sabine says, placing a hand on Tomâs arm. He nods and Bruce makes a note to talk to the two about the possibility of her switching schools.
âSheâs probably in her room.â Bruce says, leading the two towards the stairs.
âActually, Master Bruce, the children are all in the informal sitting room. I believe they snuck down to have a movie night after Master Dick woke Miss Marinette to wish her a happy birthday.â Alfred says, Bruce watches his face and knows thatâs not all, but doesnât press. It had to be something that he couldnât talk about in front of the Dupain Chengâs.
âOf course they did. Thank you, Alfred. Alfred, this is Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain, Marinetteâs parents. Tom, Sabine, this is Alfred Pennyworth. Heâs the man who raised me.â Bruce says, smiling at him. The three exchange pleasantries and soon Bruce is leading the two to the sitting room. He pushes the door open gently, careful not to let it slam. He spots a sword on the floor near Damian and quickly grabs it, moving it away. If he was woken up suddenly, he would still panic and attempt to fight his way out.
âShe looks so peaceful.â Sabine whispers, and Bruce smiles, a genuine smile, he didnât have to fake a smile when most of his children were together and safe and happy. Or, quiet, at least. It was rare.
âIâve found them like this several times.â Bruce admits, pulling out his phone to show the two all of the pictures heâd taken of the kids piled together sleeping. Sabine and Tom smile widely at the pictures and Bruce quickly sends them their favorites.
âB, I swear to god, I can sense you in here. Let us sleep.â Jason mumbles grumpily.
âSorry Jason, Marinetteâs parents are here so itâs time to get up.â Bruce says, amused at the way his sonâs hair was attempting to defy gravity. Jason looked around sleepily, waved lazily at Sabine and Tom, and then collapsed back on the couch. Bruce sighs. âWould the two of you like to have a cup of coffee while we give them a few more minutes to sleep?â He offers.
âThat would be lovely.â Sabine says, and Bruce leads the two to the kitchen, hoping Tim (who had sat straight up after Jason flopped down) would take the hint and wake up the others.
---
Marinette sighs happily as everyone sits down at the table for dinner. The day had been amazing, despite the rough start. And her Dad had even flown her Maman and Papa out to spend the day with her. They couldnât stay for long, they had the bakery to run after all, but it was still nice to see them. Marinette glances at the end of the table where a place was set, but no one sat.
âWhatâs with the extra plate?â Jason asks, turning to Alfred who was sitting in the chair next to it instead of his regular seat.
âIt is for Miss Le.â He says, and she can almost feel everyone freeze. Her throat tightens, but she still smiles at him with watery eyes.
âThank you, Alfred.â She says quietly. He nods.
âYou are quite welcome, Miss.â He says. She clears her throat and looks back at her Maman, noticing that her smile was also a little sad. It had been all day, but Marinette was certain it wasnât anything to worry about. Bridgette had been close with her Maman, surely she was just mourning her today, openly for the first time in a long time.
---
Marinette groans at whoever is trying to wake her up.
âFive more minutes.â She mutters, burrowing deeper under the covers. It was summer break, why wouldnât anyone let her sleep?
âCome on sweetheart, your Papa and I want to talk to you and Bruce.â Her Maman says, and she immediately sits up. Was she in trouble? Had her Maman figured out the whole Batman thing? Had she figured out the Ladybug thing?
âUh, okay.â She says, sliding out of bed and stepping into slippers. She wasnât sure how serious the conversation was, but since her Maman didnât stop her from walking out of the room in her pajamas, she relaxed slightly. It couldnât be that serious, right? She follows her Maman into her Dadâs study, glancing wearily at the clock in the corner. Her Maman was often too observant. Hopefully she didnât notice anything odd about the clock. They all sit in silence for an entire minute until Marinette canât handle it anymore.
âAm I in trouble?â She asks hesitantly, looking between her parentsâ faces.
âOf course not, we just- We noticed how different you are.â Her Maman says and Marientte frowns, furrowing her eyebrows. Different? She was different?
âHow?â She asks.
âYouâre happier than Iâve seen you in months honey. Your smile reaches your eyes, you talk freely, you seem peaceful.â Her Maman says softly, and Marinette blinks in surprise. Had she really been so easy to read in Paris? Had her parents really been able to tell? Sheâd wanted to hide it from them, not let them see how everything was piling on her, crushing her. She didnât want to worry them.
âWhat do you- how-â She stumbles over her words, trying to figure out where she messed up.
âWe didnât know why until we talked to Bruce.â Her Papa says and she turns to glare at her Dad, feeling a little betrayed. He holds up his hands in surrender.
âMarinette, you didnât tell me not to tell them about your class.â He reminds her, and she huffs.
âGuess we can cross mind reader off the list of things you can do.â She mumbles, making her Papa snort.
âIt wasnât just that though. Weâd seen how restrained you had become, how you never went out with friends and you stopped talking about them.â Her Maman says softly. Marinette grits her teeth, hugging herself to try and hold herself together.
âI didnât want to worry you.â She says, her voice barely audible. That wasnât the main reason though. She didnât want to fight her parents, and if they knew everything going on with Lila, theyâd definitely be akumatized. She couldnât fight them. Not if she could help it.
âWhat would you say about transferring schools?â Her Maman asks suddenly, and Marinette jerks her head up, looking at her with wide eyes. Transfer schools? It would be great, amazing, fantastic, but- but her classmates would still come to the bakery. Still give her the same odd looks theyâd been giving her since they found out that sheâs a Wayne.
âWhat school?â She asks, because yes, that makes a difference. Chloe had transferred schools not long ago, and Marinette did not want to trade Lila for Chloe. Sheâd rather not deal with either of them, if she was being honest.
âGotham Academy.â Her Maman says, and Marinette feels lucky that she wasnât drinking anything, because she would have definitely done a spit take. Gotham Academy? As in, live in Gotham year round? What-
âAre you giving me up?â She asks, suddenly hurt. Her Mamanâs eyes widen and her Papa pulls her into a giant hug.
âOf course not honey.â He says, rubbing her back gently and squeezing her lightly.
âWe asked Bruce if he thought Gotham Academy would be a good school for you. He offered to let you fly home some weekends, and any of the breaks you want. Or to fly us out here if you have time off school. You donât have to say yes, and you donât have to make a decision right now.â Her Maman reassures her as her Papa lets her go. Marinette turns to look at her Dad, his face unreadable.
âWould you really be okay with that?â She asks, and he nods.
âWe all just want you to be happy, Marinette. Wherever that may be. And weâre all willing to work together to do that.â He says and she smiles, letting out a soft sigh.
âI- Iâd need to think about it a little more,â She says, running through the idea in her head. It seemed perfect, besides the whole âbouncing back to Paris for attacksâ thing. But sheâd been doing it all summer, it had been fine so far. And maybe, maybe, Hawkmoth would even be defeated by the end of summer. No matter what, things were changing and Marinette was trying her best to keep up.
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#maribat#maribat fanfiction#maribat fic#mbdbwm2021#maribat bio dad! bruce wayne month 2021#maribat bio dad bruce#maribat bio dad au#maribat bruce wayne#maribat jason todd#maribat dick grayson#maribat damian wayne#maribat tim drake#platonic dickinette#platonic jasonette#platonic daminette#platonic timari#maribat marinette dupain cheng#day twenty eight school
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honey and glass ~ spencer reid
i am in love with spencer reid but he only has eyes for jennifer jareau
spencer reid x reader angst + hurt/comfort (sorta, itâs all in first person but with no names/no specific descrptions)
song fic inspired by âhoney and glassâ by peyton cardoza
word count: 4.8k
disclaimer: i do not ship jeid or think they had any chemistry but itâs a good opportunity for angst x
you know those kinds of girls who look like they're made of honey and glass like sticky sweet ash
itâs a summers night in california and iâm on the beach at sunset.
the sand is rough under my toes and a warm, gentle breeze blows a strand of my hair across my face; he lifts his hand to brush it away. tucking it behind my ear he stares down at me and the sun hits his face at a perfect angle, illuminating his hazel eyes like pools of honey. he leans in and i-
âow!â i yelp, as morgan launches the volleyball at my head, âwhat was that for?â Â
âcome and play,â he laughs, waving me over to where he stands with emily and hotch.
i shake my head, âno, i donât feel like it,â i mumble, massaging my left temple where the ball bounced off my skull.
morgan rolls his eyes and jogs past where iâm sitting to collect the ball, âwhatâs up with you then?â he teases.
i shrug, ânothing. Iâm just tired,â i say feigning an unconvincing yawn, âask one of them to play.â Â
i motion with my head towards spencer and jj, theyâre down by the edge of the waves and she throws her head back and laughs at something he says. her sheets of blonde hair ripple through the wind and he looks at her in pure awe and amazement as she giggles at something he said.
ânah, donât wanna interrupt the kid when heâs trying to make a move,â morgan shrugs, âcome play with us, we need an extra person.â
an extra person.
right.
because what else am i but another body to fill the space?
âi donât want to,â i say, forcing myself to tear my eyes away from jj and spencer as i stand up, âhotch said the jet is leaving first thing tomorrow, iâm gonna head back to the hotel and get some sleep.â
morgan says something, but i donât register it as i allow myself one last glance at spencer and jj. she is trying to convince him to paddle in the waves with her, he shakes his head but when she takes his hand in hers i can tell heâs melting inside as he follows her into the water.
and i just know that heâd follow her so far out to sea that his head was underwater as long as she kept their hands intertwined.
i turn away from morgan so he doesnât see the tears burning in my eyes.
and you can't get the taste off your tongue burnt sugar and a little bit of rum
weâre in a dimly lit bar somewhere.
hotch left hours ago, he wanted to take advantage of one of the rare nights he would be there to read jack a bedtime story.
rossi is at a table in the corner, sitting with a woman who has not-so-subtly draped her leg over him.
derek is out of my line of sight and iâm thankful for that.
emily, garcia, and jj are dancing.
i sit at the table with spencer, heâs drunk.
more tipsy than drunk i think, but he so rarely drinks anything that the sight of him swaying along to the music was an anomaly. i canât ignore the fact that his eyes are firmly fixed on jj as she dances, and i grip my wine glass so tightly i half expect it to shatter in my hand.
he leans across to me and my heart skips a beat as i inhale the alcohol on his breath, âiâm in love with her, yâknow,â he slurs.
âi know, spencer,â i smile sadly and down the rest of my wine.
he doesnât even notice when i grab my coat from behind him and shuffle towards the door.
and she dances in the rain with her clothes on drenched to the bone never knows when she's all gone, she's the life of the party
spencer and i are watching the big bang theory.
neither of us particularly like it, but there arenât many channels on our hotel room tv and spencer enjoys the physics references at least. i watch his face light up as a character mentions something about quantum theory that i cant understand, and spencer launches into a rant about the universe and the stars.
i donât have the knowledge to keep up with him or the heart to tell him to stop so i sit and listen, admiring the way his eyes sparkle and his hands gesticulate when no one interrupts him with a deprecating comment.
we sit there like that for the rest of the night, in our respective twin beds with him telling me the secrets of the universe and me wondering how on earth i will ever get over him.
and deep down I know that nobody flinches when she takes off her clothes
âanything you like?â emily asks me through the dressing room curtain.
âiâm not sureâŠâ i mumble in response, biting down on my lip as i stare at myself in the mirror, âi-i donât think this is my colour.â
the dress looked so beautiful on the hanger, but now that itâs on my body the fabric bunches up in all the wrong places and i canât recall a time that iâve looked worse.
the lights are just washing you out, i tell myself.
youâre having a bad hair day, it would look better with your hair down, i tell myself.
you just need some lipstick, i tell myself.
but when jj announces she has found the perfect dress and i stick my head out of the curtain to see her, i am slapped in the face with the realisation that it isnât the lighting or my lack of makeup itâs just me.
because jj looks beautiful as always, her dress hugs her waist and the skirt fans out around her as emily demands she gives us a spin. she isnât wearing makeup, her hair is in a ponytail too, the lights donât wash her out because she is radiant and flawless, and the lights arenât the problem.
i am.
i cry in my car as i drive home from the mall, and when i get home i tear everything out of my fridge and fling it into the trashcan. i vow to go to the store and stock up on salad and chicken.
i go to the store but i donât buy salad.
and I wonder what it's like to be one of those girls to sit in the sun and look at the world and never think, "wow, am i enough?" âcause life is easy when you know that you're the main character
iâm in hotchâs office as he grills me about a stupid mistake i made in the field. i can hardly focus on his words as i shrink back in the chair, counting all the reasons that i donât deserve to be in this job.
iâm not as smart or fast or strong as the others. i donât have an eidetic memory or hacker skills and i canât even maintain myself as a solid average agent because i keep fucking up.
âiâm not going to write you up,â he says, and my heart soars a little in my chest, âbut i need you to understand that if you do something like that again i wonât have any choice, you were lucky no one got hurt today.â
i nod silently and blink back the tears that threaten to spill over.
âgo home, get some rest,â he says and i donât hang around for a second longer, darting out of his office i crash headfirst into a tall frame.
âwow, slow down,â he chuckles, resting a hand on my shoulder to steady me.
âspencer,â i gasp, looking up at his sympathetic smile, âwhat are you still doing here? we landed hours agoâŠ.â
he shrugs, âi waited for you.â
my heart skips a beat.
âyou didnât have to do that.â
he shakes his head, âyouâre my best friend, i wanted to. plus i thought you might need someone after being in there with hotch.â
i swallow and offer him a slightly forced smile.
best friend.
âthanks, spence, that means a lot.â
he looks at me quizzically.
âwhatâs wrong?â
ânothing, just only jj calls me spenceâŠanywaysâ he holds out his arm for me, âshall we go?â
i have to restrain myself from seizing his arm, and settle for tentatively wrapping my own around it, âthanks spencerâŠyouâre such a good friend.â
he smiles down at me and its almost enough to melt away the icy feeling in my heart as i call him a friend. the coldness in my chest in my chest is a feeling iâve grown accustomed to but when iâm with him everything is warm and bright again.
he feels like yellow.
and i feel like maybe i am enough.
and I'm sitting here thinking this is not fair
i feel like blue.
iâm alone in my apartment flicking through tv channels, trying to find something that isnât a medical or crime drama. because after my day at work i canât look at any more blood or dead bodies, even if its as fake as the pep in my voice when jj calls to ask if iâm okay.
âhotch grilled you pretty bad, huh? you sure youâre okay?â
âyeah, spence â spencer â waited for me and we went to get milkshakes after.â
âaww thatâs so nice, you know i think he has a soft spot for you,â she teases.
something acidic bubbles in my throat, but i canât tell her that i know sheâs wrong because he spent half the night telling me how much he loves her. i have to gather the strength to respond without the venom in my heart poisoning my voice.
âoh, i donât think so,â i laugh, âanyways, i should go â my movie is about to start.â
jj tells me to have a good night before she hangs up, and i switch off the tv. at this time thereâs noting but romcoms and i donât want to sit through hours of pining when its on replay every day at the office.
i watch my own reflection in the blank tv screen as sobs wrack my body.
but her smile makes it hard to be mad it's not her fault that I'm so fucking sad
jj holds me in her arms as i cry into her chest, âitâs okay, youâre gonna be okay,â she coos, rubbing soft circles on my back.
i sniffle against her and i just know that my eyes are puffy and red but i canât switch off the floods of tears that fall from them.
âdo you want to tell me whatâs wrong?â she asks.
i shake my head against her because how could i tell her?
how could I tell her that the man i love is in love with her?
and that i want to resent her for it but i canât because sheâs such a good fucking friend that sheâs sitting here with me, unknowingly wiping the tears that i canât stop shedding because i canât be her.
she gives me one of those heart warming smiles that could bring peace to a dying man, and in that moment i am reminded again of why he loves her. there are worse people to love, i suppose. if spencer is going to cut out his heart and give it to someone it might as well be someone like her.
but that doesnât make it hurt any less.
and i hate myself for the part of me that hates her. sheâs done nothing wrong. itâs not her fault that that spencer loves her, and its not her fault that she doesnât realise.
so I'll sit here and look at these girls in the sun dancing in the rain and just having their fun
i hate alaska.
my teeth chatter as we trudge through the snow filled field, and i pull the cuffs of my coat over my glove cladded hands. i hate the cold. i hate alaska. i hate the serial killer who dragged us all out here. i hate the impending snowstorm that was keeping the jet grounded for another night.
âshould we even be out here?â i groan, âi mean if itâs not safe for the plane, then surely its not safe for us.â
âwe arenât 50,000 feet up in the sky though,â morgan says and i roll my eyes at him.
âitâs cold enough to make me feel like we are,â i huff.
spencer nods sympathetically at me, âi donât like the cold either, not much snow in vegas.â
âi think we should have two behavioural analysis units,â i begin, âone to catch serial killers in cold climates, and the other in hot ones.â
he laughs, âiâd like that, but i think itâd just be us and garcia on the hot team.â
âweâd get by.â
heâs grinning at me, his messy brown curls are squashed down under his bobble hat but a few of them still manage to peak out. heâs wearing a multicoloured striped scarf and mismatched gloves.
a snowflake lands on his eyelash and i reach out to brush it off.
âthanks.â
âanytime.â
morgan launches a snowball at us, and it hits me in the back of the head, âhey! what is it with you and throwing things?â i snap.
morgan roars with laughter.
ânot funny derek!â
he resumes his snowball fight with emily and jj and i draw my arms across my chest. i watch as they prance about in the snow, falling to avoid the snowballs launched by the others and laughing when they get hit. the sun is just starting to set, and itâs rays catch jjâs hair at the perfect angle, bouncing off the golden blonde strands as she dances around morgan. her and emily have joined forces to pelt him with snowballs.
i look up at spencer to see him starting at her in awe. his nose and cheeks are flushed from the cold, and the sun reflects against his own face, illuminating his eyes. theyâre beautiful. like honey and glass.
âguys! come join us!â jj calls.
i shake my head, âthereâs not enough money in the world.â
she pouts at me, âspence, please,â she says sweetly and before i know it heâs by her side and scooping up snow.
i watch from the side-lines.
spencer roars with laughter when emily hits morgan square in the face with a snowball, he wraps an arm around jj as she nearly collapses from laughter, something twinges in my stomach.
but he looks so happy, and that melts my glacier heart slightly.
maybe alaska wasnât so bad after all.
and maybe one day, i can forget the past and be one of those girls of honey and glass
ânice to meet you, agent,â agent fitz says, holding out his hand, âweâve heard good things about you up in the new york office.â
âreally?â i say, shaking his hand and i canât fight the smile that creeps across my face.
âreally. give me a call if you ever fancy a change of scenery.â
âiâll keep that in mind, agent fitz,â i give him a nod and a smile as he walks away.
new york was cold in the winter, but it didnât seem like the worst place in the world.
but I think that it's hard for people to see that I love all these girls, and honestly it doesn't matter what you look like or how much you weigh
i wondered once how iâd ever get over my love for spencer reid, and now as he sits and sobs on my couch i realise that i donât want to. it hurts me to love him, and something stabs my heart every time i catch him staring at her, but he deserves someone to love him like he loves her.
âi guess iâm just starting to realise that sheâll never love me back, and i donât know why or whatâs wrong with me,â he says and looks up at me, his eyes filled with tears and his face blotchy and red.
âthereâs nothing wrong with you,â i say, wrapping an arm around him and wiping his tears, âsometimes the people you love just donât love you back, but thatâs not a reflection of you or your self-worth,â i reiterate to him the mantra i say in my mirror every morning.
he whimpers and my heart breaks for him.
âit doesnât feel that way, it feels like iâm dying inside every time she talks about him or tells me about their dates, and i try to be a good friend but-â
his voice cracks and another sob escapes his chest and i tighten my grip around him; heartbreak doesnât seem to get easier with age, because here we are, two fbi agents in our late twenties crying over our crushes like we are in junior high.
because before i know it the tears are flowing down my face faster than his and when he breaks away from our embrace to ask me why iâm crying, i canât tell him itâs because i am feeling everything he is.
âi just donât like seeing you like this,â is all i can muster up.
it's just that these girls know they're okay there's a beauty in knowing your place in the world in loving yourself and knowing your worth
âhey!â spencer greets me as he steps into the elevator with me.
âhi,â i mumble back, taking another sip of coffee from my travel cup.
weâve been called in on a case, but iâve barely had any sleep and iâm struggling to keep my eyes open.
âyou look tired, are you okay?â
you look tired.
so the bags under my eyes were obvious then.
âyeah,â i say, swallowing the lump in my throat, âjust a late night, yâknow.â
âohâŠoh! is that your way of saying your date went well?â he says with a coy grin.
âwhat?â
oh! something clicks in my brain and i understand what he means.
âno! not like that noâŠactually it didnât go well at all, he turned out to be a total misogynistic creep,â i say with a bitter laugh.
âoh, iâm sorryâŠ.â
i shrug and take another swig of coffee, âitâs okay, you didnât know. to be honest iâll probably end up calling him again anyways.â
spencer stares at me, confused, âwhy would you do that?â
âwell, i donât exactly have guys falling over themselves for me, do i?â
spencer frowns and i can see his brain working overtime behind his eyes, âso youâre just going to settle for less than you deserve?â
âi donât have many other options do i?â
he reaches out an arm to place a comforting hand on my shoulder, âdonât worry, youâll find the right guy for you soon. itâs only a matter of time, youâre worth more than a misogynistic creep,â he squeezes my shoulder and before i know it weâve already reached our floor and heâs gone.
youâll meet the right guy for you soon.
what if i already have?
you don't have to be perfect or never get sad that's not what it means to be honey and glass
itâs late and i sit at my desk, sorting through piles of paperwork.
my eyes blur as i enter the gruesome details of our latest case, from fatigue or tears i canât tell. i think emily and hotch are still hanging around the office somewhere, but the others had gone to dinner as soon as we landed, promising that they would do their paperwork tomorrow.
i knew i would have no appetite sitting across a table from spencer and jj so i had sat silently in the back of the suv as hotch drove us back to the office.
a singular tear rolls down my cheek and splatters on my page, smudging the not-quite-dry-yet ink. i let out a shaky breath and wipe my eyes, i donât know why iâm crying really.
no one had necessarily done anything wrong. only when we were in the field and the unsub had detonated the bomb, spencer chose to push jj out of the way instead of me. i was lucky that one of the s.w.a.t agents had grabbed my arm in time and pulled me back to safety.
it had been hours and my ears were still ringing from the explosion.
maybe spencer thought he was closer to jj, that he had a better chance of saving her, we are trained to make difficult choices based on survival odds, i told myself.
only spencer hadnât been closer to jj, and she was surrounded by three s.w.a.t agents whilst i only had one next to me. but no one had really done anything wrong, no one died, no one even broke a bone. and it pains me to admit to myself but had i been in spencerâs position and had to chose between saving him or morgan, i know that would pull spencer out of the way every single time.
i jump as emily creeps up behind me, âhey, you okay?â
i donât even try and disguise my puffy, red eyes or tear tracks as i look up at her, âno. but i think thatâs okay.â
and everyone has their highs and their lows the nights you spend crying, believe me, I know
itâs roslynâs birthday.
i donât think anyone else in the team knows because they keep exchanging looks whenever jj snaps at one of them and i can see the annoyance in their eyes.
when jj barks at spencer and snaps her pencil within the space of five minutes i drag her into a storage closet and wrap my arms around her.
âshhh,â i say soothingly, âitâs okay, youâre gonna be okay.â
jj shakes her head, âi donât think so, i thought this day would get easier with time but itâs just getting worse,â she sniffles.
i stroke her hair, âi know, i know its horrible and you deserve to cry as much as you want to. but you are so strong, and i know you can get through this-â
âiâm not,â jj shakes her head, âiâm not strong or brave or anything that you all think i am, iâm not like you I-â
âlike me?â i question.
âyou always hold yourself together, whenever thereâs a case with a kid iâm falling to pieces but you keep it together. i mean iâm the one crying in a storage closetâŠ.â
i stare at her in disbelief, because jj is the strongest woman i know and i donât understand how she canât see that.
âi donât have a sister who killed herself jj,â i say slowly, âyou have survived 100% of the bad things that have happened to you because youâre a fighter, that makes you strong.â
she shakes her head and clings to me, âbut iâve lost pieces of myself, iâm not the same person i couldâve been if life had been kinder to me and that makes me sad. my sister is dead and that makes me sad, everyone thinks iâm this strong and perfect person and that makes me feel guilty because i canât be that person.â
in a turn of events, she is crying into my chest, her hair is greasy, and her mascara runs and i realise that my best friend was never truly on the pedestal i placed her on. and i realise i am part of the problem, treating jj like she is the be all and all of perfection and unattainablity when i should just be treating her like a friend.
spencer loves her and that kills me but itâs not whatâs important right now. iâve spent too long inside my own head, struggling to view her as my best friend or the other woman but now i see that she is someone that needs my help.
i know what itâs like to cry myself to sleep so i donât want jj to go through something like that alone. so i vow there and then, to push my own feelings aside and be whatever she needs me to be.
i don't want to be these girls for beauty or fame but for the confidence they have in their own damn name
âsmile!â garcia says as she appears with a camera.
emily, jj, and morgan turn to face her and pose but i duck out of the frame. garcia pouts and morgan grabs onto my forearm to pull me back into shot. i wish that i had the self-confidence to let him, to fall in next to him and make a silly pose at the camera and not worry if my hair was sitting nicely or if i was breathing in enough.
âcome on! i need pictures for my scrapbook and youâve been dodging me all night!â she whines.
i stare down at my feet, âgarcia iâm not photoshoot ready like these guys,â i say, trying to make my voice light and floaty but it just sounds like im choking back tears.
âcome on, just one picture,â jj says kindly, waving for me to come and stand next to her.
i shake my head again and wring my hands. the last thing i need is another photograph of jj and i to compare myself to every time iâm feeling extra low and self-destructive.
i try and remember the vow i made, to be there for my friend despite my own feelings. but she isnât sad anymore, sheâs happy and smiling and drinking wine, me squeezing in between her and emily for a stupid photograph isnât going to make or break her.
itâs just a stupid photograph.
âno thanks,â i choke, âiâm going to get another drink,â i scurry away to the kitchen before anyone can object.
i shut the door quickly behind me and press my back up against it, taking a deep breath. i canât quite believe i was successful in escaping garcia again.
âare you avoid garcia and her camera too?â
âspencer!â i laugh shrilly, âi didnât even see you there.â
âyeah, iâve been hiding in here for a half hour,â he smiles sadly, âi hate having my picture taken, especially next to morgan. he makes me look even lankier if possible.â
i frown, spencer had no reason to feel insecure.
âwhy donât we get garcia to take a picture of just us two?â i suggest nervously, âyou wonât have any reason to feel insecure next to meâŠ.â
he looks at me quizzically, âwhat do you mean?â
i wring my hands again, âjust that youâll automatically look even better if iâm next to youâŠcosâ iâmâŠwell yâknow,â i say awkwardly motioning to my face and body.
he cocks his head to the side, âare you trying to tell me you think youâre ugly, so iâll look better by comparison?â
i shrug.
âwell, i think you look beautiful.â
so I'll sit here and look at these girls in the sun dancing in the rain and just having their fun
weâre on the plane journey home.
spencer and jj sit next to each other, their arms pressed together as they share the arm rest. spencer is reading a book; his eyes scan down the pages at lightening speed and i know heâll be finished soon.
i am on the opposite side of the plane, i sit by myself, i like the space.
i keep my eye on them throughout the flight; just as i predicted, it doesnât take long for spencer to finish his book and he places it down on the table in front of him. jj picks it up and teases him for the long-winded title, i donât catch what she says, something about astrophysics.
he starts to ramble, and she interrupts him with another teasing remark, he flushes when she gently nudges his chest. i turn my head to stare out of the window, biting my lip.
they arenât even doing anything, jj is just being friendly. and i still canât handle it. i lie my head back against the headrest as i gaze out of the window, admiring the new york skyline as it fades into the distance.
a nervous chuckle from spencer snaps me out of my trance, and i look back over to see him and jj giggling secretively as she whispers something into his ear.
 âwhere are you going?â emily grumbles, sheâs half asleep with her legs splayed out across two chairs when i accidently bump her foot.
 âbathroom,â i say quietly with a forced smile as i shuffle past jj and spencer, my heart seizing in my chest as she teases him about how long his hair is getting, brushing her hand through the curls.
iâm already silently sobbing in the bathroom so i miss the pitiful look that emily and morgan exchange.
and I know it doesn't make sense to forget the past but I promise, one day, you'll be honey and glass
âagent fitz?â i say, clutching my phone tight in my hand.
âahh, iâve been wondering when iâd be hearing from you.â
i laugh quietly, âyes, well iâve been thinking about what you said, and i think i could do with that change of scenery now.â
i wrote this in a couple hours and didnt proof read so apologies for an errors :))
part 2
#spencer reid#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds imagines#jennifer jareau#jj#emily prentiss#derek morgan#aaron hotchner#David Rossi#Penelope garcia#the bau#angst#hurt and comfort#spencer reid imagine hurt
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Iâve had this headcanon for awhile now about Ian and Mickey starting a family and since Iâm becoming more comfortable with writing, I thought Iâd turn it into a fic. Enjoy!
A Life Changing Gift
âDebs, are you sure you understand what youâre offering right now?,â Ian questions, feeling a bit skeptical.
It is Debbie after all. Sometimes sheâs perfectly pleasant and reasonable, other times she can be a raging bitch. But, she is his sister and he canât imagine her offering something this monumental only to renege after theyâve gotten their hopes up. And sheâs definitely mellowed out since they didnât end up selling the house and she didnât have to find a new place to live.
Ian and Debbie are sitting at the kitchen table in the Gallagher house. She had called him over to look at a cut Franny had gotten playing in the backyard. Wasnât sure if it needed stitches and thought Ian could use his past medical training to check it out. In reality, it was barely a scratch. Ian should have known at that point Debbie was up to something, especially when she invited him to stay for coffee.
âIan, Iâve been thinking a long time about this. Came up with the idea months ago but wanted to be completely sure before I said anything,â Debbie explains.
âYeah, but, Debbie. This is fuckinâ huge. Think about how hard itâll be on you-â
âIâve already thought about all that shit, Ian. Iâve been through it before, you know. Itâs really not that bad,â Debbie assures him.
Debbie seems sincere. Like sheâs really considered every angle, every downside, upside, and in-between. Heâs trying to keep his excitement reined in because he still has to convince Mickey that this is a good idea, which could be easier said than done.
âListen,â Debbie says. âYou donât have to say anything now. Go home, talk it over with Mickey. You can even bring him over here and we can all talk about it if you want. No pressure.â
They both stand from the table and Ian goes to give her a hug.
âWait, what the fuck are you doing?â Debbie jokes. âThought you hated me and that we donât do hugs anymore.â She laughs, and Ian knows sheâs remembering how tense things were a year ago when she thought sheâd be homeless and alone and she lashed out at all her siblings.
âWould you just fuckinâ come here?â Ian smiles warmly and holds his arms out.
She steps into his embrace and he just holds his little sister. Sometimes he still likes to imagine her as that sweet little girl that was always helping people. Always loving people, sometimes so much she would get hurt. It would kill him to see the tears in her eyes.
Sometimes, he sees glimpses of that caring little girl in the jaded woman sheâs become. Like when she pretended to be the bride at his wedding; staying in the kitchen, missing the whole ceremony, just so he and Mickey could get married without any problems from the homophobes at the venue. And now, when sheâs offering this selfless and life changing gift to them.
Ian whispers into her hair, hair thatâs the same vibrant shade of red as his own, âI donât even know what to say, Debs. Just⊠thank you.â
Debbie gives him one more big squeeze before pulling away. âYouâre welcome. Now, go home and convince your husband to let me have his baby.â
âââ
âNo fuckinâ way, NO fuckinâ way!â Mickey exclaims. âNo way am I banginâ your little sister.â
Mickey hops up on the counter, takes a long chug of the Old Style in his hand.
âMick,â Ian sighs, leaning up against the opposite counter. âThatâs not how it works. You would basically jerk off in a cup and sheâd use a turkey baster, in the privacy of her own room,â he emphasizes,â to⊠place the sperm where they need to go.â
âDonât you need like, a doctor or some shit to do that?â Mickey asks incredulously.
âWell, you can use a doctor but itâs expensive. This way is free,â Ian clarifies.
Mickey is clearly churning the idea around in his brain. Finally speaks.
âI thought we were just gonna like, find a fuckinâ kid that didnât have parents or somethinâ.â
âWe can do that too, one day. Ya know, if we like the first one enough to do it again,â Ian says lightheartedly, slight grin, trying to calm Mickey.
Ian steps toward Mickey, placing his hips between Mickeyâs knees, resting his hands on his thighs, rubbing softly.
Ian continues. âThink about it though, Mick. This baby would be us, you and me. Itâs the closest we can get since we donât exactly have the right stuff to do it on our own. He or she would have your DNA and, through Debbie, a little of mine too.â
Mickey beams at this, wraps his arms around his husbandâs shoulders. âIt would be kinda fun to have a little version of us runninâ around,â Mickey admits. âYou know a kid thatâs part Milkovich and part Gallagher is bound to be a little shit though, right?â Mickey jokes, smiling at the thought.
âOh, Iâm counting on it,â Ian quips, leaning in and planting a sweet kiss on his smiling husbandâs lips.
Ian pulls back from the kiss and asks seriously, âSo. Do you wanna do this?â
âYeah. Yeah I do. What about you?â Mickey questions.
âFuck yeah, I do. Letâs call Debs right now.â
âââ
âIâve done a lot of research about this. You guys know it might not work on the first try right? Donât want you to be frustrated or disappointed if it doesnât work this month. Doesnât mean it wonât ever work, but it can take a little time,â Debbie explains.
They are sitting in the Gallagher living room the day they are making their first attempt at insemination.
âYeah, we know, Debs. Donât worry,â Ian replies. âWeâre not in a hurry.â
âOkay, good. Keeping your expectations reasonable is good,â she says. âIâve also been tracking my basal body temperature and took an ovulation test, so today is my most fertile da-â
Mickey interrupts, âThanks, Dr. Gallagher, but we donât need all the gory details. Now where do I jerk off? Hey Ian, you gonna gimme a hand, man?â Mickey clicks his tongue and bounces his eyebrows playfully.
âUgh, no gory details, right? Letâs just keep all the personal shit to ourselves okay?â Debbie requests.
âYeah, this is already awkward enough. Donât need to make it weirder,â Ian agrees and eyes Mickey scoldingly.
Ian and Mickey are forced to go into the bathroom because Lip and Tami live there now and their old bedroom is now Fred and the babyâs room. Theyâre not home but it would be uncomfortable seeing Fredâs little toddler bed, his stuffed animal collection staring at them while Mickey gets off. So, bathroom it is.
âListen, Mickey,â Ian explains. âIâll help, but we are keeping this clinical. Short and sweet. We can fuck at home later for fun; this needs to be done with a purpose, a goal. Debbieâs waiting.â
âUgh, Jesus, man, why you gotta bring up Debbie? Doesnât exactly make this process easier to think of her waiting in her room to squir-â
âOkaaayy, focus Mick,â Ian interrupts before that sentence goes any further.
Ian yanks down Mickeyâs pants and gets to work. He knows exactly how Mickey likes it to make him come quickly. It works and Mickey finishes into the bulb of the turkey baster in record time.
Ian wipes off the edges and walks it to Debbieâs room, knocking on the door. She opens it just enough to stick her arm out and Ian places the bulb in her hand. Ian hears her say, âUh, you guys can go home. Iâll text you later,â and shuts the door.
On their way back to the Westside, Ianâs phone dings. He picks it up and reads the text from Debbie out loud. âTransfer is complete.â
âWhat now?â Mickey asks.
âWe wait,â Ian answers.
âââ
âIt should have worked by now, right?â Mickey asks, an edge of concern in his voice. âI mean, itâs been almost 4 months. What if like, my fuckinâ swimmers donât work or somethinâ?â
Ian tries to calm Mickey down, rubbing his arm thatâs slung across Ianâs belly. Itâs midnight and they really should be asleep but Mickeyâs spiraling over the whole surrogacy thing.
âMick, this is normal. We knew it could take awhile. Thereâs no need to freak out yet,â Ian assures. âWhatâs all this about, anyway? All the worry.â
âJust⊠I know it took a long time for me to even wanna have kids. Then you had to convince me to do this shit, to be okay with Debbie carrying my baby. Fuck, that still sounds creepy as hell. But anyway, I know I wasnât on board with everything at first, but now? Ian, Iâm so fuckinâ excited to have a baby with you. To be a dad with you. Itâs just hard to wait, thatâs all. And then I think⊠what if it doesnât happen? What if this whole plan just fuckinâ fails? Then what?â
âThen, we come up with another plan,â Ian assures. âI wanna raise kids with you too, Mickey, so fuckinâ much. I wanna give them the childhood we never got to have. I wanna take them to the beach with you, I want us to play blocks on the living room floor, and read bedtime stories together. All that shit. Itâll happen, Mickey. One way or another, weâll make it happen.â
Ian snuggles Mickey closer, kisses him on the top of the head, and they fall asleep in each otherâs arms.
They are woken up by Ianâs obnoxious ringtone at 6:00 am, well before they have to be up for work.
âWho the fuck is calling this goddamn early? Better be fuckinâ important,â Mickey grumbles while rubbing his eyes.
Itâs Debbie.
âHey, Debs!â Ian says with fake cheerfulness, still half asleep. âWhatâs up?â
âThereâs two lines!â she screams on the other end of the phone.
âOkay?â Ian replies.
âThereâs TWO lines!â she repeats, emphasizing the word two.
âI donât know what the fuck that means, Debs. Two lines where?â Ian questions.
âOn the pregnancy test, dipshit! Itâs positive! Iâm pregnant!â she yells.
Ian bolts upright in bed. Mickey grumbles âwhat the fuckâ under his breath, eyes still half closed.
âHoly fuck! Itâs positive?â Ian exclaims. âIt worked?
Mickeyâs up now too. âWhat the fuck did you just say?â
âDebs! Thank you! I love you! Iâll call you back later!â Ian says, unable to hold in his excitement.
He hangs up the phone. Turns and looks at Mickey. âIt worked. Sheâs pregnant,â Ian practically whispers, unable to believe it. Ian sees tears well up in Mickeyâs eyes and, for only the second time Ian has ever witnessed, they spill out onto his cheeks.
âââ
âDamn, you look like a beached whale, Debbie,â Mickey observes.
Debbie gives him a dirty look but chooses to keep her mouth shut.
Sheâs a week past her due date so they are at the clinic today to make sure everything is good. Debbie is up on the table and Ian and Mickey are sitting in the two available chairs when the doctor comes in.
âHi, Debbie! Hi, Dads!â she says cheerfully. âSo we are going to measure your belly and do a quick ultrasound just to make sure your amniotic fluid looks good.â Mickey grimaces at the term âamniotic fluidâ. âIâll have her back in a jiffy, guys!â the doctor says as she whisks Debbie out of the room.
They spent the last 6 months getting everything they needed for their new baby. Tami even threw them a shower where they got clothes, bottles, a swing, a carseat, and about a billion diapers. They decorated the nursery in light gray bedding with tiny white stars. Gender neutral because they want to be surprised. They have everything ready, all they need is the baby who is taking its sweet time.
Around 20 minutes has passed when the doctor pokes her head in the door.
âSooo, I have some news. Debbieâs water broke while we were doing her ultrasound and her contractions started coming really fast. From what Iâve been told, her first delivery was pretty quick so weâre transporting her to the hospital just down the road, just to be safe. You are welcome to head over there now. I will be delivering so Iâll see you guys there!â and her head pops out as quickly as it appeared.
Ian and Mickey just look at each other, stunned. Finally Mickey regains his senses and breaks the silence. âWell, letâs fuckinâ go!â
They finally make it to the OB floor after a couple wrong turns inside the hospital. A nurse points them to Debbieâs room and they walk in when sheâs in the middle of a pretty intense contraction. Once it subsides, she greets them and informs the epidural is on its way.
Once itâs been administered and Debbie is blissfully pain free, she asks, âDo you guys want to be in the delivery room?â
They both look at each other. âI hadnât really thought about it,â Ian replies.
âFuck, no,â Mickey says. âI donât wanna see that shit.â
âMick, you donât have to watch. We can stand up by her head. Hold her hand. Be supportive since sheâs bringing our baby into this world.â Ian turns to Debbie. âAre you sure you donât mind? We understand if you want to keep things private.â
âIan. I gave birth to Franny on our kitchen table in front of⊠like, everyone. Kev saw my vagina. V saw my vagina. Fuckinâ Sean saw my vagina. Trust me, I donât care if you two are in the room.â
Ian looks at Mickey. âFuck⊠fine. We can be in there,â Mickey relents.
A nurse comes in to check Debbie and informs her sheâs 100% effaced and 10cm dilated. Itâs go time. Things move at a quick pace after that. More nurses come in, turning on extra lights, bringing in supplies, wheeling in the heated bassinet.
Ian and Mickey stand side by side to Debbieâs left, Ian holding her hand, while she pushes. Itâs fast. She only pushes for ten minutes before they hear cries and the doctorâs holding the baby in her hands, declaring, âitâs a girl!â
The next thing they know, a nurse is throwing a clean blanket over Mickeyâs chest, and another nurse walks over and places the baby, his daughter, in his arms, blood, vernix, and all. Ian expects him to be grossed out but Mickey just stares in awe at this beautiful baby. This baby that looks like him in the face, but has a head of red hair.
Ian steps up to Mickey and wraps an arm around his shoulders, placing his other under Mickeyâs arms that are holding their daughter. There is not a dry eye in the room. Ian and Mickey are crying, Debbie is crying, even the doctor and nurses are crying.
The next hour or so is spent getting the baby, and Debbie, cleaned up and dressed. They take the baby and run the normal tests and give her a vitamin k shot.
Once Debbie is in a room, the nurse brings the baby in to her dads. Ian sits in the rocking chair snuggling her while she sleeps and Mickey is right next to them.
Debbie just gazes at this new little family from her spot in bed. âSo,â she finally says. âWhat are you naming her?â
Ian and Mickey just smile at each other before Ian responds, âDebbie, meet Margaret Laura Gallagher-Milkovich. Maggie for short.â
Debbieâs eyes tear up. âYou guys gave her my middle name?â
Mickey surprisingly fields this question. âWe wanted her to be named after the person thatâs responsible for her beinâ here. For helpingâ create her for us. I know I give you a lotta shit, but I love ya, and I appreciate the fuck outta you, Debbie.â
âAww, Mickey, I love yo-â she begins before being interrupted.
âDonât get fuckinâ used to it. Iâm emotional today,â he snaps with feigned grumpiness. Then smiles at her.
They let Debbie snuggle her for a bit before being released by the pediatrician to take her home. Thankfully they had already installed the infant seat in their car so they were prepared.
They walk through the door of their apartment 30 minutes later. Ian sets the carrier down and picks the baby up out of it, snuggling her tiny body to his chest before passing her off to Mickey.
âIâm not sure what you were so worried about, youâre a natural, Mickey,â Ian says as he gazes at his handsome husband tenderly cradling their beautiful baby girl.
They walk over to the sofa and sit down, thinking about the whirlwind of a day. Not knowing when they got up this morning to take Debbie to the clinic that by evening, theyâd be holding their daughter in their arms.
Ian wraps Mickeyâs shoulders with his arm, places his hand on their swaddled baby and says, âWelcome home, Maggie Gallagher-Milkovich. Your dads love you so much.â
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"His Pet"
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Summary : Min Yoongi. A business magnate, and a mafia leader. He was everything you would never imagine to be a part of your life. Yet fate is not something to be eluded.
He would do anything to make you his.
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Pairings : Yoongi Ă female OC (from reader's POV).
Genre : Yandere, Mafia AU.
Warning for this chapter : Nothing.
This story is not for easily triggered readers or below eighteen.
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Full Masterlist and elaborate warning please read here.
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List of chapters here.
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CHAPTER 45.
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It was eleven at night, definitely your bedtime during normal days, of when you usually already curled up comfortably in your bed while surfing through the internet before sleep fetched you away.
Tonight was certainly wasn't the ordinary one, when you stood inside the hospital emergency room, still clad in your working suit, you didn't even have the chance to go home first.
You were on your way home when you got a call from the nightshift manager.
Mr. Johnson got a heart attack, one that rendered him unconcious.
Since they couldn't speak in Balinese nor Indonesian, you had to accompany them to make sure they could get the right treatment in timely manner.
Not that your Indonesian was good anyway, it has been only almost four months since you arrived, but you understood some of the basic conversation.
Standing inside the emergency room, you watched as two nurses and a doctor on duty tried to put his heartbeat to normal.
"Unstable, charge again."
The nurse put the paddle back for the second time on the white patches adhered to his chest, and started counting before recharged the defibrillator.
"One, two, three...charge!"
Mr. Johnson's chest jerked once, and they looked at the erratic rhythmic of the lines on the monitor.
"Not enough, again."
Looking at their wary faces, even your heart also beating fast knowing that anytime a life might slipped through their fingers. Being a doctor or nurse certainly wasn't an easy job. Mrs. Johnson's sobs were now louder and she started to wail, you had to keep rubbing her back to calm her down.
It was on the fifth attempt they finally got the desired heart rate on the monitor, you could see relief washed over their face.
Mrs. Johnson was now standing next to the bed, kept wiping her tears with tissue. You patted her back in a consoling manner, trying to calm her down, although you didn't know the prognosis yet. Most likely they would have to keep him on bedrest for several days.
You waited until Mr. Johnson was settled in his room and his wife was calm enough to be left by herself, before you decided to go home, after promised her that you would visit to check on them the next day.
Walking down the long hallway towards the exit, you could smell the faint scent of jasmine flower around the air, a typical occurence in Bali.
Wherever you went, somehow the scent of jasmine, frangipani, plumeria or lemongrass were like following around, especially because Balinese people have traditions of putting down a piece of offerings in front of their doors or entrances, both in private houses or public places.
Canang sari as they called it, is an intricately square-shaped palm leaves pinned together with bamboo sticks. The decorated palm couture filled with different kind of flowers, sometimes some snacks or tobacco, are prayed and kept in every nook and corner of Bali. The different colours of flowers in this palm tray symbolizes a Hindu God.
Few months ago, you probably would never thought of living in Bali island. You could picture yourself to live in fast lane cities like Seoul, Shanghai or Tokyo, but never, ever, you imagined yourself to land and reside in Bali.
Turned out your brother had a Korean friend who married with a Balinese woman, and they helped him to apply for the working visa as well as gave him a job in their korean restaurant in Denpasar.
You arrived there around three weeks after his arrival, courtesy of the assistance from Seokjin. He booked you a flight from Seoul to Shanghai, and reserved a hotel for two nights, before you boarded the train to Shenzhen, spent one night there, and continued with bus trip to Hong Kong. In Hong Kong, you rented an apartment for a month, then abandoned it on the third day and changed your passport to a different one, with the help of one of Seokjin's contact in that country. With the fake passport, you boarded the flight to Jakarta.
Your last leg was from Jakarta, of where you took two hours direct flight to Denpasar, Bali.
Seokjin said that the complicated transits were arranged to eliminate your trail so it wouldn't be easy to trace.
Only one thing you didn't tell him, your brother was in Bali instead of Kuala Lumpur like you told him. You abandoned the ticket to Kuala Lumpur that he bought for you, and booked the flight to Jakarta instead.
You couldn't trust him, not when he was one of the closest person to Yoongi, at anytime he could reveal your whereabouts to him. Granted, he was the one who helped you to get away, but you had long learned, a man like Seokjin would always have his own agenda.
A month later, you found a job in a five star hotel in Uluwatu area, where you worked as assistant to guest relation manager.
Initially, it wasn't easy for you to adjust with life in Bali, the food and the yearlong tropical hot weather being the absolute challenge.
After your exploration of the island, you were exposed to various parts of Bali that has different characteristics of nature.
From iconic teraced rice paddies and rainforest around Ubud, to the white sandy beaches around Kuta and Seminyak that stretched to Sanur and Canggu, to beautiful coral reefs and blue sea with the crashing waves around the coastal line in Jimbaran or Bedugul.
There was a reason why they called it The Island of Gods.
Rice was grown with water that once flowed through a temple. Each home was adorned with small temples and usually, a large temple within the property that was used for daily prayer. The presence of Balinese Hinduism in everyday life and in Balinese architecture was why the island earned the nickname of Island of the Gods.
It wasn't hard for you to fall in love with the island after a month of living there.
And you were lucky enough to find an occupation that you liked.
Before you met Yoongi and being confined in the mansion, you were a hermit, always retreated from the social life and from people you didn't really know.
After gained your freedom back, you started to appreciate people around you and the surrounding where you were living, more than anything.
Working at a resort at the high end side of price range, you got the opportunities to meet with many people from different nations, and you were never been more grateful for your ability to speak in English.
People learned from the past after all.
When your car finally arrived at the parking lot of the resort, you glanced through the vast green courtyard illuminated with rows of warm white lights, it exuded the romantic and luxury ambience even before you enter the main building.
Walking through the pergola covered with glass canopy heading to the entrance, you thought about how different your life right now.
The laid back lifestyle that was adopted by Balinese people in general, made you slowed down and appreciated life in so many aspects. Every tuesday was your day off, and you would spend it with your brother and his family in Denpasar. Something that you could only experience once in a month when you were still working and living in Seoul.
You started to learn pottery recently, and you planned to learn about yoga and balinese dance next month. The things that probably would never cross your mind before.
However, only one thing that didn't really change.
From the first time you arrived at Bali, even after four months later, you still couldn't stop to think about Yoongi.
Thoughts about him always occupied your mind, and you found that from time to time, you would check the korean language website to know more about him.
When you departed from Seoul, Yoongi was still in coma, and you were too anxious, you kept checking the web several times a day just in case there would be news about him recovered from the coma.
It was ten days later when you knew he was finally awake, under a news headline of him and the boys being questioned by the authority for five hours in regard of the shooting in Peninsula hotel, of where two people were dead because of stab wound.
Other times you saw his picture in a business website, stated that BTS stock prices were bounced back after Yoongi resumed to his office.
You stared at his photo, clad in his signature all black suit, you wondered if that was his recent picture or not, but judging by the more prominent jaw and cheekbones, it probably was.
At least he was okay, otherwise you wouldn't be able to get rid of the guilt that haunted you since he got shot.
In a way, you were grateful you weren't in South Korea anymore. The changing of surrounding helped you greatly in the process of overcoming your fear and your feeling for him.
Once you stepped inside the hallway, the fragrant scent of frangipani welcoming you, along with the view of the elegant lobby with Italian marble flooring and lounge area under the tall ceiling decorated in long grid of traditional wooden blocks. The long window wall on the left side of the room facing to the vast green garden overlooked to the swimming pool and the beach over the horizon.
It was already almost eleven at night, the lobby was pretty quiet, only an Indian woman wearing a sari sat with her partner at the sofa lounge.
There was a man in casual jeans and white shirt holding a small suitcase, who apparently just arrived and checking in.
You proceeded to the front desk, there were two other receptionists on duty that night. One of them was a pretty Javanese girl wearing modern kebaya uniform, who smiled once she saw you.
"Hi, Mitha."
"Good evening Ms. Jang. Anything I can help you with?"
"You know about the Johnson couple right? I need to release their remaining booking, and there are some of their belongings I need to send to the hospital tomorrow."
"I heard that just now. Such a pity, in the middle of vacation, no less. I will process the release booking right away, but the fund might be reflected in their account in six working days."
"No problem. I'll let them know. Can you please make a note to the housekeeping tomorrow? Just skip their room until I give the clearance later."
"Very well Miss. Here is the form you need to sign, sky suite two eight three, correct? I will need their signature too by tomorrow."
The girl gave you the pen and paper, and you started to fill up the form.
The momentary quietness that followed while you wrote, you caught the heavy accented English from the guy who checked in, a few meters from you, and your ears perked up.
The voice sounded familiar.
You glanced to the left, taking in the guy's side profile, almost the same time with him was looking at your direction.
There was realization visible from his countenance, and he smiled at you.
"Yuri."
You almost couldn't believe your eyes if not because the voice that matched with his face.
"Jung...Jungkook?"
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Chapter 46
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#yandere yoongi#yandere bts#bts fanfic#yandere suga#agust d#min yoongi#bts mafia au#bts yandere au#bts mafia imagine
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The Art Teacher and The Winter Soldier - Part One: Morgan Starkâs Secret Plan
Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader
Summary: Some stories about Bucky Barnes and an art teacher...
Word Count: 2,061
Warnings: None! Although there are spoilers for Falcon and The Winter Soldier if you havenât finished that!
Authorâs Note: Hey hey! Iâm finally writing and posting again! I recently graduated from college with a degree in art education, and I just thought it would be cute to see Bucky Barnes date an art teacher, so here we are! This isnât going to be a normal series, just kind of little snapshots of Buckyâs life with an art teacher. Also, this series follows the events of Endgame and The Falcon and The Winter Soldier, except Tony lived, other than that itâs pretty much the same. I hope you enjoy!Â
Hereâs a link to my masterlist: capsironunderoos masterlist
âCaptain America, The Winter Soldier, Scarlet Witch, and Iron Man walk into an elementary school⊠sounds like the start of a bad joke.âÂ
Bucky heard Sam mumble beside him and felt a smirk make its way onto his lips.Â
âI thought the minivan was enough for a bad joke,â Bucky added, and Sam had to cover his mouth to hide his laughter, a startling cough erupting from his chest.Â
Tony had asked a few of the remaining Avengers to go with him to the opening night of Morganâs elementary school art show since Pepper had been scheduled for a meeting.Â
Morganâs work had been voted on by the other students in her grade and selected as the best in kindergarten, which didnât surprise Tony. The Starkâs were always the best at everything they attempted.Â
Tony had wanted to invite everyone he knew, but he was under strict instructions from his daughter that only a few could come.Â
The girl in question sat contently between her Uncle Sam and her Uncle Bucky, small right hand gripping onto Buckyâs left, as her left hand held a small bouquet of flowers.Â
Her smile grew when she felt the minivan take the familiar right turn into her schoolâs parking lot, and she strained to make herself taller to see the brick building slowly getting bigger as Tony pulled the car into a spot.Â
Tony turned the car off as the Avengers piled out and onto the concrete, Bucky turning back to offer his hand to Morgan. She quickly grabbed onto it and jumped out, giggling as she almost dropped the flowers.Â
âHere,â he gestured to the flowers, opening his hand. âLet me carry those Moe.â She nodded and handed the flowers to him with no hesitation, leaving his side to run to Tony, who turned just in time to catch her and lift her above his head before propping her onto his hip. Her giggles echoed across the parking lot, and Bucky noticed a few people shooting smiles their way.Â
âYou cominâ Buck?â Sam called, already climbing up the stairs into the school, and Bucky smiled in response, jogging slightly to catch up with the group.Â
âYou guys are gonna love it here!â Morgan called from the front of the group, still holding onto her dad as they walked into the building.Â
Wanda glanced over at Bucky and Sam, stifling a laugh.Â
âYeah, you two will fit right in.â Bucky smiled and rolled his eyes, and Sam lightly shoved her with his elbow, causing her to let out a small giggle.Â
âAlright kiddo, lead the way,â Tony prompted as he placed her back onto the ground. Normally, this would cue a few moments of whining and begging to be picked back up, but she was focused on other things tonight.Â
Yes, Morgan Stark had a plan.Â
She walked proudly down the decorated hallways, making sure to point out the artworks her friends had made as she marched the small group of Avengers to her artwork.Â
Bucky was quiet as they walked, stopping every now and then to look at a few pieces done by older kids.Â
He was easily reminded of Steve, and their time growing up in Brooklyn.Â
He thought about the journals heâd buy for Steve on his birthday, or a new art material heâd see in a shop while out for a walk that he couldnât help but buy. Steve would have loved this, would have been right at home talking art with the very animated five year old leading the group.Â
Bucky smiled to himself as he began to move with the group again, not missing the various drawings of superheroes plastering the walls. He knew he wouldnât find himself here, immortalized on paper by a child who saw him as a hero, and his smile drops, but only for a second as he sees Morgan stop before throwing her hands up and screaming.Â
Tony jumps to find out whatâs wrong, but before he can squat down to her level she is running full speed towards a woman in a skirt with polka-dots all over it, and when she turns to see who is screaming Bucky can see that her shirt reads âYour greatest work of art is you!â He smiles at the sentiment and watches as Morgan launches herself into the arms of the woman, who is now crouching in order to better receive the hug.Â
The force of a very enthusiastic five year old knocks the woman onto the floor and she laughs with Morgan as they part.Â
âHello to you too Morgan!â She says through more laughter and Morgan waves, now seemingly shy as she steps back beside her father.Â
Tony moves into action now, extending his hand to help the woman off of the floor. She graciously accepts, and Bucky notes the shy smile that washes over her features.Â
âYou must be the art teacher we hear so much about,â Tony says as she lightly brushes off the back of her dress.Â
âYes, that would be me! And donât worry, I know who all of you are,â she adds, her smile widening as her eyes meet each Avengerâs. Bucky feels himself starting to blush when her gaze lingers on his for just a bit longer than his counterparts.Â
âEven if I lived under a rock itâd be hard not to know who you were. Morgan talks about you all the time, and she tells quite the story.â Tony laughs and lightly ruffles her hair, to which Morgan responds to by swatting at his hand.Â
âYouâre telling me. I ask her to tell me bedtime stories.â This cues a round of laughter from the group before Tony turns to each member.Â
âWell, just to be formal about it, Iâm Tony, and this is Sam, Wanda, and James,â Tony says, and the woman shakes all of their hands, making sure to tell each one how wonderful it is to meet them.Â
When she slips her hand into Buckyâs, he wonders if she feels the small jolt of electricity that he does, but he ignores it as she smiles at him.Â
âPlease, call me Bucky,â he tells her, and that same shy smile rests against her lips as she nods. Heâs sad to let her out of his grasp, but even he knows that it would probably be weird to sit and hold her hand.Â
When she turns back to Morgan after telling the group her name, Bucky catches Sam staring at him out of the corner of his eye, and Wanda too. The duo are standing in similar stances, arms crossed over their chests with their eyebrows raised at his actions. When Morgan has pulled her teacher out of ear-shot, Sam turns to Wanda and takes her hand before dramatically mimicking Bucky.Â
âPlease, call me Bucky,â he chirps in a lovesick voice, and Wanda gasps as she places her hand over her heart. âOh, Bucky!â She adds, and Bucky can feel himself blushing as he pushes past both of them to catch up with Tony and Morgan.Â
He tries not to smile as he hears their laughter trailing behind him.Â
When they catch back up with Morgan, she is proudly standing beside her artwork as Tony is bent down to take a picture of her beside it.Â
Bucky smiles, shifting the bouquet of flowers he still holds from one hand to the other as he watches the scene.Â
His heart stops though, when he sees the drawing.
 Itâs⊠Him.Â
Morgan drew him.Â
He remembers the picture the drawing is supposed to resemble, remembers standing very still as Morgan tried to figure out how to use her new kids camera. She had yelled âDonât move!â each time he tried to shift his weight so that his knees werenât locked for too long.Â
âShe was prompted to draw someone she looks up to,â he hears quietly beside him, and the voice of the art teacher pulls him from his thoughts. Bucky turns to her in disbelief, and he sees that she is smiling up at him.Â
âI think she picked a pretty good subject for that prompt,â she adds, and Bucky can feel his breathing becoming shallow as he holds back tears.Â
He slowly walks over to the drawing to get a better look, and he sinks to his knees, a tear escaping and rolling down his cheek.Â
âUncle Bucky! Why are you crying?â Morgan asks beside him, and all he can do is wrap her in his arms, dropping the flowers on the floor as he squeezes her to him. She giggles but wraps her arms around him too, before wiggling in his grasp to reach for the flowers on the floor.Â
âHere, give these to my teacher, theyâre her favorite!â She whispers in his ear and he nods. This kid could have asked for a trip to the moon and Bucky would have built the rocket himself.Â
He quickly wipes the tear off of his cheek, turning to take a picture with Morgan beside the artwork at Tonyâs request before standing and listening to Morganâs teacher as she begins to speak.Â
âI know you probably already know this, but Morgan is very advanced for her age. Most of the other students in her class completed this project in a day, but Morgan worked on this for a few class periods. She even drew from observation, using a picture she brought in. I donât normally teach that until fourth grade.âÂ
A moment of silence passed as the group of Avengers stood in awe of the little girl before them.Â
âHere, let me take your picture together before you go,â she offers, and Tony gladly hands his phone over to her. The group bends down around the artwork, making sure to keep it, and the artist, in the center.Â
âThank you all for coming,â she adds, as she hands the phone back to Tony, who in turn thanks her before leading the group back out of the building.Â
Bucky stands still, watching for a moment as Morgan turns around to wink at Bucky, gesturing to the flowers in his hand.Â
Her plan was in motion.Â
âBucky? Is everything okay?â He hears behind him and he turns to see the art teacher, standing with her hands clasped in front of her, a small look of concern sewn into her eyebrows as they arch together.Â
âYes. Sorry, um, I think these are for you. Your favorites, so Iâve heard.â Bucky states as he hands the bouquet over to her. Her face lights up at the gift, and Bucky smiles as their fingers ghost over each other as the bouquet is exchanged.Â
âOh, thank you. And tell Morgan I said thank you as well.âÂ
Bucky nods and starts to walk away, but finds himself stopping and turning back to the art teacher, who is already looking at him.Â
âHey,â they start at the same time and Bucky laughs as he nervously slips his hands into his pockets.Â
âWould you wanna, grab some coffee some time, or something?â He rushes out, and the smile that erupts on her face makes Buckyâs heart speed up.Â
âYes!â She squeaks out, and her excitement catches both of them off guard. âI mean, yes,â she adds, composing herself, which makes Bucky laugh again.Â
âHere,â she starts, pulling a pen hanging off her lanyard into her hands and balancing the flowers under her arm.Â
She gestures for Buckyâs hand and he holds it out to her. She glances up to him and he blushes again, quickly pulling off the glove. She smiles and grabs his hand, clicking the pen as she carefully holds his palm open to write her number down.Â
She pats it gently when sheâs done.Â
âJust⊠text me, okay?â She whispers, smiling up at him before releasing his hand to turn to a parent whoâs just walked up, flowers still held in her right hand.
---
The ride back to the compound is relatively quiet, until Morgan catches her Uncle Bucky looking at a string of numbers written on his hand.Â
She taps his shoulder and he looks at her as she gestures for him to lean down so she can whisper in his ear, âMy plan worked! Youâre welcome,â before leaning back against her seat, arms crossed and a look of satisfaction playing on her lips.
#TATATWS#Bucky Barnes#bucky barnes x reader#Winter Soldier#winter soldier x reader#white wolf#marvel x reader#marvel#em writes#woo new writing#woo art teacher#woo bucky barnes#the falcon and the winter soldier
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THE SINS OF THE FATHER - a Molly York story PART 2
(gif by @pajamasecrets)
PROLOGUE - PART 1
MASTERLIST
Characters: Dave York, Molly York (Carol and Alice, too)
Words: 3500
Rating: T
Warnings: character death (canon), loss of a parent, angst, training your daughter to be an assassin?
Summary: After contacting a mysterious acquaintance of her later father's, Molly York learns more about the man. And about his death.
a/n: I'm a little obsessed with this fic right now. I love writing soft!Dave and his daughter. I know this isn't the mean daddy Dave smut we usually love, but I'd love to hear from you if you're enjoying this!
Thanks @purplepascal042 for helping me with this part! Love you, B!
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Dave is exhausted from jet lag, sprawled on the bed, still in his shirt and slacks. The last job took a lot out of him. He needs a shower but his body wonât budge.
âDaddy are you sleeping?â Molly asks from the doorway in a stage whisper.
âWhatâs going on?â
âWill you help me with my homework?â she asks. Sheâs clutching a worksheet and a pencil.
âSure. Come here,â he says and she climbs onto the bed beside him. âWhatâve we got?â
âI have to interview a grown up about their job. For Career Day,â she explains.
Dave looks over the page, his tired eyes barely focusing. âDid you ask Mommy to do this?â
âI want you to do it,â Molly insists.
He lets Molly read him each prompt and he answers as simply as possible. She dutifully writes down each answer in scrawling pencil.
âHow do you spell âinvestigation?ââ she asks.
âSound it out,â he encourages. Heâs so burnt, heâs not sure he can manage to spell it either.
ââWhat is your favorite part about your job?ââ she reads.
Dave sighs longer than he means to. âComing home to my family.â
âNo, Daddy! It has to be about work!â
The address Capra had given Molly was a boarded up movie theater off the highway about 30 miles outside of DC. Molly told Carol that she was shopping for dorm decor when sheâd left the house full of nerves. Sheâd gotten so good at lying, sometimes she believed her own.
The parking lot was empty, the cracks in its pavement filled in with grass, punctuated by street lights every few yards. Molly had expected to meet at a coffee shop or a restaurant, not some out of the way place. She was sitting on the trunk of her car, her leg bouncing, when a black BMW pulled up. The woman driving it looked to be in her late 40s, her hair pulled back neatly. When she stepped out of her car, she pulled her sunglasses down her nose and eyed Molly up and down.
âHow old are you now? 20?â
â18,â Molly told her.
âYouâre the older one?â
âYeah,â Molly said.
Capra approached her and she hopped down from the bumper.
âDidnât your dad ever teach you not to talk to strangers?â she asked.
Molly hesitated. She had her pepper spray in her back pocket and she was much younger, probably quicker than this woman. But Dad wouldnât give her Capraâs number if he didnât trust her. Still, Molly decided to lean against her car and keep her distance.
âYou know a lot about me for a stranger,â Molly replied.
Capra grinned. She nodded her head back and said, âWalk with me.â
Molly paced the pavement with her, glancing at the woman beside her. She was slim with sharp features, whispers of frown lines in her face. Capra offered Molly a cigarette which she declined.
âIs Capra your first name?â
âItâs what my friends call me,â she replied.
There was a darkness in her tone that made Molly edgy.
âDid you work with my dad at the agency?â Molly asked.
That would explain some things. But Capra laughed.
âNo.â Capra observed Molly and then her lip twitched up into a wistful smile. âJeez I bet everybody tells you you look just like him.â
Mollyâs stomach churned.
âWere you and my dad-â
âNo,â Capra said. âGod no. Your dad was...a complicated guy but not when it came to his family.â
Molly nodded, not sure if she felt relieved or if that just gave her more questions.
âSo how did you know each other?â She asked.
âItâs a long story,â Capra said, scratching her forehead. âWe did some freelance work together.â
Capra made some small talk, asking Molly where she was headed for college, what sheâd be studying. Molly had so many questions of her own she could only manage short answers. Finally, she had to ask the question that had been nagging at her the loudest.
âDo you know what happened to my dad? How he died?â Sheâd stopped walking.
âI know the same as you,â Capra said.
âWhich is?â Molly asked. She wasnât going to accept such a vague answer.
Capra gave a wry smile. She flicked her cigarette butt to the ground and twisted it into the pavement under her shoe. Mollyâs heart sped up. Sheâd caught Capra in a lie.
âYouâre a clever one,â she said.
âIt wasnât an accident, was it?â Molly asked. She searched Capraâs face for an answer. âPlease.â
âI wasnât there,â she replied.
âBut you know. Please. I need to know.â
Molly felt like she was holding her breath. Capra looked away, then back at Molly.
âYou donât want to know,â Capra said.
âI do,â Molly said. She balled her hands into fists so she didnât shake Capra by her shoulders.
âHe wouldnât want you to know.â
âHow do you know that?â Molly spat. âWhat the hell do you know about him? Iâve never even heard of you. You donât know.â
âTrust me, thereâs plenty about your father you didnât know,â Capra snapped back.
Molly was so frustrated she wanted to cry. Instead she let out a growl and turned back towards her car.
âFuck this!â She stomped away.
Sheâd crossed half of the parking lot when she heard Capra call after her. Molly squared her shoulders, tried to compose herself, and turned around to glare at the woman. Capra was clutching the bridge of her nose, her eyes shut. Finally she dropped her hand with an exasperated sigh and pulled out another cigarette. Capra lit it as she closed the distance between them, blowing smoke out of her mouth and shaking her head. She held the cigarette out to Molly.
âYouâre going to want one of these. And youâre going to need to sit down for this.â
Dave parks the car in the driveway. Molly is sitting in the passenger seat, still grinning from her first experience at the shooting range.
âNow remember,â Dave says before he opens the door, âthis is our secret. So if Mom asks where we were, just tell her our cover story.â
She nods eagerly but then her lips twist into a thoughtful frown.
âItâs lying,â she says.
Dave feels guilty for a moment. Deceit is practically second nature for him but what kind of father teaches his daughter to be dishonest?
âBut itâs a white lie,â she justifies to herself. âRight?â
Dave kisses the crown of her head.
âItâs alright, baby. Everybody has secrets.â
Molly felt dizzy. The story Capra told her made her feel like sheâd gone from a tilt-a-whirl into a funhouse. Everything was distorted and she was upside down. Already, she was replaying her memories of Dad with this new context tinging them like a dark filter.
Dad kissing her on the forehead before bed. Hoisting her onto his shoulders on the 4th of July. Singing along to âBaba OâRileyâ and drumming on the steering wheel. Dad killing people. Earning blood money. Dying by someone elseâs hand.
âItâs a lot,â Capra said. They were sitting in Mollyâs parked car, the windows rolled down, the sound of the highway traffic washing through like white noise. âBut he did it for you.â
Mollyâs eyes flicked to her. She hadn't asked for anybody to die.
âHe was trying to take care of his family,â Capra clarified.
She let Molly sit in silence for a while as she sorted out what sheâd just heard. Molly felt like she was grieving him all over again. Except this time she mourned the father she knew.
âMy mom-"
âShe never knew,â Capra said.
Molly nodded weakly.
âIt was a secret because he loved you.â
Molly felt a tear slip from her eye. She didnât want to feel hurt. She didnât like feeling deceived. She wiped her face and set her jaw.
âWhat happened to Mac?â she asked.
She remembered meeting the man who had killed her father. Everything that had happened just before he died was so clear in her memory. She could still see Macâs face, his friendly smile.
Heâd seemed like such a nice guy. She remembered asking him a load of questions as he rode with them to school and heâd laughed and told Carol what a bright girl she was.
It sickened her to know heâd been right there. So close. And she was so small and clueless. Had Dad known what was coming?
âHe lives up in New England,â Capra said. âRetired.â
Molly turned to Capra, anger burning in her chest.
âHeâs still alive?â she asked.
âAfraid so,â Capra said.
Molly looked back out the windshield, took a deep breath. Retired. Dad would never get to retire. Go golfing or build model cars or whatever old men did.
âAnd you do...what my dad did?â she asked.
Capra didnât confirm or deny it.
âYou canât discuss this. With anyone,â she informed her.
Molly nodded again. She wouldnât dream of telling Carol this. She would protect her from the truth just like dad had.
âIâm sorry about this,â Capra said before they parted ways. âYouâve got my number. Give me a call if you ever need anything.â
As Molly drove home, thoughts solidified in her mind.
Dad was a killer. But heâd been a killer before, in the Marines. Heâd still loved her. He went to her karate matches and read her bedtime stories. She might have lived her whole life without ever finding out what Dave York really was.
If he hadnât died.
He could have taught her how to drive. Taken photos before senior prom. Visited colleges with her.
He would have danced with her at her wedding. Helped her fix up her first home. Held her future children in his arms.
If he hadnât been murdered.
And what about mom? She wouldnât have worried about calling plumbers and taking her car to the mechanic. Run herself ragged getting Alice to dance class and Molly to archery competitions. She wouldn't have had to sleep alone every night.
If it hadnât been for Robert McCall.
Molly could absolve her fatherâs sins. But Mac she would never forgive.
âYoung lady, open this door right now,â Dave barks.
âYou told me to go to my room! Iâm in my room!â Molly snaps through her bedroom door.
Sheâs given Carol lip all morning and heâs had enough of the attitude. Every day, his sweet little girl is fading more and more into a stubborn teenager.
âYou do not slam doors in this house.â
âLeave me alone!â Molly yells. âI hate you!â
Dave knows that sheâs angry and sheâs got a bad temper. That these outbursts are the first signs of puberty rearing its ugly head. But, still, her words punch him right in the gut.
âIf thatâs how youâre going to speak to your father, then youâre grounded,â he manages.
âGood!â
Molly had been reserved ever since Daveâs death but, after meeting Capra, she felt her melancholy harden into bitterness. She went through college. She didnât make a lot of friends or date many people. She studied, she practiced her marksmanship, she trained.
As soon as Molly turned 18, she was back at the gun range. It had been a long time since Dad had taken her for target practice but she was pleasantly surprised by her grouping. Sheâd had a good teacher.
She liked everything about shooting. Not just because it had been a secret she shared with her father. She liked the ritualâ loading the magazine, carefully picking up the gun. She liked the focusâ taking a deep breath and looking down the barrel. She liked the power.
Macâs grin stayed fixed in her mind. She thought about it when she pulled herself from bed at five in the morning to do push ups. She pictured it when she worked herself into a sweat at the gymâs punching bag. She imagined it when she put holes through the head of the target at the shooting range.
She didnât think sheâd have the chance to do that in real life. But she dreamed about it almost every night.
Molly had always stayed close to home but she visited less and less. Alice started college in New York so Carol had an empty nest. Molly could hardly bring herself to visit her mother anymore.
Molly had always been good at keeping secrets but this one was the most difficult. Every time she saw Carol, Molly imagined how devastated she would be if she knew the truth. It had become too painful pretending and so Molly simply avoided most situations where she would have to.
Capra stayed in touch, calling every so often to check in. It was clear to Molly that she felt responsible for this angst but there was no one else to talk to about it.
Some people were driven by ambition or lust or creativity. During college, it felt like Molly ran on anger. It helped her concentrate, to work hard. She graduated at the top of her class and had no trouble landing a job that paid well.
Adulthood was different.
Dave had been wise enough to set up trusts for the girls so Molly hadnât racked up student debt. But now she had rent and bills and car insurance. She couldnât stuff herself with fries from the dining hall and call that a meal. She had to work long hours for a demanding boss. She had to take care of herself. She had to go through the monotony of life.
When it came down to it, she just didnât have the energy to be mad anymore.
Molly still held a flame inside. Mainly, she kicked herself for not getting to the gym more often. She hated that she was moving on. She had dulled as she got older, as she followed the news every day and saw that the world was a shitty place where justice was scarce.
Molly was in her childhood bedroom, going through layers of old school papers, polaroids from her friendsâ bat mitzvahs, and certificates from karate tournaments like an archeological dig.
Carol was finally selling the family home. Downsizing. The girls were there to help clean things out, decide what should go to the Salvation Army and what would be going home with them.
It pained Molly to think about the house with another family living inside it. Even now in her late twenties, she still walked in the door and expected Dad to come around the corner from the kitchen, to say, âHey, kiddo!â the way he used to. Once the house was sold, she would never experience that sensation again.
It was strange, Molly thought, how you could live somewhere for all of your life and then, one day, youâre locked out forever.
Carol was moving to a two bedroom condo closer to the city so she couldnât take all of this junk with her. Molly packed a bankers box with some trophies and a few of her favorite books and brought it down to the kitchen.
Alice was leaned against the island, lazily sorting through cookbooks. Although the day called for packing boxes and hauling trash bags, she was dressed to the nines. Molly wondered if her sister owned casual clothes anymore. Alice had gotten a job at a fashion magazine and, although it seemed like she was low in the pecking order, she acted as though she was Anna Wintour herself.
âThatâs all youâre taking?â Carol asked, eyeing the box.
Molly shrugged. She already had already taken the things that were most precious to her long ago.
âYou know, Mom, if you donât want to move, I can help you with the mortgage,â Molly said.
Molly had been saving up to buy a place of her own but she would happily give that up for her mother. Nowhere would ever feel like home the way this house did.
âItâs time,â Carol said. âI donât need this much house to myself.â
Mom didnât look her age but the bags under her eyes had grown more defined. Sheâd stopped coloring the streak of grey hair that had come in at her temple.
âItâs a good idea,â Alice jumped in. âMom needs to get out there again. She hasnât met any guys in the suburbs.â
The idea of Mom dating always made Molly bristle. She didnât want Carol to be lonely but couldnât picture her with a man who wasnât Dad. The same way she couldnât see her living in a different house.
âIâm going to work on the study,â Molly said and retreated to the home office.
This had been Dadâs room and, even though it had accumulated a mess of things over the yearsâ old workout tapes, discarded hobbies, books about tidyingâ it still felt like his sanctuary. Molly picked through a shelf and found Dadâs high school yearbook. She hoped Mom wouldnât mind if she took that home with her. She liked pictures of her father in his youth, skinny and bright eyed with scruffy hair.
Molly sat on the floor in front of the built-ins and fished out a few baskets and shoe boxes from the cabinets. The first one contained family photos. Vacation in the Bahamas, Aliceâs 4th birthday party, Molly dressed as a ninja for Halloween. She went through each one with great ceremony. Molly already had a bunch of photos of her and Dad so she tucked these back in their box and put them in the âkeepâ pile.
The next box was filled with cards. Sympathy cards. Molly sighed as she went into them. One from Carolâs coworkers with a rose on the front. Sending you comfort. A small card that looked like it had come with a floral arrangement from cousin John. Heâll be missed.
There was a card with a painting of a serene beach scene. With deepest sympathy. Molly opened it and read the short message.
So sorry for your loss. It feels like weâve lost one of the family. Send my love to the girls. - Mac
The cold rage that had burnt out reignited in Mollyâs stomach, her entire body so tight she almost shook. She could feel tears sting in her eyes.
That motherfucker. That fucking asshole had the audacity to send a sympathy card. To send his love. That piece of fucking shit. Molly almost crumpled the card in her hands, as if she could wring his neck through it, but just then Alice wandered in. Molly dropped the card into her lap.
âWhat are these?â her sister asked, crouching down and grabbing a photo. âAw! You looked so cute!â
Molly swallowed hard and tried to slow her heart rate as Alice sifted through the pictures.
âChrist, why does Mom still have these?â Alice complained, picking up one of the sympathy cards.
âTheyâre for Dad,â Molly said.
âItâs not like he got to read them,â Alice replied.
She tossed it back onto the floor.
âWhy are you always such a bitch about Dad?â Molly asked, the animosity sheâd discovered in Macâs card spilling out of her.
âSorry I donât worship him.â Alice rolled her eyes. âItâs not like he was ever around. And when he was, he spent all of his time with you.â
Alice crossed her arms and looked away self-consciously. Molly felt a jab in her heart. She knew Dad loved Alice. Heâd done awful things so that she could take dance lessons and go off to a good school where she could study whatever she liked. Things that eventually got him killed. But Molly couldnât tell her sister any of that so she just stared at Alice with her mouth half open.
âGirls, when youâre finished up there, lunch is ready!â Mom called from the kitchen.
âCall me a bitchâŠâ Alice grumbled as she left the room.
Molly pushed the cards into the âTrashâ pile.
âOw! Daddy! Molly hit me!â Alice whines.
âYou hit me first!â Molly growls.
Dave glances at them in the rear view mirror.
âIs that true?â he asks.
âNo!â Alice says.
He knows sheâs lying. Mollyâs sitting there with her arms crossed as Alice clutches her elbow dramatically, lips set in a pout.
He knows what heâs supposed to say. Some bullshit about being the bigger person, two wrongs donât make a right. And if Carol was in the car maybe he would. But the world doesnât work like that.
âIf you hit somebody,â he warns, âdonât be surprised if they hit you back.â
Molly took Macâs card with her. It was sitting on her passenger seat when she pulled away, Carol standing on the lawn, waving. Send my love to the girls. Every time she thought about it, she got so pissed off she wanted to puke.
She couldnât even wait to get home before she was dialing Capra, one hand gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles ached.
âWhatâs up, kid?â Capra asked.
âI need to find Mac.â
/ / / / / part three soon!
@pascalslittlebrat @purplepascal042 @starlightmornings @mouthymandalorian @danniburgh @originallaura @tuskens-mando @221bshrlocked @wyn-dixie @goddessinwolfskin @cheekygeek05 @fangirl-316 @fairytale07 @rosiefridayrogersunday @a-skov @skulliebythesea @oceanablue @rebel-soldat @stevie75 @evyiione @buckwildbarnes @likes-good-reblogs-even-better @silverwolf319 @killermonkeys45 @velia27 @anxiousandboujee @amneris21 @green-socks @pedro4ever @pedrocentric @kesskirata
#dave york#dave york pit#dave york fic#pedro pascal characters#molly york#nothing but respect for my queen carol york
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Guys Like You Chapter 13
Title: Guys Like You
Chapter:Â 13
Chapter Summary:Â Iâll trade your truth bomb with one of my own
Rating: 18+
Warnings:Â Smut. Tons of dialogue. I had trouble getting this one the way I liked it. Itâs been rewritten a few times now.
{Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5} {Chapter 6} {Chapter 7} {Chapter 8} {Chapter 9} {Chapter 10} {Chapter 11} {Chapter 12}
Henry's blood ran cold, his stomach dropping to his feet, his chest tightening like a vise. What was she saying? Had he made her feel inadequate? Like she wasn't good enough for him? Had he not paid enough attention to her? Why did she feel like this?
"Faye." Henry finally forced out, crossing the small room to sit on the edge of her bed, trying to collect himself before starting this conversation in earnest.
"It's ok, Henry. You're not going to hurt my feelings. I know I'm not a catch by any means. I mean... who wants used goods?"
"Faye." Henry repeated, more firmly this time. He took a slow breath before turning to face her more. "You need to stop. Just... stop."
"Henry, I know it's difficult, but it's something you need to hear."
"No. It's not. Faye... I don't care what other people have to say, because you know what? Whenever I picture myself happy anymore, it's with you. You're what I want. I want all of it. You're so much more than you think you are. You're a talented artist, an amazing mother and one of the most beautiful women I've ever met. Inside and out."
"Do you really expect me to believe that? You're an A-list movie star."
"And you're beautiful enough to catch my eye without even trying. I don't care what the rest of the world has to say. I want you. You make me happy. My home is wherever you and the baby are. I... fuck it, I love you Faye, and I'm sorry that I haven't been there for you like I should have."
"Henry, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm the problem."
"No, you're not. You make me happy. I want you. I love you." Henry insisted, gently taking her shoulders in his hands and looking deep into her eyes as he spoke. "Now please. Stop saying such terrible things about the woman I love."
"I... I just feel like I don't deserve you." Faye admitted, lowering her gaze and wiping at the tears threatening to fall from her eyes. She had to stay strong. She couldn't let him see her cry.
"You make me the luckiest man in the world every time you look my way. I'm crazy about you, and I mean everything I said." Henry assured, pulling her to his chest and wrapping her tight in his arms. "Move in with me?"
"What?" Faye breathed, her voice catching on a barely suppressed sob.
"I hate being so far away. It's not home without you two."
"That's not going to work out, Henry. There's no yard for Kal here, and not enough space in Kensington for everyone either."
"Then we'll find a new place. Whatever place you like. As long as I'm with you two, it's home to me."
"Options are a little limited. I can't move too far from here. This is where my job is."
"We will find you something wherever we go. You hate it there anyway."
"But my visa..."
"You worry too much."
"You don't worry enough!"
"Keep your job until we find somewhere you like. Then we will find you something there before you quit. I have thought things through, darling."
"What if I can't find anything?"
"Absolute worst case scenario, I can make up some bullshit job you do for me until something else comes up. Please, Faye? I'm going crazy being so far from you two."
"I'll think about it." Faye finally relented.
"That I can work with. Now while we're thinking, can we rethink what you're wearing to the premiere? It's the first time I'm showing my girlfriend to the public, and while you're beautiful in anything you wear, I'd really like to spoil you for the occasion."
"Like you spoil Briar?"
"I do not spoil her."
"Ice cream even though she didn't finish her dinner? Four bedtime stories? The fact that you are currently covered in pony stickers and glitter?"
"I see nothing wrong with any of it. I haven't seen her for a long time."
"Spoiling her."
"Fine then, I'm gonna spoil both my girls." Henry huffed, squeezing her a little tighter.
"Already have the baby spoiled." Faye insisted, fighting back a yawn, the emotional drain of their conversation finally taking its toll.
"Then it's her mum's turn. I'll call my stylist and see what he can do for you."
"Oh, Mr. Fancy with his stylist."
"Would you really trust me to dress myself for these things?"
"I'm imagining the blue tank top and your booty shorts for some reason."
"Which one? I have several blue vests."
"It's a tank top."
"England."
"I don't care what you say, it's not a vest."
"It is here."
"You know, I'd ask if you wanted to join me for a shower to get all that glitter off of you, but you'd probably have some bizarre English way of saying that too, and I just don't have the energy for that right now."
"No, I'm fine with however you say it, as long as I'm joining."
"You'd say anything for the chance to bone me again."
"That is true. Now let's go shower."
"Such a horn dog!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm just sitting here holding a gorgeous woman and talking about getting her wet and naked and slippery. Forgive me for reading too far into that."
"I said you could shower with me, not that I was gonna get you off."
"You act like I'm above fucking my fist while standing in the back of the shower staring you." Henry scoffed, tossing Faye onto his shoulder and carrying her down the hall to the shower, ignoring her indignant squeals of protest.
"Henry!" Faye finally snapped when he had closed the bathroom door behind himself, finally earning an amused hum from the man carrying her around. "Put me down!"
"Fine." He sighed, gently setting her down, sending a mischievous glance her way before his fingers hooked into the waistband of her shorts, quickly jerking them and her panties down as he dropped to his knees, diving in to lick a stripe between her folds.
"What the... oh fuck." Faye sighed, her eyes fluttering closed, one hand resting on his head as she kicked one foot free of her clothing, Henry wasting no time in throwing it over his shoulder, to grant himself better access. His tongue was relentless, alternating between plunging inside of her, to flicking across her clit, to lapping up every drop of arousal he could, his hands gripping her ass, pulling her closer as he worked her over, spurred on by the whispered sound of his name falling from her lips.
"F-fuck... Henry!" Faye groaned, her hips and thighs tensing as she felt herself being drawn closer and closer to the edge, Henry latching onto her needy bundle of nerves, sucking hard while working it with his tongue, sending her crashing into her orgasm. If it hadn't been for his hands holding her ass so tightly, Faye was pretty sure she would have fallen from the force of her climax, months of pent up frustration being released in one toe curling orgasm.
"Damn it, Henry. A little warning next time."
"It's not exactly surprise oral if I warn you." Henry teased, reluctantly letting her go and standing back up to turn on the shower.
"Nice ass." Faye teased, swatting at him as soon as he bent over, her target chuckling and shaking his head at her antics.
"And you keep saying I'm the dork."
"You're my dork."
"Mmhmm. I'm starting to think you may be the dork in this relationship." Henry teased, pulling his shirt off while the water warmed and setting it on the countertop, Faye's intense gaze locking on him not going unnoticed. "Uhh, my eyes are up here, Miss Warren."
"I know. Just enjoying the rest of the view. You know what would make it better? If you took your pants off."
"And you keep saying I'm the one with a problem."
"Your current problem is too much pants." Faye taunted, pulling her old t-shirt off and sliding past him to get in the shower.
"Really? I could have sworn my problem was lack of pussy." Henry shot back, hurried hands working on his belt. Faye was innocently washing her hair when he finally fought his way free of the rest of his clothing, his greedy paws wasting no time in palming her breasts.
"Warning!" Faye gasped, grabbing onto his wrists to keep her balance.
"How's this for a warning? I'm gonna fuck you up against that wall." Henry explained, cupping the back of her neck and pulling her in for a passionate kiss before she could protest. His hands slid slowly down her body, caressing her skin with the pads of his fingers, her arms winding around his neck, trying to pull him closer.
"Hold on." Henry instructed, his hands venturing to her ass, grabbing generous handfuls and lifting her up, Faye clinging to him, the peril of their actions not lost on her. They were both one slip away from a world of hurt.
Henry was careful with her, gently pressing her back against the shower wall, kissing and nipping at the junction of her shoulder, slowly adjusting their limbs to his satisfaction before reaching around her hip and thigh, gripping himself tightly to seek out her entrance.
"Go slow." Faye requested, biting her lip at the burning stretch she was slowly becoming used to.
"I will." Henry assured, making sure he was stable and Faye was secure in his grasp before he began slowly rolling his hips into her, leaning back just enough to watch her face changing from somewhat pained, to content to desperate all within a few deep thrusts. He continued his languid pace, a shudder going down his spine as she grew more and more frantic at his slow, deep thrusts, her nails digging into his shoulders as she squirmed in his grasp, trying to gain anymore friction she could.
"Fuck slow, I want it now." Faye groaned, one hand sliding from his shoulders down between their bodies to work her sensitized clit.
"Then come for me, beautiful." Henry groaned, trying to catch a glimpse of Faye's hand working herself, his pace increasing until she was squeezing around him moaning softly and bucking her hips through her high.
"Fuck..." Faye groaned, her nails digging into his shoulder harder when his pace only increased at her release, her legs twitching and jerking with over sensitization.
"Almost... almost." Henry panted, seeming to read her mind as he desperately sought his own release. Faye held on to him tighter, feeling another coil forming in her belly, promising another release.
"Can you...?" Henry panted, his movements becoming sloppier as he neared his finish, though desperate to hold on until finished again.
"No... too much..." Faye groaned, her hips rolling into his in spite of her words, desperate for just one more. "Fuck..." She hissed, biting down on his chest as she came again, Henry quickly following behind her.
"Are you ok?" Henry asked once he caught his breath, carefully detangling himself from her and gently setting her back on her feet.
"Yeah... I'm great." Faye sighed, shooting him a relaxed grin. "You know, if this is how it's going to be after every time we argue, I may start having to pick fights with you more often."
"Or you could just ask me 'wanna fuck?' And I'll gladly do this all over again." Henry suggested.
"That would save me the trouble of having to find something to be mad at you about."
"Help keep my hair from going any more gray, too." Henry chuckled, pecking a quick kiss to her lips when she tried to lean around him for her loofah.
"Mmm, silver fox."
"Keep it up." Henry pouted, grabbing the soap from her and dumping some into his hand, working it into a lather to wash away the sweat. It wasn't until he reached his legs that a thought occurred to him, his brows furrowing as he let it bounce around his brain for a second.
"Oh shit!"
"What?" Faye half yelped, turning wide eyes up to him.
"I... fuck... I didn't think to use a condom." Henry groaned, letting his head drop against the tile.
"Oh... well... once should be fine, right?"
"It doesn't matter if it is, we agreed I'd wear one, and I didn't."
"Can you not beat yourself up over this?"
"You were very specific about always using protection."
"Well the fact that you're upset about it says a lot." Faye offered, running her fingers along his jaw. "We'll just need to be more careful."
"Should we use Plan B?" Henry suggested, finally forcing his gaze up to meet hers. "I don't want to put you into an uncomfortable position."
"Henry. Deep breath. It's fine. Everything is fine. My period ended two days ago. We're ok. Stop worrying yourself over it."
"Can I still feel like shit about it?"
"By all means."
#henry cavill#henry cavill x ofc#henry cavill fanfic#henry cavill fanfiction#henry cavill rpf#guys like you
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Hand-Carved Heart
Pt. 2 of this post
They found it by accident one day a few months after their search began; they had stopped a couple miles into their hike through a new part of the woods to rest and admire the small waterfall they had come upon. Bella sat on a large boulder to catch her breath and to rub some of the tightness out of her legs, Jacob of course was looking for a way to get up to the top of the waterfall. She cautioned him to not try and use some sketchy looking vine as a climbing rope and he tossed back a joke about her being the klutz in this relationship. Bellaâs responding laughter had come so easily.Â
She could still remember how heavy she used to feel all the time having to put forth so much effort into thinking about every reaction, giving just enough of a smile so people wouldnât worry. Then Jacob came along with his warmth and his crooked grin that made her feel lighter than air, only the feel of his hand in hers or the deep vibrato of his voice kept her feet safely planted on the ground. Being with him just felt as simple and easy as breathing.Â
After the soreness in her calves was mostly gone she joined him at the edge of the waterfall, it really wasnât very large, only about 15-20 feet and with Jacobâs tall stature he wouldnât have any trouble making his way to the top. Still that didnât stop Bella from worrying, but because of her disregard for her own personal safety a few months prior she kept her worries to herself and instead began skimming her hand along the wall of green that crept up the cliff-face. The light scrape of rock and leaves against her hand was a decent enough distraction until her hand fell through a gap.Â
Weird. She thought to herself, curiosity bubbling in the pit of her stomach. She pushed aside a mass of greenery to peer through it, and there tucked neatly behind the wall of trees and bushes was a beautiful moss covered clearing. It was small, only about 6 feet in diameter, and the densely packed trees lining the perimeter provided a canopy of leaves above that sprinkled the light across the ground through the small gaps between the branches. A thick layer of moss covered every inch of the ground including what appeared to be the fallen trunk of a large tree. It was everything they had been looking for. She called Jake over so they could venture in together.Â
They made their way through the foliage into the center of the glade, both with large smiles spread across their faces. The vivid green that coated every bit of the clearing had made it feel so bright and alive, even with the shade provided by the canopy above. They couldnât believe they had found a place so perfect to call their own.Â
Jacob pulled out the map and marked the location of the waterfall with a small heart as Bella cleared a portion of moss off the bark of the fallen tree so she could sit down. As she brushed away the moss an odd mark on the log caught her eye, a heart with two initials and a date was carved deeply into the wood. She smiled and called out that it looked like someone else had already beaten them to this little love-nest. Intrigued, he came to look at what she was talking about. When he saw what was carved into the wood his face paled and tears welled up in the corner of his dark brown eyes. BB+SW 1975 was marked into the bark, clearly having been carved over repeatedly to set it so deeply that even after so many years it remained.Â
Bella rubbed at his back confused at his reaction, but knowing that once he calmed down he would tell her. For now she would just comfort him in anyway he needed like he had always done for her. It was her turn to be his rock to lean on and she was determined to be as strong and sure as he had always been even though it killed her to see him so clearly in pain. She drew idle circles into his back and the slow drag of her hand made it easier for Jacob to slow his breathing and steady himself. After several minutes he finally stopped tracing the outline and turned to look back at Bella. This was where my dad asked my mom to be his girlfriend⊠Bella was stunned, not expecting that to be the reason. She remained quiet though, letting Jacob tell the story at his own pace.
When I was little, I always asked my mom to tell me about their first date as a bedtime story. They were in high school, she was a year younger than him, but they had been friends since they were kids. My dad had finally gotten the courage to ask her out, though she had no clue it was a date because he had acted so nonchalant about it. I asked him about that later and he said he was just trying to act cool because he was so nervous. Jacob chuckled softly and shook his head.Â
When she showed up and he told her they were going on a hike through the woods she was certain that she would just have to try her best and get over her crush on him. Then dad led her to a beautiful waterfall, and next to it under a large tree he had laid out a picnic blanket held down with a basket filled with new art supplies for her. When she turned to look back at him he was holding a slightly crushed bouquet of hand picked wildflowers that he had apparently been carrying in his bag the whole time. He smiled wistfully, remembering the way his motherâs face lit up when she told this story.Â
She said it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her, and when he asked her to be his girlfriend she answered by finding a sharp rock and carving their initials and the year into the tree they had been laying under. Every time they came back here they would go over it so it would never fadeâŠÂ I guess the tree finally fell over and new plants grew in its place, hiding it away⊠I canât believe we found this place Bells, I-I never even thought to look for it, thought it would be too sadâŠ
Jacob leaned into Bellaâs side and she wrapped her arms around him. That was the most she had ever heard him talk about his mom, she never wanted to pry by asking for more whenever Sarah was mentioned in conversation by either Charlie or Billy. Though she did have a faint memory of her from her visits as a child, a beautiful woman with deep set lines around her mouth from the toothy and slightly slanted grin she always seemed to wear. Jacob had that same smile.Â
He finally lifted his head from her chest and Bella wiped the remnants of tears from his cheeks. He offered her a faint smile as a thank you and she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. They sat in silence for a couple more minutes before Jacob spoke again, saying that finding this spot felt like fate, like his mom was looking down on him and giving them her blessing. Bella blinked away a tear at that and nodded, promising that they could come back here whenever he wanted.Â
The next time they came to the little clearing hidden away from the world, Jacob brought some of his carving knives to make something to bring back for his dad and Bella brought one of her favorite books to read. They sat in the calm of the forest, her back against the trunk of the tree with Jacob sitting next to her whittling away at a chunk of wood, the rush of water and the rustling of leaves as the wind blew keeping them company.Â
They stayed for several hours, occasionally taking a break from their respective activities to kiss lazily, sometimes Bella would read aloud as Jacob carved. When the sun began to set they packed up their belongings, as they were about to leave Jacob paused and turned back to the tree, he pulled out one of his carving knives and added their initials right next to his parents. Bella pulled him into a tight hug, she couldnât believe she was lucky enough to love this boy and have him love her back.Â
When Bella first moved to Forks she couldn't stand how green everything was, she was so accustomed to the brown desert of Arizona that the emerald colored town was like an assault on her eyes. It was somehow too bright yet unbelievably dreary, like the constant clouds had sucked the life out of the place and the foliage was overcompensating. She used to miss the way the heat waves danced across the gravel lawns, and how the sun's consistent presence felt like an old friend greeting her every morning letting her know she wasn't alone. But here with Jacob, her new sun, in this small section of the woods; green might just be her new favorite color.
Thanks to @musingsofvenus and @teamjacobthot for helping me out with thisđđđ And shoutout to @paulxlahotee for the Billy Black album because I could not for the life of me find a picture of young Gil that worked for this on google đ
#sarah black#billy black#bella swan#jacob black#jacob x bella#billy x sarah#brenda schad as sarah black#of course gil birmingham as billy black#eddie spears as jacob black#couldnt find a picture of anya taylor joy that fit so thats a picture of diana silvers as bella in this one
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