#She even told their son not to smile in his school picture when she knew we were ordering them this year

[thatsonemorbidcorvid]

ON AN AUGUST night in 2003, a young woman who went by the name Paulina sank into the sofa of her modest, rented apartment, opened up her laptop, and began talking about sex with a man she’d recently met in a Yahoo chat group. His name was Stephen Bolen. His first communications had been terse, but he soon warmed to Paulina. It didn’t take long for both of them to begin to open up.

Paulina had told Bolen she lived in the Atlanta area, that she had a three-year-old daughter, that her daughter’s father was no longer in the picture. Soon, she was sharing more intimate details: what it was like growing up a skinny white girl in a rough neighborhood outside of D.C.; how her dad, a Marine, had died by suicide two weeks before she was born; how her mom had been emotionally and physically abusive, and had never really shown her love. How she’d had a sexual relationship with her stepfather.

Paulina would put her daughter to bed and then she and Bolen would chat throughout the night, over Yahoo and sometimes on the phone. The back-and-forth could feel like dating, but with an added element of danger and risk: Both Paulina and Bolen knew they were tiptoeing up to a line to see if they trusted each other enough to cross it. It could take a while to figure that out.

Eventually, Bolen asked Paulina to send pictures of her daughter, and she agreed to do so, though the ones she’d shared were chaste — the little girl clothed and her face turned away from the camera or obscured behind an untamable halo of blond curls. After seeing the pictures, Bolen asked to meet. While a lot of the men Paulina had encountered in chatrooms like “Sex With Younger” just wanted to trade images and videos of children, to expand their illicit collections, Bolen was a “traveler,” someone looking to act upon his obsessions.

On Sept. 17, just as they’d arranged, Paulina sat on a bench outside Perimeter Mall with a stroller parked in front of her, scanning the parking lot nervously. Part of her hoped Bolen wouldn’t show. When he did, she could see he was handsome, a preppy guy in a pink polo shirt and khakis. “Paulina?” he asked eagerly. She nodded. As he smiled and pulled back the blanket draped across the stroller, he found himself surrounded, handcuffs slipped around his wrists.

“Paulina” watched his face fall, his confusion giving way to distress as FBI agents took him into custody. It was her first undercover arrest. It would be the first of many.

[long read]

IF ONE WANTED to hide in plain sight, one could do no better than the tidy, suburban neighborhood on the outskirts of St. Louis, where FBI Special Agent Nikki Badolato now resides. The well-tended, two-story homes are so pleasantly indistinct that I could hardly tell you what hers looks like, even if it were safe for me to do so, which it is not. Suffice to say that Midwestern comfort and conformity unspool around every gently winding curve. Here Badolato has raised her two children, a daughter who is now in college and a son who is a junior at a local high school. When planning a neighborhood scavenger hunt or tending the community garden, Badolato does not often mention her many years as head of the Child Exploitation Task Force, a joint effort between the feds and local law enforcement that targets some of the country’s most heinous crimes. Open a cabinet in her kitchen, however, and a government-issued Glock 42 can be found stowed away between the vitamins and mixing bowls.

On a sunny morning this past October, Badolato sat at her dining room table, scrapbooks and albums spread out before her on the dark wood. There was the acceptance letter she’d received from the bureau the spring of her senior year of high school, after a representative had shown up to administer a test in the typewriting room. “I chose to wear a red dress and red heels,” she says of her first day as an FBI mail clerk, two weeks after her 18th birthday. “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. I guess maybe I was trying to go in bold?” She pauses at a picture of herself on the gun range at Quantico almost 10 years later, her shoulders squared and her caramel hair pulled back into a ponytail as she fires off rounds. By then, she’d married a man she met just after high school, had a little girl, completed college at night, and been accepted into agent training in the heady days after 9/11. She’d seen her first dead body only a few weeks into the job, after the pursuit of a bank robber ended with a shootout in a Walmart. When Badolato got to the scene, the body was still warm, and the perp’s head was resting on a bag of cookies. “It was surreal,” she says. “How many times have you been in a Walmart and walked down Aisle 4, not really expecting there to be a dead person with his head lying on a bag of Chips Ahoy?”

Badolato wasn’t deterred. She felt like the bureau saved her, plucked her out of a shitty home life, and gave her prospects and purpose. As a new agent, she was intent on proving herself worthy. “My training agent told me, ‘You know, Nikki, it’s a marathon, not a sprint,’ ” she says. “I was like, ‘That’s ridiculous. I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.’ ” She turned a few pages to show a picture of the 391 kilos of cocaine and 140 pounds of meth she’d recovered on a single raid during a stint with a cartel squad, then pointed out another in which she poses with a five-year-old child she’d rescued, the little girl’s hair cut short because the kidnapper had wanted her to look like a boy. But the keepsake she really wants to find is the card that Bolen’s wife had pressed into her hand at his sentencing, the one with the picture of their children — a blond girl of about three years and a tiny baby — and the words “These are the faces of the children you protect each day.” Bolen’s wife had been the only one she’d ever encountered who had lobbied for her husband to receive the maximum sentence. Some wives accused the FBI of planting evidence inside computers. Most seemed intent on clinging to their delusions. (Attempts to reach Bolen for comment were unsuccessful.)

“Right now some little girl is being dropped off in the parking lot of a motel. There are four girls holed up in a hotel next to a McDonald’s. It is happening all the time.”

Which, Badolato has come to understand, is the way it goes with child trafficking and sexual abuse. She had invited me into her home — had agreed to speak on the record about her decades-long career working undercover — because when it comes to the crimes she’s spent her career fighting, she has had enough of the delusions people are under. She’s had enough of the way movies like Sound of Freedom both glamorize and trivialize the work she and her colleagues do, enough of the idea that swashbuckling white men burst through doors and rescue trafficked children with a Bible in one hand and a firearm in the other, enough of conspiracy theories about Hollywood and Washington that detract from the real root causes of why children are trafficked and abused. “Human trafficking is not the movie Pretty Woman — the girl doesn’t get the guy — and it’s not the movie Taken, where people are kidnapped in a foreign country and sold on the black market, or shipped in a container across the world,” one of the detectives who worked on Badolato’s task force tells me. “I’m not saying that doesn’t ever happen, but it’s not what we’re seeing.”

What they are seeing is a lot more insidious and a lot more homegrown. A report released in 2018 by the State Department ranked the U.S. as one of the worst countries in the world for human trafficking. While the Department of Justice has estimated that between 14,500 and 17,500 foreign nationals are trafficked into this country every year, this number pales in comparison to the number of American minors who are trafficked within it: A 2009 Department of Health and Human Services review of human trafficking into and within the United States found that roughly 199,000 American minors are sexually exploited each year, and that between 244,000 and 325,000 American youths are considered to be at risk of being trafficked specifically in the sex industry. Heartbreakingly, many of these children are victimized not by strangers who’ve abducted them from mall parking lots but rather by people they know and trust: Studies have found that as much as 44 percent of victims are trafficked by family members, most often parents (and not infrequently parents who were trafficked themselves). Between 2011 and 2020, there was an 84 percent increase in the number of people prosecuted for a federal human-trafficking offense. Of the defendants charged in 2020, 92 percent were male, 63 percent were white, 66 percent had no prior convictions, and 95 percent were U.S. citizens.

Badolato started her career as an FBI agent in some of the earliest days that children could be bought, sold, and traded online. As the internet-porn industry mushroomed, its most lucrative branch turned out to be that of child sexual-abuse materials (the term “child pornography” is no longer used by those in the field, as it implies consent). And as demand for these images increased, so did the abuse that led to their creation.

In 2003, just a few months after Badolato graduated from Quantico, a Crimes Against Children squad was formed in the Atlanta office where she’d been stationed. By then, the FBI was starting to get a handle on the extent of the problem — if not exactly what to do about it. At a weeklong training in Baltimore, Badolato was given a tour of the darkest underbelly of fetish chat groups and then instructed to figure out how to infiltrate. “Everyone was a little nervous,” she explains of the directive. “It was a process, a direction that was new.” Agents were told that they would need to come up with a “persona” and a “story,” and that they would likely have to provide images of children to “prove” they had a minor on offer. They were also told that they could use images of their own children, if they were comfortable doing so (the FBI no longer endorses this policy).

Badolato’s unit with a kidnapping victim after her recovery in 2011. A Health and Human Services review found that roughly 199,000 American minors are sexually exploited each year, and that as many as 325,000 American youths are considered to be at risk of being trafficked in the sex industry. 

Badolato developed “Paulina” based on her understanding that any persona would need to share most of her own backstory and traits. “That’s the only way you can really do undercover work,” Badolato says. “People can tell the sincerity in what you’re saying, so there has to be a level of genuineness, but then you just add this criminal element to it.” Most of the things Badolato had told Bolen were true: where she was from, her family background, the monstrousness of her mother, a woman who she says would pass out cigarettes and beers to Badolato’s 13-year-old friends in a state of manic permissiveness one minute and fly into a violent rage about a piece of lint on the floor the next. (Badolato’s mother declined to comment for this article, but a childhood friend corroborated Badolato’s account.) It was true that growing up in an unstable home with a string of stepdads, she had never really felt loved, true that she had divorced her first husband, true that she was raising their three-year-old daughter on her own. The only thing that wasn’t true was her tale of being molested, her initiation into the “lifestyle” — to use the chatroom parlance — that Paulina said she now wanted for her daughter. As Badolato had familiarized herself with the language and behaviors of the chatrooms, she’d honed that added criminal element, imagining what psychological conditions might believably lead a parent to traffic their own child and how those conditions could be grafted onto her real life story. She already had a history of abuse; it was not hard to extrapolate to a fictional stepfather who had seemed to provide a gentle counterpoint, showing her love and making her feel special when no one else had, even if others couldn’t understand. From there, it was easy to convince the chatroom participants that she shared their belief — or justification — that most people had it all wrong and that “child love” was natural, and could even be beneficial for the child.

Badolato estimates that she has arrested more than a thousand people; not one of those arrests has failed to end in a conviction. She didn’t know until she was in the thick of it that most agents refuse this sort of work, that most can’t even pretend to forge a relationship with someone looking to victimize a child. But she could. “Paulina,” she points out, is not a name she chose at random; it’s similar to her own mother’s name. Badolato says she had grown up learning to compartmentalize for the sake of her own emotional survival. She’d perfected the art of engaging with someone whose actions she couldn’t stand. Doing this work had felt like a way of taking her trauma and putting it to good use, of leveraging her past as a safeguard against her daughter’s and other children’s futures.

Of course there were moments that were hard to take — when suspects mentioned which brands of lubrication were best or whether or not a parent might hold a child down. There were times when she knew that even talking about these things was a turn-on for these men, times when the conversations made her nauseous, times when she’d lie awake all night or play back a recording and think, “Holy shit, I listened to this? I said these words?” But she kept faith in the mission. She reminded herself that the pictures she sent of her daughter — the beautiful, little girl sleeping in the next room — did not represent a real child on offer. “I was thinking, ‘If I send this obscure picture of my daughter and he acts on it, then he’s never going to harm my daughter or anybody else’s,’ ” Badolato says now. “I was presenting a fake girl to save a real one.”

KYLE PARKS SEEMED to think he could get away with anything. He seemed to think, for instance, that he could get away with running a brothel, a 1-900 sex line, and a housecleaning company out of the same Columbus, Ohio, office park and under the same oxy-moronic name, XXXREC and Hygiene Services. He seemed to think he could invite one young woman and five teenagers (four of whom he had only just met) on a road trip to Florida, but instead deposit them in two rooms of a Red Roof Inn in St. Charles, Missouri. When they piled out of the minivan — high on the drugs he’d given them — saw snow falling and asked to be taken home, he thought he could make a little money off them first. All it took was a few ads in Backpage — the Craigslist of sex advertisements — and men began showing up.

Even after things started going south for him, Parks couldn’t fathom that he wouldn’t prevail. When someone alerted law enforcement as to what was going on, Parks (who, according to legal documents, had been out getting food when the police showed up) burst into the precinct the next morning looking to bail his “friend” out. When questioned about the 88 condoms found in the back of his van, he said they had been prescribed to him by a doctor. After being taken into custody, he protested that he was being set up. Most people would have cut their losses and pleaded guilty, but not Parks. He thought he could take his case to court and win.

And it wasn’t impossible to imagine that he might. Badolato knew that even the tightest cases could go sideways when put before 12 people who would inevitably enter the courtroom with a cinematic sense of what sex trafficking was supposed to be. In fact, it wasn’t just the jury that Badolato knew she would need to convince; it was also often the victims themselves, young people who had internalized the exact same misconceptions about trafficking that the jury had — along with any number of other judgments society had thrown their way — and who were loath to submit themselves to a courtroom full of more judgment.

Of all of Parks’ underage victims, the hardest to pin down had been a 17-year-old we’ll call Sierra. Once she returned to Columbus, Sierra seemed to basically disappear. Calls to her mother’s number went unanswered. When one of the other victims managed to track her down in December 2016, a month before the case was to go to trial, Sierra agreed to meet Badolato on a blighted Columbus block with a string of dilapidated homes, climbing into the bureau’s Chevy Malibu with matted hair, dirty clothes, and a wary expression.

By this time, Badolato had remarried, had a second child, relocated to St. Louis, and taken over as head of the Child Exploitation Joint Task Force, which had become one of the most productive FBI teams in the country in terms of arrests and convictions. Meanwhile, as the internet streamlined the process of buying or selling any good or service, trafficking had become one of the fastest-growing criminal enterprises, estimated by the Department of Homeland Security to bring in $150 billion globally and considered by many criminals to be a superior business model: If caught, the sentences were often lighter than those for peddling drugs; and unlike crack or heroin, the same product could be “used” again and again and again.

Badolato taught her team of 20 how to do the online undercover work she’d trailblazed in Atlanta, tracking the movements of child-abuse material through the online underworld and then prosecuting those who distributed and produced it. Her new squad also initiated her in the type of undercover work it had been doing before her arrival: covert sting operations in which a detective would pose as a john, set up a “date,” and then meet said date in a hotel room fitted out with hidden recording devices while, in the next room over, a taskforce team listened in, waiting for the code word that would let them know that enough evidence had been gathered for them to swoop in and shut the op down. This had proved a very effective technique for getting convictions, but Badolato’s arrival coincided with both a growing sentiment that consensual sex work had been over-criminalized and an increasing awareness that what looked like consensual sex work might actually be trafficking, no matter what the “date” professed in that hotel room.

Badolato has a tendency to say aloud the things she notices — about you, about others, about situations — observations that are not at all unkind but are perceptive enough that most people would keep them to themselves. She points out when someone deflects, and she has a sharp eye for defense mechanisms. She once casually mentions my tendency to mirror other people’s vocal and speech patterns. She is not shy about bringing up the emotional and physical abuse she says she experienced as a child, and she is quick to comment when someone is making excuses for someone else’s behavior. It was soon clear to her colleagues that Badolato brought a trauma-informed mentality to the work, a tendency to look beyond what someone was doing and instead try to parse why they were doing it. And she was relentless: While some squads did one or two trafficking sting ops a year, her team was doing four or five a month. In addition to the hotel rooms reserved for the john and the team, they would have a social worker set up in a third room, ready to offer services to the victims. They would have lookouts stationed to see who might be dropping the date off. If that date was found to be underage, the case was automatically classified as trafficking. But even if they weren’t, Badolato’s team was primed to get to the bottom of what was going on, to figure out whether they were being manipulated or coerced, and by whom.

“If I could put my hands on a pimp, that’s what I wanted,” says Jeff Roediger, a St. Louis county detective who was the “john” for many of Badolato’s sting ops and who makes clear that the team was not interested in policing voluntary sex work. “When I had those types of cases, and I knew they were being sincere with me, I wouldn’t book them,” he says. “It was all about talking to the girls. It’s not like in the movies where they come running to you. You know, ‘Thanks, you rescued me!’ It’s not like that. A lot of them try to bullshit you at first — ‘That’s my boyfriend, blah blah blah’— but once I talked to them for a while, they would become more forthcoming.”

Badolato’s unit was one of the first in the country to take on this “progressive and proactive” approach, as she puts it. Soon, St. Louis looked like a sex-trafficking capital — not because it was actually trafficking more victims than other cities but because the task force was so aggressively pursuing those cases, and classifying them as what they were. “I mean, I was working in vice for years,” says Roediger. “Back in the day, it was always ‘prostitution,’ ‘prostitution,’ ‘prostitution’ — until we started to figure it out a little bit, until we started digging a little deeper.”

Once they did, the task force found that roughly a third of the sex-trafficking victims they recovered were under the age of 17 — and they began to see the reach of the problem. Kids were being trafficked out of every hotel in the area, from the seediest roach motel to the fanciest Ritz-Carlton. They were being trafficked every time of day and by every socioeconomic group (“Before you go do brain surgery, you got to bust a nut real quick,” one underage victim told Badolato of her high-end clientele). Some of the victims were girls. Some were boys. Some were LGBTQ kids who’d been kicked out of their homes. Some were straight cis kids from the suburbs. “I tell people that I could probably name two or three [kids] in the school district they live in that have been trafficked,” Roediger says. “And they just can’t comprehend it.”

“If I can be perfectly honest, I truly don’t believe that the FBI realizes what they put their agents through doing that kind of work.”

There were kids who were about to age out of foster care (a particularly at-risk group, according to those who work in the field), kids who’d run away, kids who were being sold to pay their family’s rent, or to buy their family member’s drugs. There were kids who’d sit in the hotel room, backpack at their feet, dutifully working on their math homework while agents and social workers tried to figure out what to do with them. Was their home life safe enough that they could be returned to it? Would a residential program take them? Of all the imperfect options, which would make them least likely to be trafficked again?

The one common denominator was this: They all had a vulnerability that could be preyed upon. They all lacked a safety net — societal, familial, emotional, or some combination thereof — that might have broken their fall. Mostly, their stories weren’t dramatic; they were typical American tales of neglect, of abuse doled out casually, of a steady stream of letdowns by people and institutions who should have propped them up. Badolato found that she had a knack for getting them to talk about this, for getting them to open up to her. She didn’t look like an FBI agent — at least not what they’d imagined. She spoke softly, but with authority and a slight vocal fry. And she thinks that, at some level, they could probably sense that she’d once been a vulnerable kid too, that with only a few slightly different twists of fate, she could have become a trafficking victim herself — and that she knew it. “My trauma looks different than theirs, but it’s trauma nonetheless,” she says.

“And I think victims can feel that.”

AS THE TASK force learned more about the psychology of victims, they also learned more about the ways in which their vulnerability was being manipulated, and how those ways were evolving. It was known in law-enforcement circles that once a skilled trafficker set his or her sights on a vulnerable young person, they could be groomed in a matter of days: one day for an introduction, a day or two to make the victim feel special and cared for, and then the day when a “friend” comes over and he needs to be “cared for” as well. Sometimes violence was involved at that point; sometimes drug use was involved throughout. But emotional manipulation was the key element, which is why it was so easy for grooming to move online, for groomers to take advantage of the false senses of connection fostered on social media.

Of the victims who are not being trafficked by family members, the majority are being groomed in this way. “I would say that probably 75 percent of the initial grooming is happening online now,” says Cindy Malott, the director of U.S. Safe Programs at Crisis Aid International. “Recruiters used to have to work really, really hard to get access to kids, but now they’re practically sitting in a child’s bedroom. And kids put everything out there — what’s going on in their life, who they’re angry about, parents are going through a divorce, their insecurities about their body, about themselves, what they do, how they spend their time — so it’s like a gift to these predators.”

The ways to manipulate are legion: Get a kid to send a compromising photo, and she’ll do almost anything to keep you from sending it out to all her Facebook friends; find out a gay kid is still closeted, and the threat of outing him gives you incredible power. And predators aren’t just on Instagram and Snapchat; they lurk in the chat functions of Roblox, Minecraft, Grand Theft Auto. “They’re everywhere,” says Malott. “People think, ‘Oh, I just got to keep my kids away from those porn sites, those horrible places.’ Well, no, predators are gonna go where the kids are.” And once there, they’re going to zero in on the kids who are most vulnerable.

That’s what got to Badolato. In her online undercover work, she’d plumbed the psychology of pedophiles, but now she wasn’t just dealing with suspects; she was spending time with victims and seeing the same vulnerabilities in them that the traffickers had seen: the instability or poverty, the addiction or mental health issues or abuse that had been normalized in their lives long before the traffickers entered them. Sometimes Badolato couldn’t help but feel that all the conspiracies and misconceptions weren’t just a distraction from the truth of trafficking but rather some sick attempt to let society off the hook for trying to solve the much more intractable problems at trafficking’s root.

“People would rather stick their head in the sand than address the real problem, because then you have to face and talk about the societal issues,” she says. “With a movie like Sound of Freedom, it’s like, ‘Oh, this is in a jungle in South America. This isn’t actually in [my neighborhood].’ You know? It’s easier for people to ignore the problem than deal with the issues on a societal level.”

BY THE TIME Badolato was sitting in that Chevy with Sierra, on that blighted Ohio block, she knew that the rate of revictimization for children who are trafficked was as high as 95 percent, according to FBI reports. She knew that 90 percent of sex-trafficking victims have a history of child sexual abuse, that more than 75 percent had lived in foster or adoptive care. She knew that she could arrest one perpetrator, and another would pop up in his place, that she could send one pimp to prison and the same victims would show up to stings some short time later, run by a different crew. She knew that testifying was a way for Sierra to psychologically push back against what had happened to her, and she was right: After the young woman took the stand on Jan. 10, 2017, Parks was found guilty and sentenced to 25 years; while testifying, Sierra had seemed to transform, to channel and embody a sort of empowerment. But Badolato also knew that once her testimony was over, Sierra would go back to that blighted block. She wondered how long that empowerment would last.

She also wondered about her own trajectory, her own ability to continue doing this work. The youngest trafficking victim she’d ever recovered from a sting op — an 11-year-old who’d been recruited through Facebook — had been returned to her family in a house that had no heat (Badolato had used an FBI slush fund to get it turned back on). One did not become immune to the human misery of such things. They compounded, became harder and harder to compartmentalize. “It’s just a combination of all of those years — and it’s all awful,” she says. “But there are particular moments that, for one reason or another, you can’t get out of your head. I just don’t think it’s in human nature to be exposed to that for so long and it not start changing who you are.”

One night, at a restaurant near where Badolato lives, I ask her whether she thinks children are being sex-trafficked right then, in that very moment, in just the mile or two radius around us. She’s quiet for a long time, her gaze fixed downward at her glass of wine. By the time she looks up, her whole body is trembling. “It’s happening right now,” she says quietly. “Right now some little girl is being dropped off in the parking lot of a motel. There are three or four girls holed up in a hotel next to a McDonald’s. It’s not only when we think about it. It is happening all the time. And if I’m just sitting here, present, having dinner, not thinking about it, that means I’m ignoring a problem that I know is real.” Tears stream down her face.

“Many images have never left my mind,” she says. “It’s really hard to have worked your entire life in law enforcement with a lot of child crime victims and be at the end of your career looking at the situation where you realize you can only do so much to make a difference.” Badolato wipes back the tears with the palm of her hand and shudders her head, as if she can shake the thoughts away. “Damn,” she says. “Fuck. I shouldn’t be the one crying. I’m not the victim of this.” The veteran agent steels herself and repeats, “I am not the victim.”

THE HOUSE WHERE Korina Ellison says she was first sex-trafficked no longer exists. It once stood on an unassuming lot in a residential suburb of Portland, Oregon, that stumbles down to the banks of the Willamette River. Now, Ellison can’t quite bring the house’s features to mind. She was so young back then, maybe four or five. There is so much she’s repressed, or only pieced together after the fact. As a child, she wouldn’t have known what she now believes to be true: that her grandmother scored her drugs by offering up her youngest daughter, Ellison’s mom. Or that, once her mom was hooked on the meth cooked by the man who’d lived in that house, she’d known just what to do to get more. But Ellison does remember being inside the house, unclothed. She does remember how the man would touch her.

Her life unspooled from there. Her father died of a heroin overdose when she was six. Her mom lost custody for good. She bounced around foster care, then various residential institutions, then whatever shelter she could find. In the story she tells of how she was sex-trafficked again in her teenage years, there’s no moment of drama, no kidnapping, no clear coercion. There was just a random, rainy afternoon when she had no place to go and was alone in the street and a car pulled up. The man inside took her home with him, fed her, introduced her to his girlfriend. They took her shopping. They let her stay. When men showed up at the home to have sex with the woman, Ellison was invited to watch, but she wasn’t expected to participate — not at first, anyway. According to a statement Ellison later made to law enforcement, she just “realized that people aren’t going to take care of [me] for free.” Soon, the woman was posting Ellison’s services on Backpage — $150 for half an hour, $200 for a full one — and the trio were traveling the Midwest. For a long time, it didn’t even occur to Ellison, then 16, to leave. “Where would I have gone?” she asks. “I’d been missing for over a year. Nobody was looking for me.” When the man told her to call him “Daddy,” she complied.

That was more than a decade ago, near the beginning of Badolato’s tenure as head of the Child Exploitation Task Force. But by 2021, leaving it had seemed a necessary form of self-preservation. One of her last cases had gone well legally: The perp, a retired police officer from California who had produced child sex-abuse materials of three sisters in Manila, had pleaded guilty to such charges when he learned that Badolato had brought the girls to the states to testify against him. But the experience had been emotionally devastating for Badolato, who had wanted the sisters, then 16, 13, and 11, to have memories of the U.S that consisted of more than reliving their trauma in a courtroom. She took them shopping and to the zoo, invited them to her home to have dinner with her own family, saw them slowly start to open up and laugh and behave like the children they were. Then she’d had to put them on a flight back to Manila, back to the aunt who had allowed the man to abuse them and who Badolato had been unable to extradite. Fortunately, she says, their estranged father ended up intervening and taking custody of the girls, but that feeling of futility in the fight lingered.

“I stayed for a little bit longer after that trial, but it really was when I should have been able to look myself in the mirror and say, ‘Nikki, you’re done,’ ” Badolato had told me in St. Louis. “It became clear that I had been doing it too long.” She’d spend the last couple of years working national security, a position without the immediacy of child-exploitation work, but also without the heartache. “If I can be perfectly honest, I truly don’t believe that the FBI realizes what they put their agents through doing that kind of work. I just don’t,” she says.

And yet, here Badolato was in Portland, leading Ellison, now 30, up to her hotel room, telling her about all the announcements she’d heard in the Atlanta airport instructing travelers to be on the lookout for sex trafficking. “It’s like white noise in the background,” she says as Ellison settles into the sofa. “It’s a false sense of doing something to help.”

“Here’s the thing: Nobody knows what to look for,” Ellison agrees.

“And what about the victims who are in that airport, who are walking around and listening?” Badolato asks.

“I wouldn’t have even heard that announcement,” Ellison replies. “Because I didn’t feel like a victim. It goes a lot, lot, lot deeper than anybody realizes.”

That’s what she and Badolato both understand. That’s why they started talking eight months ago. Of all the teenage victims Badolato’s task force recovered, Ellison is one of the few who she knows has permanently extricated herself from being prostituted, though it took years for her to get to that point, years for her to see that what happened to her was not her fault but rather a fault in the system, a fault in many systems over the course of generations. Neither she nor Badolato can fix that.

Yet they can’t help feeling like there’s something they can fix — or at least try to. Under the umbrella of an organization she’s founded called Innocent Warriors, Badolato created a program for schools, instructing educators on the signs that might indicate a student is being trafficked and teaching kids how to avoid getting groomed online, which, she believes, is not about stranger danger but rather an awareness of subtle manipulation. Ellison has been working with trafficked youth through nonprofits like Children of the Night, the residential program where Badolato’s team sent her when she was 17. Together, they’ve been talking about having Ellison help train undercovers who are learning to do trafficking sting ops. They’ve also discussed starting a mentorship program in which children who are still being sex-trafficked are paired with young adults like Ellison who once were, providing a way for victims to begin to envision a different future for themselves and a path toward it even while being prostituted. Such a program may be retroactive rather than proactive, but it would capitalize on Badolato’s and Ellison’s experience and expertise — and it could help in the healing of mentors and mentees alike.

Badolato had traveled to Portland for the two to talk face-to-face about how the program might work. “You have to understand how they’ve been traumatized because sometimes, to a child, relating doesn’t sound like you’re relating. It sounds like you’re pointing out all the bad things in them,” says Ellison from the driver’s seat of her Nissan Pathfinder as she drives Badolato around to show her certain landmarks of her past after she’d left Children of the Night: the bridge she’d slept under for over a year after a boyfriend had gotten her hooked on heroin, the blocks downtown where she’d bounced between a children’s shelter and the needle exchange. It had taken a prison sentence for her to finally break her addiction and commit to a different kind of life, though that evolution had had less to do with not having access to drugs than with seeing her own mother cycle in and out of the same facility — like looking into her own future and witnessing how bleak it would be. Maybe, she thought, she could provide the inverse of that for kids in Innocent Warriors. Maybe she could reverse engineer her own escape.

“I just want to make it very clear that if you were a victim, you are a victim, and just to not have any shame in that,” she tells Badolato as they drive through Portland’s misty streets.

“What I anticipate and hope is that then we get survivors that are like, ‘They get it,’ ” Badolato replies. “And that it opens up doors to help, for people to recognize that there are people who get what’s really going on.”

“It took a really long time for me,” Ellison says of coming to terms with her own victimhood.

“It’s like reworking your thought process about some of those things,” Badolato agrees. “And that’s hard, and it happens slowly over time, and it looks different for everybody.”

Ellison grips the wheel tightly. “The truth does matter. It does. The truth is the fucking truth. And it’s been empowering to be able to talk about it because that’s another way that I’ve realized, like, ‘Man, I was a victim,’ is re-going over all of this. Because when it happens so many times, you do blame yourself. It’s a lot easier to just continue to live in a lie than believe that you were lied to.”

Still, Ellison and Badolato agree that the impressionability that makes children vulnerable is also what makes them open to guidance and mentorship if a relationship of trust can be established. “What do you think a parent does? They groom you. I’d been waiting to be guided and groomed,” Ellison says.

It’s been instructive to see that potential from another perspective, as a mother doing the guiding. As the afternoon wears on, Ellison stops to pick up her then-15-month-old son, who was being watched by a social-worker friend. She buckles the little boy into his car seat, ruffles his hair, and passes him a bottle. He grins widely and begins removing his shoes and socks, throwing them gleefully onto the floor of the car and then kicking his tiny feet in time with the music as Ellison glances back at him and smiles. “Kids are so perfect,” she says.

The last stop of the day is the large plot of land where the drug dealer’s house once stood. Now, it’s been turned into a playground, with brightly-colored jungle gyms, a covered picnic area, and a large lawn, where a couple leisurely walks their dog. Ellison and Badolato climb down from the car and stand at the park’s edge, as Ellison’s son toddles around the grass, oblivious to what had transpired in that very spot. There is some form of poetic justice in the land being earmarked for children’s enjoyment, but neither woman voices it. Mostly, they’re quiet. Night is falling, the air growing cooler, and the gray sky fading into dusk.

“You would never think a park could hide what it used to be,” Ellison says at last. And yet it did. Driving off with Badolato at her side and her son babbling happily in the back seat, Ellison glances in the rear-view mirror, but only for a moment. Badolato keeps her eyes fixed only on the road ahead.

[dual1pa]

"you're gonna make me fall in love with you"

steve harrington x reader using she/her pronouns

A/N: ahh the sweet smell of a best friends to lovers fic <3

WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY PLEASE !! language, swimming in underwear (both reader & steve) kissing w/ tongue, boob grabbage, missionary position but no smut occurs

(doesn't follow plot of Stranger Things)

She placed her Converse-covered feet on the leather seat of her best friend, Steve Harrington's beat-up Chevy. He received the "piece of shit car," as he would say, from his parents as a graduation present years ago. It was originally his father's work truck, but he no longer needed it.

"At least you have a car, son," he told him.

All her attention was outside of the car as Steve drove them to their favorite spot at the lake. It seemed as if no one knew it existed since there was never a soul in sight, which was great for the two of them to get away from the hustle and bustle of their small town of Hawkins, Indiana.

The scenery of the drive there was something else - especially at sundown after a warm summer day when the sky was filled with yellow, orange, pink, and purple.

As her hair blew from the open window, she hummed along to Tiffany's 'I Think We're Alone Now' as Steve tapped his hands to the beat of the song on the steering wheel.

Steve pulled into a rocky area where he normally parks the car, went to grab a blanket out of the trunk, and led her to their favorite spot.

Normally, they didn't swim in the water, just lay on the fuzzy blanket, listened to the water and their favorite tunes from Steve’s portable radio, and stared up at the stars.

She and Seve have been friends since middle school, yes, even though his King Steve era where he thought he was better than everyone.

The two of them rarely had fights, and when they did, they quickly made up and went out to get ice cream or head to their favorite spot on the lake.

They found their spot on accident after participating in an extra credit assignment for Ms. Taylor's science class - since the both of them were failing at the time.

Now, a year later, they considered the spot theirs.

Just like usual, empty.

Steve tried his best to lay the teal blanket down flat, but the grass made it difficult.

She laid down first, then Steve. He watched her figure out her next thought as she stared up into the cloudless sky.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, resting his body on his arm.

She turned her head to lock eyes with him and smiled, "I kinda wanna go swimming."

"I didn't bring a swimsuit," Steve sighed.

She chuckled, "Neither did I," quickly getting up and stripping off her T-shirt and jean shorts, leaving her in a bra and underwear.

Steve had seen her change a dozen times and she could care less as she had no shame about her body.

Without waiting for her friend, she ran into the cold but refreshing water. She dove under the small waves and resurfaced to find steve shoving his pants off, leaving him in plaid boxers.

Once he caught up to her, they enjoyed the water for a while longer then went to air dry on the blanket.

Steve reached for the radio to find a station playing a song they both liked. as if it was fate, one of their favorites played softly through the speaker.

He got up and started dancing and singing the lyrics, urging her to come join him on the imaginary dance floor.

She grabbed his hand to help her off the cozy blanket, grabbed her waist and started swaying back and forth. If she was honest with herself, she could picture a life with Steve.

She could imagine traveling with Steve, purchasing a home with him in the suburbs.

She pictured buying a cute little 3 bedroom home in the Indiana suburbs - definitely away from Hawkins. She pictured the bright green grass and being surrounded by nice neighbors and even getting a pet.

She pictured starting a family with him, though, she would never tell him that, unless the time was right.

Back in the moment, she couldn’t stop laughing at Steve’s horrible singing.

“stop it,” she leaned her head back and let out a loud laugh

“stop what? singing?” he didn’t listen and kept singing along.

“you’re gonna make me fall in love with you if you keep singing like that,” she smiled.

Steve blushed, “we’re literally slow dancing in our underwear, i hope you know that i’m already in love with you.”

That’s all she ever wanted to hear from her best friend, “i’m in love with you.”

He wasted no time to press his lips to hers. they were just how she imagined he would taste: a mix of mint toothpaste and the coffee he drinks daily.

she reached her hands up to comb through his damp brunette hair and moaned into his mouth, urging him to shove his tongue in her mouth.

he gripped her waist, then her butt, then her thighs to feel every inch of her, what he wanted to do for years.

the two laid back down on the blanket and continued their assault on each other. he fit right between her legs, but knew that she didn’t want their first time to be on the muddy ground.

to take a breath from their make out session, he rested his forehead on hers and smiled.

“can i call you mine? all mine?” he asked, placing a piece of hair behind her ear.

“that’s all i’ve wanted, steve harrington.”

he reached up to grab at her breast but she stopped before she got too turned on.

“as much as i want to, take me back to your place and take me in your bed?” she said, kissing his neck and down to his chest.

she’s never seen him pack up so quickly.

#stranger things #my writings #my writing #stranger things 4 #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #friends to lovers #steve harrington smut #joe keery

[starkwlkr]

can u make an imagine where Noah is graduating pre-k or something and the whole family would be there like imagine proud dad max 😍😍😍

and a little family interaction between reader max and Noah 🥲❤️

oh, the places you’ll go | max verstappen

You, Max, his mother and sister were in the assembly hall of Noah’s school. It was his graduation from pre-kindergarten and you were holding back tears. Your baby was growing up. The ceremony was going to start soon and Max was getting his phone ready to film and take pictures.

“Do you think he will see us? Maybe we should change seats, there’s some empty ones up there.” Max wondered since they were seated right in the middle.

“It’s fine, Max. I let him know where we are sitting. I’m sure when Noah is on stage you’ll stand up and yell his name so yeah i am positive he will see us.” You chuckled. Then Noah’s teacher came out with a microphone to let everyone know the ceremony was starting.

“Please welcome our graduates!” The teacher announced as music started to play while the line of kids started coming in to the assembly hall.

The kids were lined up by their last name so Noah was near the end, but that didn’t bother him. He was happy since he was next to a friend of his. As he walked towards the stage, Noah kept looking for his family. He then spotted his father waving his hand so Noah could spot him.

“Look! That’s my dad!” Noah told his friend. Noah then waved back to Max.

“He saw me!” Max smiled brightly.

Finally, all the kids were on stage in their little plastic chairs facing the audience. After everyone was seated, Noah’s teacher, Ms. Dutton, have a speech about how proud she was of the kids. She then announced that each kids would come up to the microphone and say what they wanted to be when they were older.

Many of Noah’s classmates said the common careers like astronaut, teacher etc. When it was Noah’s turn, you got ready with your phone to take a video. Noah had told you what he wanted to be and you knew that you needed to record Max’s reaction to your son’s answer.

“Noah, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

“When I grow up I want to be the team principal of Red Bull so my dad can win more races and be world champion a lot of times.”

Laughter erupted from the audience, many parents knew who Noah’s dad was so they thought it was funny. Max laughed as well loving the answer. He didn’t even notice you were recording his reaction.

“He’s going place.” Max said while clapping for his son.

“Another Verstappen in Formula 1!” Sophie laughed.

After every kid said their answers, it was time for them to receive their diplomas. Now it was Max’s turn to be the photographer. He made sure to get the right angle when it was Noah’s turn.

“Noah Verstappen.” Ms. Dutton said as the Verstappen family clapped and cheered for Noah.

“Hi dad!” Noah waved to Max from the stage. Max waved back then continued to take several pictures of Noah being handed his diploma. His phone was pretty much pictures of Noah anyway.

After the ceremony, you all went to pick up Noah at his classroom. When you arrived, you found him sitting at his regular seat with his friend playing with toy cars. It took him a second to realize his family had arrived, but when he spotted you, he ran towards you and Max.

“My beautiful boy just graduated! I’m so proud of you, Noah.” You picked him up and showered him with kisses then set him down.

“Congratulations Noah!” Sophie hugged her grandson. “Are you going to help your dad win more championships?”

“Yes! And he’s going to win a lot!”

“Watch out, everyone, another Verstappen is coming to the paddock.” Victoria teased.

“Dad did you see me?” Noah asked as Max picked him up.

“I did! Did you see me?”

“Yeah, I heard you so many times and I told my friend that you were my dad and he said that he likes your car because it goes so fast.” Noah explained.

Noah then decided to show his dad around the classroom and show him some of his work that was stapled to the cork board while you chatted with Sophie and Victoria. Max payed close attention to everything Noah was telling him even if half of it didn’t make sense, he still listened. Noah then showed him a drawing that he made of Max, you and him with his car.

“This is you and mommy and me and your car.” Noah pointed out. “You don’t have your trophy because you didn’t win it yet.” Max assumed it was a drawing of them from Abu Dhabi 2021 before the race started.

“It’s beautiful, Noah. I’m going to take a picture of it so I can show everyone in the paddock.” Max them took his phone out and took several pictures.

From where you stood, you watched your boys. It was too adorable seeing Max with Noah. You knew that Noah would be loved and protected by Max everyday. You thank your lucky stars everyday that Max came into your life.

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen imagine #mv33 #mv1 #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen

[mypimpademia]

— The Teacher

Single dad! Gojo x Fem! Preschool Teacher! Reader

Synopsis: Little Megumi’s taken a liking to you, his teacher, and his dad Gojo has too.

TW: None

Note: Click/tap here for part 2! Megumi is still Gojo’s adoptive son but much younger, Megumis a little ooc I guess? He just acts like a kid and not a mini adult.

⇶ Satoru first met you on the schools open house night

⇶ Megumi seemed a little nervous about his first day of school, so Satoru figured it would help calm his nerves if he got to meet his teacher and a few classmates beforehand

⇶ You were so sweet and patient with Megumi, not to mention the fact that you were absolutely stunning, Satoru had an instant crush

“Hi, you must be the teacher?”

You couldn’t help but pause as you turned your attention to the man, taking in his features. From his snow white hair and piercing blue eyes that peeked over dark sunglasses, to his warm smile and lanky figure that stalked over you.

He was beautiful, but you had to snap yourself back into reality and regain your composure.

“Yes! I’m Ms. Y/n L/n, it’s nice to meet you Mr….” You trailed off so he could properly introduce himself to you.

“Satoru Gojo, but you can just call me Satoru,” he told you, lips curling back to for a toothy grin.

Looking down, you saw a little boy with spiky black hair clutching onto the man’s leg, eyeing you from behind it.

“And what’s your name sweetheart?” You asked him, offering a warm smile.

The boy didn’t answer, instead shoving his face into the back of Satoru’s leg.

“M’sorry, he’s shy,” Satoru chuckled. “It’s alright, answer her Megs, she won’t bite. Will you Ms. L/n?”

You smiled and shook your head, then crouched down to be at eye level with the boy.

Peeling himself away from Satoru’s leg, but still keeping a hand firmly gripped to his pant leg, the boy presented himself to you, looking down at his shoes.

“My name’s Megumi.”

⇶ It took awhile for Megumi to warm up to you, but he did over time, and he even made some new friends that day with your encouragement

⇶ Meanwhile, you spoke with Satoru and other parents about how your classroom would operate and answered questions

⇶ But you talked to Satoru for the most part, he was charismatic and funny, and held great conversation

⇶ The more you talked, the more you found him attractive, and you were struggling to stay professional when he said something offhandedly flirtatious

⇶ Of course, most of your conversation was about Megumi, and while you’re usually careful about bringing up parental situations, you made the mistake of assuming there was a maternal figure in the picture

⇶ You figured that a man as attractive as him must’ve had a woman in his life, even if they weren’t a parental figure. But you didn’t tell him that, of course, even as you profusely apologized

⇶ Satoru made no big deal out of it, and simply told you he was raising Megumi alone, and not so subtly put emphasis on him being completely single

⇶ After the night of the open house, Megumi seemed more excited about his first day of school rather than nervous

⇶ He even told Satoru that he really liked you, and Satoru couldn’t help but agree

⇶ In the beginning, everyday that Satoru dropped off Megumi, he’d have a very brief conversation with you while Megumi got settled into the classroom

⇶ A simple ‘good morning’, ‘what are you doing today?’, ‘have a good day’

⇶ And they’d go on a bit farther if they ran a bit late, or if Megumi’s mood seemed a bit off

⇶ He knew it was your job to care, but Satoru could tell you genuinely did care far beyond it just being your job

⇶ Loved watching your relationship with Megumi develop, as his quiet ‘Good morning, Ms. L/n’s turned into good morning hugs. And he’d grown to be so excited to get to your class every morning instead of being on the verge of tears from how nervous he was

⇶ Megumi didn’t even want to leave your class after school, and would sorrowfully say goodbye to you and his friends when Satoru came for him

⇶ You and Satoru’s relationship also developed more as time when on, or Satoru tried to make it develop, at least

⇶ He’d compliment your bright and colorful outfits every morning, and remind you of how much he Megumi loved seeing you

⇶ And at the end of the day, he would drag out his conversations with you, covering himself with the excuse of wanting to give Megumi more time with his friends

⇶ Started calling you pet names too, but only on occasion, he didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable

⇶ He could almost see the shock run through your body when he called you beautiful for the first time, and he loved it

⇶ There was one particular instance that completely changed your relationship with him

⇶ You were having mandatory parent-teacher-student conferences at the end of the semester, and they were scheduled as your last meeting for the day

⇶ You had nothing but good things to say about Megumi and his progress in your class, and Megumi was beaming the whole time

⇶ You talked about how smart he was, and how you were so proud of how far he’s come since the beginning of the year

⇶ Satoru fist bumped and high fives him throughout the meeting, and at the end, put him in a headlock and gently ruffled his hair

⇶ At the end of the meeting, Megumi was once again reluctant to leave you, and came up with a suggestion that shocked both you and Satoru

“Let’s just take her home with us!”

⇶ You were both taken aback, and chucked nervously

⇶ Just as you were going to explain to Megumi why you couldn’t do that, Satoru made a suggestion of his own

⇶ He offered that you come over for dinner instead, to both satisfy Megumi and as a thank you

⇶ You declined at first, but Satoru insisted, and you couldn’t say no when he was sweet talking you and staring into your eyes the way he was

⇶ When you got to his house, you were amazed

⇶ It was big, not obnoxiously, but m definitely more space than a man and his son needed

⇶ Sure, Satoru radiated the energy of someone who makes a good amount of money, but after seeing his home you knew it was much more than a good amount

⇶ The inside was mostly white, and very modern and minimalist leaning, but still detailed and pretty

⇶ Satoru asked if you needed anything before he started on dinner, and you politely said no, before Megumi dragged you off to his room to show you all his toys

⇶ After about an hour, dinner was finished and Satoru came upstairs to get you and Megumi

⇶ Before he interrupted your quality time with him, he couldn’t help but stand by the door and watch the scene in front of him

⇶ You and Megumi, playing with superhero action figures, making little sound effects with your mouths and changing your voices depending on the figure you had

⇶ It made Satoru’s heart swell, and it almost pained him to interrupt the two of you

⇶ You made small talk during dinner, and Megumi didn’t talk much since he was too focused on eating

⇶ Satoru asked about your personal life, since he really only saw you in a professional setting

⇶ To his surprise, you opened up a bit and he listened intently

⇶ Just after dinner, it was Megumis bedtime, and while Satoru got him ready for bed, you did the dishes despite Satoru’s protests

⇶ Even though it was just supposed to be dinner, you somehow stayed to watch a movie with him, and talked some more

⇶ Satoru was much heavier on the flirting, seeing that Megumi wasn’t around anymore

⇶ You returned his advances when you weren’t busy giggling at the silly jokes he mixed them in with

⇶ The tension between you was almost unbearable, you were almost silently begging each other for a kiss

⇶ By the end of the night, you were both sad that you had to leave, and Satoru couldn’t stand the thought of this being a onetime thing

“Thank you, again,” Satoru started, “for Megumi.”

You gave him that beautiful smile that he’d give his right lung to see.

“He’s a great kid, you’re doing a really amazing job with him,” you told him.

“M’ just trying my best,” Satoru chuckled. “This was really nice… maybe we could do it again sometime?”

His heart nearly beat out of his chest from the words that came out of his own mouth, but your answer put him at ease.

“This was really nice, I’d love to.”

Before the silence got awkward, Satoru made a split second decision that had been on his mind since he met you.

“And um,” He cleared his throat, pale cheeks turning cherry red. “D’you think I could take you out sometime? Y’know, just us.”

Satoru was looking everywhere but at you, and wiping his sweaty palms off on his pants. But he met your eyes when you responded, and all his worries went away when he saw a smile plastered on your face.

“Yeah, that’d be really nice.”

⇶ Satoru might like you more than Megumi does

—

Taglist: @megurulvr @miirene @planetlunaa @kazuminari

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—

Thank you for reading, comments and reblogs are appreciated!

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk headcanons #jjk hcs #gojo headcanons #gojo hcs #gojo satoru fluff #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fluff #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojou fluff #gojou saturo #jjk fluff

[reveluving]

the bump in the night ; rick flag x reader

summary: someone made Mrs Flag cry, and her family is not having it.

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, shadow-magic f!reader, reverse comfort & humour!

a/n: this AU is based on this piece I made a while back, 'cause you already know I can't do this special without hubby Rick and the kids! hope you enjoy it & don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» wanna know what I have in store this fall? come & check out my m.list for 'reve's quirky reverie 🕷️'!

'For now, they had a plan, hoping it could bring a smile to your face.' ;

Coming home to his daughter's hugs had become an everyday thing if Rick didn't have to work overtime, but if the flicker of sadness in her eyes was anything to go by, something had to have happened while he was away.

“Mrs Bedford was saying bad stuff to mama while we were at the park.” 

It was the same thing she told her brothers when they got home from school, and just like them, it was enough for Rick to get the whole picture.

Ah, Mrs Bedford. Or as the neighbourhood youngsters, children and teenagers alike, like to call her 'the modern witch of the road', and not in the cool way. Her husband was no better, always bugging you at any given opportunity. The worst part was Mrs Bedford always antagonized you for it, even if she knew you didn’t entertain her husband’s behaviour. It was also extremely hypocritical of her, considering she herself has tried to make her move on Rick. A lot. Only to be met with disappointment each time. 

Her children were just as bad, too, to put it lightly.

“What did she say?” It was the green light Irene needed before she explained what had happened to a T, courtesy of her father’s eagle eye. Unlike most days, it was just you and Irene visiting the park since your sons had football practice. 

The two of you were feeding the ducks when Mrs Bedford came up to you.

“You on your own?” Was the first thing she asked you before you questionably said ‘yes’, despite Irene being there too, and the little girl realized Mrs Bedford wouldn’t have gone off on a tangent about you and your ‘possibly tainted history’ if her father or brothers were around in the first place.

“I don’t know what you did but I can see it in your eyes, Flag. You’re no saint. You can fool the others with your little flower shop and your so-called angelic kids, but not me.”

Though Mrs Bedford knew nothing about your powers or your time in Belle Reve, instead, spewing hate out of jealousy and hatred for you for being the favourable neighbour, she wasn’t completely wrong. You have hurt people, you’ve even killed some, but they were for the greater good. Since your freedom from hell on earth, you’ve barely used your umbrakineses. It wasn’t until the birth of your children, to which all three of them gained your abilities did you realized you couldn’t run from who you really were—it wasn’t right nor fair to them.

Then, telling them your story as a criminal and how their dad was once your enemy was another thing. You weren’t sure what reaction you were expecting, but it was certainly not amazement and sparkles in their eyes. As they grew older, they began to make sense of how their parents somehow knew people like Aunt Harley, Uncle Robert and hell, even Nanaue.

And at that point in time, Mrs Bedford reminded you of Waller, turning you into submission as you could do nothing but listen to her make a mockery out of you for turning over a new leaf. Irene had to watch your face drop as the woman insulted you, and she knew she had to tell her family about it. 

Irene insisted that she was fine about heading home early, even if you tried to convince her otherwise. She wanted nothing more than to do something about that glazed look in your eyes.

As soon as you stepped foot into the living room, a tear rolled down your cheek. You couldn't help but apologize to her, to everyone if they were with you then. You weren’t entirely sure if it was because you seemed weak over a bunch of words or their fate of ending up with you as the wife and a mother of their family.

Irene shook her head, hugging you with her face in your tummy.

"You're not a mean person, mama. You're the nicest and coolest mama we could ever ask for, and we love you." 

It was simple, something you've heard of thousands of times in your lifetime, but you very much needed it today.

Ever the sweet girl, she accompanied you as you lay in your bed, telling you random stories about what she painted during art class or what she ate at lunch, anything but the time Mrs Bedford’s son, Kyle pushed her off the swing while his older brother, Blake laughed and praised him for doing so. You didn’t need to know that. 

Not yet.

You listened with a warm smile, embarrassed but nonetheless thankful for how observant she was of your feelings before eventually dozing off. 

Irene was careful yet quick to jump off the bed, running downstairs to shush Richie and Ethan as they returned home. 

The more she explained, the brighter their eyes unnaturally glowed. Richie was starting to look like their father as he crossed his arms, listening to her like a police officer, while Ethan seemed like he was already thinking of ways to counter the Bedford’s undignified acts.

Basically, the Bedfords were not the greatest people. Each and every one of them. 

Though they had a myriad of ideas, they weren’t sure how much their father would appreciate it, even if it was for your sake. Still, they thanked Irene for being there for you, promising that something would be done, no matter what it would be.

For now, they had a plan, hoping it could bring a smile to your face.

After an unexpected nap, you came down to find your kids huddled on the couch, whispering and hushing each other. Curious, you approached them.

Ethan was the first to notice you, offering you a grin before showing you what was in their hands, “Look, ma, I think we got it.” 

You leaned in to take a closer look, only for your breath to hitch at the sight of life on their palms. There, they showed you the differing mass of shadows they conjured, a tougher one you just taught them about a week ago. You have always loved this trick as a kid, and it only aided your sanity when you were by your lonesome in the penitentiary. In a way, you were replacing what life truly was by making your own, even if they were temporary because there was no telling when or if you’d ever be free. 

Yet, here they were, prompting joy and pride as they held the wispy animals of their choice; Richie with what seemed to be an adorable little puppy, Ethan creatively emulated a bioluminescent jellyfish and Irene…

Oh, Irene.

She scarcely remembered how much you loved making her laugh by conjuring butterflies when she was still very little if not for the twins confirming it. 

The butterfly was as small as her hand, but the wings were majestic, idly flapping before flying over to you, leaving cloudy black trails and landing on your outstretched finger. 

You stared at their creations ever so lovingly, already on the brink of tears. You were just as mad at yourself for doubting your worth, and your potential, just because of the things you had to do in the past, for the sake of the person you were now.

You embraced Irene in a tight hug before pulling your boys in as well. You sniffled, absolutely joyous and blessed to be surrounded by the most loving people. Nothing could deter you from this, not even as the shadow puppy yipped and chased the jellyfish and butterfly in excitement. Your cat, Tofu, must’ve heard the commotion, too, as she came from the kitchen to check, only to be frightened and jump on the couch with you as the puppy came running to her.

Rick finally arrived about two hours later, coming home to hear laughter before he saw Irene running across the room, followed by Tofu and the shadow puppy in tow. The jellyfish laid on Richie’s head like a nest whereas the butterfly decided to make Ethan’s shoulder its home as they hung out with you on the couch.

“Daddy!” Irene greeted him before running over to him. He didn’t question the questioning look she gave him just yet and instead, hoisted her up, laughing as Tofu and the puppy pawed at his bootlaces.

“What’s going on here?” He raised his brows, amused by what could be described as a fever dream of a sight.

“The kids learnt how to make little lives.” You giggled, allowing Rick to sit next to you as you scooted over.

“And I got a new hat,” Richie gestured to the jellyfish, who he has now dubbed as Jelly. As if it understood, Jelly immediately floated away, leaving Richie’s hair flattened, “Never mind.”

You shared a laugh as he deadpanned before you turned to Rick, “Was work okay?”

“Yeah, the usual. Decorated the place today, actually.” He took his phone out of his pocket, opening his gallery and showing you and the kids the spookily tacky decor that furnished his workplace.

“Did you really paint ‘dead inside, don’t open’ on the entrance door?” The twins gawked.

“Fitting, ain't it?” Rick joked, prompting smiles and chuckles from you once more before falling back on the couch, “But at least I’m off tomorrow, so I was thinking we could eat out for dinner.”

“Oh! We should head to Pop’s since they’re also offering their apple betty.” Ethan suggested.

“Well, I think that’s a good idea, so,” Richie trailed off, raising anticipation from the rest of you before jumping off the couch and running up the stairs. Ethan and Irene simultaneously gasped before the former took his sister out of Rick’s arms to chase their brother together. You and Rick could only watch with delight as Tofu and the shadow creatures followed them too.

“Everything okay?” He wanted to know, but he wouldn’t pry if you weren’t ready to tell him.

“Yeah,” You nodded, gazing down for a moment before continuing, “Something happened earlier but…”

“Richie! You better not lock the door or I swear to God!” Ethan’s voice rang out from upstairs, followed by Irene’s ‘language!’, and you couldn’t help but shake your head in amusement. 

“It’s all good now.” You reassured him. You knew you could’ve told him, but it wasn’t worth dwelling on. You had children to nurture and a husband to take on the world with.

“The Bedfords?” He guessed. If it wasn’t them, then it had to be Mr Walker.

“The Bedfords,” You confirmed with a tight smile, “I’m just more upset that Irene was there to hear it.”

You didn’t explain any further and Rick took it as a sign to drop it. If they were able to make you this upset, then it was best to ask the kids instead. 

“I’m sorry,” He pulled you to his chest, planting a slow and gentle kiss on your forehead. He rubbed your back, sighing at the very mention of that family. Rick loathed that they were influential enough to be one of the higher-ups of the school’s PTA, though he was confident that money was involved in it too. He hated that they were reasons why you’d come home ranting about how Mrs Bedford bugged you again, or when he had to make sure Mr Bedford knew he was making a promise and not an empty threat whenever it involved their kids and his, "You know I can talk to them." 

It would do no good, but it was worth trying. 

"No, you know how the Bedfords are. Don’t worry, okay? Not now,” You kissed the inside of his palm before pressing your lips against his, soft, sensual and safe. Rick moved forward, deepening the kiss as held the nape of your neck. You pulled away but not before nuzzling his nose, “We should be celebrating.”

He nodded, though he knew it would only linger in his mind for a while. Still, he adhered to your wishes, standing up before offering you his hand to get ready, “Right, right. Shall we?”

You snorted, placing your hand in his the way a princess would when a prince asks for a dance. Unexpectedly, he twirled you around, wrapping his arms around you he pulled you in, chest to chest. You playfully smacked him, though it did very little to wipe off the pleased look on his face as the two of you headed to your room. 

You and the boys were the first to head out to the front yard, chatting and evaluating the decors of the houses while waiting for Rick and Irene. 

“What happened today?” He asked his daughter quietly as they stood at the front door, helping with her shoes while she slid on a jacket. 

“Mrs Bedford was saying bad stuff to mama while we were at the park.” She whispered back, swinging her arms as she watched her father tie her shoelace, “Like, really mean stuff. No one was around except us so she was kinda loud, too.”

Rick fumed, clenching his jaw as he could already hear and picture whatever nonsense she loved to spit out. 

“Mama got kinda quiet when we came home, and then she started crying. About how she’s sorry she was a criminal and how we’re ‘stuck’ with her powers.” She added. If anything, she and the boys thought your abilities were the coolest thing to have ever happened to them. 

He shook his head—who wouldn't crack after being subjected to their ways for so long? He hummed, hiding the seething resentment by ruffling Irene's hair.

"Can you help me distract your mother while I talk to the boys for a bit?" She nodded diligently, skipping over to you before Rick called out to his sons, "Need some help, boys." 

They rushed over, glancing at you before Ethan spoke up first, "She told you?" 

"Yeah." Rick replied as he locked the door.

"Can't we do something about it?" Richie asked with a frown.

"You boys are not punching Blake again." Rick reminded them with a small smile. 

"You didn't seem to mind it," Ethan mirrored his father's amusement, "He was yelling at our teammate and encouraged his troll brother to push Irene off a swing." 

"I'm mad, too," Rick was more than mad, but he couldn't let his emotions run wild, "Look, we'll think of something, alright? For now, just make sure she's happy." 

That's all they ever wanted.

The drive to Pop's was a lively one, and so was the dinner itself. Though you knew you'd be thinking about Mrs Bedford's words every once in a while, the smiles and laughter of your family were already a welcoming distraction as it is. 

Midnight rolled around, and everyone had returned to their rooms with sore cheeks and a full stomach. You were the first to slip under the covers after a shower, hoping you wouldn't be too tired as you waited for Rick, though it didn't work.

By the time Rick got out of the bathroom, you were peacefully asleep, your face just a breath away from your husband's pillow as his scent soothed you like no other. 

Rick smiled to himself, changing into his PJs before sitting on your side of the bed. The dip roused you from your slumber just a little.

"Rick?" You murmured, fluttering your lashes tiredly.

"Forgot to get some water," He caressed your cheek before bending down to kiss it, "I'll be back." 

You mustered a closed-eye smile and before you knew it, you drifted off once again, lulled by the way he patted your back.

Once the coast was clear, he moved off the bed, silently slipping out and closing the door before heading over to the twins' room. He knocked on the door, just enough for them to hear before doing the same with Irene's door and headed downstairs.

Rick sat down at the dining table with a glass of cold water, arms crossed and lost in his own thoughts before hearing light footsteps approaching.

Richie, Ethan and Irene carefully pulled their chairs back before taking a seat, and just like that, the discussion began.

But it didn't seem like they were getting anywhere and at some point, they just started shit-talking.

"Man, I wish coach would just kick Blake out." Ethan groaned, his head falling back. 

"Tell me about it. He's shit at quarterback." Richie clicked his tongue.

"Boys." Rick warned them, partially because his youngest was listening.

"Sorry." They apologized but Irene didn't seem to mind.

"How about…" She chimed in, tapping her finger on her chin, "We scare them?" 

"Like…?" Richie cocked his head, hoping she'd say more than just that.

"I don't know, I just thought it'd be cool since it's Halloween and stuff. And, well, maybe we could use our powers, but I know mama and daddy wouldn't want that." She shrugged, pouting because she hadn't thought it far enough.

"It would be a miracle to scare them without using our powers in the first place," Richie sighed, looking over to his father, "What do you think, dad?" 

No reply.

"Dad?" Ethan followed suit as the three of them raised their brows.

“How far are you in your shadow puppet practice?” Rick asked out of the blue, staring ahead as though imagining whatever idea he had played out. 

“Uh, pretty far, I think? Ma taught us how to merge our shadows into one if we wanted to make a bigger animal.” Richie answered, earning affirmative nods from his siblings. 

“How big?” 

“Like, this big!” Irene opened her arms wide to let him know just how big of a monster they would be able to make if they wanted to. They haven’t, there was no reason to, but the more their father asked, the more it piqued their interest.

Rick thought it through for a moment. It has been a while since he has seen you make that one particular lifeform, but it was worth a shot. If it were able to render Waller speechless, then it’ll definitely make the Bedfords piss their pants. 

No actual attacks, and definitely no killings. But he’ll make sure they shudder at the mere thought of Halloween. Put the fear of God in them. They had it coming, too, stomping on other neighbours’ happiness for years just for the fun of it. 

He just had to play it safe. 

He slowly broke into a sinister smile.

“You three ever heard of a hellhound?”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» a/n: ahh hubby rick &lt;3 ;; gorgeous rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

#reve's quirky reverie 🕷 #— reve's reverie 🌹 #rick flag #rick flag x reader #rick flag x female reader #rick flag x f!reader #rick flag x you #rick flag imagine #rick flag fanfiction #colonel flag #colonel rick flag #colonel rick flag x reader #tss 2021 #tss #joel kinnaman #husband rick #hubby rick

[gojos-fr-bae]

Liar pt.3

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

Pairing: Gojo x fem!eader

Warnings: Pregnancy, sososos saaaaaad, ands, fluff, drinnking, I LOVE Kouki

Word Count: 1k (not them getting shorter)

A/N: BOO! Didin't see this coming huh? Me neither tbh but i didn't go to school yesterday and boredom was kiiling me sooo.....

Month 5

Satrou (I swear we'll see y/n and Kouki this time, allow me this once)

As Satoru slowly awoke from his restless sleep, unbearable nausea overcame him as he threw his bearley living body to his toilet, regurgitating meals he has no memory of even eating. His mouth burned as he vomited bile, burning his tongue.

He had lost his will to live but life refused to let him go. He forced himself to get up, get ready, and prepare himself for the copious amounts of bullshit he would have to deal with throughout whatever amount of time he is able to remain conscious. 

As he sat under a tree, ungodly amounts of booze already flowing through his system, he watched his students train on the plain before him.

He felt the grass beside him shuffle, the scent of surgical spirit and smoke flooding his senses.

“Hey idiot,” Shoko said, her raspy voice barely reaching his ears.

She turned to face her former classmate as he sat there, silent with a stoic face.

“Are you seriously planning on staying boring forever?”

No Answer

Shoko Sighed as she looked at her friend. Ever since you left he had never been the same. It pained her to see the bubbliest, happiest person she has ever known in such a state. It was worlds worse than when they lost Suguru and she couldn’t help but feel for the guy. She placed her hand on his shoulder and rubbed it slowly, facing him as he stared at nothing.

“Please take care of yourself, and slow down with the drinking, you’re cooking yourself.” she said with a softness that was rare to hear from her.

The doctor rose from her seat and looked down at Satoru, he’ll be okay. Sha’s praying for him to be okay.

Year 1 

Y/N

You woke up and immediately ran to your son’s room, excitement having seeped into every bone in your body .When you walked in and saw you ray of sunshine kneeling against the edge of his crib, bright gummy smile with four front teeth showing and you felt like you were about to EXPLODE.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVEEEEYYYYYY!!!!!!!!” You screamed, picking him up and squeezing him to your chest.

His giggles filled the room and you peppered kisses all over his face. You took him to the living room as he clutched the shirt you were wearing. You walked him to the small living room of your quaint apartment, showing him the cake you stayed up all night baking. You laughed as he put his hand on the cake, smearing it all over his face in an attempt to eat it.

You looked at your son and you felt the love spillover as you couldn't help but tear up at the thought that your precious little angel was growing up. You were so, so proud. But the happiness was slightly soured by the fact that you would have to raise him without his father. You thought about Satoru and where he was right now. From what Megumi had told you, he had taken your disappearance har but he couldn’t really tell you more as Satoru and Megumi barely even saw each other seeing as Satoru buries himself in his work now.

You never hated him and never wished anything bad upon him, but you couldn’t help but miss what you shared, yet when you looked down at your cooing baby, you thought about his future and knew you had done what was best for him. You hope so.

Satoru

Gojo sat in the unoccupied nursery with a blue frosted cupcake in his hands and a number 1 lit candle. He had made sure that he was sober throughout the entire day and night prior just for this occasion. He looked down at the empty crib and pictured you and your child celebrating his first birthday, perfectly happy. 

Without him. 

For all he knew you had moved on to someone else and his child had a loving father taking care of him. Hisalready shattered heart only broke more and yet he was so happy and excited and proud that his son was already a year old.Although he wasn't there to witness it, it still filled him with such innocent joy.

“Happy birthday my love,” He whispered, a lone tear cascading down his cheek.”I love you.”

Year 2

Y/N

You were seated at your desk at 11pm, looking down at all the bills that needed payment by the end of the month. Rent, water, electricity, you need to buy food, clothes, new shoes for Kouki, and on top of all of this, he was meant to start school in September which was only a month away and you aren't sure how you were going to make all these payments on time seeing as your job didn’t pay you enough to handle it.

“Mommy?” you heard a soft voice call at the entrance of the office. At your door stood your precious kikufuku dressed in his kitty onesie and blue and white monkey plushie being dragged on the ground behind him as he held it loosely.

“Baby, what are you doing awake?” you cooed as he waddled towards you and raised his arms as a sign for you to carry him. 

You and your son were extremely attached to each other not only because you were his only parent (technically) but because you worked as customer care you were able to work from home, meaning you two were together 24/7 and it showed.

You placed him on your lap and he immediately snuggled as close to you as possible.

“Sweepy,” he murmured, already falling asleep in your arms.

You looked down at him, kissing his forehead as you realized that you might not be able to give him a life that he deserves. 

But you would, If you went back to teaching.

You didn’t want to get yourself involved with what happened right after his birth again but you needed him to have the best life possible. And if that meant you needed to go back, you had no choice. You had to do it for him.

But at what cost?

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

Hope this is good😭🏃🏿‍♀️

Also, Thank you to EVERYONE forthe support, almost at 100 followersssss!!!!! Much love❤️❤️

@porridgesblog , @giannitaa , @c0pkiller , @havens-not-here

© gojos-fr-bae

#gojo satoru #gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo imagine #jujustu kaisen #satoru gojo #gojo angst #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #satoru gojo x reader #geto suguru #suguru #jjk shoko #jujutsu kaisen shoko #jujutsu shoko #shoko ieiri #fushiguro megumi #megumi #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi

[graciegoeskrazy]

they’re just girls

Matty Healy + Teen!Sister!reader

warnings: sad, fluffy, some language ig??

a/n: HI HERES MATTY THING

The both of you made a point to call each other a few times a week, not wanting the distance between you two get in the way of the brother-sister bond. It was usually after school. It didn’t matter if he was in the same city or on the other side of the world in a completely different time zone. He always made a point to call. You got grounded for two weeks starting yesterday. Something about coming home drunk on prom night. (You couldn’t remember all the details because you were too drunk) You didn’t want to mess with your mother so you let it be. You make sure to fill Matty in on your endeavors that night.

He took a puff from a cig as you spoke. “How come Mum is forbidding me from going to parties meanwhile you and all your friends went out everywhere all the time.”

He let out a smile. “She never let me go anywhere. Me and the lads always snuck out.”

You rolled your eyes. That made much more sense. “When will you come to visit?” You asked, voice pleading.

His smirk of a smile quickly faded. “Hard to say, my love. I’m on tour right now so things are a bit complicated.”

“You can’t even come for my birthday?” Your voice pleaded.

“I don’t think so, love. I’m afraid i’m stuck here.” He felt really bad. He really did. It didn’t matter how old you were, you were the baby of the family. His baby. He felt bad enough missing out on you growing up, practically leaving by the time you could babble. He was determined not to miss out on your life. And he didn’t. Despite the enormous age gap and expectations from others to not be the normal sibling type, he made efforts, and the payed off. “Hey.” He said. You slowly looked back at him. You could tell he was sorry. “I’ll find my way home soon. Just takes time, right?”

You looked outside the window next to your bed again. “Yeah.” His heart ached seeing you like this. It became quiet between you two. You sat still looking out, biting your nails. Until, “I gotta go. I have a test I need to study for.”

He sighed, taking another smoke. “Alright.”

“Bye.” You said, turning back to him showing a smile. One he could clearly see through.

“Goodnight, sissy.” He said.

“Night.”

…

Cut to a few days later. Your friend texts you and says that her sister has 2 extra tickets for a 1975 show in London and asks if you want to go. You were technically still grounded so you knew your mom wouldn’t love the idea of a 4-hour road trip with your friends, even if it was to his son’s concert. You recalled the conversation with your brother from a few nights ago. You have barely spoken since then, other than when he commented on a post you made and when you told him to ‘stfu’ when he posted something stupid on his story. You remembered him telling you that he snuck out, and snuck out often.

You were a good girl. As bold and ruthless as you were, you never spoke back, never got in trouble (until now), and you were a straight A student with a stellar GPA. Besides there were other thing your mother and father should be worrying about other than you sneaking out frot a night.

You thought about it for a few minutes, pondering your decision, before eventually texting back your friend and telling her you were in.

You packed your bag in a rush the next day. packing just an outfit for the concert and another comfy one for the late night ride back. As you walked out the front door, not worrying about your mother because she was still working, the realization hit you. You still hadn't told your brother.

…

Hours later, at the actually barricade, situated in the perfect spot between where you brother and Ross would be, you still didn’t. You pondered how you would do it, teasing your friend that you wouldn't tell him at all and wait for him to come out. But, there were too many people in the crowded area and you didn’t want to take that chance. You opened up his contact and texted him a picture of the blue curtain right in front of you. To no one's surprise, he called you immediately.

“Y/n Healy.” He said, as soon as the Facetime connected.

You payed dumb, your friend letting out a laugh as you spoke. “Yessss?”

“Where to fuck are you?” he said.

You played dumb, in hopes of pissing him off more, “Um…at a concert!”

“Who’s concert?” You could hear the band laughing in the background. Matty must have filled hem in.

You shrugged before looking at the camera. “This shit rock band.”

He rolled his eyes and you could hear George let out a laugh beside him. “Does Mum know you’re here?” Your demeanor changed as you tired your best to hold in giggles. “Y/n!” He said.

“What? I missed you!”

“That does not give you an excuse to lie to our parents and take a spontaneous road trip to my gig!” People around started paying attention to the man on your phone screen, realizing it was the man they had come to see.

You smiled. “Well, nice to see you too!”

“Oh my God.” He said, yet again rolling his eyes.

George took the phone from him, knowing his best friend was getting nowhere. “Hi, munchkin.”

“Hi, George!” You smiled. It had been an even longer while since you’ve seen the band.

“Snuck out, did you?” He asked.

“Maybe?” You said, smiling. Even more people started setting whispers. You didn’t care.

“Hm. You at the barricade?”

“Yep! I’m watching the show tonight whether my brother likes it or not!” You replied, smiling once more.

“Nice! I’ll give you a stick.” He smiled before your brother cut it short.

“Stop incoraging her. Give me the phone-“

He reluctantly handed the phone back. “I’m texting Mum. I’m telling her you’re here.”

“Oh, so when you snuck out and did things it was fine? Dude, It’s a 1975 concert. There are more dangerous places to be.”

“You’re 16. You can’t even drive yet, love!”

“Hey! I have my permit.” You said defending yourself.

“Your permit not a license!”

You thought for a moment then rolled your eyes. “It’s fine.”

He sighed. “I’m texting Mum.” He hung up after that.

…

Mum | Go have fun. Give him a big hug for me, alright?

y/n | I’m sorry for sneaking out and driving several hours and lying to you.

Mum | I knew you left, my love. It’s okay.

Mum| I told him to take care of you tonight and send you off in the morning. Be nice and be careful please🩷

y/n | yes maam.

…

Mum | Take care of my girl or you’re grounded.

Matty | I’m 35 mum

Mum | I mean it.

Matty | Love u too

#ty anon! #the 1975 #x daughter!reader #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy x daughter!reader #matty the 1975 #matty x reader #matty healy x sister!reader #x sister reader

[angel-kyo]

Pay it no mind

Part XVI (kinda? Idk. Explanation in the note.)

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself. I would say reader is ooc in this one, or it might feel like that. I don't know. There are also mentions of a difficult family situation (awful father, deceased mother, etc.)... Oh, and this almost makes me look anti-Gojo (I'm not, though).

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV, Part XV

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

“Aomori?” you repeated in disbelief. Isn’t that like…?”

Haruki leaned forward on his elbows on the table and placed his head in his hands in frustration. You watched his fingers bury themselves in his brown curls and tug them.

“It’s about a ten-hour bus ride or four hours in the train...” he said without looking at you. His eyes were on the table, and you could only see the top of his head. “That if I’m lucky… Which I am not, obviously,” he grumbled and lifted his head to look at you.

You two were at the coffee shop where he worked, or rather, used to work. He had submitted his resignation the day before.

“That’s far.” You were not sure of what else to say. The notice of his departure was coming in too sudden. Only a few days ago you had been talking about maybe meeting up on New Year’s Eve, and now he was leaving? “For… For how long?”

Ikeda looked outside and shrugged. “He’s transferring me there so I guess he means at least until the end of high school, and then…” he frowned. In fact, he was not sure of what would happen after that. “I’m sure that jerk will come up with something else.”

Haruki looked back at you and, realizing what he had said, quickly apologized for speaking like that in front of you.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t believe he did this behind my back. I knew he could not stand seeing me, but I never thought he would plan something like this and ambush me any other Tuesday.”

He sighed, and you looked at him with sympathy. It was the most distressed you had ever seen him, and the most upset too.

Haruki, who always looked happy and unbothered when he was with you, had only ever appeared uncomfortable, and sometimes even angered, when he spoke about his father. At first, you had believed they just did not get along, but it was more than that; Haruki had told you once that his father seemed to resent him since his mother left.

“I’ve never blamed her,” he told you one day while you waited for his train, “she was sick and he was never at home, but when he was, he was horrible to her.”

He had then showed you her picture. A beautiful woman with long brown hair and bright eyes a few shades clearer than her locks, smiling and hugging an eight-year-old Haruki; he had definitely gotten the looks from her, and it was evident she had loved him dearly.

Due to her illness, Haruki’s mother had passed away just a couple years after leaving her husband, before she was able to fulfill her promise to his son to come back for him. Hence, Haruki had ended up stuck with a resentful father who was almost never at home, but when he was, he was as horrible to his son as he had been to the mother he resembled. And now, he was sending him to live with his uncle in a distant prefecture to attend a new school.

He had given Haruki little less than a week to, and the boy quoted, “wrap up any business in Tokyo.”

Apparently, that included you, who did your best to comfort him, even if there was not much you could say or do.

“I will miss you,” Ikeda said after you assured him it would be alright and that two or three years would sure fly by, and then he would not need to listen to what his father or his uncle said. It seemed his mood had improved a little at that.

“I will miss you too,” you told him, still wrapping your head around the idea of not seeing him anymore.

If only you could see curses, maybe there would be another way out for you, maybe we could have more time.

You pushed that thought away. That was selfish thinking, was it not? Of course, you would not want Haruki to live in gore and pain as a sorcerer. There had to be better, more peaceful options for him somewhere.

“I like you a lot.” His words pulled you out of your head, and when your eyes focused on him, you noticed his face was flushed, but he was looking right at you. “I think I could have loved you. Not that I don’t now,” he smiled softly, “but in the way I wanted to love you.”

There was a tinge of sadness in his voice, but your heart was beating faster as he spoke. Did that mean you wanted to love him too?

“I…” you started, but he shook his head and smiled.

“It’s fine. I thought we had more time, so I did not tell you sooner, but now, I just realized I wanted to let you know in person.”

Haruki had not planned to confess that day. He was only going to tell you he was leaving and ask you to stay in touch but realizing that it might be the last time he was going to see you in, perhaps, a long time, he felt he needed to tell you. He had wanted to tell you since the first time you had accepted going out with him that summer, but he then thought it was better not to rush and just let your friendship take its course.

At the end of the day, people should honor their feelings.

That he believed whole-heartedly. That is why Gojo’s attitude had annoyed him, acting as a jealous boyfriend around you if he was nearby but still claiming to be just your friend. If he wanted more, he should admit it instead of doing whatever he thought he was doing that day he accompanied him to the station.

“Haruki, I like you too,” you said sincerely.

But do you like me as I like you? the boy wondered.

He would not ask you that as he would not ask for more at this point. What could he ask, that you waited for him? He was not that arrogant to believe you had to do it nor that idealistic to make promises he knew time could swallow. Knowing that you had cared about him was enough.

He gave you a closed-eye smile. “I’m so glad.”

***

But saying it had not changed anything. You and Haruki had agreed to staying in touch and he had hugged you tightly before letting you go.

Maybe he knew we would drift apart.

You had kept texting and calling each other after that. Once he was with his uncle, he had given you his address, so you could exchange letters; he even sent you a few postcards with some pretty views around his new city. For a little while, you thought you could remain friends and just live on it, but his absence became increasingly painful, and when you both got busy with school again, and he was barely replying to your messages and his letters felt distant, the realization that maybe you had truly loved and lost was devastating.

It happened slowly but not painlessly. There was just never a good time for a quick call anymore, the messages were fewer and shorter, and you probably did not reply to the last one because there was nothing to say, and finally, the letters. Oh, the letters... Once funny and vibrant as your friend had been, they became nothing but curt and disappointing. It was hard to believe that two people who once had so much to talk about could barely bring themselves to write more than a few lines for each other.

I guess people can enter your life seamlessly, but they can hardly leave like that.

Your friends comforted you to their best, and Satoru made it his mission to ensure you would not feel lonely doing the things you liked anymore. Despite your protests, he attached himself to your hip as he had done it when you were kids, even on the days when you did not want to leave your room.

And when, months after Haruki’s departure, you sat down in front of the training fields, tired of waiting for a letter that would not come, Satoru held your hand firmly as you accepted your loss and stayed by your side unfaltering, the same way you would do for him when Suguru left you all later down the road.

That was how, as the seasons changed, you quietly let go of your friend who had been a child of the spring himself.

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

Note: I almost did not want to include this part? I mean, I felt like the other guy needed some explaining, and as much as I enjoyed it, I would say this is almost a filler, so I'm sorry of it's bad. Anyways, if the next part is not the last one, it will sure bring us quite closer. I've not forgotten where I left Satoru, promise!

Thank you for reading!

Next: Part XVII

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz @luciledreamz @avidreadee123 @moonmalice @ratscandaler @sadmonke @allie-jay @username23345 @spin-garden @ashehateaccount @kayzens @blehtotheblehtothebleh @stellasloth @bloopsstuff

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk fanfic #jjk drabbles #gojo x y/n #reader x character #gojo fanfic #fluff #jujutsu kaisen #pay it no mind #i might delete this later #or maybe not #gojo satoru #jjk gojo

[therealcocoshady]

Lilly and Marshall go out in a public setting and paparazzi start taking lots of pictures and this has never happened to Lilly before so she’s flipping out and Marshall goes into protective dad mode

Author’s Note : thank you for your request ❤️. I always have fun writing about Marshall & Lily ✨. Here is the fic, I hope you enjoy it !

Protective DILF

Being pregnant with twins wasn’t going to be easy, especially when it’s a « geriatric pregnancy ». That’s what the doctors explained when they told Y/N and Marshall that they were expecting not one, but two babies. And as the pregnancy progressed, it turned out to be true : it was exhausting carrying twins and dealing with the symptoms. Marshall’s wife was told to rest as much as possible, even though it was definitely easier said than done with Lily, who was demanding a lot of attention. They’d been told it was normal, but ever since she learned that she was going to be a big sister, she tended to be less independent, seeking her parents’ help and attention for most things. Thankfully, Marshall kept true to his word to be there for every step of the pregnancy and he was as present as necessary for everyone. Since Y/N was put on bedrest, he was the one dealing with taking Lily to school, picking her, taking her to her various activities, as well as managing the entire household. Thank God Lily was an easy child with a good temper, because he had a lot on his plate. And he definitely didn’t need the drama that was about to take place.

Lily had been pestering him about going to Chuck E. Cheese. It was one of her favorite places and, usually, Y/N went with her, but she didn’t have the energy. Plus, their little one was really into the trampoline section and it was definitely not ideal for an expecting mother. So it now fell upon him and it did take some convincing from his wife and older daughters but he ended up taking her. At first, he considered paying to have the place closed and avoid attention, but Y/N reminded him that the purpose of such a place was for their little girl to socialize with other children. He ended up reviewing logistics with his security team, picking a day of the week where the place would not be busy and agreeing that two guards would be waiting in a car outside, ready to intervene at any moment should anyone discover that he was there. Y/N questioned the need for security altogether but he insisted. Call it a gut feeling, parental instinct or straight up paranoia, but he felt more at ease having security around. He usually didn’t bother being escorted when it came to everyday life, but it wasn’t the usual errands in their neighborhood where everyone knew them, so it actually made sense to him. If it were just him, he wouldn’t care, but he wouldn’t take any risk regarding Lily.

His baby girl had a blast at Chuck E. Cheese, jumping around and playing games. He was happy to see her all giddy and smiling, cherishing the last moments with her as the baby of the household. Him and Y/N would never neglect her for the benefit of the babies, but he knew they would have their hands full and that moments like these would be more rare. Lily was jumping on the trampoline with a few other kids while he was sipping on some Diet Coke, texting Y/N that everything was going great when a Mom came to him.

- Hi, she said with a bright smile. Is the little girl over there yours ?

- Hi, he replied, looking up from his phone. Yeah, actually. Did something happen ? Did she fall ?

- No, relax, she said with a laugh. She’s actually super cute. She’s playing with my son over there.

- Oh, ok, he said.

- I’m Sandy, she said as she extended her hand. Marshall, is it ?

- Indeed, he said politely.

- It’s so nice to meet you, she continued. I’ve been a fan for years. Mind if I take a selfie of us ?

She already had her phone in hand, ready to take the damn selfie before he could even refuse. She was nice and rather polite and, usually, he would oblige, but he was in a Chuck E. Cheese, with his daughter nearby and now was definitely not the time to take selfies with fans, regardless of how nice they were. He immediately stopped her with a move of his hand.

- I appreciate it, Sandy, but I’d rather not take selfies now, he said as he tried to keep his composure. It’s a family place, I’m with my kid, I’m sure you understand.

- Right, she said. Sorry. I didn’t know you had a younger one. Or that you’re married…

She was looking intently at his wedding band. When he made public appearances, he made sure to take it off (in fact, his team had an explicit order to remind him) but, other than that, he wore it all the time. He immediately put his hand in his pocket.

- Well… Privacy, he simply said. That has nothing to do with hip-hop, you know ?

- Your wife is lucky, she said with a seductive grin. It’s a shame that…

- DADDY ! Lily called him, saving him from the interaction that was growing unpleasant.

- Excuse me, he said politely.

He immediately walked over to his little one, thankful that she called him when she did. She wanted to go to the tube and tunnels area with him and he happily obliged. He focused his undivided attention on Lily and soon forget about Sandy. So much so that he didn’t notice her snapping a picture of him, waiting for Lily to go down the slide. About thirty minutes later, one member of his security team came to see him.

- Mr Mathers ?

- Yeah, John ? He asked. What are you doing inside ? What’s wrong ?

- There’s an… issue, the guard said. Someone tipped off the media, there’s about ten reporters out front. We need to leave.

- Fuck, Marshall sighed. Alright. Lily, come here baby, we’re going home.

- No, Daddy, I want to stay here a little longer, the little one said with pleading eyes. We’re having fun.

- I know bug, but we’ve been here for a while now, he said. Time to go.

He tried not to communicate his anxiety to his daughter. He could see the place’s staff at the entrance, no doubt talking about the reporters. The last thing he wanted was to cause a scene. He just wanted to avoid Lily’s picture being taken.

- What do we do ? He asked the guard.

- I took the liberty to call for a couple more colleagues, just in case, John explained. They’ll be here in ten minutes. Once they arrive, I’ll walk you to the car. I think we should ask the manager if we can use the back exit.

- Good, Marshall said. Lily, put on your shoes, ok ?

- What’s wrong, Daddy ? She asked, sensing that he was nervous.

- There’s a couple of reporters outside, he calmly explained. Remember when I told you about people possibly bugging us ? We’re going to go to the car in a few minutes, and I’m going to need you to listen to me, baby. You do as I say, alright ?

His daughter nodded, nervously glancing at the door. There was a crowd, starting to gather, causing panic among the staff, and it was starting to be noisy. He took off his hoodie and his hat and put them on her. He wanted to hide her face as much as possible.

- I can’t see, Daddy, she complained.

- Just keep these on until we’re in the car, baby, he directed.

When John told him they could go, he carried Lily and they attempted to take the emergency exit, though some reporters were there as well. They retreated inside, the situation starting to get on his nerves. John offered to take Lily with him while Marshall walked to the car with another guard but the little one protested. The noise was starting to freak her out and, as soon as Marshall tried to hand her to John, she started crying.

- Daddy, no, come back ! She almost screamed.

- Baby, it’s just for two minutes, I’ll meet you in the car, he said as reassuringly as he could.

- Don’t leave, she cried. Daddy !

She was starting to sniffle and panic and he knew he couldn’t leave her like this. He held her close and tried to soothe her, tracing circles on her back.

- I’m scared, she whispered.

- I know, he said. It’s scary. But I’m taking care of it, ok ?

His team brought the car as close as they could to the exit and he sent one of them to ask the press not to swarm them. They seemed to reach an agreement, saying they just wanted pictures of him and that they would leave his child alone. He hated the idea of being photographed anyway, but this seemed like a decent deal : at least, Lily’s face wouldn’t be out there. He would allow them to take a pic of him once Lily was in the car. They finally managed to step outside as he was holding Lily who was hidden in his hat and hoodie, face buried in his neck. The reporters were asking questions about her, who she was, if he had her with Kim, but at least, they didn’t snap any pictures. He stayed silent, though, refusing to comment. He was strapping Lily in her carseat when he heard a flash. He immediately slammed the car door shut and turned, only to see a paparazzi holding a lens way too close. He instantly grabbed the camera and dropped it on the ground. The man protested, complaining about the price of his equipment but he couldn’t care less.

- I hope you have good dental insurance, Marshall warned.

- You’re not hitting me, the man taunted. We already have pics of your kid, we’ll publish them anyw-

- LEAK ONE PIC OF HER AND I’LL FUCKING DESTROY YOU, he threatened as he grabbed him by the collar. NOW YOU LEAVE US THE FUCK ALONE !

The conflict started to escalade and his bodyguards had to intervene, to protect both him and the paparazzi. He was ready to throw some fists and almost forgot that Lily was able to see the whole scene from the car. John talked some sense into him and he got in the backseat, sitting next to his freaked out daughter, letting his security drive. He helped her take his hat off, examining her tear-stained face.

- It’s alright, babygirl, he said softly. We’re safe.

- You scared me, Daddy ! She said. You screamed real, real loud.

- I know, baby, I’m sorry, he said apologetically. But I’m not letting anyone taking your picture. Because I don’t want anyone bugging you.

She nodded and he held her hand for the rest of the drive, trying to manage his own anger. If Lily had not been with him, he probably would have made a u-turn and broken a few noses. Thankfully, his team was handling everything. When they got home, he let Lily watch some TV while he went to find Y/N, who was resting in their bedroom. He wasn’t too sure how to break the news to her that, nearly four years after he adopted Lily, the press knew he had another kid. However, it seemed like he didn’t need to. She was looking at him with an annoyed look on her face.

- You already know ? He asked with a raised eyebrow. News travels fast…

- I have nothing better to do than scroll on my phone all day, she sighed. Of course I know. How is Lily ?

- Scared but ok, I guess, he said. Managed to calm her down in the car. She’s watching TV now.

- Ok, she said with a reassured expression. And you ?

He didn’t reply, simply shrugged. He wasn’t quite sure how he was feeling. Pissed off, for sure, but also nervous and disappointed. He wasn’t quite sure how much the pictures showed, and where to go from here. How would the public react to him being married, having a secret kid and two more on the way ? Paul would probably advise him to put out a statement so he should think of what to say… he would have wanted to keep his family life a secret longer. The last four years with Y/N and Lily by his side had been so enjoyable and he wanted nothing more but to shield them from his fame. And the thought of the public knowing about his unborn babies made him terrified of the potential attention they would get, too. Honestly, the thought of living his little family to another country didn’t seem so bad. He sighed and sat next to her on the bed, before eventually laying his head on her lap. Y/N gently ran her fingers in his hair, gently scratching his scalp and he closed his eyes for a minute.

- I’m sorry, he muttered.

- Whatever for ? She asked. You’re not the one who tipped the media…

- I failed to protect you guys, he sighed. I failed to protect Lily… you should have seen her, babe… you should have seen them. Hovering like vultures, screaming, scaring her.

- We always knew it might happen, she said. I’m gutted, don’t get me wrong, but we managed to protect her for five years. Married four without people knowing. In hindsight, it’s a miracle people didn’t find out sooner.

- I guess, he shrugged. Still, I’m mad at myself… I scared Lily.

- What did you do ?! She asked, suddenly alarmed.

- I… lost it with a guy, he explained. He tried to take a pic of Lily ! I grabbed him and gave him a piece of my mind.

- So you basically assaulted a man in front of our daughter ?! Y/N asked, starting to get worked up.

- Look, I’m not proud of myself, he groaned. But I wasn’t about to let him get away with that. I simply grabbed him, I didn’t break his nose. No matter how badly he would have deserved it…

- Marshall…, she scolded.

- I know, he simply said. It fucking sucks. I just wanted Lily to have a good time. Now, I’m going to have to call Paul and my publicist… fuck.

- I’m sorry, my love, Y/N said as she kept on stroking his head.

They stayed like this for a moment, enjoying each other’s comforting presence, and Y/N finally went downstairs to check on Lily. She was fine, though she did mention the whole thing was scary. Marshall stayed upstairs for a moment, gathering his thoughts and trying to pace himself before calling Paul back. His manager had tried to reach him ten times in the past hour, leaving various voice messages, urging him to call back. There were good and bad news. The good news was that Lily’s face didn’t appear anywhere, concealed thanks to Marshall’s hoodie and hat. The only thing the media saw of her were her jeans and sneakers. The bad news, however, was that the whole thing had been filmed and that images of an angry Marshall smashing the reporter’s camera were being shared on social media at the speed of light. The response was overall positive and people tended to support him instead of the reporter, who was clearly at fault. However, there was a lot of speculation and even people who claimed to have insider information, making false allegations. They had no choice but to put out a statement. They had a conference call with their publicist, who suggested only giving the necessary information. After quickly consulting with Y/N, he decided not to give any details on Lily, not giving away her name nor her age, as well as avoiding mentioning the pregnancy. The statement would only acknowledge the day’s events, as well as confirm that Lily was, indeed, his daughter and that he was married. To him, that was enough.

« As the result of the publication on social media of a picture taken without consent, today’s events have caused a lot of speculation regarding Mr Mathers’(professionally known as Eminem) family life. Mr Mathers expresses his regret for how the situation unfolded, the altercation with the press having caused distress not only for him but also for the other people present at the location. Mr and Mrs Mathers formally oppose the publication of any media depicting their child and ask for the respect of the privacy of their family life. They also express their intention to sue any individual trying to sell pictures of their daughter, as well as any media outlet who might publish them. »

In the evening, a couple of hours later, the internet was in a frenzy over the whole thing and the confirmation that Marshall was, indeed, married and had a younger daughter. A lot of people were also swooning over the pictures of him holding Lily, obsessing over his strong arms and stern look.

- The internet seems to be obsessing over you again, Y/N mentioned while he was preparing dinner.

- Well I’d rather have them forget all about me, he groaned. I swear, I’m going to retire, just to get some peace. Or move us to the edge of the earth…

- It’s not so bad, she commented. They appreciate how protective you are. Also, calling you the ultimate DILF. I don’t disagree…

- DILF, huh ? He asked with a sudden smirk.

- Look who’s suddenly in a good mood, she grinned.

- I like that you agree with them, he said with a smile. Maybe you could show me how much, later ?

- Gladly, she said as she pecked him on the cheek.

He turned his face and kissed her lovingly. They were interrupted by Lily.

- Mommy what’s that word ? She asked with a raised eyebrow.

- What word, baby ? Y/N asked.

- The one you said. DILF.

- Oh… hum… it’s a word people use when a Dad is very attractive, Y/N explained as she tried to contain her laughter. Like, when they want to talk to him and flirt…

- Like with Daddy and the lady today ? Lily asked innocently.

- Yes, like Daddy and- wait what ? What lady ?

Marshall said nothing and focused on the vegetables he was chopping for dinner, conveniently ignoring the conversation.

- There was a lady who talked to Daddy today at Chuck E. Cheese, Lily explained. She was smiling a lot.

- Interesting, Y/N said with a raised eyebrow. Looks like someone doesn’t need my appreciation…

- Come on, babe. It happens, Marshall hummed.

- Does it, now ?

- All the time, Lily said. All the mommies at my school-

- Lily, baby, how about you go and watch some cartoons before dinner, mmh ? Marshall suggested to cut the conversation short.

- Ok, the little one said with a shrug.

Y/N was leaning against the kitchen island, visibly upset and pouting. He sighed and went to hug her but she turned her head.

- Thought you agreed with the DILF thing ? He asked with a smile.

- They’re allowed to think it, not to act on it…, she groaned.

- No one’s doing anything, he chuckled. Just a couple of smiling, very friendly ladies. What’s up ? You’re usually not as upset when it comes to groupies or fans…

- I know, she said. But this is real life. Now that you’re the one going places with Lily and taking her to school… I hate thinking about all of them making eyes at you. Especially while I’m bored, at home, getting fat.

- You’re not getting fat, he chuckled. I mean, you are, you’re huge, but-

- MARSHALL !!!

- It’s because you’re growing two beautiful babies, he continued. Our babies. No one holds a candle to you. I might be a DILF but you’re the ultimate MILF.

- You think ? She asked with a pout.

- No one ever made pregnancy look so hot, he said lovingly. If you weren’t supposed to rest so much, I would gladly show my appreciation all day, everyday…

- I love you, she chuckled. But im glad that everyone knows we’re married, though.

- Territorial much, Mrs Mathers ? He asked.

- Yes, she giggled. Very.

- I like it, he chuckled.

- You have to protect what’s yours, right ?

- Right. And believe me, I’m going to do everything I can to protect what’s mine, he replied as he put a hand on her round belly.

She cooed and placed a hand over his, when they felt a little kick. They immediately looked at each other and smiled. It was the first time they felt one of the babies move. Y/N’s eyes immediately filled with happy tears and Marshall kneeled to place a kiss on his wife’s stomach.

- That’s right, guys, he said with an emotional smile. I’m always going to protect you.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #Marshall and Lily

[gothicflowers]

Til Death Ch.1

Alex Keller x F!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, Angst, some fluff eventually, maybe even some smut, who knows. Bad grammar/writing because I didn’t go to school past 8th grade (dead serious)

“Hi sweetheart” Alex’s mom’s south voice came through the phone.

“Hi mom” Alex cheerfully replied.

“How you been sweetheart” she asked.

“Been alright, just staying busy with work” alex knew better than to give his mom too much stressful information about his job. She’s one to worry.

“Don’t you think it’s time to find something new to do for a living? You’ve been at this for almost eight years” she asked once again, she’s been trying to push him to change careers for what feels like forever.

“I know” Alex tried to not sound annoyed because he knows it’ll start a fight. He knows she means well but she always brings it up every chance she can.

“How are you two gonna start a family if all you do is travel around doing God knows what” she said almost bitterly.

Alex sighed “I know mom”

“How is she” his mom asked. She loved hearing about Alex’s sweet girl. She was everything she hoped her son would find in a partner.

“She’s doing good, same as me. Busy with work” Alex smiled at the thought of you.

“Well I was gonna ask just to make sure, she is coming to your sister’s wedding with you. Right?” His mom was growing impatient having never met you. You were always out on mission, meetings, sleeping. Every phone call you seemed to be unaccounted for.

“I don’t know mom” Alex replied trying to stay calm and quiet so nobody else in the building heard him. Last thing Alex wanted was for someone to find out.

“Hold on your dad and sister just got here, I’m putting you on speaker” she said.

“Hey kiddo” his father yelled into the phone.

“Hi dad” Alex knew this was about to go terribly.

“Hey bitch” Alex’s sister Beth chimed in.

“Hello to you to” his voice filled with annoyance from hearing her voice. It wasn’t that he hated her, it’s that she’s the golden child he’s always been compared to.

“So she’s coming right” his mom asked again.

“Mom I said I don’t know, our boss is picky with time off so he might not let us both off at the same time” he replied trying to cover as best as he could.

“You’ve been with her for three years. She’s never even visited with you the past two times you came home” his dad said in a stern voice. Alexs dad is the only one to have met her, he works a job similar to Alex and they crossed paths about three and a half years ago.

“I know, it’s not that she doesn’t want to meet you guy. It’s just that it didn’t work out the last time” he tried to sound sincere.

“Three years, she’s never around when you call, no visits, no pictures of you two together” Beth said.

“We can’t have personal phones or cameras with us on assignments Beth” Alex contemplated if just hanging up would be best.

“Ok, well what about when you’re off work” she’s persistent to crack him.

“Beth what are you trying to get at here” he sneered at her.

“You’ve been faking having a girlfriend haven’t you” her tone was cocky.

“Seriously Beth? You think I would lie about having a girlfriend for almost three years?” Alex said nervously laughing knowing the truth.

“I think you would, you’ve always been jealous of me so your trying to make yourself look good to the family”

“Beth, that’s uncalled for” his dad said to her.

Alex sighed “No Beth I’m not lying”.

“Ok, well if you two have been together for three years when’s the wedding? Three years and you haven’t fully committed to her. You must just be a easy lay for her”

“Beth” His mom yelled at her.

Before he could stop himself he said “Beth I’ll have you know we got engaged last month” it was too late to take back.

For the rest of the conversation his parent were ecstatic. And Beth was pissed off to say the least. The questions seemed to be never ending, his family was excited to be growing. When would the wedding be? Where? Can we give you a list of who to invite? Have you told your grandma yet?

Alex tried and tried to tell them not to share the news of his engagement. Alex told them he wanted to be the one to share the good news, but knew they are going to share the news regardless of his wishes. His mother especially, she lives for gossip and drama.

His mother finally slowed the conversation after almost another hour “Well I best get off this phone now dear so you can go get some sleep, tell your sweetie I love you both”

“Will do, love you too mom” Alex said still trying to grasp his own stupidity.

And now Alex sits alone in the mess hall wondering how he could have dug himself such a big hole. And why did he have to drag her into this.

He couldn’t just tell his parents they ended their engagement. Surly not before his sister’s wedding. Last thing he needed was for his visit to be filled with pitiful conversations about him.

How the hell was he going to fix this?

#flowerwrites #alex keller #captain john price #call of duty #cod #cod alex keller #alex keller call of duty #alex keller smut #alex keller imagine #alex keller x reader #alex keller x you #alex keller cod #john price #john price x y/n #captain john price x you #rudy parra #alejandro vargas #nikolai #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x you #tildeathalexkeller #johnny soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #nikto #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #roldofo parra #simon ghost riley #rodolfo rudy parra #john price smut

[yellow-berrys]

the gist of it | remus lupin x fem!reader

domesticity diaries pt 1 

summary: you’re meeting Remus’ mother for the first time, and it’s overwhelming how lovely the house is. an: this is pretty short! 

navigation | masterlist 

Hope Lupin knocked on the plain white door before her, adorned with the number “74”. Her son, Remus, had given her a copy of the keys to his apartment a few years back. They filled up her keychain nicely, the one with the picture of him grinning at something in the distance taken by Sirius. Sirius had told her, “It’s the girlfriend he’s mooning at.” She didn’t believe him at first- Remus told her everything but he had never mentioned a girl. Sirius had laughed, “Soon to be girlfriend, then.” 

In a way, she knew you before she really did, you were in his eyes, in that smile she’d never seen before in him. She had asked Remus about it. Back to her, washing dishes, he smiled to himself. 

“She’s everything, Mum.”

Hope had sat back in her chair, holding a cup of tea to her lips. A “Best Mum Ever” cup hid her satisfied smile. 

“Your girlfriend?”

He had shaken his head, “I don’t think she knows I exist.”

It wasn’t a sad admission, just one of a boy who loved. Remus had told Hope so much about you that Hope could nearly piece you together. Even after he graduated, he kept talking, perhaps more. And once when he stopped at her house, carrying plastic bags which dropped to the floor with a thud, he had the biggest grin on his face. 

“She wants to take things slow.”

“Slow is good. Slow is steady.” 

Remus knew there was more coming. 

“When can I meet her?”

“Mum!”

You had always expressed enthusiasm for meeting his mother, but he didn’t. He was afraid one day you might realise he wasn’t good enough for you, and not only him, but his mother would be too attached to you. 

“C’mon, I’m not that bad,” you had told him.

“”s not that I’m worried about,” he had mumbled into your hair. 

It had been a while since he had started dating you and Hope had noticed changes in her son. He used to walk home sadly after a day spent with her, not wanting to leave his mother but needing to go to school, to go to work, to go live his own life. But now he left as if he had something waiting for him at home. He didn’t slouch as badly as he did anymore, and he took off his jumper in the summer. When Hope saw Remus pass a mirror and glance into it, gone was the self-loathing, but a passive fondness for himself, an absent-minded smile on his lips. He looked healthier and sometimes he smelt like a girl. 

Hope always joked, “Been running in a flower garden?” 

Remus always answered, “Might as well have been.”

One day, Remus had visited Hope and she had asked the question again. 

“When am I going to meet her? I won’t be around forever.”

Instead of the “Mum!” that followed he said, “Actually, we’ve been talking about it. She wants to meet you.” 

It was nearing 7 in the evening and Hope had come with baked goods and a warm meal. There was a sliver of light coming out from underneath the door, and Remus always turned his lights off when he wasn’t going to be home. Hope pressed her ear to the door, and smiled as she heard a different choice of music to what Remus usually had on. He was branching out, good. 

“Coming!” You called, expecting it to be Remus. Hope frowned. Remus didn’t say you would be home earlier than him. 

The door opened and you stared at the woman at your doorstep. She had a remarkable resemblance to Remus, eyes a warm amber, bridged to her pupils with a shiny olive green. She was inquisitively staring at you, a look very familiar. You smiled, “Good evening,” putting out your hand which she promptly shook, “You must be Remus’ mother!”

“Not sister?” she searched your face. 

“Certainly young enough to be,” you winked at her. She laughed. She liked you. 

A quick exchange of names which you both already knew was entreated by a warm hug. 

“Where is he?” Hope asked as she entered the apartment, dropping her bag down and surveying the surroundings. 

You giggled, “Rem’s held up in traffic. He always is on Friday nights, he’ll be home soon.”

“No rush. His girlfriend is nicer than him anyway. I can’t detect any 3-in-1 in your hair,” she laughed, a tinkling noise akin to bells. It was Remus’ laugh, albeit three octaves higher. 

You joined in, “Remus doesn’t use 3-in-1 anymore,” you tipped your head up royally, sarcastically and she made an impressed noise. Hope surveyed the apartment. It was much nicer than when Remus was living in it alone. The lights were bright and golden, there was a large expanse for Remus’ books and motivational quotes which he no doubt thought were cheesy but necessary. 

“You don’t know how much he talks about you when he comes to see me.”

Red rose to your cheeks. 

“It’s always ‘mum, she’s so pretty and mum, she’s so nice to me’. Oh and he’s told me other things too. I know your favourite everythings.”

It began to make you shy, so you diverted the subject. 

“Do you want a tour?” you asked.

“Please!” 

You hooked your arm under hers and took her through your apartment. 

“This is where you’ll be staying tonight.” 

“Hang on-”

“Hope, Rem’s told me a lot about you too. You’re too precious to be driving home late at night.” 

“You do have a point.”

You smiled. “This is the laundry.” 

It smelt like dryer sheets, flowers and fruit in the laundry and Hope smiled to herself. 

“And it smells like me because I do the laundry.”

Hope frowned. “Really.”

“Oh no, it’s not like that. I clean, do the laundry. He cooks, does the dishes and does the fixing around the house.”

She smiled, “Who makes the bed?”

“Whoever wakes later.”

“I like it.”

“I do too, Hope.” 

She caught a glance of Remus’ forest green jumper, his tan coat, his navy vest, white button down shirt swirling in the wash against your clothes and it made her tear up. She turned to wipe them quickly. 

You didn’t notice, choosing to lead her into the master bedroom. It was the perfect mix of you and Remus. Remus’ side of the bed was marked with a stack of books and an open notebook. Hope approached his bedside table and sat on the bed, taking in all her emotions. It was soft, but to Remus’ liking. The bedsheets were a peculiar shade of blue. So were the walls. 

You grinned, “Remus read a medical journal which told him blue has the most propensity for a good night’s sleep. Shame it doesn’t go well with any other colour, but he looked so sweet picking it out in the hardware store that I couldn’t resist. It was to help him sleep too, even if it was a placebo.”

“The stool.”

“The stool is charming. Everything in his apartment was really tall, and out of reach for me. So he got me a stool.”

Hope laughed.

“This is the ensuite.”

It had a bath. It had a bath! 

Hope grinned, “It has a bath!”

“I know! Remus used to always say that he didn’t deserve baths, but I convinced him to start taking them with me and now I find him sitting in a pool of petals and lavender all by himself. It’s lovely, really.”

She peeked around the curtain, seeing bottles of quality, non-3-in-1 shampoo and pretty body washes. There was a bar of soap that looked like a piece of watermelon, Argan oil on the bathroom counter and perfume bottles next to Remus’ cologne. Lavender oil sat near the tap, well used, with a backup next to it. One of Remus’ books, heavily waterproofed, sat on a wooden tray. It was proof he did bathe and what more, enjoyed it.

There was skincare in the cupboard and an air freshener in the corner. 

Remus’ razor was kept in a little cup with his hair clippers and shaving cream. It was a woman’s.

“They’re much better for his skin,” you smiled. “I’ll bet.”

There wasn’t a complete blindside to his usual routine. Hope could see the toothpaste Remus had picked out. “It’s gotta be perfectly minty without being too spicy,” he had always explained. And “the toothbrushes must be decently ergonomic.”

On the mirror there was a yellow sticky note. When Hope shuffled closer to it, it read hey handsome, stop looking at yourself like that. you’re beautiful. you deserve everything in the world. Pasted underneath it was a picture of you looking grumpy. 

She found the tears swarming in her eyes, crumpling down on the floor in sobs. 

“Oh, god,” you kneeled down to her, “Hope, are you okay?”

She nodded, still crying.

“Oh, dear, let’s get you somewhere comfy.”

You helped her onto your bed, and she sobbed again upon smelling her Remus bundled with you. 

“I’ll go get you a nice warm drink.”

You fixed her up a cup of hot chocolate, steaming as she clutched it within her hands. 

“I’m just so happy for my boy,” she choked out, “And he’s so happy, and this home is so wonderful. Thank you.”

“Remus treats me so well, Hope. And you are just something else.”

“Lyall and I never had this, this domesticity,” She said shyly, “He was never good to me like you are to Remus. Our house was always just mine, and he was never there. I never saw my old plates with his.”

You didn’t know what to say, embracing her. 

She started crying again. It took some time before you successfully comforted her, and you could hear keys jingling. 

Remus was confused as to why no one had flung open the door and flung their arms around him. But there were tupperware containers of food and cake on top of the kitchen table, so his mum must be here. And he could sense you, you were definitely somewhere in the vicinity. 

He never liked talking louder than he needed to. Or talking that all, that is. So he padded through the rooms, wracked with confusion as he saw you and his mother, the latter looking anguished. 

“Honey!” You gushed as soon as you saw Remus and Hope smiled, tears brimming at the corner of her eye. Remus gave you a chaste kiss on the head and an urgent squeeze at your waist. 

“My boy,” she sniffled, “I’m so sorry, I’ve ruined this get together.” You let them have some time together, warming up the food and setting up the table. 

Dinner was a quiet affair, nothing but the scraping of cutlery and bowls clinking together. Remus let you show Hope to her room to get washed up as he did the dishes. You joined him soon enough, sitting at the table. He sat next to you. You leaned your head onto his shoulder. He was tense. 

“Your mum’s cool, Rem.”

Relaxing, he looked down at you, “Thanks for making her feel welcome, love.”

“She’s a big part of you, so naturally she’ll be a big part of me. It’s the least.”

“I suppose she also told you how into you I am,” he said softly. 

“The gist of it.”

“The gist of it,” he pondered, “I guess I’ll just have to tell her more, then, hey?”

#Remus Lupin #Remus John Lupin #remus lupin x you #remus x you #remus x reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus x y/n #remus lupin x reader angst #remus lupin x reader fluff #fluff #angst #sirius black x reader #sirius black #padfoot #padfoot x reader #moony x reader #moony #hogwarts #jk rowling #gryffindor #reader insert #james potter x reader #romance #fanfic #Harry Potter #marauders #remus lupin x fem!reader

[greg-montgomery]

what makes hotch so appealing to you?

this is for day 15 of the marchhotchness event by @hotchfiles bc i always want an excuse to rant about why i love aaron hotchner 🫶🏻

to me, aaron = safety & comfort.

he looks like someone who no matter what the problem is he’s gonna deal with it. he’s a “we’ll figure it out together” man. you can count on him!! it just feels like he has all the answers! i’d never be scared if i had him by my side. imagine being loved by this man. it’s just !!!!

i love the “dad of the group” vibe he has. bc once again it’s that protective energy that drives me crazy. and makes me wanna be special to him.

he’s been through so so much. he’s so strong. the woman he loved was murdered and he’ll always feel responsible for that even if it wasn’t his fault. he saw her dead and had to be calm enough to comfort his son - NOT EVEN KNOWING IF HE’D FIND HIM ALIVE!

everything is always falling on him and yet he never complains? he feels like he’s not enough, he has so much on his shoulders but he only talks about it to haley in that dream he had :( “it gets hard. and i’m alone.” and yet he keeps doing his best for jack and for his team.

he’s a sweet and patient dad to jack. carrying a picture of him and haley to his trips, watching videos of him and smiling, kissing him goodnight, making cookies with him, hugging him, helping him with his halloween costumes, visiting his teacher to keep up with how he’s doing at school 🥹

he has the reputation that he’s tough and serious and all that, which like…yeah he is. he’s scary. but to the people he loves? pls let’s see how he is with penelope who is his soft spot. every time he comforted her 🥹 when he stayed with her bc she was sad and they cooked together!! when he told her she’s special and wouldn’t want her to change! when he didn’t get mad at reid for calling him a narcissist and choosing him bc he didn’t look at things selfishly. he could have been offended but his only concern was getting spencer back safe so he knew he was lying. when he was so protective of emily and said “if anything happens to her i will destroy you”. when jj was pregnant and he was so hurt she didn’t tell him :( he’s doing his best to be supportive and protective of them and he still feels like an outsider probably :( when he went to elle’s house to clean the blood off her wall. the tough love he gave to morgan bc he wanted to protect the team and make him leader of the group. he felt responsible for everyone.

and i mentioned this again but he’s lonely :( and lonely characters have my heart. you can have family and friends and still feel lonely sometimes and i think that’s aaron. and i wish i could take that away and never let him feel lonely ever again.

and ofc another thing that makes him appealing to me is that he is the most beautiful man i’ve ever seen in my entire life 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

#marchhotchness #hotch 🪐

[darklydeliciousdesires]

La Dolce Vita - John Shelby/Cosima Changretta (OFC).

So, I decided to begin this new little series of mine, besties. It shan't be delivered in regular chapter form, but a series of one-shot parts that will tell the story of John and Cosima's marriage, beginning from their wedding day. I hope you enjoy it :)

Words - 3,682

Warnings - Each part will be adult only content, from swearing to eventual smut and violence. Minors DNI.

Part I - Inferno

The blood of a thousand men could stain a thousand streets, cold, hard warfare spinning out of control in a haze of spatter and gunpowder, yet sometimes all it took was the presence of a woman to end it all. 

And it had.  

It didn’t mean the woman in question had to like it, though. 

“No.” The word fell from his lips with mild irritation as he took in the sight before him. “You will not wear black.” 

Cosima didn’t even attempt to hide her distain. “Why not? This is a death, after all.” 

Luca couldn’t help but feel entertained by her words, even though she was rapidly whittling him down to his very last nerve. “You are so dramatic, la mia sorellina.” She always had been. “It’s about time you were somebody’s wife, and you will make a good wife, too. Every man betrothed to an Italian woman should recognise how damned lucky he is.”  

“And me?” Her cadence rose sharply, her voice bordering on shrill. “What about me, Luca?” 

9:23am and already, he wished he’d had the sense to bring some aspirin with him. “You will do as you are told, Sima. And wear white while you do it.”  

The silky drawl of her brother never rose beyond the smooth hush he spoke with, but his words packed the same punch as they would have had he yelled them. He was also the only person alive who she allowed to shorten her name. People had called her Cos in school, swiftly ending up with a slapped face for it. Her Italian fire had been lit pretty much since the day she’d been born. “I wish I’d brought mama with me now.” 

His lip curled, a soft rumble of a laugh echoing his throat, sucking on the matchstick he pulled from between his lips as he pointed it at her. “We both know why you didn’t.” 

“Yes,” she chirped, admiring her reflection in the mirror, “you’re paying.”  

Again, she prompted his smile. Few did, really, save Anna Maria, his wife, as well as his sons, Joey and Guiseppe. “I am, cara mia. Listen, if you want the black dress, I’ll buy it for you. You won’t be married in it, though. Imagine if mama was here, eh? She’d be, ah, much more vocal than I about it.” 

This was true. Audrey would have taken over rather than sitting quietly like Luca. “I’m beginning to think she’d fuss much less than you.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Try on the next dress, for the love of god.”  

Huffing and cussing in their native tongue, Cosima flounced back behind the privacy screen, getting herself out of the dress, the nearby assistant helping her into the white lace gown. Her face was a picture of utter contempt upon emerging, raising her middle finger when Luca quietly applauded her appearance. 

“Perfect.” 

“I fucking hate it,” she sneered, the assistant’s eyes bulging a little at her coarse language. 

“Cosima, you would hate even the most exquisite of gowns, crafted by the finest of designers,” he pointed out, standing and walking to her slowly. He reached beneath her chin, raising it up, placing a little kiss upon her forehead. “You look beautiful. La belladonna. It is done.”  

His word was final, and she knew this well. It did not mean she had to be quiet or graceful in her compliance, though. Being wed to a Shelby, after all they had done, the war that had seen the deaths of both her treasured brother and beloved papa, was not a fate she relished in.  

Negotiations in order to cease the bloodshed and forge ahead in a new bond, running Shelby gin into New York with the assistance of her family and their connections had been sealed by a proposed joining of their families through marriage. Her marriage, to John Shelby.  

How she had screamed and complained when Luca had informed her of this truce sealing union. Glasses and ornaments had been smashed in tempestuous fury, Cosima’s ire reaching the kind of decibels that had taken Luca and Audrey much effort and nips of gin to quieten, the youngest of the Changretta clan storming from her mother’s home, walking the streets, chain smoking in blind fury.  

The only silver lining? At least Luca had not decreed that she marry the man who had killed her father, not that she actually could. For his sins, Arthur Shelby breathed no longer. Neither did Grace Shelby, nor Esme Shelby, the late wife of the man soon to be her husband, the gypsy beauty getting in the way of a hit meant for John on Christmas Day and lamentably not surviving it.  

And Cosima thought her hand dealt was bad. For John, it was decidedly bleaker by far.  

His brother was gone, his wife was gone, his sister-in-law was gone, and his fate was now bound to a person belonging to a family whom he couldn’t stand with any ounce of tolerance. Tolerance was what he had to show, though, in order to keep relations smoothed over, before anybody else ended up dead.  

“It’s a fresh start for us all, John boy,” Tommy began, standing in front of his brother, straightening his tie. “I don’t expect you to be happy about it, but...” 

“Good, ‘cos I ain’t,” he cut in with, his jaw tightening, refusing to meet his brother’s eye. “Esme is barely fucking cold, and you’ve got me marrying some wop bitch. Trust me, Tom. I ain’t fucking happy in the slightest.”   

The elder Shelby truly had no comeback for that. He knew his actions were a slap in the face to John, to Arthur, to Esme and to the love of his life, but there was no other way around it. He didn’t plan on losing anybody else to a war that could be negotiated through. It had been tough to bargain, but peace had been restored finally, Tommy reasoning that scores had been settled upon both sides of the divide.  

They were more than even. In fact, they truly weren’t, two lives on the Changretta side, three on the Shelby, two innocent women coming into the crossfire and dying because of it. He was not prepared to lose more. If he could also turn a very tidy profit while not losing more, then so be it.  

Finally, he managed to catch the icy stare of his brother, Tommy squeezing his shoulders. “Give it time. At least you’re getting wed to an attractive woman. Could have matched you to a right scrag, but I didn’t.” 

She could have been the queen of fucking Sheba for all John cared. Her beauty or lack thereof was neither here nor there. She wasn’t Esme, and that was all there was to it. “Gotta habit of this, you have, marrying me off to some bird I ain’t ever clapped eyes on until I get to the altar, all for the sake of keeping the peace.”  

There hadn’t been an actual altar at his wedding to Esme, but this time there was no room for negotiation. The priest local to the district Cosima Changretta lived in had been given a hefty bung to marry them, regardless of the fact that John was a non-practising Catholic. Usually, Father David would have required he at least attend weekly mass for a few months prior to the wedding, but this wasn’t possible when the union had been set up to take place within the space of a week from its original incarnation. 

Through his disesteem, John wasn’t blind to see the benefits of joining the families in order to broker peace, though. He just wished there was some other way, one that didn’t involve him forsaking his late wife’s memory, or literally getting into bed with a member of the very family who had taken three members of his. 

With a red rose buttonhole pinned to his charcoal suit – those specific flowers at Cosima’s request – they headed out to the waiting car, ready to be ferried across Birmingham to the district of Bournville, to St Francis of Assisi. 

“Holy shit, the waft of that bloody chocolate," Polly spoke from the back of the car, the famous Cadbury factory emitting the heady scent of it’s delicious confectionary. “Making my mouth water, it is.” 

“Well, as long as the air smells like Dairy fucking Milk, all’s right as rain, ain’t it, Pol?” John muttered, watching the little black and white houses dotted along the main road pass them by. It was such a different landscape than the one he was used to, the village of Bournville so very picturesque and quaint.  

Polly tutted. “Oi, less of your fucking lip, our John. Don’t make today any harder than it has to be by being a surly shit about it.”  

“Yeah, but...”  

She cut his protests dead with her usual blunt retort. “We know, for the love of god! You’ve vented your spleen so hard at this, I’m surprised you have one left! This isn’t ideal, but it’ll bring us peace and let me rest my fucking head easy at night, not worrying when the next of my fucking nephew’s is going to end up riddled with bullet holes. Now, put your fucking face straight. We’re nearly there.”  

He could have begun his protests once more, vented at how it wasn’t right that he was being thrown into wedlock again just four months after his second wife had died, how at thirty years old, he shouldn’t have already had to attend the funerals of two Mrs. Shelby’s, but he knew it would serve him little good.  

Arriving at the church, they made their way inside, John surprised to be greeted kindly by Audrey Changretta, who was standing talking to the verger.  

“A lot of water has gone under the bridge, John. All I want going forward is for you to be a good man to my Cosima. Can you do that for me, love?” 

His heartstrings were yanked upon hard, knowing how much his actions had devastated her. She looked weary from it all, the sparkle in her eyes non-existent. He’d never wanted her to be hurt in all of this, the teacher he held so many fond memories of, the woman he had steadfastly refused to murder in cold blood. “I can. I promise I will.”  

She patted his cheek, smiling thinly. That smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and for that he couldn’t blame her. “Thank you.” She exchanged nods with Polly and Tommy, the Shelby’s moving into the church, smiling to their family and friends as they passed the pews, the Changretta presence outnumbering them by about two to one.  

He and Tommy stood to the side of the altar, Polly taking a seat at the first pew between Finn and Ada, the latter giving the groom-to-be a bolstering smile. It had little of its desired effect, John feeling a cold swirl of discomfort growing chillier by the moment. “Forgive me, Esme. I fucking wish this weren’t happening just as much as I wish you were still here, love.”  

His deeply lamenting thoughts were banished by the sound of the organ keys pressed upon, the church filling with music as the congregation stood, Father David quickly shaking both his and Tommy’s hands before his focus shifted towards the doors, beaming as he watched Cosima escorted in by her brother. The bride looked exquisite in her white lace gown, her cascading veil shrouding her face, the dress very quintessentially Italian in fashion. 

John didn’t dare turn around and watch her walk to him, only aware of her arrival at his side from the strong plume of Chanel perfume entering his nose, finally turning to see Luca gently lift her veil, kissing her cheek and whispering a few words in Italian to her. He then moved to John, surprising him by offering his hand.  

“To famiglia, eh?” 

“Yeah,” he coughed, shaking it. The Italian’s grip was like Iron, his face unflinching. There was no true warmth there. “To family.”  

Luca moved to sit at his mother’s side, John finally letting his eyes fall to his left, taking her in for the first time. His throat tightened in an instant. He’d thought Esme to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, the guilt of the fact that Cosima Changretta was the biggest knockout he’d ever witnessed hitting him hard.  

As for his soon to be wife, when her piercing blue eyes found his, the sensation of her heart skipping on three consecutive beats made her feel a little nauseous for a moment.  

He was gorgeous.  

Why did he have to be gorgeous? It would have made hating him so much easier if he’d been ugly.  

“At least I will have something nice to look at, while I’m throwing plates at his head.” She thought, turning to the priest and smiling as best she could, given the circumstances.  

The ceremony was a long, tedious affair, the bride wishing for a traditional mass that bored the balls off John. He did well to hide it, though. What he failed miserably at was looking in any way, shape or form happy when they were pronounced man and wife, offering her a chaste kiss to the cheek, a speedy peck of non-affection. Cosima was relieved he hadn’t leaned to her mouth. She wasn’t ready for that yet.  

Taking his arm, she walked back down the aisle as the newest member of the Shelby family, her eyes sad as she looked at her mother and brother. They smiled at her with loving pride, Cosima dropping her chin, lest they see the tears in her eyes as she walked alongside her new husband, a man she couldn’t stand. True, she knew nothing of John Shelby, other than what he’d had a hand in taking from her.  

With every step, she had to physically prevent herself from gathering the bridal lace swathing her slender curves and running, back to Acacia Road, back to the family home. This was where she desired to be, out in the flower filled back garden tending to her roses, taking cuttings of herbs ready to be brought into the kitchen and tutored by her darling mother in everything from Carbonara to baked Ziti. 

She longed for the scents of her mother’s pasta, to hear her father’s key in the door, his whistled tunes filling the homestead as she’d wipe her hands upon her apron and run to greet him. Her papa, the man she loved and respected the very most. Gone.  

“You erm, you look beautiful, Cosima.”  

His face did not match his compliment, Cosima looking up at her new husband, her face stony. “I know. Shame my dream wedding didn’t come with the dream groom, though.”  

John sniffed, his eyebrow tilting a fraction. “Ahh, you might still get it yet. We can get divorced and give it another go with other people. Who knows? I could nail it lucky the fourth time around.” 

Her eyes widened. “You’ve been married twice before?”  

“Ar.” 

“And what the blinking hell happened to them?” she demanded, wondering just what her brother had gotten her into, marrying her off to a man who was on his third wife. 

“They died, if you must know,” he frowned, reaching the end of the aisle, the door opening, a cascade of confetti hurled at them from the throng of guests exiting behind them. 

“Lucky them.” Her mutter was drowned out by the sound of happy cheers, or at least she thought it had been. Her new husband had heard it, though, wanting nothing more than to slap her in her rude mouth for her coldly delivered statement. 

“Great, got myself hitched to a stunner and she’s a right nasty little mare.” he spoke, certainly loud enough for her to hear, releasing the hold upon her arm and moving to receive congratulations from his family. Cosima narrowed her eyes at him in his wake, turning to smile brightly at her friends, her hands taken in theirs, cheeks kissed, her heart thrumming with waves of sadness. A right nasty little mare. That’s what he thought of her, Cosima’s indignance burning brightly for a while, not able to reflect upon the fact that what she’d said had indeed been very spiteful.  

At twenty-three, she truly should have known better. With two dead wives behind him and a bitterness that still lingered beneath the surface between the two families, she guessed he was likely as thrilled to be married to her as she was to him. An apology perhaps wouldn’t go amiss.  

Once they’d posed for a few photographs, the bride and groom were shown to the waiting Rolls Royce Silver Cloud, John holding the door open for her, following her in and staring stonily out of the window as they pulled away from the church.  

She felt awkward and ashamed of her words, moving her thumb back and forth over one of the large thorns the florist had neglected to remove from the bouquet of red roses. “John, I apologise for what I said, about your late wives being lucky. I only meant that... I don’t know what I meant, actually.” 

She was met by a cold, two worded statement. “Fuck off.”  

Deserved, to be fair. Predictably, Cosima let it spark at her kindling rather than rushing for water, though. “That’s impossible, now I’m your wife. Don’t bloody pout at me. I said something regrettable, but because of your family I don’t have Angel or my father any longer. You yourself are directly responsible for the former. If you hadn’t beaten him within an inch of his life, he wouldn’t have lay vulnerable in hospital, ripe for the plucking. And let’s not forget that scumbag of a brother of yours, who killed my papa.” 

He tutted, chewing his toothpick with hostility. “Don’t act like you’re the only one who lost somebody you loved. Fucking gone right over your head, ain’t it? Because of your family, I lost me wife, brother and sister-in-law. We’re in the same boat, Cosima.” 

“You started all of this. You could have just let Lizzie be happy with Angel, but no! You had to burn his restaurant to the fucking ground. What is it you dumb Shelby fucks say, hmm? By order of the Peaky Blinders, that’s it! Your way or the highway!” 

Bile began licking at his insides. “Your brother weren’t good enough for Lizzie. She’s a good woman, and he was a fucking duplicitous shit. Didn’t even have the balls to use his real name for half his dealings. At least we stand by who we fucking are.” 

Her rage escalated by the second, staring at him incredulously. “My brother had the sense to be clandestine, and you will not speak of him like you knew him! So, he partnered with your enemies, so fucking what? The way you Shelby’s conduct yourself, you make enemies left and fucking right! You took my family away from me for nothing. Nothing!” 

John eyed her viciously, his eyes losing any trace of warmth. “They fucking deserved it, and you, you spoiled little wop bitch? You deserve nothing less than every fucking ounce of my contempt. We’re married in name only, believe me. Ain’t no way I’m gonna be a good husband to you, no matter what I promised your mom.” 

“Fine by me!”  

The air virtually crackled with their mutual distain, Cosima shuffling as far as she could get away from him, muttering cusses in Italian. 

“I know what testa di cazzo means,” he spat. 

“Good!” she fumed, “I want you to know I think you’re a dickhead!” 

The reception was being held at a small hotel local to the church, Cosima storming out of the car and not looking back, fixing a huge, fake smile to her face as she was welcomed by the staff. Immediately, her eyes locked onto a waiter carrying a tray of champagne filled flutes, taking one and knocking it back. A second was reached for, John arriving at her side.  

“Whiskey please, mate. Fucking large one.” 

The waiter nodded. “At once, sir.”  

They stood together to welcome their guests, both repelled by one another’s presence, going through the motions of everything. Cake cutting, first dance, spending as much time as they could away from one another. It was while John was seeking the solace of quiet and fresh night air much later that evening, standing on the rear patio of the hotel smoking a cigar, that he found himself joined by the last person he expected. 

“Can I give you some advice, John?” 

Turning to Luca, he raised an eyebrow, the tall Italian continuing. “If you want a quiet life with my sister, you need to keep her in the lifestyle she’s become accustomed to. I love that girl to her bones, but she’s a fucking spoiled princess.” 

His eyes widened. “You can say that again.” 

Luca’s mouth twitched, removing the toothpick he’d been idly chewing on. “My father bent to her every whim, being his only daughter. She was daddy’s little girl. Roses, diamonds, furs, French perfume, she loves all of that. You treat her good and she’ll be sweet with you. And make sure she has a garden. That kid lives for horticulture.” 

Luckily, he was wealthy enough to provide such luxuries for his new bride, not that he wanted to. Not that she deserved even one of them. “Noted.”  

He nodded, turning to leave his new brother-in-law to it, pausing suddenly as he pointed the toothpick in his grasp at him. “Oh, and John? She’s got a thing for hurling plates. Learn to duck.” Laughing to himself, he carried on back into the hotel, while John felt a prickle of annoyance at his statement, or rather how much pleasure he’d derived from delivering the news that Cosima was nothing short of a bad-tempered handful.  

Standing out there alone, he did hope that one day he might see her as something different. Whether that day would come swiftly or not was anybody’s guess, though. 

#john shelby fanfiction #john shelby x ofc #peaky blinders fanfiction #luca changretta fanfiction #john shelby smut #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fic #john shelby x oc #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic

[crazyunsexycool]

I just got an idea for a story and have to share!! So reader and Bucky are high school sweethearts and married just before he's in the war and taken by hydra. She never finds out what happened to him and never remarries because he was the great love of her life... but just after he's taken she finds out she's pregnant.

Flash forward to the present and when Bucky is saved by the avengers he tries to find reader but finds out she died and also that he has a son. He goes to meet his son who tells Bucky all about reader from when he was growing up.

Somehow Bucky finds a way to bring reader back through teleporting her or something because he simply can't live without her.

80 years later.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warning: talks of death, angst, pregnancy, fluff.

A/N: the day I stop writing. About time travel send help because I love it. The TVA can kiss my ass. I also forgot I had written this and it was saved in my drafts for the longest time. I also thought it’d be funny if Bucky was a grandfather that looked younger than his grandkids.

Bucky stood in front of the red door and took a deep breath. He finally gets the courage to knock on the door, his hand trembling as he raked it through his long hair. When the door opens it feels like he’s been punched in the gut.

“Dad?” Surprise colors the voice of this familiar stranger.

“Hey kid.”

Bucky stood in front of an older looking version of himself. White hair and wrinkles around electric blue eyes. But the nose and the lips were all you.

James Grant Barnes, was the son you’d had right after Bucky had been shipped off to the Great War. The son Bucky would never know about because he’d fall off of a moving train and into the hands of hydra. For sixty five years you’d mourn the loss of your high school sweetheart, love of your life and husband. He’d asked for your hand in marriage as soon as you both graduated high school but only married right before he went off to boot camp. It was the happiest days of both your lives, a life you’d never get to share.

Both men stared at each other for a minute before a voice came up behind them.

“Who’s at the door pa?”

“Please come in.” Bucky gets ushered into the living room. “Make yourself at home.”

“Pa who was at the-“ a woman walks into the living room. Hair down to her shoulders, bright eyes and the spitting image of you.

“Rebecca, I'd like you to meet your grandfather.”

“You look just like her.” Bucky’s voice breaks as he speaks.

Rebecca smiles as she sits next to him and it makes Bucky’s heart ache even more. She takes his right hand in hers and squeezes it gently.

“I’m sorry you lost your time with grandma. I feel like I’ve known you all of my life, she talked about you all the time and she loved you so much.”

Bucky cried at that for two reasons. The first being because hydra stole his life away from him and second because he could barely remember you. He just always knew there was something or someone missing. He could only piece parts of your relationship by what Steve told him. The only thing Bucky had of yours was a picture and you looked a bit older then.

“Would you like to see pictures?” James asks his father. Bucky only nods.

Bucky and James spent hours together watching home movies and looking through albums you’d put together. James filled in the blanks for some pictures and family moments. The more he saw the more memories from your time together came back to Bucky.

“Grandma, what was grandpa like?” A very young Rebecca asked you.

You were both sitting in a garden having a picnic. James was currently recording the interaction. While Rebecca sat beside you, you held the newest addition to the family in your arms.

“Well he was a nerd.” You giggle along with Rebecca. “The cutest nerd at our school. He loved reading and dancing and anything to do with technology.”

“Did he ever take you dancing?”

“He sure did. We went dancing every Friday night and we would always drag Stevie with us. Even the night before he went off to war we went dancing.”

“Why didn’t he come back so he could dance with you again?” Rebecca asked innocently. She was still too young to understand what had happened.

The video cuts off there and James pauses the video before it goes any further.

“I wish I could have.” Bucky says after a while.

“She knew, Ma was never mad at you or anything. She just missed you. Even when she thought I wouldn’t notice I always knew when she’d be crying over you. Especially around your birthday or your anniversary. So once I was old enough to have a job I’d always take her out to celebrate.”

“She did a good job raising you. Did she ever-“

“She never remarried or dated anyone at all. Always said you were the love of her life and that there was no use in seeing anyone else because she would just compare them to you and it wouldn’t be fair to them.” James says sadly.

“She should have. She deserved to be happy.”

“Ma was happy with the family she had. She said it herself she wouldn’t change a thing.”

Bucky nods and stands up.

“It’s getting late, I should go. Thank you for not shutting the door on me and for showing me all of this.”

“I could never shut you out. This is your family too. I never thought I’d ever meet you,” James struggled to find the words to express how he felt. “I’m happy we got a chance to meet. You’re welcome back anytime.”

“Me too, I’ll come back soon.”

James stood and they hugged. The hold they had on each other was strong and neither of them wanted to let go. When they finally did they both had tears running down their cheeks but for different reasons. Bucky cried because he missed out on raising his son and James cried because he got a chance to meet his father.

Bucky left the house with a new sense of belonging. Although he never understood why you wouldn’t have written to him to tell me he would be a father. He knew he’d never get an answer so he tried to let it go. It was a complete shock when Steve told him about it.

From that day Bucky met with James frequently. They would mostly talk about the family and what growing up was like for James. His job and his kids. Bucky wanted to stay away from the topic of what happened to him with hydra or the missions he was going on with the Avengers. James didn’t seem to mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Today was a special occasion. It was Rebecca’s birthday and the family was going to have a party. Of course the first thing she did was invite her grandfather and anyone he wanted to bring. At first he politely declined, stating that he would probably ruin the party. But she insisted, with multiple calls. She was stubborn just like you.

Bucky showed up with Steve and Sam at his side. This would be the first time Bucky would meet the rest of the family and he was nervous.

“Grandpa, you made it!” Rebecca said in a joking tone. Bucky smiles and accepts the hug she’d offered.

“Wow, Buck was not joking when he said you looked like Y/N.”

Steve stood there stunned. While he had spoken with James on the phone he hadn’t met him or anyone else from the family in person. You had been one of the few people to see Steve for who he was and what he wanted to become. The two of you had been friends for as long as Bucky and Steve had been. He grieved your death when he woke up from the ice. Now he stood in a room full of people that had loved you, he took comfort in knowing you hadn’t been alone all those years.

“Hi, grandma talked about you just as she did gramps.” Rebecca smiles at Steve and opens her arm for a hug.

“James, this is Sam.”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“No, the pleasure is all mine, James. Now tell me all about your mom. I bet she had the patience of a saint to put up with these two.”

“She did.” Both men chuckle as they move to the living room.

Not only did Bucky have a son and grandchildren, he also had great grandchildren as well as nieces and nephews. They had all gathered for Rebecca’s birthday in the hopes of meeting him. It was a surreal experience to have so much family. Bucky had thought that there would be no one left. That there wouldn’t be a place for him in this world but you’d managed to make sure he wasn’t alone. Even if you never got to know what you’d done.

After introductions were made the celebration really got started. There was music and conversations going on everywhere. Steve and Sam had been accepted quickly.

“Hey Steve,” Georgie, James’ son, called out. “You should try this.” He held out a plate for Steve to grab a cookie.

“Mmm,” Steve moaned out after he took the first bite. “These taste just like the ones Y/N used to make.”

“They are. When dad said you were coming Becs and I pulled out grandma’s recipe books. She had a little note next to this recipe saying they were your favorite. She was your friend too, thought you’d like having something she used to make.”

“Thanks,” Steve cleared his throat. “This is incredibly kind of you.”

“Don’t mention it. We made a few for you to take home. So don’t forget them before you leave.”

“Trust me I’m not leaving these behind.” Steve said with a chuckle as his phone began to ring. “Excuse me, I have to take this.”

Steve moved to a more private area as he answered Nat’s call and sighed as he hung up. He went through the house until he found Sam and Bucky out in the backyard.

“There’s an emergency, we have to go.” He announced grimly. “Buck, why don’t you stay? We’ll call you for backup if we need to.”

Bucky looked at Steve then at his son and some of the other people he had been talking with moments ago. If something bad was happening he had to go. He had to make sure to keep them safe however he could. So Bucky shook his head. “I’m going with you. I’ll be back before you know it, kid.” He told James with a wry smile.

James accompanied them to the front door where he exchanged a hug with Bucky. “Please come back safe.”

The request was a punch to the gut. You’d said those exact same words on the platform just before he got on the train.

“I’ll do what I can.” He knew better than to make a promise he couldn’t keep.

Days later Steve would come back and tell James that Bucky had disappeared in the snap.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky stood in front of the same door he had five and a half years ago. He felt the same kind of fear he did last time. The door was opened this time by Rebecca who, upon seeing Bucky standing at the door, launched herself into his arms and cried. She pulled him into the living room and sat down on the couch.

“I’m so glad you’re back.” She said with a sad smile. It only served to make Bucky’s heart stop.

“Rebecca, where's James?”

Tears started to run down her cheeks again.

“He passed away two years ago. I’m so sorry.”

Bucky’s chest tightened. He’d never been there for his son in the moments that mattered and now his son had been taken away from him. He didn’t realize he’d started crying until Rebecca pulled him into her chest. Her arms around him and he sobbed. He grieved for his son, his wife and the life he’d lost.

“I thought Steve would have told you. He was with pa when he passed.”

“No, the minute I was able to come out here I did. We didn’t even get a chance to talk.”

After what felt like hours of them just sitting there and talking, Bucky excuses himself. He needed to get back before Steve went on his final mission.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.” Steve quipped.

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Bucky and Steve hugged. “I’ll miss ya buddy. If you see her tell her I’ll always love her.” Bucky whispered.

Steve nodded and patted Bucky on his shoulder before heading to the platform.

Bucky held his breath as Steve disappeared. It should have taken only seconds based on what Bruce had said but Bucky knew he wasn’t coming back. Sam and Bruce began to argue but Bucky just turned around and started to walk away.

Bucky found it odd that Sam and Bruce went completely quiet and his steps faltered. He turned to find Steve standing on the platform and headed back.

“Tell her yourself.” Steve said with a shit eating grin as he stepped to the side.

Bucky had barely processed that Steve was back or what he had said when his eyes landed on you. You stood there wide eyed as you looked at him and then you moved. Before he could even react your arms were around his shoulders and your face was buried in the crook of his neck. Bucky snapped out of it and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Hi.” You said once you pulled back, letting out a teary laugh. Your hands cupped his cheeks. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

“I’m pretty sure I do because I’ve missed you just as much.”

For the first time in years Bucky kisses you. It’s slow and timid but perfect nonetheless. He rested his forehead against yours and breathed a sigh of relief at having you in his arms again.

“My love, there’s something I have to tell you.” You inform him.

“If it’s about James I already know.”

“How?”

“I met him. He was a full grown adult but I spent some time with him.” Bucky tells you.

“I hope you’re ready to spend more time with him.” You say as you turn to find Steve holding on to a five year old version of your son.

“Hi daddy.” James waved excitedly and Steve set him on the ground. He takes off running and jumps into Bucky’s arms, giggling at the feeling of Bucky’s scruff tickling his cheek.

“Hi kid.”

You stand back to watch father and son interact for the first time. Your heart feels like it’s going to burst at the sight. Steve stands next to you and wraps an arm around your shoulder to pull you in. You cry in his embrace, this time the tears are from happiness.

“Thank you so much Steve. I never thought I’d see him again.”

“The moment I knew we could travel through time, I knew I’d go back to get you. If anyone deserves to be happy it’s both of you.” He smiles down at you.

“What about you? You deserve happiness too.”

“And I have it.” Steve said just as the platform activated again and someone stood in the middle. The suit came off to reveal a very pretty redhead. “That’s Nat, she’s my girl.”

She walks down the steps and stands beside Steve as you pull away. Steve officially introduces you both before you move toward Bucky and James.

“I have heard so much about you it’s good to finally meet you, I’m Sam.” He said as he stretched his hand out for you to shake.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You smile at him and then look up at Bucky. “Who is that?”

“That Bruce, he works with us.”

“Why is he green?” You whisper.

“We will explain as much as we can. Why don’t we go home?”

“Where is home?”

“I have a place in Brooklyn. You’ll stay with me while you get settled.” Steve spoke up.

“Is that ok with you?”

“Anywhere you are is ok with me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

The red door didn’t feel as intimidating this time around. Bucky explained everything that had happened to you. From his time at hydra to being saved by Steve to the family you still had. The door opens and Rebecca’s face immediately lights up when she sees it’s Bucky.

“Hey gramps, how have you-“ the words die on her tongue when she sees you standing just behind Bucky. “Grandma?”

“So I’ve been told.” Your eyes soften as you see the tears in her eyes. When she steps out and cups your face you let her. She stares in disbelief for a moment and then you bring her in for a hug.

“How is this possible? I mean you’re so young again.”

“I’ll explain anything you want to know.”

“Let me have George come over first.”

****

“That’s amazing.” Rebecca said after Bucky explained everything. “You should keep the house.”

“What?”

“You should keep this house. Dad wanted it to stay in the family but we don’t need it. But you do, especially if you want to raise him somewhere safe and away from the Avenger business.”

“George we couldn’t do that, this was your father’s house.” You said although it felt a bit weird.

“But he was your son first. Dad loved taking care of you. If he were here now he’d offer you this home. It would just sit empty until someone finally decided to sell it. Let him take care of you one last time, please.” Rebecca adds.

You and Bucky looked at each other before he spoke up. “Ok, we’ll take it.”

“Wonderful. We’ll clean it out for you and you can keep whatever furniture you’d like. You can change whatever you want in it. And if you need anything all you have to do is let us know.”

You all stood and headed to the main door and exchanged hugs.

“You have no idea how great it is to see both of you together. You deserve to be happy.” Rebecca said.

“Even though you’re technically younger than us, you’re still our grandparents and we’ll be here for you for whatever you need.” George added.

“Thank you. It’s very kind of you to help us like this.”

“It’s the least we could do, you are, or rather were, the best grandmother a kid could have asked for.”

You hug Georgie again and then Rebecca.

“I can still be that if you’d like. We can have Sunday dinners together. How about that?”

“Just like the good old days.” Rebecca said. “We’d love to.”

“Once we’ve settled in then, I’ll call you and let you know so the whole family can come over.” You inform them.

“It’ll be good. Steve has been asking about seeing you guys again.”

“So it’s settled. We’ll see you soon.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A year and a half later.

Most of the nieces and nephews and great grandkids had all left already. James was asleep in his room. The only ones left were Georgie, Rebecca, Sam, Steve and Nat. You all sat at the dinner table still trading stories. Bucky takes your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours. You look over at him and give him a little nod and a smile which he returns.

“There’s something we’d like to tell you.” You say, getting everyone’s attention. “I’m pregnant.”

Everyone stares at you for a moment before they start congratulating you and Bucky. Sam and Steve take money out of their wallet and hand it over to Nat who is smiling smugly at them.

“What’s that about?” You ask her.

“I told them that you were acting differently. I said you were pregnant, they didn’t believe me so we bet on it.”

You laugh as you turn back to the others. Sam and Steve came up to hug you and promise to be the best uncles, but you knew that already with how they treated James. Next were Rebecca and Georgie who also promised to be there for you however they could.

****

You were exhausted by the time you laid down in bed. Bucky walked in a few minutes later after checking to make sure all the doors and windows were locked and the alarm was set on.

The bed dips behind you as Bucky lays down and immediately pulls you into his chest. His hands immediately rest on top of your very small baby bump and he kisses your shoulder.

“Today was good.” He murmurs.

“You say that every night.” He can hear the smile in your voice.

“Any day I get to hold you like this is a good day.”

“I love you Honey.”

“I love you sweetheart. And I love this little bean too.” He says as he smooths a hand over your belly.

“Little bean?”

“Yeah, we don’t know if it’s going to be a boy or a girl yet.”

“I think it’s going to be a boy.” You say confidently.

“Nope. It’s going to be a girl, I just know it.”

“You would be good with a little girl.”

“Can I ask you something, sweetheart?”

“Anything you know that.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me you were pregnant? You sent all those letters but you never mentioned it.”

This time you turn so that you’re fully facing him. You can tell it’s been weighing on him, the not knowing.

“It’s going to sound stupid. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid that if you knew I was pregnant you wouldn’t be thinking clearly out there. I don’t know, maybe you’d be afraid of getting hurt and would make a mistake and then you’d never come home. Now with everything I know I feel guilty that you never knew about him back then.”

“Don’t, I probably would have been distracted. I mean even back then all I wanted was to get back home to you. That was my only reason to fight as hard as I did. I think I would have been more afraid to fight if I knew about James. It could have been worse, I could have actually died. But I’m home now, we’re together and that’s all that matters.”

“It only took about eighty years.” You smile before pulling Bucky down for a kiss.

This new life you had was strange. You didn’t really belong in the current time you were in but you did belong with Bucky. The city was different, the only people you knew were your family and the Avengers. There was no one left from your previous life but you’d trade all of those things at a chance to be with Bucky.

Because Bucky had always been it for you. Whether it was in the 40s or eighty years later.

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[ohtobeleah]

Father, Son & The Holy Shit // Jake Seresin

Chapter Two: [Father, Son & Artificial Constructs] Bradley hears from his ex, your mother. You’re heading to North Island for the summer. Jake is immediately hooked on the young Bradshaw girl who’s dating his son.

Warning: Jake Seresin x F!Bradshaw Reader. Suggestive themes. Unspecified Age gap. Gaslighting/manipulation. Moral outrage. 18+

Word Count: 5.4k

Masterlist

Bradley Bradshaw was a lot of things. He was a great friend, the life of the party. He was a dedicated aviator, decorated in fact. He was a pretty decent piano player and an amateur cook—he could make any dish involving instant ramen look restaurant quality. Soft boiled egg, green onions, little drizzle of sweet soy and all. 

But a good father was probably something that from time to time had been rubbed off that list—then written back over with pencil. Then rubbed off again, written again, so forth and so on. 

“She wants to spend the summer getting to know her father Bradley.” Claire sighed out in frustration on the other end of the line as Bradley held his phone up to his ear as he showered. He let the stream of scalding hot water cascade down his body—the motion of his other hand that had been wrapped around his length slowed to a begrudged halt as the conversation shifted from hellos and how are yours? To you. “She’s in college now—hell I don’t even think you’ve seen her since she was a freshman in high school.” 

Claire Littleton had been the girl Bradley Bradshaw lost his virginity to back when they were just a mere seventeen years old. It was both their first time. They didn’t know what they were doing and they sure as hell thought they were oh so in love. Up until the pregnancy test showed up with the brightest pink positive sign the pair of them had ever seen and neither of them knew what the fuck they were doing. They were both still kids themselves. How could they possibly have a child?

“I’ve just been re-stationed Clarie. I don't think it’s a good idea, I’ve barely unpacked.” Claire knew Bradley was in the shower, she could hear the water running, she could hear the echo in his voice, she could picture the steam radiating from his body as she closed her eyes and willed away the imagery of her daughter's father standing in the shower—naked and tan and toned and— “Hello? Clarie?” 

“Sorry, yeah I’m here.” Clarie brought her mind back to reality as she pushed herself up off the desk she was leaning on, sitting behind the computer at the reception desk at the doctor's office she worked at. “Her boyfriend’s apparently spending the summer in North Island interning for some Commander, I think it’s his dad from what I can recall her mentioning.” Clarie explained briefly as she looked around at the empty waiting room—there was still ten minutes till opening. 

Bradley chuckled softly to himself as he looked up to the ceiling, son of a bitch. She knew he was in North Island. Claire always kept tabs on where her favourite flightless bird was in the world. It made Bradley feel like at least there was one person roaming the earth that gave a damn. Well—besides Maverick that was. 

“You already knew I’d been reposted, didn’t you?” Clarie didn’t answer straight away but Bradley knew she was smiling on the other end of the line—he could see her clear as day in his mind as he closed his eyes, biting her bottom lip trying to hide back a shit eating grin. “Who’s Y/n dating Clarie?” 

“He’s nice, his mothers young, think we can relate on that note.” Clarie knew the last name would drive a hot iron into Bradley’s side. They had never been on the best of terms. “And I don’t want you taking it out on the kid because of who his father is alright?” Bradley had told Clarie a million times about a guy of the name Jake Seresin, she knew of her ex’s distaste for the man even before he did what no one ever expected of him and saved Bradley’s life a few years back. 

Rooster felt like he had no choice but to play nice nowadays—Hangman had saved his life and for that he was grateful. But it still didn’t mean the guy didn’t have an ego the size of Mt Everest. 

Commander Jake Seresin had gotten the band back together. He was Mirimars newest Commander and he knew the exact people he wanted on sight. 

Bradley, unfortunately for himself, was one of them. 

“Oh god don’t tell me she’s dating Kian Seresin—“ Bradley could have smashed his head against the tiles of his shower. Anyone but that kid. Anyone but a Seresin. Jake was never gonna let Bradley live it down. Couldn’t it have been a Floyd or a Trance or even a fucking Garcia! “No—no fucking way.” 

“They’ve been dating for over a year now Roos—“ Clarie was trying to soften the blow the best she could but it was to no avail. She heard the water shut off and sighed. “You’re overreacting, you’re daughter wants to spend time with you over the summer break and you’re—“

“No, she wants to spend time with her boyfriend in North Island and is gonna use me as an excuse to do so.” 

“So? At least she wants to see you, Rooster, there’s plenty of dads out there who don’t see their daughters anymore because they grew up and decided the bare minimum wasn’t enough.” Now Claire did have a point, Bradley knew he hadn’t been the most present dad in your life. 

But he cared. 

“You had over a year to tell me she's dating a Seresin and couldn’t send me a text? An email perhaps, hell I probably would’ve been happy with a messenger pigeon!” Bradley huffed as he stepped out of the shower, holding his phone to his ear with his shoulder as he wrapped a clean towel around his waist. The hard on he’d tried to give some attention to was long gone now. It wasn’t the first time Clarie Littleton had given Bradley blue balls and it probably wasn’t going to be the last. “For the love of god Clarie I don’t even like working with the guy, now you wanna tell me my daughters dating his son?” 

Everyone knew Jake had a kid, a son. Kian. Much like Bradley he had him young. The two shared that and their love for the navy in common. They had both been young, dumb and oh so in love. The only difference between the pair was that unlike Bradley and Clarie who both decided amicably that they knew they could both have a successful future apart than together, Jake had married the supposed love of his life the second it was legal. 

Bradley and Clarie both did their best to raise you, but there came a point where Bradley had to give up his share of the custody agreement so he could focus on his career. 

“Bradley, your daughter will be in town at the end of the week, she either stays with you or she’ll stay with Kian and his dad.” Claire groaned on the other end of the line as she placed her forehead on the countertop. “And she wants to stay with you! So stop worrying about someone else’s son and use what time you’ve been given here to get to know your daughter in her adult life.” 

Jake Seresin had married his highschool sweetheart Nacy only three weeks after they both turned eighteen, which was six months after Kian was born. For Jake that was now three failed marriages ago and a handful of divorce settlements later. Bradley had never been more thankful to have someone like Clarie in his life—a support system he could trust no matter what. 

And someone to call late at night, you know—for when he was feeling overworked and under fucked. 

“Yeah—fine fine.” Bradley conceded as he looked at himself in the mirror, he did his best to be a good dad. And it wasn’t that he didn’t want to see you, it was just he thought you were a hell of a lot better off without him. “And for the record I was at her highschool graduation, and I saw her before I came out to North Island two years ago, I’ve got that picture of the three of us hanging in the hall.” 

It was Claire’s turn to chuckle, the memory had slipped her mind. Bradley Bradshaw was a good dad, he just wasn’t around that much. He paid his fair share and then some over the years, helped Clarie settle into her new life in San Francisco just after you were three and he allowed her to live a life separate from him. They shared their love for you though, and spent their entire lives pinning for one another. Bradley had always been there for anything and everything you and your mother needed. 

But not a lot of people knew Bradley had a daughter, it was just something that Bradley wanted to keep all to himself if he could. Some people knew. Pete, Natasha, Jake. Guess he was in on this and just hadn’t bothered to mention he knew for a whole ass year that his son was dating a Bradshaw. But it wasn’t like Jake and Bradley texted. 

“Oh my apologies, step aside for father of the year.” There was always a part of Clarie Littleton that wondered what life would have been life if she had wanted to be the Navy wife. What a life with Bradley could have been like. 

“Eat me Claire—“ Bradley wondered too. It was one of the main reasons he never really settled down with anyone else. He tried, lord knows he did. But he felt a guilt inside his soul that if he was gonna settle down with anyone it was gonna be with Clarie. It would be a disservice to you and your mother if he found love anywhere else. He had all the love he needed. 

It was just unconventional. 

“I’m sure you’d love that Bradshaw.” Clarie replied as she sat up in her chair. “Listen I gotta go, but you should call her, plan ahead and let her know you want her there—she’s not a kid anymore, but she’ll always be your baby girl.” Claire never hesitated to keep Bradley in-line and he always listened—always. Phoenix was convinced if Clarie called Rooster tomorrow and said she loved him he’d marry her on the spot. And he would. “Love you Bradshaw, take care of yourself.” 

“Yeah love you too—“ Bradley heard the dial tone ring in his ear before he had a chance to finish his sentence. So he left it at that and placed his phone down on the vanity. “More than you think you know Littleton.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~****~**

“All I’m saying is good and bad, right and wrong are just artificial constructs designed by society to kinda keep everyone in check.” Kian tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as turned down the street you’d told him to turn. Your dad had given you his new address at the beginning of the week after he called. You knew your mum put him up to it, but you knew he had some of his own intention behind it. “And then you add religious beliefs into the mix and suddenly it’s on for young and old.” 

“All religion is just a foolish answer to a foolish question—“ You repeated before your boyfriend could, you’d heard him say it a million times. “I think it’s this one, pull up baby.” Kian was a man of science, not a man of faith by any means. He was a man of the mind, not of the body and soul. 

You knew it was your father’s home simply because of the Blue Bronco sitting in the drive. He loved that thing almost as much as your mum loved her rock climbing. You had vivid memories of beach days and sandy floor mats whenever you saw the damn thing. The butterflies in your stomach only fluttered with anticipation as Kian turned into the drive and parked behind the tried and true mode of transportation Bradley Bradshaw swore by. 

“Is that dear old pops sitting on the porch?” Kian chuckled as he parked the car, you were out of the car in seconds as Bradley stood from where he’d been perched waiting for your imminent arrival. 

“Hi stranger!” You beamed as you made your way over. Bradley chuckled as he placed a hand over his heart and faked weak in the knees. “Still got that stupendous mustache I see?” Bradley faked a shot to the heart.m as he laughed. 

“You mother didn’t mention you got so big—“ He took you in for a warm embrace as he spun you around and picked you up off your feet. “Far out kid what’s it been? Two? Three years?” 

“Uh yeah something like that, right before you reposted out here for that detachment.” You replied as your dad placed you back down. Kian cleared his throat softly as he rounded the car, not wanting to interrupt the moment. You smiled at your boyfriend then back at your dad. “Dad, this is Kian Seresin, my boyfriend.” 

“I remember—“ Bradley smiled as he shook Kians hand. “Yeah you were probably like four the last time I saw you man, on your mum's hip at one of our first Naval Galas.”

“It’s good to finally meet you sir.” Kian shook your fathers hand with a smile that couldn’t be faked or forced, he was delighted in every aspect to meet the man the myth that was your father Bradley Bradshaw—Although he’d met him in his less than formative years. “Claire and Y/n have mentioned nothing but the best.” 

“That’s a damn lie son, don’t I know it.” Bradley chuckled as he pulled his hand back and tapped Kian a few times on the shoulder. “Come on, I promised your dad we’d meet up at the Hard Deck for dinner, so get your stuff settled and we’ll head over.” It was self flagellation really, Rooster didn’t have any intention of playing happy family with Jake, but you looked happy and Bradley didn’t want anything to come between you and the happiness you deserved.

“Uh what’s the Hard Deck?” You asked as you walked with Kian back around to the trunk, watching as he and your dad grabbed your bags and walked back up to the house. The home that Kian would spend the first night with you in. Your dads place, before you'd stay the night at his dads. 

“It’s a bar.” Kian and your dad both said in unison. Turns out Kian and his father had a closer relationship than you did with yours. You and Bradley spoke often enough—Kain and Jake spoke almost every other day. 

“Oh, well alright then, I’m pretty pumped to meet your dad.” You trailed behind Kian. He stopped in his tracks to place a gentle kiss to your cheek. “We can play the who’s dads more of a deadbeat than the other.” Bradley looked at you as if you’d stabbed him in the heart, was he a good dad? Probably not but he sure wasn’t a deadbeat. 

“Uh, hands down mine.” Kian chuckled. Bradley raised an all knowing eyebrow. He sure wasn’t wrong. “But you’re free to make your own judge of character.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Jake Seresin was a lot of things. He’d been told from a few different sources that he was a bit of a prick, a scumbag—an overachiever who’d step over anyone and do anything in his power to be the best. He was a loyalist to the game that was the US Naval hierarchy and all he ever wanted was to be at the top of the pyramid. 

“This really pains you, doesn’t it Bradshaw?” But there was something Jake Seresin wasn't all that good at. He was a damn good aviator and he on occasion could understand the concept of what the definition of a team was. But Jake wasn’t a good father and worse off, he wasn’t a good husband. 

“More than you could possibly imagine Seresin—“ Bradley bit his tongue as he shook Jake's hand in a friendly gesture of gratitude. Despite their differences the two were amicable on a good day. The Hard Deck hadn’t changed in the two years that had passed since Bradley and Jake flew together on the Uranium mission that saw Jake's career skyrocket into the stratosphere. Hell Bradley was still a lieutenant to Jake’s Commander ranking. 

“Ah, but isn't young love a virtue.” Jake chuckled as he let go of Roosters hand. The pair had only been back in North Island for roughly a week and a bit before their respective spawn were chewing at their heels. 

“Not when a Seresins involved, that’s for sure.” Bradley mumbled under his breath, but sure enough Jake heard the jab. With three failed marriages, a slu of settlements and a child he treated more like a friend than a son, Jake Seresin knew nothing of love. He wasn’t capable of it. He’d burnt his first marriage down just for the fun of it and he’d built two more back up just to watch it all fall apart again. All three times, Jake had been at fault. 

But he’d never claimed to be a good man—so the thought of the broken hearts club that cried themselves to sleep that he had coincidentally formed, didn’t really keep him up at night. 

“Kian, are you going to introduce me to your girlfriend?” Jake smiled as he finally turned his attention to you as you stood with your arm wrapped around Kains. “I’ve heard far too much about this beautiful young woman for her to still be a stranger.” The pair of you had been waiting for Jake and Bradley to greet each other. 

“Dad this is Y/n Bradshaw, Y/n this is my dad, Commander Jake Seresin.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You smiled politely as you reached out to shake your boyfriend's dads hand. His eyes roamed your body like you had something he desired and for a moment you felt like you’d been put on display at some art exhibition. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“All good things I hope?” Jake sent you that signature smirk Kian had. It was a Seresin staple apparently. “How’s mother hen doing these days? Clarie? Isn’t it Rooster?” 

Jake could feel Rooster burning a hole into the side of his shit eating smile at the mere mention of your mother. Bradley had only told Jake about you and about Clarie, your mother, after the egotistical jerk saved his life. It was a can of worms he wished he never cracked open. 

“She’s good! Yeah her art is really starting to take off now!” You beamed as you looked at your dad who just had this light in his eye as you spoke about your mother. “She’s doing really well for herself, I keep telling her that she needs to quit that stupid doctors receptionist gig she’s got and just focus on her painting but she won’t. Doesn’t believe she could make it on just her talent alone.” You explained to the three men who stood around you. 

“I’m gonna grab us all a round of drinks—“ Kian mentioned in the lull of conversation. “Rooster? You want a beer?” 

“I’ll get a Canadian Club thanks kid.” Kain nodded, committing the request to memory. Your dad drank Canadian club. Perfect. Noted. 

“Dad?” 

“Just a budweiser buddy.” Jake said as he drank in the sight of you like he’d been walking in the desert for days without water. “Y/n? Drink of choice?” 

“Gin Sour—“ Both Bradley and Kian mentioned at the same time. For an absentee father Bradley Bradshaw still knew his only daughter pretty well. “Come on, tables this way.” Bradley huffed a little under his breath as you turned to follow him. 

If you hadn’t been so nervous you probably wouldn’t have noticed, but there was nothing unnoticeable about the way Commander Seresin moved his hand up your back to guide you over to the table. Your heart nearly jumped from your chest at the feeling of his touch. 

His hand sat perfectly against the small of your back like he’d done it a hundred times and would continue to do it a thousand more. He made it seem so innocent at first so you didn’t react as you followed your dad. You let him guide you—innocently enough, towards the booth tucked away in the corner of the Hard Deck. 

“How about you sit across from dear old dad sweetheart?” Jake suggested as he watched Rooster slide into the booth seat closest to the wall. “That way I can sit across from Kian and can keep an eye on Rooster here.” 

“You don’t wanna sit next to me Hangman?” Bradley chuckled as he shook his head. “I’m slightly offended.”

“Can’t help it if your cologne makes me uncomfortable.” Jake played his decisions off like they were barely even thoughts. But unbeknownst to all they were calculated and cunning. Jake still had his hand pressed to the small of your back as you stood near the booth. “Well, slide on in, we don’t have all night now do we kid.” 

Jake waited for the right moment, he waited until you were sliding into the booth to trail his hand across the expanse of your lower back down your ass. You kept a straight face as you felt the presence of his hand over the pocket of your jeans, collecting something in the process rather slyly. 

You cleared your throat as you fixed yourself up and situated yourself across from your dad. He’d seen nothing, and soon enough Kian was returning with the drinks he’d ordered. 

“Some lady at the bar said she’d give me twenty dollars if I told you Rooster was the better pilot.” 

“I’ll give you fifty just to shut up.” Jake snapped back without a second of hesitation in his voice. Every person at the table laughed, including yourself. It felt normal. It felt right to finally be meeting your boyfriend’s father—you’d been together for just over a year now and the whole aspect of your distant dads just seemed so untangable. But sitting across from your dad and next to Kians made your heart swell. The normality of it all brought a warm comfort to your soul. 

Except you were pretty sure he just copped a feel. 

“So what’re you studying Kian?” Bradley asked as he chowed down on his steak and veg. Kian finished his mouthful before answering as he looked over at you. There was something in the way his son looked at you that caught Jake's curiosity.

There was a look of lesser than he didn’t quite like behind his son's eyes. It would’ve gone unnoticed if you didn’t look down at your food to avoid the glare. You twirled your fork around in the pasta you were eating, filling in time as Kian fronted the career path he’d chosen. 

The one he liked to practice on you. 

“I’m studying Psychology—“ Before Kian could ramble on about what paths he wanted to travel down and what specialty he wanted to work towards Jake cleared his throat and wiped his mouth with the napkin before him. He’d heard his son talk about college enough. 

“What about you sweetie?” He turned all his attention to you as you sat meekly in the corner, trapped between the wall and your boyfriend's dad. “What’s my hopefully daughter in law planning to be in the near distant future.” 

There was something in that tone Jake used when he coined you sweetie: something sinister, something secretive and dangerous. 

“Oh when you say it out loud it makes me wanna cry.” Rooster groaned, he still hadn’t wrapped his head around the fact he was sitting with Jake and his son at a family dinner. All you did was laugh a little at your dad, he was doing his best to make it through the night. You appreciated the effort. You appreciated him. 

“I’m studying exercise physiology.” Through the corner of Jake's eyes he saw Kian roll his slightly at your statement. What was so wrong with that? “I uh—eventually wanna get to a point where I can do a masters in musculoskeletal physiotherapy—help people with neurological pathways that might be blocked, spinal injuries and stuff.” Your mother told you to shoot for the moon and far beyond, Bradley had been the one who paid for your college tuition. Together they were pretty good at supporting you emotionally and financially. 

Kian however, well—he didn’t really see physiotherapy as a real solution to a major problem that was the overburdened and understaffed health care system. He didn’t care all that much for allied health. 

“Because running track will pay the bills babe—“ Kian chuckled softly to himself as he took another bite of his steak. Bradley frowned, he didn’t like that one bit. Neither did Jake for a matter of fact. 

His hand slowly but surely crept up your thigh under the table. He took a sip of his beer and raised a steady brow as Bradley cleared his throat—unaware of that fact Jake's hand was resting utop your knee, creeping closer and closer to your core. You’d frozen in your place as you kept your cool—surely he wasn’t. You were misinterpreting things. 

The slight touch of your ass before and now this? 

“Well I don’t know about you guys but I need another drink.” You smiled as you remembered how to breathe again as Jake removed his hand from your jean clad thigh. “Dad, you want another? Kian?” Jake was quick to stand to let you out, there was a look he didn’t quite like written in the lines on your face. “Did you want another Budweiser Mr Seresin?” 

“Jake, or Hangman, please—“ There was a certain amount of list that dropped from Jakes tongue at the idea of hearing you call him Mr. Seresin over and over again as the idea of having his way with you ran rampant in his kind. “And sure thing sweetheart.” He smiled as you pressed your lips together and nodded softly.

“I’ll be right back, I’ll probably step outside to call mum too.” Once you were gone, Jake turned to his son and smacked him right upside the head. Kian gasped as he rubbed at the back of his head. All Bradley did was watch the interaction unfold—it wasn’t often he got to see Jake be a parent and sometimes it was pretty comical to watch. 

“Ow! What the hell was that for!?” 

“Don’t diminish your girlfriend like that.” Jake argued. “For a Bradshaw she doesn’t seem half bad and you just shit all over her college education like a fuckwit.” Rooster was speechless, he never expected Jake to defend you like that, ever. He kinda felt a little chuffed at that. 

“Didn’t you cheat on two of your three wives?” Kian fired back as Bradley choked on his final sip of Canadian Club. “That’s pretty diminishing if you ask me.” 

He wasn’t wrong. And boy did Jake hate that his son was far too much like him. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

As you stood on the front veranda of the Hard Deck, you took in the sight of a few Naval Aviators that had just arrived. You could hear laughter and chatter dripping out from inside the bar but you were pretty content in your own peace for a moment. 

“So—“ Jake didn’t mean to spook you, but as he watched with lustful eyes as you jumped and let out a small audible gasp, he held his hands up beside his head. Holding in his right the vape he’d pulled from your jean pocket before. “Does Kian know you smoke?” He tossed it your way, you caught it in both your palms before tapping it in the railing. 

“Yeah, he knows it's only when my anxiety gets bad.” You tried to explain. “When I feel under duress.” You shrugged your shoulders and pressed your lips together into a fine line. “I told him I was gonna quit after summer break.” 

“Those things are full of carcinogens.” You agreed with a silent nod, took a hit, breathed in the flavored vapor before exhaling slowly only to take a drink of your third cocktail of the night. “I’m sorry for what my son said about your degree.” Jake admitted as he stood beside you with his hands in his pockets. “It was a little outta line.” 

“The really ironic thing is he’s the one who’s studying psychology and can’t see how peaceful life becomes when you decide you no longer have the energy to argue.” You explained. “How peaceful life becomes when you’re okay with being misunderstood.” Jake wasn’t too sure what you were getting at but regardless he listened intently. “People only understand from their level of perception Mr Seresin—and quite frankly no argument is worth damaging my mental health over, including but not limited to Kians opinion on physiotherapists.” 

“You two doing okay?” 

“We’re fine—“ You lied through your teeth. This summer was all about trying to salvage the love you shared for one another. “We’re just going through a small rough patch.” 

“Ah, well unfortunately for Kian he doesn’t have the best role models to look up to in terms of relationships.” You chuckled softly as you took another sip of your drink and turned your attention to Jake. “But there's no excuse to treat such a fine young woman like yourself with disrespect.” You didn’t reply straight away, you stood in the silence on the front veranda of the Hard Deck with your boyfriend's dad for a moment until you heard a loud cry of cheers coming from inside. “Kain and Rooster are having a dart comp—“ Jake mentioned briefly as his eyes never left yours, the distance between the two of you was next to nothing and the alcohol in your veins made you brave. 

Braver than usual. 

“Why did you touch my ass inside?” You asked through a slur, you thought you knew what you were doing but then again you never really dank. So there was a pretty good chance it had hit you pretty hard. 

“I don't recall doing that sweetheart—“ Jake scoffed as he reached out to tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “I wouldn’t do that, but I’m sorry if I simply grazed you when I was sliding in behind you.” Jake was hard, his jeans were straining tight against his length as he throbbed inside his boxer briefs. You were really something. 

“How’d you get my vape then?” You asked through a coy smile and battered eyelashes that made Jake want to shove you down to your knees then and there. “If you didn’t touch my ass?” 

“It fell out of your back pocket.” Jake had to grit his teeth together in order to maintain a level head as you walked your fingers up his chest. Slowly. “Careful there sweetheart you might give me the wrong impression.” 

“And what about when you touched my knee?” You continued as you reached back to pick up your drink. Taking another sip, Jake could smell the alcohol on your breath and he knew that you were inebriated. Perfect. 

“Friendly gestures aren’t welcome I see?” Jake tried once again to play his actions down to mere exaggerations on your behalf. He almost had you believing that it was all in your head. “You’ve got a little something on your—?” He paused, tapping at his lower lip to suggest you had something there. “Here I’ll get it.” 

Before you could protest, Commander Seresin, your boyfriend's dad, was running the pad of his thumb slowly across your bottom lip. He paused as he collected the alcoholic foam. 

“You know for a Bradshaw you really are a pretty little thing aren’t you.” He didn’t mean to be so forward, but then again if you were intoxicated he could spin this whatever way he pleased come the morning. This never happened. It was all in your head. 

“I’ve been told that a time or two.” You smiled softly.

“Hopefully my son knows how lucky he is, or else someone might just snatch you up.” Jake removed his thumb from where he’d been tilting your chin up towards his gaze. There was just something about you. 

He needed to be inside you. 

“Someone being?” You pressed, wondering what he could possibly say next. Wondering if this was really all in your head or if you had actually been flirting with your boyfriend's dad and he with you. Jake's answer set your nerve ending alight. You didn’t know how to process what he said before he turned on his heels and left you there standing on the veranda of the Hard Deck alone. 

“Me—“ 

***~***~***~***~***~***~****~***~***~***~***~***~***~****~**

#father son & the holy shit // jake seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x f!reader #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman fanfiction #hangman x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman x y/n #jake seresin x y/n

[ladykailitha]

All My Roads Lead Back to You Part 3

The part you’ve all been waiting for. Steve and Eddie! We also get the explanation of Edith’s names. True story: A friend of mine got his girlfriend  pregnant and she called their daughter Josephine, but he HATED it, so when they broke up, he started calling her Jo to piss the mom off because she hated the nickname.

Part 1 Part 2

***

Eddie Munson got out of his car and was impressed by the members of Harri’s band. It was four member group with a guitarist, a bassist, a drummer and a keyboardist. Not quite like his boys, but they seemed like they knew what they were doing.

He opened his mouth to say hello when he stopped dead in his tracks. Standing up from the drum kit was the female version Steve Harrington. Down to the honey colored hair, the hazel eyes, and the freckles. Her hair was shorter than Steve ever kept it, one side half-shaved and the half over her left eye, but it was the same wild locks that made Steve famous in school. He quickly took a couple of pictures with his phone before his son spotted him.

“Dad!” Harri cried, practically throwing himself at his dad.

Eddie gave him a big hug. 

“Sweet place you’re friend’s got here,” he said, looking around the garage, slipping his phone into his back pocket. The house couldn’t have been further from the Harrington place in Loch Nora. It was warm browns and cool blues. And that was just what he could see of the garage.

“Come meet her,” Harri said bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. “She kicks ass.”

Eddie laughed and allowed his son to drag him over to the drum kit. “You know Mandy, and this Kenny Grant. And this is the queen of the castle, Miss Thing.”  

Edith laughed and shoved her sticks back into the bucket she kept close by. “Hi, Mr Munson.” She stuck out her hand for him to shake and he took it.

“What’s with the moniker?” Eddie asked, shoving his hands into his pockets with a grin.

“Most of my friends call me Miss Thing because when I was little I was mute and I loved the Addams Family movies, so because I could sign Uncle Dusty called me Miss Thing,” Edith explained. “But everyone else calls me Edie.”

Eddie’s grin grew bigger. “Edie, huh?”

“My full name is Edith Barbara Harrington,” Edie explained. “My dad wanted to name me Lilian, but my mother overruled him. So when she fucked off, Dad started calling me Edie to piss her off.” She pursed her lips and looked at the ground. Eddie was struck by how much she looked like Steve. “At least he got to chose the middle name.”

Eddie’s smile grew fond. “Barbara’s good name.”

Edie just shrugged her shoulders, “Aunt Nancy was pissed Dad got to it first. But as Dad pointed out she told everyone who would sit down for longer than five minutes that she wasn’t going to have kids so...”

“So your dad won that argument,” Eddie finished. “Losing once and while is good for her.”

Edie laughed. “That’s what Dad said. So when her and Uncle Jon had a little girl while doing some expose in Europe somewhere, she stole Lilian from him.”

Eddie chuckled. “Sounds about right.” He looked around. “I want to let you kids get back to practicing so where’s your dad?”

Edie jerked her thumb at the house. “If it’s as bad as it looked, just follow the sounds of retching, you’ll find him.”

Eddie nodded and made his way to the house but as he turned she could have sworn Mr Munson said, “Still getting migraines, the poor bastard.”

Once he was gone Edie turned to Harri. “Does your dad already know my dad?”

Harri frowned. “I’ve never heard my dad mention a Steve or even the last name Harrington in my life.”

Edie looked at the door that led to the house in confusion. “And I’ve never heard of the name Munson before either.” She turned to him. “What did you say your dad’s first name was?”

“I didn’t,” Harri said with grim expression. “It’s Edmond, but everyone calls him Ed or Eddie.”

Edie’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit. No wonder I’ve never heard the name before.”

Harri just nodded.

Mandy spoke up. “Hey, guys can we get back to practice?”

Harri and Edie looked at each other and then nodded.

*

Eddie heard the retching and his heart ached. He hadn’t thought about Steve Harrington for years. Not since Jay’s funeral. They had fallen out long before then, but Steve had been on his mind that rainy day in Hampshire. Mostly cursing him, but a thought nonetheless.

But now he was so far from that man that knelt there sobbing in the rain begging for Jay to come back, maybe this was the universe’s sign that it was time to mend bridges.

He found Steve right where Edie said he’d be, curled in front of a toilet retching his very empty guts out. He crouched down to the side of him and tapped his shoulder.

“Harri?” Steve murmured.

Eddie huffed out a laugh and signed. “Flatterer.”

Steve rolled over to prop himself against the side of the tub and looked at him more closely. “Eddie?”

Again he signed, “Where’s your hearing aid, rock star?”

“On the sink,” Steve muttered. “And I can hear just fine out of my right ear. It’s just the left one that’s a bitch.”

Eddie laughed and reaching behind him grabbed the aid off the vanity top and put in his pocket. “I don’t think you want this to fall into the toilet or the sink for that matter.”

“Dustin would kill me,” Steve agreed warily.

Eddie flushed the toilet and got a washcloth wet. He handed it to Steve.

Steve flushed a bright pink and used it wipe off his face and some of his shirt where he hadn’t made it to the bathroom in time. He washed his hands and threw it in the laundry basket.

“You know I used to make jokes about basketball being nothing more than shooting balls into laundry baskets,” Eddie teased. “Way to prove me right, Harrington.”

Steve gave a half smile. “Don’t make me laugh, I’ll throw up again.”

“And we definitely don’t want that,” Eddie agreed. “Do you think you’re done with your porcelain throne, your majesty?”

Steve rubbed his face and looked down awkwardly. “If you mean to ask if I’m done throwing up, I should be.”

It came out harsher than he meant to, but he didn’t need Eddie bringing up King Steve, not now.

Because he was looking down he missed the flicker of emotion skitter across Eddie’s face.

“Can you stand?” Eddie asked softly.

Steve tried but ended up lurching his direction instead. Eddie scrambled to catch him.

“Whoa there, Harrington,” Eddie murmured. “I’m going to help you up and then get you to your bed. Please tell me it’s not upstairs.”

“It’s not,” Steve murmured. “It’s just down the hall, third door on the left.”

Eddie got his arms under Steve and lifted him to his feet. He propped him against the wall and then lifted him bridal style. Steve merely moaned and buried his aching head into Eddie’s neck to block out the light that would hit his face once they exited the bathroom.

“All right, sweetheart,” Eddie whispered. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Steve nodded.

Eddie slipped out of the bathroom and followed Steve’s directions to the bedroom. The door was open so Eddie was able to walk right in without disturbing Steve.

The room was a far cry from the soulless monstrosity that was Steve’s teenaged bedroom. It was blues and greys and soft downy covers. He had pictures of Edie on his night stand and a large white wardrobe.

“Can you make it to the bed if I set you in front of it?” Eddie murmured.

“I should be able to,” Steve said, strained. “I just had a hard time getting up because I’d been on the floor for so long.”

Eddie pursed his lips. Yep. Yep, that was more likely than Steve not being able to walk. Yep.

“But thanks for the assist,” Steve continued, oblivious of Eddie’s internal panic.

Eddie gently let him down and waited until Steve was able to stand on his own before letting go. Eddie turned down the covers and Steve slid in with a sigh of relief. Eddie draped the blankets over him and tucked him in. He pulled out the hearing aid and placed on the nightstand next to Edie’s picture.

“I’ll send Edie to check on you when they’re done with their practice,” Eddie said softly.

Steve nodded and Eddie turned to leave.

“I didn’t name her after you, you know,” Steve whispered.

Eddie’s shoulders sagged and turned back to face him. “So she said.”

“The nickname though...” Steve said with a chuckle.

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

Steve snuggled further into the pillow. “Mhmm. Did it to piss Addison off.”

There was a story there, Eddie could tell but he didn’t want to press Steve while he was in pain.

“Go to sleep, rock star,” Eddie said instead.

And as he closed the door, Eddie swore he heard Steve murmur, “I missed you.”

*

Eddie pulled out his cell phone and pressed and held down the number two.

“Eddie!” Dustin greeted. “How are you on this fine spring evening?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Eddie said in that tone that immediately set Dustin’s teeth on edge. It was the tone that said something had gone horribly wrong and it was up to Dustin to fix it.

“What’s up?” he asked, his voice cracking a bit.

“Well, Uncle Dusty,” Eddie said with a malicious grin on his face. “You’ll never guess where I am.” He turned his phone around and sent the two pictures to him.

“Hold on I got a couple pictures here...” Dustin said trailing off. “Holy fucking shit! Is that Harri with Edie Harrington? At Steve’s house?!”

“It most certainly is,” Eddie continued. “Would you care to tell me why I wasn’t informed OUR KIDS WENT TO THE SAME SCHOOL!” he whisper-screamed, knowing that Steve was just down the hall and his kid was in the garage.

Dustin pulled the phone away from his ear and rubbed his ear with his finger. “Sheesh, dude. You’re loud. Even when you’re trying to be quiet.”

Eddie pushed his fingers into his eye as he fought to tamp down on his temper. “Dustin...” he said, slow, dark and sharp.

“Look, man,” Dustin said. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you. I warned you that if you moved back to Indy there was a chance you’d see Steve. And as for your guys’s kids going to the same school, you had to know that was possibility. You moved into the richest neighborhood. Which is where Steve has lived for the last five years.”

Eddie ground his teeth and seethed. Because Dustin was right, the little butthead. He had been warned. A lot of people had warned him.

“Fuck!” Eddie hissed into his phone. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t uproot Harri again. It’d kill him.”

“So don’t,” Dustin said. “You don’t have to interact with Steve outside your kids being in the same band and going to the same school. I don’t think my Mom and Joyce ever spent more than five minutes in each others’ company at time and they liked each other.”

“I don’t think I can do it,” Eddie whispered. “When I came over he was in the throes of one of his migraines and from the look of it, it was one of the bad ones. You know what a bleeding heart I am...”

Dustin sighed. “So you helped with a migraine. You remembered how to do it. Congrats. I still don’t see how you can’t just avoid him in the future. You know,” he said bitterly, “like you have for the last twenty years.”

“Hey,” Eddie bit out. “You know why. You fucking know why.”

Dustin scoffed. “And I still think it’s bullshit. So go on then, why can’t you ignore him now?”

Eddie took a deep breath and let out in a shuddering sigh. “As I was leaving after helping him get back to bed, he said...”

“Wait, wait, hold up,” Dustin said. “You helped him to bed?”

“Fuck, Dustin,” Eddie snapped. “Not like that. I just made sure he didn’t fall down.” Which was a lie. But that’s what Dustin got when he insinuated there was more to it than that. “Anyways, he said that he missed me and that though Edith wasn’t his choice, calling her Edie was definitely in honor of me. How the hell am I supposed to walk away from that?”

There was silence on the line for a moment or two and Eddie thought he’d lost the connection.

“No,” Dustin agreed, soft and solemn. “I don’t think I would’ve been able to walk away either.”

“What do I do?” Eddie whined.

“I think you know what to do,” Dustin said. “Stop running away.”

Eddie let out another shuddering breath. “Yeah. It’s time.” 

***

Part 4 Part 5  Part 6 Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10 Part 11  Part 12  Part 13 Part 14  Part 15  Part 16 Part 17  Part 18  Epilogue

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