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#if he’d been allowed to have the kind of closer-than-family relationships his own kids are going to have with each other
bradshawsbaby · 2 years
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Show and Tell
Pairing/Relationships: Rooster x Wife!Reader/The Bradshaw Family
Author’s Note: This little story was inspired by a video @soaharleys​ sent me a while back of a military father surprising his little girl with a homecoming. I can’t find the original ask, unfortunately, but that’s the theme of this story! It ended up being way longer than I originally anticipated, but I hope you all enjoy it!
Warnings: Some angst related to deployment and lots of Bradshaw family fluff.
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Deployments were never easy.
Whether it was a mission that would only take him away for a few weeks, or a longer deployment that would take him from you for months, your heart was never quite whole when Bradley was gone. Even after all the years you’d been together, and all the deployments you’d faced, it never seemed to get any easier. All you’d gotten better at was putting on a brave face. Instead of the tears you used to shed on base, there were car rides home where you sobbed your eyes out. And then once the kids came along, you were able to save your tears for late at night, when you could bury your face in your pillow and cry without disturbing Goose, Lydia, or James.
If you thought deployments were hard for yourself, they were ten times harder for your children. And that made them a hundred times more painful for you.
You would never forget the first time Goose was old enough to understand why Bradley was leaving and where he was going—at least, as much as Bradley was allowed to tell you. He’d only been a toddler, but he’d tried to put on a brave face, even as he clung to his father’s neck and refused to let him go. It was hard to tell who was closer to tears—your son or your husband. You’d already long given up the battle and were allowing the tears to roll freely down your cheeks.
Now seven, Goose handled deployments as well as any child could be expected to. He’d had plenty of years of practice. Though his chin sometimes still wobbled and his hugs were always extra tight, he always promised Bradley that he would be the man of the house in his father’s absence and look after you and his younger siblings. You knew he just wanted to make Bradley proud, but he didn’t have to worry about that. You and your husband were proud of your eldest child every day.
At just two years old, James was still in a place of toddler oblivion where he didn’t yet fully understand what deployment meant. He knew Daddy wouldn’t be home for a little while, and that they’d only get to see him sometimes on Mommy’s phone or iPad, but he wasn’t yet in a place where deployment meant any kind of worry or fear. You intended to keep it that way for as long as possible.
Lydia was a different story.
From the time she was very young, deployments were the worst days of the year for your daughter. A daddy’s girl through and through, she was beside herself on the days Bradley had to leave.
“Daddy no go! Daddy no go!” she’d sobbed at three years old, clinging to him desperately and refusing to let go, despite Goose’s words of encouragement. Even when you attempted to pull her out of your husband’s arms, she continued to wrap her tiny arms and legs around him, stronger than any toddler had the right to be.
“Stay, Daddy!” Lydia had wept, her cheeks flushed and stained with the tears she’d been shedding all that afternoon.
Bradley had broken down at that, tears spilling down his own cheeks as he’d kissed your daughter’s face and promised her he’d be home soon. He’d held you and Goose extra tight as well. That deployment had been a hard one.
Even now, at five years old, Lydia still had an extremely hard time with saying goodbye to her beloved Daddy. She still cried her little heart out, which always broke yours and Bradley’s, and, on occasion, begged him not to leave. While he was gone, she asked every day when he would be home, and when he returned, she was always the first one to launch herself into his waiting arms.
You and Bradley had gotten into the habit of giving the kids things of his that they could hold onto whenever missing him got really hard. They each had their own framed photograph with him that they kept beside their beds at night. When James was still sleeping in the crib, you used to show him his picture before settling him down for the night.
“Dada! Dada!” he would always exclaim brightly, which made you both smile and want to weep at the same time.
On frequent occasions, you overheard Goose and Lydia whispering, “Good night, Daddy” to their pictures before going to sleep at night. Goose usually slept with one of Bradley’s old Navy T-shirts, and Lydia was never without the aviator teddy bear that Bradley had gotten for her on his first deployment after she was born.
Your children weren’t the only ones who clung to pieces of Bradley while he was away. You had your own picture of the two of you that you kept on your bedside table, and you slept in your husband’s clothes every night. They smelled like him, and that was the only thing that helped you sleep at night. During the day, your children didn’t even bat an eye at the sight of you in Daddy’s Hawaiian shirts. They knew that Bradley’s wardrobe was more yours than your own closet whenever he was gone.
In addition to their friends from among the Dagger Squad’s children, the kids also had some classmates at school whose parents and older siblings were in the Navy and the Marines, so they understood the struggles of missing someone on deployment. The teachers were always very gracious and understanding as well, which you and Bradley were so thankful for.
Since she’d entered kindergarten, Lydia’s number one topic of conversation when she was in school was Bradley. She told all her fellow kindergarteners on a daily basis about her “amazing Daddy,” who “flew jets and saved people and was the biggest hero ever, even bigger than Superman.” Some classmates seemed skeptical about that, but Lydia assured them that it was true.
So it came as no surprise to you when Lydia’s turn for show-and-tell rolled around and she informed you that she wanted to bring something of her father’s to introduce to her class.
Bradley had been gone for over two weeks on what was supposed to be a month-long mission, and Lydia missed him desperately. It didn’t shock you in the slightest that she wanted to show off something belonging to him when she stood up for her class’ show-and-tell in a week’s time.
“Can I bring Daddy’s helmet?” Lydia asked as you were tucking her into bed that night.
You had to smother a smile at her innocent request, brushing her hair back from her face. “If Daddy was home, that might be a possibility, but he’s away right now and he has his helmet with him,” you explained gently.
Lydia pouted slightly at that, and you really had to swallow a laugh.
“You could bring pictures of Daddy in his helmet,” you suggested, trying to come up with the next best thing.
“It’s not the same,” Lydia sighed, looking downcast. Her eyes trailed over to the framed photo sitting on her bedside table and you could instantly spot the tears starting to gather. You knew this had nothing to do with the helmet and everything to do with missing Bradley.
“Sweetie, I know it’s hard,” you murmured soothingly, rubbing her arm with a gentle hand. “I miss Daddy, too. So much.”
“When is he coming home?” Lydia whimpered, sitting up and throwing herself into your arms, her face buried in your chest.
“Soon, honey. Soon,” you assured her, running your fingers through her hair. “Just a couple more weeks, and he’ll be home to us.”
“I miss him,” Lydia sniffled, pulling back just enough so that she could reach for her teddy bear.
“Hey,” you said, an idea suddenly striking you as you looked down at the little aviator bear. “Why don’t you bring Goose for show-and-tell?” you proposed, tweaking the bear’s nose affectionately.
Lydia had had the bear since she was a baby, but he hadn’t been given the name Goose until she was about three years old. Bradley had been showing the kids pictures of his parents in one of the photo albums you’d put together for him, and Lydia had suddenly hurried off to get her teddy bear from her bedroom. Returning a moment later, she’d crawled into Bradley’s lap and pressed the bear against his cheek, making little kissing sounds.
“Oh, is Teddy happy to see me?” Bradley asked with an indulgent grin, tucking some of Lydia’s hair behind her ear.
“Not Teddy,” Lydia told him, shaking her head. “Goose!”
“Like me?” your son questioned, looking curiously at his little sister.
“No,” Lydia smiled, shaking her head again. “Like Grandpa!” she exclaimed proudly, pointing to a picture of Goose in his flight suit, one of the last photographs to be taken of him before the accident that had cost him his life.
Bradley had been too stunned for words at that, just holding your daughter close and pressing a kiss to her forehead. The teddy bear had been Goose from that day forward.
Lydia’s eyes lit up at your suggestion and a huge smile spread across her face, lighting up her whole countenance. “Goose!” she nodded, squeezing her teddy bear closer to her chest. “Then I can tell everyone about Daddy and Grandpa!” she added excitedly.
“I know Daddy would love that,” you replied with a smile, stroking her cheek lightly. “And now you have a whole week to plan what you want to tell everybody when it’s your turn for show-and-tell.”
“Will you help me, Mommy?” Lydia asked, looking up at you with those big eyes that reminded you so much of all the pictures you’d seen of Carole.
“Of course, sweetheart,” you nodded, gently lowering your daughter back down against her pillow and pulling her blanket up under her chin. “But now it’s time to get some sleep.”
About an hour later, once all the kids were fast asleep and you were curled up in bed with a cup of tea, your phone buzzed.
Are you still awake?
It was a text message from Bradley. You nearly spilled hot tea all over yourself in your haste to respond.
Yes! Can you talk?
In response to your question, your phone suddenly started glowing with a FaceTime request. Sliding your finger along the accept button as quick as lightning, you couldn’t help the grin that practically split your face in two as your husband’s face filled your screen.
“There’s my girl,” Bradley grinned, his eyes looking a little weary, but happy nonetheless. “God, I miss that smile.”
“We’re even then because I miss you,” you teased in response, trying to keep your voice down as you leaned back against your pillows.
“Are the kids asleep?” he asked, noticing the way you had lowered your voice and realizing it was even later back home than he had initially thought.
“Mhm,” you nodded, brushing your hair back with one hand while you held up your phone with the other. “They miss you so much. Lydia especially.”
“I miss them, too,” he said, and you knew he meant it with all his heart. “But the good news is, they don’t have to miss me for quite as long,” he added, his eyes twinkling even through the phone.
You perked up immediately at that, your pulse fluttering in excitement. “What do you mean?” you asked him, not wanting to get your hopes up too much.
“We’re coming home a week early, baby,” Bradley explained, chuckling when he saw the thrilled look on your face. “I like that reaction. I hope that means I’m due for a big old kiss when we get back to base,” he winked playfully.
“You’re in for a lot more than that,” you laughed, throwing him your own wink in return.
“Oh, damn, don’t tease me too much, baby. We still have a whole week to go,” he grinned. “I’ll be back on Friday morning.”
“Oh, honey, that’s the best news. The kids are going to be so—oh, Friday! Oh, that’s so perfect!” you gasped suddenly, eyes widening when you remembered what Friday was.
“What is?” Bradley asked, eyebrows raised curiously. 
The connection was starting to get a little fuzzy, so you knew you’d have to explain quickly. “It’s Lydia’s turn for show-and-tell on Friday,” you told him, quickly filling him in on your daughter’s decision about what item she wanted to bring to show off to her classmates.
Bradley was quiet for a moment, looking thoughtful. For a moment, you worried the connection had been lost and he was frozen, but then he suddenly started talking. “The kids don’t know yet that I’m coming back on Friday,” he began slowly, mulling something over in his mind. “They still think I’m coming home in two weeks. What if we let Lydia keep thinking that?”
Your eyes lit up when you caught on to what your husband was suggesting, the two of you wearing matching smiles despite the thousands of miles that currently separated you. “Do you think you’ll be back in time? To surprise her at school, I mean?”
Bradley nodded vehemently. “I’ll man the carrier myself if I have to,” he smiled. “I’ll be back in time. Can you work something out with Mrs. Santos?” he asked, referring to Lydia’s kindergarten teacher, an incredibly kind woman.
“Of course,” you nodded, beaming. “Oh, baby, I’m so excited. Lydia is going to be so happy. So are the boys. We all miss you so much.”
“I miss you all, too,” Bradley said, glancing over his shoulder for a moment. “Alright, baby, I have to go. I’ll talk to you again as soon as I can,” he promised you, blowing you a kiss. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, baby,” you replied, blowing him a kiss as well. “Talk soon.”
You went to bed that night feeling as giddy as one of your daughter’s kindergarten classmates.
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During the week that followed, you had to be tremendously careful to make plans without letting the kids know what you were up to, particularly Lydia. Bradley FaceTimed with them a couple times, and you were impressed by what a straight face he was able to keep when they peppered him with a million questions about when he was coming home. He’d always wink at you before ending the call and you’d marvel at how, after so many years and three children, that man still managed to give you the butterflies.
You were able to speak privately with Mrs. Santos and Miss Jennifer, the classroom aide, about what you and Bradley were hoping to be able to do during Lydia’s show-and-tell on Friday. They were both incredibly excited—Miss Jennifer even eagerly agreed to videotape everything on her cell phone—and promised to help with whatever you needed. You cleared everything with the school as well, just to cover all your bases. Having many military children enrolled in the school, they were more than happy to accommodate in any way possible.
As the day drew nearer and nearer, there was one other person that you had decided to draw into your confidence—Goose. You and Bradley had once surprised your oldest son with an early homecoming when he was four, so he knew how exciting it was. Lydia had barely been two at the time, so she didn’t really remember it, but Goose did. You knew he’d be happy to help surprise his little sister in the same way.
He was. It made you smile to see your son’s chest puff out with pride when you told him that he was old enough and responsible enough to get to be a part of planning Daddy’s big surprise for Lydia.
“I can keep the secret, Mom,” he promised you, pretending to zip his lips closed. “Don’t worry!”
And he did. He did a stupendous job. He honestly seemed to be holding it in even better than you. By the time Friday morning rolled around, Lydia had absolutely no idea the surprise that was in store for her that day.
“Mommy, why isn’t Goose going to school today?” Lydia asked from her spot in the backseat of the car, snuggled in between her two brothers. She glanced over at her older brother, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “He doesn’t look sick.”
You laughed, glancing quickly in the rearview mirror. “He isn’t sick,” you explained, turning into the drop-off line in front of the school. “He just needs to see the eye doctor for a quick check-up and today was the only appointment I could get,” you fibbed. You felt bad lying to your own child, but you knew it was for a good reason.
“Do I have to go to the eye doctor?” Lydia asked, looking a little worried.
“No, honey. Just your brother,” you smiled, winking conspiratorially at Goose, who did his best to hide a smile of his own.
Putting the car in park, you got out to make sure that Lydia had everything she needed for the day. “Alright, honey, here’s Goose,” you told her, handing her the teddy bear after you had slipped her backpack over her shoulders. “I spoke to Mrs. Santos and Miss Jennifer, and Miss Jennifer is going to videotape your show-and-tell so we can show Daddy. Does that sound good?”
“Yes!” Lydia exclaimed, bouncing up and down excitedly. “Bye, Mommy!” she said, giving you a kiss on the cheek before waving to her brothers. “Bye, Goose! Bye, James!”
“Bye, Lyddie! Good luck!” Goose called out, waving out the window.
As soon as you made sure Lydia was safely inside the school building, you jumped back in the car and hurriedly drove to base, your pulse hammering in excitement.
“James, Daddy’s coming home today,” Goose told his little brother happily, taking the two-year-old’s hand in his.
“Daddy!” James cried excitedly, clapping his hands together in his car seat and laughing.
The carrier was already docked when you and the boys arrived at the hangar where everyone was eagerly anticipating welcoming their loved ones home. It was just a matter of waiting now.
“Dad!” Goose shouted suddenly, pointing when he spotted Bradley among the crowd of Navy men and women deboarding the carrier. He took off running, embracing his father with abandon as children all around him did the same with their own family members.
James wiggled furiously on your hip, trying to reach out to his father as well as you hurried in Goose’s wake. You hadn’t even opened your mouth to say, “Welcome home” before Bradley had his arms around both you and James, kissing you soundly.
“Ew,” Goose grinned, turning his face away. He was now at an age where seeing your parents kissing was a tad bit gross.
Bradley swatted him playfully on the head, then turned to take James into his arms, kissing your youngest child’s cheek and tickling his stomach, which made him laugh brightly.
“Welcome home, Captain,” you smiled, lifting your face so that he could kiss you again. Your son could find it gross all he wanted. You would never tire of your husband’s affection.
“God, I missed you,” Bradley whispered against your lips, pulling you close and inhaling the scent of your sweet perfume. “You also smell a lot better than that carrier,” he added with a wink, wrapping an arm around Goose’s shoulders. “Alright, boys, what do you say? Are we ready to go surprise your sister?”
“Yes!” James exclaimed loudly, throwing both fists into the air, which made the rest of you laugh.
“Well let’s roll then,” Bradley smiled, following you back to where you parked the car. “Don’t want to be late for show-and-tell.”
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As planned, you called the school when you were about twenty minutes away, so that they could notify Mrs. Santos. She and Miss Jennifer quickly got the class into circle time on the rug so that they could begin show-and-tell, with Lydia being the first student up.
“Okay, Lydia, we’re going to videotape this for your dad,” Miss Jennifer said, taking a seat in a spot where she would have a good angle of Bradley arriving through the door conveniently located behind Lydia’s back. She and Mrs. Santos exchanged knowing smiles as Lydia held up her teddy bear.
“Everybody, this is Goose,” Lydia told her classmates proudly, holding him out so that everyone could see.
“Let’s all say hello to Goose,” Mrs. Santos encouraged the kindergarteners. Soon enough, twenty little voices were echoing hers in saying, “Hi, Goose!”
“I’ve had Goose since I was a baby,” Lydia explained, pressing him closer to her chest. “My daddy bought him for me when he had to go away. He’s a pilot, just like my daddy. See his outfit?” she asked, pointing to his miniature flight suit.
“Why is he called Goose?” called out one of the boys from the back of the circle.
“His name is Goose, just like my grandpa. My daddy’s daddy,” Lydia told them all, her pride reflected in her bright smile. “He was a pilot, too. My daddy says—”
At that moment, unbeknownst to Lydia, the door quietly opened behind her as Bradley crept into the room, with you, Goose, and James watching from the doorway. Some of Lydia’s classmates’ eyes widened, but she didn’t notice as she excitedly went on explaining the history of her teddy bear.
“Oh no, am I late for show-and-tell?” Bradley asked once he was standing right behind your daughter.
Lydia let out a gasp and her eyes flew open in shock at the sound of her father’s voice. She would recognize his voice anywhere. Whirling around, her jaw dropped open at the sight of him standing before her, still in his flight suit.
“Daddy!” she cried out, throwing her arms around him as he took her into his embrace.
“Hi, baby,” Bradley whispered, kissing the side of her head as he held her tightly to his chest. “I missed you so much,” he told her, lifting her up into his arms.
Lydia clung to him like a drowning man clinging to a raft, wrapping her legs around him as she began to sob into his neck. “Daddy, you’re home!”
“Shh, don’t cry, honey,” Bradley murmured soothingly, rubbing her back. “I’m home. I came home early, just so I could surprise you,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“She’s so surprised,” Goose whispered excitedly from where the two of you were still standing in the doorway, James resting on your hip.
“Mhm,” you nodded, wiping at the tears spilling down your own cheeks. “Thanks to you, honey. You kept the secret so well,” you told him, kissing the top of his head.
“Me, too?” James demanded in his little toddler voice, wrapping his fist around a chunk of your hair.
“You, too,” you laughed, squeezing James’ stomach affectionately.
“Mommy, Goose, and James helped me surprise you,” Bradley told Lydia, pointing to where the rest of you were standing.
As soon as your daughter locked eyes on you, you all came to join in the little reunion, sharing a family hug.
“Lydia, why don’t you introduce us all to your daddy?” Mrs. Santos suggested, beaming at your daughter and the rest of your family.
Bradley slowly lowered Lydia back to the ground, but she still clung to him, as if he would disappear if she let go of him. Your husband smiled at you over his shoulder, winking playfully.
“Everybody, this is my daddy. He’s a Navy pilot and he’s my hero,” Lydia introduced him proudly, beaming up at him as she held onto his hand with both of hers.
Suddenly, all of Lydia’s classmates were bursting with questions.
“What’s it like to fly?”
“Is it scary?”
“Did you ever touch a cloud?”
“Are you a superhero?”
“Are you really better than Superman?”
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Are you going to stay with us all day, Mr. Bradshaw?”
“Actually, that’s Captain Bradshaw,” Goose started to correct the kindergartener defensively, but you tactfully slid a hand over your son’s mouth.
Your husband ended up being the guest of honor in Lydia’s kindergarten class that day. He was more than happy to sit in the center of the circle, with Lydia perched happily on his lap, while he answered every possible question the five-year-olds threw at him, from his favorite ice cream flavor to whether he preferred dogs or cats to what his favorite part of being a pilot was.
Miss Jennifer was gracious enough to videotape it all, while you managed to snap a few pictures on your phone, including a picture of Bradley with the whole class, Lydia standing proudly by his side.
Bradley was a regular celebrity by the time the day was over, all of Lydia’s classmates begging him to come back again soon so that they could ask him more questions. Bradley promised Mrs. Santos that he would look into scheduling a time for Lydia’s class to take a field trip to the base, which was an exciting prospect for everyone.
That night was one of the happiest your family had had in a long time. Lydia couldn’t stop gushing about how surprised she was. She wanted to watch the video Miss Jennifer had sent over and over again.
Your heart filled to the brim as you watched your husband play with your three children on the floor of the living room, his hand resting supportively on James’ back as Goose and Lydia raced around the room with their toys. It was moments like these that you missed the most when Bradley was away. There was nothing in the world that could beat the sound of your husband’s laughter, mingled with the sound of your children’s bright giggles, reverberating throughout the house. And nothing felt quite as good as getting to put your children to bed together, kissing them and tucking them in and being able to breathe easier knowing that all five of you were safe under one roof. Together.
And that night, once the kids were fast asleep and Bradley took you into his arms, there were no fears or worries that could distract you for even a second from the deep and intimate love that the two of you shared.
Deployments were never easy. 
They were downright hard. 
But they made the homecomings all the sweeter.
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shadyelizabeth · 2 years
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8.10. COCONUT
From a young age, Harry had known he wanted to have kids. Having not been raised by his own parents and only having glimpses of what good parenting looked like, the overall idea was kind of daunting to him, but he wanted it nonetheless. He wanted to build a family of his own.
What that looked like for him changed over the years. At first, he thought he and Ginny would have a few red-headed kids or maybe a little black-haired baby if his genetics were strong enough. But after the war,  he and Ginny started to drift apart. She was never the same after Fred died, and Harry couldn’t be what she needed.
Not in any rush to find another relationship, he let himself be consumed by work but made time for the occasional date or two. However, it quickly became clear that dating as an adult was going to be a bit more complicated than he’d anticipated.
Harry had always had fans–“Potterheads”, as they so lovingly called themselves–but, while in school, his interactions with them had been filtered through the mail. Now, with virtually unfettered access, when going on dates, he was unsure whether people were going out with him because of genuine interest or because he was Harry Potter.
For a while, he was resigned to being (forever) alone. 
Until Neville turned him onto a new dating app just for wizards called Thirdstory which allowed the user as much or as little anonymity as they wanted. Not wanting to be recognized by his name or his face, he uploaded a picture of his abs (not that he was desperate or anything), set his username to heartofalion7, and waited to see what happened.
The first few inquiries were, as expected, complimenting him on his physique and asking to see more, but Harry wasn’t looking for a hookup. So when he got a message from asnakeinthegarden saying, “Vanity is unbecoming,” he snorted. With a comment attached to a username like that, Harry knew whoever was behind the profile was probably a Slytherin, and he was immediately intrigued. 
Once they started talking, they didn’t stop. Over the next few weeks, they talked for several hours a day, both of them careful not to give too much away, but still able to have meaningful and deep conversations about their failures and their fears, their hopes, and their dreams. Right before they decided to meet in person, Harry admitted he’d signed up for the app because he was looking for a genuine connection, someone he could see himself having a future with, to which they’d responded: “I find it utterly fascinating that you thought the best way to attract a life partner was by showing the world your nipples.”
If Harry hadn’t been sure beforehand, he knew then that he was smitten. 
They agreed to meet at a little café near the River Thames. Harry had gone back and forth with himself about whether to arrive early–he didn’t want to seem too eager, even though he was–or to arrive on time as he didn’t want to risk being late. He’d eventually settled on early, ordering an English breakfast tea for himself and Earl Grey for his garden snake as he settled in to wait for his arrival. 
The first thing he saw was white-blonde hair, and while a very small part of his mind had thought Draco, he quickly dismissed the idea because what were the odds? But as the person moved closer and Harry’s eyes were able to make out more details, the blonde hair framed a slender face with an angular nose and a cautious expression, and he was wearing the royal green jumper he said he’d be in.
To say Harry had been surprised was an understatement. That the guy he’d been talking to for almost a month–who was witty and charming, intelligent and sarcastic, who made him laugh until his stomach hurt and who kept him up at night with discussions about Muggle musicians and his favorite desserts–was Draco Malfoy made no sense, and yet, when the door opened, the tiny overhead bell tinkling happily, it was him.
Almost as soon as the door closed behind him, he stopped in his tracks, recognition drawing his manicured eyebrows together.
“Potter.” His eyes darted around the room as if he might find another person waiting for him wearing a red and black flannel. When his eyes settled back on Harry, the crease between his eyebrows seemed impossibly deeper. “You’re–are you–”
“heartofalion7?” He nodded. “And that makes you–”
“asnakeinthegarden.” He sighed. His eyebrows fluttered down and closed with his sagging shoulders. With his hands clenched into fists, he asked, “Is this some kind of joke? Because if it is–”
“It’s not. It’s–” Draco was the last person he’d expected to meet today, and while it almost seemed like a cosmic joke that his garden snake was his school nemesis, he couldn’t deny the feelings of joy and excitement and passion and lust that had been swirling around within him, all born out of honest conversation. “It’s serendipity.”
“It’s insanity!” Draco folded his arms across his chest, continuing to raise his guard. “This has to be some kind of mix-up! You and I, Potter, we’re enemies, or have you forgotten? We don’t like anything about each other.”
“I mean, you did say you were fascinated by my nipples.”
Harry had seen Draco flush before, and in those previous situations, the red in his cheeks had given him great satisfaction. Much like before, the pink tinting those high cheekbones made Harry immensely satisfied but for a completely different reason this time. 
“That’s not what I said, and you know it.”
“I do.” He smiled, hoping it was coming off inviting. He gestured to the seat across from him. “That’s why you should come sit and tell me more things I already know. Or tell me anything. Just . . . don’t go.”
When Harry kissed Draco goodbye later that afternoon, it was with a smile on his lips and, for the first time in a long time, a vision of what his future could look like.
Three years later, they were exchanging wedding vows.
Present day, five years after their first date, Harry and Draco were sitting in their surrogate’s kitchen.
Madeleine was a patisserie owner and an old friend of Draco’s, having met when she was trying to get her business up and running. He lent her the money while she indulged his sweet tooth. When Draco had mentioned that they were wanting to have a baby, she enthusiastically offered to help, saying, “You helped me get my baby. Let me help you get yours!”
Harry was so excited by the initial excitement of his dream coming true that after all paperwork and details were taken care of and Maddie’s pregnancy was confirmed, he felt a little bereft. He knew having a baby with a man would be a different experience than having one with a woman who was his partner, but still, he thought he would be more involved somehow, that there would be more to do in the months before the baby arrived.
Draco must have sensed his restlessness because a few weeks into the pregnancy, on a Sunday afternoon, Draco walked Harry into their backyard with one hand over his eyes and the other on the small of his back guiding him forward.
“No peeking!” he’d said, his voice warm with affection.
“I’m not! I’m not!” 
When they reached the end of the deck, he removed his hand and said, “Okay. You can look.”
Blinking to clear his vision, their small fenced-in backyard had been decorated with navy streamers and dark purple balloons. Madeleine was standing in front of a folding table laden with sweets holding a sign that said, “HAPPY BABY BLUEBERRY!!”
“What is this?” he asked, looking between the two of them.
“Well,” Madeleine started, “I thought a fun way to keep you up to date on the baby’s progress would be to have a weekly pastry party, based on the baby’s relative size to fruit. This week Baby Potter-Malfoy is the size of a blueberry, so I made you some blueberry treats: cobbler, cookies, and crumble bars! Each week will be something new!”
And so, thirty-one weeks in, Harry and Draco were sitting at Maddie’s kitchen table while she pulled some sweets from the refrigerator, refusing to let them help.
With his arm wrapped around the back of Harry’s chair, Draco leaned in and softly said, “What do you think it’s going to be this week?”
“Hmm, maybe a melon? Like a cantaloupe or honeydew.”
“I was thinking maybe a pineapple.”
“Close,” Maddie said, setting down a circular dish with a flaky crust, whipped peaks, and coconut flakes garnishing the top. “Not quite as big yet and a little more . . . hairy.” She winked at him before turning back to the fridge.
Harry found Draco’s hand under the table and gently squeezed. “We have a little baby coconut.” He suddenly sat up, back straight and eyes wide. “We have a little baby coconut!”
He didn’t know why this felt different. Maybe it was because he’d learned that baby poop could be the consistency of the pie they were about to eat (which he was still going to eat). Maybe it was the “hairy” comment, even though he knew the baby had all its essential parts by now. It wasn’t because of the size; that set in with the cauliflower. (Draco had snapped a picture of him cradling a cauliflower crown with tears in his eyes a few weeks ago.) But for reasons not even Hermione could explain, Baby Coconut Potter-Malfoy suddenly made this very real for Harry.
Turning to face Draco, he could feel the tears welling up in his eyes again. “We have a little baby coconut.”
With a small smile, Draco pressed a kiss to his forehead. “We do, and they’re gonna be here so soon.”
The tears were fully running down his cheeks now. It honestly didn’t make any sense, but he didn’t care. Taking his husband’s face gently in his hands, he kissed him sweetly. “I promise not to be this much of a mess when we have our next kid.”
Draco swiped a thumb across his cheek. “If you break it, I promise I won’t be upset.”
Laughing through his tears, Harry said, “Godric, I love you. Happy Baby Coconut!”
“Happy Baby Coconut, my love.”
AUGUST MASTERPOST
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panharmonium · 3 years
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new plan: somebody give rin AND obito medals for being the only two people to ever ask kakashi “are you okay” in a context that isn’t “are you injured.”
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yourmidnightlover · 3 years
Text
all my fault
Request: spencer and y/n are married, and they’ve been trying to have kids, and then she finds out she’s pregnant. a few weeks into the pregnancy, she has a miscarriage, and at the hospital the doctor said it’s bc she had an abortion as a teenager, and it fucked up her it yet us. spencer didn’t know she had an abortion, and blames her for the death of the baby, and they end up sleeping separately for a while and they have to grieve by themselves. spencer ends up talking to emily about it bc of her experience and it has a comforting ending!
Summary: when reader has a miscarriage after trying to have a baby with spencer, and things about her past are revealed and leaves things rocky within their relationship.
CW: miscarriage, pregnancy, mention of abortion, spencer’s rly harsh at first, teenage pregnancy, mentions of surgery, a cervix condition that i kinda made up, depressive thoughts, negative self-worth, HAPPY ENDING. *please let me know if i’ve missed anything*
A/N: i’ve been working on coming up with a series, which i posted last thursday! i’m sorry i haven’t been as consistent with my schedule, this summer has really taken a toll on my mental health and school is about to start back up. i promise i’m not quitting writing, but my writing might become a bit more sporadic in terms of my posting schedule. i’m still not sure if i like how i’ve executed this piece, so please let me know what you think!
IMPORTANT A/N: this contains serious topics centered around pregnancy and abortion. reader end up blaming herself and it is a very triggering subject to some. if you aren’t comfortable with those kinds of depressive thoughts PLEASE DONT READ. i don’t want anyone to be triggered by my writing. your mental health matters. you matter. do not read if your sensitive to the subject matter, please!
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when you and spencer checked the third pregnancy test and saw those two, very clear lines on the stick, you felt an unbelievable amount of joy.
“oh my god,” you clamped your hand over your mouth, your eyes welling with tears.
“y/n…” he held his breath, holding your free hand with both of his own.
“you’re gonna be a dad,” you huffed out a laugh as his arms flew around you.
“and you’re gonna be a mom! we’re gonna have our own little family,” he cheered as he breathed in your scent, elated from the news he had hoped for since you said ‘i do.’
spencer had wanted to be a father since he met henry, you remember how attached he was to the child who wasn’t even his own. you hadn’t always wanted children, only when you were absolutely ready for them. now, you were more than ready.
your arms flew around spencer’s neck as his went around your waist. he dropped to his knees and began pressing kisses against a bump that wasn’t even visible yet, praising you and your body for carrying his child.
because it was so hard for you to get pregnant, spencer decided to baby you every chance he got. you didn’t do the dishes or sweep, you weren’t allowed to reach for high shelves or even step on a chair to do so. he was worried about you and the baby, so you let him. you found it endearing.
the perfect man that you married was so worried about the little bean inside of you, worried for your safety, that it drove him a bit mad. who were you to complain? each time he’d do one of the new little quirks like not letting you lift anything above 10 pounds, you just smiled to yourself and brushed it off.
being pregnant was something that you had lost hope for, in all honesty. spencer had been talking to a few friends who had adopted children prior to finding out you were pregnant. if this hadn’t worked out, the two of you were going to look into adoption.
spencer had planned your doctors appointment for 6 weeks after your last period. the appointment was in three days. and then the perfect outline you had for your future went down in crumbles.
you had been having pains in your lower abdomen, and you figured it was just because you were pregnant. you went to the bathroom like you normally would when you felt queasy, kneeling by the toilet in preparation for what was to come. only nothing came.
you decided to just go pee and get back to bed. there was a pain that wasn’t like you’d felt before when you were peeing, like someone had been pulling your intestines out of your body. when you looked down, you felt your stomach drop.
“spencer!” you cried out. “spencer, hurry!” you felt tears well in your eyes until he ran up beside you. his hand was on your thigh as the other one was trying to steady your shaking hand.
“what is… oh,” he looked in the toilet to see blood inside of it.
“spencer… what happened? i don’t know what happened. everything was doing so well and the baby-we just found out and now they’re-wh-what’s gonna happen?” you rambled out, unsure of how something this horrific happened so quickly.
“i-i don’t know, my love,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “i don’t know. but we’ll go to the hospital right now, okay? we’ll get answers.”
you just nodded. you couldn’t speak anymore. you felt your throat closing in on yourself. you cleaned yourself up and got dressed. even looking in the mirror with spencer’s arms around you, you didn’t feel anything but guilt and worry.
spencer’s touch would usually be something to ease your mind and take away the thoughts of everything else around you. only this was something wrong inside of you. you were the problem this time. and you didn’t think anything could fix this feeling.
“let’s get to the hospital, yea?” you nodded as he held onto your hand, trying to ground you to himself as he guided you to the car.
you were silent the entire drive to the doctor. there was nothing to say. there was nothing to do. there was just… nothing. you were numb.
“hey,” he spoke up, “we don’t know what happened yet. there’s a chance it’s just a fluke, right? the baby might be okay.”
“what’re the statistics, spencer? tell them to me,” you ordered as tears flowed from your eyes.
“y/n…”
“tell me! why don’t you want me to know?!” you accused him, looking over at the man driving as he but his lower lip. “1 in 4 women who experience bleeding during a pregnancy are fine. 25 percent. the other 75 percent of people have either a miscarriage or serious complications. those are the statistics.”
“y/n…” he sighed, “it’s not your fault. you didn’t want this to happen. besides, there’s still a 25 percent chance that nothings wrong.”
“whatever,” you rolled your eyes and opted to look out of the window for the remainder of the drive to the hospital.
-
“alright,” the doctor entered the room. “we have the results from the test and we’ve examined the ultrasound pictures. i’m so sorry, but you’ve had a miscarriage.”
what were you supposed to feel? an overwhelming sense of sorrow? like a failure? like the one thing you wanted most in the world fell through?
“how-how did this happen?” you spoke through the tears. “we were so-we were careful. i didn’t lift heavy objects, i didn’t do repetitive motions, i just… we tried so hard to make this work,” you shook your head in disapproval, as if you wouldn’t accept the answer that had already been proven to you.
“there’s proof of an abortion when you were a teenager. there was severe damage done to your cervix that wasn’t assessed pre-pregnancy. now, we can repair the damage within the next two months, but it will still be difficult to become pregnant after the surgery,” the female informed you.
“then what’s the point of getting the surgery?” you scoffed, looking at spencer who was just staring off in space.
“while getting pregnant will still be difficult, maintaining the pregnancy is much more likely. the fetus would be more protected and secure after the surgery,” she explained with a pitiful smile, you couldn’t help but wonder how she could smile after giving you the worst news of your life.
“right,” you nodded curtly, allowing her to sense the mood of the conversation.
“i’ll leave you two be. i’m so sorry for your loss,” she gave the both of you a pitiful smile before exiting the room, the only sound audible being the closing of the door.
it didn’t feel real. it felt as though you were in a nightmare. only this time, you wouldn’t wake in spencer’s comforting arms. you wouldn’t hear the soft soothing voice of the man you love trying to calm you down. you wouldn’t feel the solace he would provide by merely being himself in your proximity.
the drive home was eerily quiet. there was an inkling of animosity between you. looking over at spencer in the driver’s seat, he had a dead look on his face, the only sign of previous emotion being his red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. he didn’t even look like your spencer. he looked like a stranger in the drivers seat with a cold expression that you could barely read.
you knew this was something you should talk about. when the nurse came back in the room it was only to offer a few referrals go therapists that specialized in this kind of grief. clearly, any couple should talk about losing an unborn baby. but you knew that’s not what spencer was truly upset about.
you waited until you shut the door to your apartment before saying anything.
“maybe we should talk about it?” you whispered, not knowing how he’d react.
“about what? the fact that you’ve lied to me for our entire relationship?!” he wouldn’t even turn around to face you. “i thought we were in this together, y/n. we aren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other - especially not any that just killed our child!”
“hey…” you winced at his words. “why would you say that?”
“that’s the truth! your choices when you were a teenager just killed our child! my child!” he finally turned to face you, and you wished he hadn’t.
“do you think i knew they would botch my abortion, spencer?! do you think that’s what i wanted?!” you stepped closer to him, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
“i don’t know what you want anymore, y/n,” he shook his head, clearly exasperated.
“i want you. i want to get the surgery to fix my cervix. i want to grieve our child. i still want kids… with you, spencer,” you tried to ease the mood, calm him down. you reached your hand out to cup his cheek before he dodged your touch, afraid of touching you. “but you don’t want that?” you whispered so quiet, too afraid of the answer to raise your voice.
“i-“ he sighed and bit his lower lip. “i don’t know.”
“right. of course you don’t,” you shook your head before sitting on the couch, dropping your face in your hands.
“what’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed as he took off his coat.
“it means that: of course, you’re making this about you! it can’t be about us grieving our loss together like the doctor recommended?!” you peeked between your hands at the man you still didn’t recognize.
“maybe we shouldn’t grieve together since we can’t even have a conversation without getting angry at one another,” he tried to reason.
“the only reason i’m getting mad is because you’re blaming me for my baby’s death,” you spat back at the doctor before you.
“because it’s your fault!” he stood strong in his belief. “when you were a teenager, did you or did you not have an abortion?”
“i did,” you admitted.
“and the nurse said that in said abortion, they screwed your cervix up! if you didn’t have that abortion, our child would still be alive! we would be on our way to become happy parents!” he accused, rubbing salt in the already stinging wound. “it’s your fucking fault!”
“stop saying that,” you shook your head and dropped it back in your hands, trying to hide the tears that began to flow down your face.
“it is, y/n! i can’t believe you’re even trying to say this isn’t!” he chuckled, clearly getting under your skin.
“shut up, spencer!”
“i can’t, y/n!” he sat in the chair across from you before standing back up, too hyper to sit. “no wonder it was so hard for you to get pregnant.”
“spencer,” you begged him to stop, meeting his face with your teary eyes.
“y/n,” he stared you in the eyes, and you saw a glimpse of the man you loved for a second before he retreated to the bedroom.
you sat on the couch in confusion of what had just occurred.
when you were 15, you’re boyfriend was adamant about taking your relationship “to the next step.” you didn’t think you were ready to have sex, but you wanted him to stay with you. so, you gave in. it just so happened to be that you were one of the lucky girls that ends up getting pregnant her first time in spite of birth control and a condom. you couldn’t tell your mom about your pregnancy, she’d have your head on a pole.
so, you earned enough money from your job to get an abortion yourself. you went to a clinic and had your boyfriend’s mom come with you to sign as your guardian. was it smart to get an abortion that cheap? probably not. but you had no other choice. your mom had made it abundantly clear that if she caught you fooling around with him that she’d kick you out.
you were 15. you were young and still had to finish high school. there was no support system for you. you would’ve been on the streets with a little baby - not to mention the amount of debt you’d go into for just giving birth to a child in a hospital. it was the only choice.
and now you were being berated for making the only choice you even had - and by the person you loved most in the world.
you curled into yourself on the couch, laying your head on the arm and crying into the fabric. you released all of the tension and turmoil. you held onto the cushions as if it were the man that you wanted - no, needed to comfort you. because as much as you’d hate to admit it and try to fight those thoughts, part of you thought that spencer was right. it was your fault.
you fell asleep on the couch that night. you didn’t have the strength to get up to grab a blanket so you just sucked it up.
spencer didn’t sleep at all. he was used to having you curled into his chest, or himself on yours. he felt terrible about how he had talked to you, but he was too stubborn to admit anything just yet.
in the middle of the night he went out of the room to grab a glass of water. he saw you curled up in a ball, you head resting on the arm of the couch as you slept. it was the most peaceful you looked in the past 24 hours. but you began shivering as you slept. you were probably too exhausted to get up to do anything.
he went to the hall closet on a detour and grabbed your favorite, soft blanket and laid it on top of your body. after placing a soft kiss on your forehead, he went into the kitchen and made his glass of water before taking one more glance at you. you had snuggled into the blanket, pulling it up to your chin with a gentle smile that always appeared when he kissed your forehead as you slept.
maybe he didn’t screw up too badly, after all.
the next few days were spent avoiding one another. spencer couldn’t face you after knowing you had kept something so dire from him for the entirety of your relationship. you couldn’t face him after he made you feel as though it was your fault you lost your baby.
you would stay on the couch all day, barely eating or drinking anything while spencer would go out - only mentioning the library or the office to do more paperwork. eventually he just started sleeping at morgan’s house - probably because he couldn’t stand being around you.
you didn’t know how to grieve your baby, you were hoping that spencer might help, but that clearly won’t be happening. on top of that, you were worrying about your marriage. he couldn’t even look at you, how was he supposed to talk to you and sleep beside you?
a lot of times, it’s perceived that the only reason women were put on this planet were to have children - of course that’s a false notion, but it didn’t make it sting any less. your body had betrayed you. you had betrayed yourself.
it was only 12 days after spencer left when he came back home, if he could call it that anymore. once he walked into the living room, he saw you curled up in that same position on the couch. you had a blank stare that was directed towards the black tv. the only evidence that you were doing something was the empty water bottles surrounding you - certainly not enough considering he’d been gone for over a week.
when he entered you didn’t even flinch. your gaze stayed on the empty screen and your face remained vacant of any emotion.
in all honesty, morgan was the one to tell spencer he should check on you. spencer hadn’t told him everything about your argument, he knew he was in the wrong. but he was just so angry. regardless, he was here now, and it’s a good thing he was.
you hadn’t been taking care of yourself. spencer had morgan and savannah checking on him, but you had nobody. he only realized this when morgan pointed it out. and as upset as he was, spencer would always love you. your expressionless face only worried him more. your clothes had been changed from when he last saw you, but he doubts you’ve had a shower.
he stayed silent as he began picking up the empty water bottles from around the table and couch. you looked at him quizzically with furrowed brows.
“what’re you doing?” you asked, your chin already quivering as tears threatened to stream down your face.
“i’m trying to help,” he whispered as sensitively as he could, making eye contact with the most pitiful face you’d ever seen.
“i think you’ve helped enough,” you rolled your eyes before resuming your serious stare-down with the television. “you can leave.”
“no, i can’t,” he replied, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch while being sure not to touch you - he didn’t know if you were ready for that.
“you already did,” you brought to his attention, briefly looking at him. “just go.”
“y/n, i-“
“i don’t want to hear it! what’re you gonna say that could make me feel worse, spencer?!” you let the tears fall past your waterline. “i know it’s my fault. i know i screwed up! and i’m sorry! i’m so sorry!” you replied with far too much sincerity, the tears streaming down your face before he scooted closer to you, planning on wrapping his arms around you. “stop! don’t come near me!” you pushed his shoulders away. “it’s my fault,” you lowered your voice significantly before wrapping your arms around yourself.
he had called emily as soon as he got back into the bedroom. he knew she had previously had an abortion when she was a teenager, and he just needed to hear her side of it. part of him didn’t even expect her to pick up the phone.
“reid, what’s wrong?” she immediately answered.
“i-i think i need to talk to you,” he whispered in a hushed tone.
“right now?” she asked in a mildly concerned tone.
“if you can? the sooner the better,” he answered honestly.
“alright. you want to meet somewhere or just come over?”
“can i just come over? it’s really personal and i wasn’t sure who else to go to,” he began tying his shoes and hoping she’d agree.
“of course, come on over,” she replied in a worried voice.
“ok. i’ll be there in twenty.”
he quietly left the apartment, not before sparing you a regretful glance. he lost his child, but you also lost your child as well. he just couldn’t control his anger. and partially, he thought he was right.
how could you not have told him about something so serious? the second you had began having issues getting pregnant, maybe you should’ve been open about previous pregnancies.
“hey,” emily greeted before giving him a hug after seeing his teary eyes. “come inside.”
“thanks,” he sniffled before stepping into her apartment.
she guided him into her living room and sat down on the couch beside him. they sat there for a few silent minutes before he was able to work up enough courage.
“y/n was pregnant,” he whispered, barely audible if she weren’t right beside him.
“was,” she pointed out, already feeling as though she knew the rest of the story.
“she uhm-she miscarried two weeks ago,” he somberly admitted for the first time to someone else. “the doctor said it was because she had an abortion when she was a teenager that somehow ruined her cervix.”
“and that’s why you felt like you needed to talk to me?” she gathered, she was a great profiler for a reason but this was far more obvious.
“i was pretty harsh. i-i told her it was her fault,” he bit his lower lip as he grimaced. “i really rubbed it in, too.”
“spencer… “ she sighed, taking a deep breath before continuing. “you’re mourning a life, right now. obviously, that would raise tensions and emotions would be heightened. but… have you apologized? for telling her it was her fault?”
“no?” he replied after thinking about it. “i was going to do that today but she’s… she’s not in good shape. i’m not saying she needs to be perfect, but while i was at derek’s i can tell she didn’t take care of herself. she barely drank any water.”
“did you ask her why she had an abortion? why she didn’t tell you? did you ask her anything about how she’s feeling?” emily asked once more.
“no,” he cowered down, feeling even worse about the truthful answer. “i was just… selfish. i didn’t think about how she’s feeling. i just-i feel so bad now, seeing what state she’s in.”
“when i got an abortion it was because i wasn’t ready for a child,” she began to inform him. “i was a child, myself. how was a child supposed to take care of another one? my mother would’ve been disgraced. i basically had nobody there for me. i kept it a secret because having an abortion is so controversial. i knew people would look at me differently for making a responsible decision for my future.”
“god, i feel so bad,” he began to tear up himself. “i love her so much and i told her these horrible things.”
“make it right, spencer,” she gave him a supportive smile and pat his thigh before he stood up.
“i-i have to go,” he wiped the tears from his face before giving emily a hug, grateful she would listen to him at such an ungodly hour.
he quickly drove back home, where he decidedly belonged in the first place. he never should’ve left home. he never should’ve left you. you were his home, and he didn’t know how he could possibly lose sight of that.
“y/n,” he cooed as he entered the apartment once more. it was noticeably a bit more clean. the trash was taken out, the dishes were done, and your hair was wet from a shower - he assumed. “hey,” he smiled when he saw you sitting on the bed, cheeks still red and tear-stained with red, puffy eyes.
“hi,” you sighed as you brushed your hair, spencer sat down beside you.
“how’re you feeling?” you shrugged. “i need to apologize to you,” he admitted, placing a hand on your thigh. “i’m so, so sorry for what i said. telling you that it’s your fault that we lost our child… i-there’s no excuse. i was clearly upset, but so were you. what i said was so out of line, and i’ll never be able to express how sorry i am to you.”
“you’re right,” you shrugged. “it was my fault.”
“no,” he rubbed his thumb on your skin. “it was not your fault. i’m so sorry i made you believe that.”
“when i was 15 my boyfriend at the time pressured me to have sex. we used a condom and i was in birth control but i still-i still ended up pregnant,” you began, taking a deep breath before continuing. “i couldn’t tell my mom because she would’ve kicked me out, so i saved up some money and had his mom take me to a cheap clinic. she signed as my mom and i got the procedure done. that was the end of it,” you finished tears streaming down your face. “a few weeks after the procedure i started having pains in like my lower back, but i didn’t think anything of it. so… it is my fault. i shouldn’t have gone to a cheap clinic, but i couldn’t live on the streets with a baby and no way to clothe or feed them.”
“y/n,” he got your attention, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “you were a teenager who had no other choice, love. it’s not your fault, it’s the clinic’s.”
“i just… it hurts so bad, spencer,” you shook your head in defeat before he wrapped his arms around you. “not even just emotionally, my body physically hurts so bad. i don’t know what to do and i thought i lost you and i didn’t know what i would do without you because i didn’t think you loved me anymore because it’s my fault,” you ranted out, sobbing into his shoulder before he moved the two of you around the bed to lay down, you on his chest.
“i’m so sorry you had to go through that, and that you’re still dealing with the repercussions,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “but know that i’m not leaving you. i love you and nothing will ever change that.”
“there’s nothing we can do now,” you whined, clutching to his shirt as if he’d disappear once more.
“we can go to the recommended therapy. we can get that surgery to fix your cervix,” he reminded you, rubbing circles onto your back as you sniffled. “then, if you’d like, we could try again for a baby.”
“so you still want to be with me?” you whispered by his ear, clearly worried of the answer.
“of course i do,” he said as if there were no other option; there wasn’t. “i’m so, so sorry, love.”
“the reason i didn’t tell you is because,” you sighed as you shuffled on top of spencer, now sitting on his lap and facing him. “because there’s this stigma that comes with having an abortion - and i didn’t know how you’d react. i also didn’t know it didn’t go well in the first place, but that’s a different story,” you chuckled. “i’m sorry. i should’ve told you about something so serious.”
“you don’t have to apologize,” he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “that was from your past. this is our future, we shouldn’t get caught up on it and allow it to ruin this.”
you nodded, “you’re right. are-are you staying here, now? or are you going back to derek’s?” there was an obvious look of hope in your eye that spencer never planned on squashing.
“i’m staying here,” he smiled. “home. you’re my home.”
“you’re so cheesy,” you rolled your eyes as a laugh left your lips.
“i’ve missed your smile,” he pressed a kiss to those very lips, your smile not going away but growing even bigger.
“i’ve missed you,” you pointed at his chest. “please don’t leave again.”
“i won’t. ever again,” you held your pinky out, he smiled and wrapped his own around it. “i’m so sorry.”
“we’ll work at it,” you sighed. “we’ll build back the trust and fix my stupid cervix and then maybe try again for a baby.”
over the next few months spencer and you had been going to therapy once a week, mourning the loss of your baby and working through your other issues.
five months after you found out about the miscarriage, you had the surgery to fix your cervix.
one year after you fixed your cervix you and spencer began talking about having a child. you were extremely nervous, rightfully so. you voiced your concerns to spencer about what if the surgery didn’t work? what if your cervix wasn’t the only issue? and he replied by reminding you that you would both take this one step at a time.
seven months after having the conversation with spencer about having children, a miracle had caught up to you.
you were pregnant.
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plus-size-reader · 3 years
Text
Risky
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Derek Hale x Plus size!reader
Word Count: 1580 words
Warnings: Reader is hurt, real bad. 
Summary: Derek finding out that the girl he loved as a kid got into a serious accident and he can't help himself
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He hadn’t seen you in years.
Derek wasn’t even sure you were still in Beacon Hills, until he found out about the accident. It was in the news, as plenty of the dangerous accidents in the area were, but something was different about this one.
When the dark haired male heard the news in passing, at first, he did nothing. Every little thing that happened in this place was of no interest to him but the second he heard your name, he stopped.
It was as if the world had stopped around him, every cell in his body forcing him to pay attention to the screen.
There was nothing supernatural about it, no monster to be slain or anything like that. It was nothing more than a car accident, something that could have happened to anyone, something almost too normal to occupy so much of his mind.
However, it didn’t just happen to anyone. This had happened to you, and based on what the report had said, the doctors weren’t all that hopeful that you were going to pull through. In fact, it sounded almost as if they had given up hope entirely.
That just wasn’t going to work.
Immediately, all Derek could think about was you laying in that hospital bed, all alone and struggling to hold on. It wasn’t right, for someone like you to go out that way, so before he could talk himself out of it, he made up his mind.
It was stupid.
It was reckless.
It was necessary.
No matter what happened, Derek knew that he had to do something to save you. He had a gift, something he could do, and if he chose not to do anything about it, it was almost as if he’d killed you himself.
...And he promised you that would never happen.
As Derek ran in the direction of the hospital, his feet hammering against the ground as he moved, all he could think about was that day. That same day he promised you that he would never let anything happen to you.
You were kids, before the fire consumed everything in his life, and you couldn’t have been closer. You had always been Derek’s best friend, and he told you everything, even things he kept from his own mother.
It was just the kind relationship you shared.
You told him everything and trusted him with your life, as he did with you.
It wasn’t easy, of course. In fact, most of the time, it was more dangerous than anything else, but you didn’t worry about it. Being human and having attached yourself to the side of a werewolf wasn’t exactly safe to begin with and you knew the risks.  
Derek was worth it to you.
He had always been worth it.
That day, the one full of promises, had come after the first time Derek ever lost control in front of you. You were terrified, as you should have been, and could hardly look him in the eye. He was sure you would leave him there, and never look back, but you didn’t.
Though, looking back, perhaps you should have.
You cared about one another enough to make the risk seem worth it but the fact was that Derek was dangerous, for a really long time, hanging on by a string. He was out of control most of the time, adn could fly off the handle for no reason.
Not even you could stop it.
After the fire, he only got worse.
He was angry, and hurt, and lost. He didn’t have anything to hold on too, except for you, and even that only presented itself like too great a risk. He knew that if he wasn’t careful, Derek would end up getting you killed too.
So, he pushed you away.
He pushed you away until you didn’t have much of a choice but to leave him be, which is exactly what happened.
That was a long time ago now, and he hadn’t seen you since then. However, as questionable as the choices he was making were, he couldn’t stop himself. Derek knew that he could deal with everything else later, all he had to do now was making sure you didn’t die.
...And that was the one thing he could control.
By the time he reached the hospital, he was sure that his feet were probably bleeding from the damage he’d just put them through but he didn’t pay that any mind. Instead, he headed right to the front desk, breath raging through his nostrils.
“I’m here to see Y/N Y/L/N, please. She’s the only family I have” he explained, doing his best not to get into the details of it while also giving enough for her to let him pass. All he could do was try and thankfully, she let him through.
They didn’t have much information about you other than what was on your I.D and if he had anything additional about you to tell them that would help, she didn't dare turn him away.
In all honesty though, Derek didn’t hear much more than that initial allowance and your room number before he took off in that direction. Nothing else mattered, and seeing as he was in a hospital, no one really questioned it.
Terrible things were happening all over, and whatever was happening to him, they understood the need to rush.
You looked terrible.
As soon as he saw you, Derek felt his heart sink.
The accident had really done a number on you, and it looked like they had you hooked up to every machine they had. Clearly, whatever they had wasn’t going to be able to pull you out of whatever this was.
Luckily, that was why he was here.
Derek had the only thing in the world that could keep your heart beating, assuming that your body accepted it, the bite. There was no guarantee that it was going to go well, or that you were going to be okay, but he had to try.
If he did nothing, you were going to die anyway, so anything he had couldn’t hurt.
Then, before Derek could think of any more risky reasons not to do what he was going to do, he reached out and took your practically limp wrist in his hands. You really weren’t doing well, but he just had to hope this would be enough.
If it wasn't, he didn’t know what he was going to do.
There weren’t many more viable options after werewolf bite, but nevertheless, the deed was done.
Now, all he could do was wait.
~
It took half an hour.
Half and hour and the bite still hadn’t seemed to be doing much for you at first. To be fair, most of your systems were almost entirely out of play. Thankfully, before too long, your pulse started to pick up and it seemed to be working.
It was all Derek could have hoped for in coming here, and it would have been a lie to say that he didn’t feel more relief in that moment than he had in his entire life at it having been a success.
Though, it brought him even more relief when you sat up, all the color returning to your face and a gasp for air on your lips. You were panicked, of course, trying to recall how you had gotten to this hospital in the first place and what was going on.
Not that any of that came before the man sitting at the side of your bed, staring at you with expectant eyes.
“Hi”
Derek spoke first, though the word felt like sandpaper leaving his throat. After all this time, there should have been more than he could say. There should have been more that came to mind but it just wasn’t there.
By all accounts, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
He could have started with explaining that you were nearly killed in a head on collision on the street, or that he had given you a bite that would change your life forever and turn you into a slave to the moon.
It was far from an ice breaker.
“Derek? What is going on? What are you doing here?” you asked, rubbing your eyes aggressively to clear the harsh lighting and fuzzy glaze from your eyes. You were trying your best to make this make sense, but it wasn’t working.
You were lost.
...And frankly, Derek wasn’t doing much better than you were in that way.
“I have a lot to explain to you, but this isn’t the place” he suggested, fully aware that nothing about this place was going to make this conversation any easier to swallow. Besides, it was hardly where he wanted to tell you that he had bitten you.
Of course, it was a bit easier considering that you already knew about the supernatural side of Beacon Hills. At least he didn’t have to have the ‘werewolves are real’ conversation with you like he had with Scott.
Nothing he was saying made any sense, or really helped make you feel more at peace with this whole thing but you figured he was here, so it wouldn’t kill you to trust him. After all, he had saved your life plenty of times before.
You had trusted him for most of your life, and it certainly wouldn’t kill you to do it one more time.
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Baby you | Tom Felton x Reader
Pairing: Tom Felton x Reader
Words: 1,637
Warning: none. just fluff
Author’s note: Sorry for the long wait, I was on a hiatus. I had to figure out a few things in my life and focus on my mental health. 
Hospitals have always been one of my least favorite places on the planet. When a family member or acquaintance had a kid, I didn't even want to go there. I felt sick to my stomach from the scent of antiseptics and the notion that someone could be dying in one of the rooms, so I tried to stay away from the building as much as possible. But right now, I'm sitting in the waiting room, staring at half-white, half-sage green walls, trying to take in as little air as possible to avoid the stench of antiseptics and my excessively protective boyfriend freaking out next to me. 
"How many times do I have to tell you that you need to be more cautious?" Tom sighs and fidgets with his watch on his wrist, checking the time every second and blaming the ER nurses and physicians for their slow job. "We've been here for more than a half-hour and no one has bothered to inquire as to what we're waiting for.”
"Tom, I have a sprained ankle, but I'm not going to die. Calm down, just because you're impatient doesn't mean they can work faster," I say as I roll my eyes and gaze around the waiting area, attempting to figure out why people are there. He groans and gets up to find a nurse or a doctor who can finally check on my leg. I take a big breath and rub my temples. Deep down, I'm glad he went to see a doctor because my ankle has swollen and become more painful than it was when we arrived. I would never have given him the satisfaction of being correct about me pushing my limits too hard and refusing to accept when my body attempts to tell me to stop or not do anything, putting me in situations like the one I'm in now. When I tried the online yoga session, it was meant to be a simple assignment, and I carefully followed every instruction, but my body was still fatigued and stiff from the hiking the day before. And, of course, my obstinate arse refused to listen to Tom when he advised me to take a break and try the class again a few days later. 
He sits down next to me and takes my hand in his, massaging the back of it with his thumb. "Alright, a nurse will be with us shortly," he says. Without saying anything, I kiss his shoulder and express my gratitude for his kindness and affection. "You don't have to hide it; I can tell how much pain you're in right now just by looking at the size and colour of your ankle, dear." 
I roll my eyes and lie my head on his shoulders, smelling his wonderful aroma and listening to his slow breathing. I attempt to ignore the puzzled looks of onlookers and patients who recognise him and are undoubtedly trying to figure out why he's there and with whom. We never told the gossip-hungry social media users and the deceitful newspapers about our relationship. Only those who were close to us knew about us, and we want it that way. 
"Miss Y/L/N, please come with me," a middle-aged nurse says, smiling gently and directing us to the examination room, where a doctor is already waiting for us. Tom assists me in standing and sitting up in bed, and then graciously moves away to give the nurse and doctor more room.
"What appears to be a problem, Miss Y/L/N?" He gets up from his desk and walks over to me, where he sits on a little stool and gently touches my ankle, causing me to groan in pain.
"She felt it would be a good idea to try an online yoga class with no prior experience in either an online class or yoga," Tom says, looking at me and then at the doctor.
"On my own, I can tell him what's wrong." I give my lover a mischievous scowl before returning my gaze to the doctor, who is attempting to examine my ankle without further injuring it. "But in a nutshell, that's what happened, huh”
"All right, let me see that ankle," he jokes, and a two-hour treatment begins, including a trip to another hospital level to have it x-rayed.
——-
"Careful" Tom assists me out of the car and supports me by placing my arm around his shoulder as we walk to the house. "You know what the nice thing in this?" I asked, holding a gorgeous pink plaster on my ankle up to the middle of my shin and a small bottle of pills in case "You know what the good thing in this?”
"No, but knowing you, you'll tell me in less than a minute," I say softly as I take a seat on the living room couch, my leg propped up next to me to relax.
"I can baby you, and you won't be able to stop me," he grins as he walks to the backyard to allow Willow in and feed her. She dashes inside, but Tom stops her and kneels to cup her cheek. "Willow, listen to me, mommy's ankle is injured, so you must be gentle around her," he says. "Please don't jump on mama or lay on her legs." He kisses Willow on the head and walks away. I chuckle from the living room, knowing well well that no one can stop Willow from sleeping on my leg.
———
"Tom?" you might ask. An hour later, I dial his number. After the painkiller knocked me out, I got a great nap, and when I awoke, Willow was sleeping on top of me, breathing noisily in my neck. I hear loud and rapid footsteps, so I suppose my partner is running down from our room or his study to the living area.
"Are you all right? Is there anything else you require? Do you have any discomfort?" I giggle quietly as he looks at me with a worried expression on his face. 
"I'm alright, but could you just get me a bottle of water?" I give him a friendly grin and gently massage the area behind Willow's ear. I smile at her as she groans a bit in her sleep.
Tom goes in and brings me my water before sitting down next to me and wrapping his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to his body, and kissing my cheek softly. 
"How are you doing?" he inquires.
"Much better," I say softly as I put my head on his shoulder, my eyes resting a bit. "Now that you're with me, sweetheart," I say softly as I kiss his lips and lean my head on his shoulder, resting my eyes a little.
"I've been thinking about us," she says. "We've been dating for a while, and if I'm being honest, you're the only person in my life who gives meaning to everything," Tom says, taking a deep breath. "Y/N, you're the light in my days, and I'm tired of always having to go over to your place, or waiting for you until you're off work and can come over.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to figure out if the butterflies and peculiar feeling in my stomach are due to the love and happiness this man has given me for almost two years, or to my concern about his intentions about this brief speech. I raise my eyes to him and admire his features.
"Y/N, would you like to move in with me and Willow?" he asks, sighing and looking down at me with genuine love in his ocean blue eyes. I give him a big smile and kiss his jaw. When my buddy put me up on a blind date with him two years ago, I was convinced he'd find someone else shortly. But no, this man has always been at my side, giving me his undivided attention, sharing his dreams and anxieties with me, and becoming not only my lover, but also my best friend. I knew I didn't want to be with anybody else the moment he revealed me his soul.
"I'd love to, babe," I say as I stroke his thigh and advance a little to lightly kiss his lips. He pulls me closer to him and places his palm on my cheek, stroking my skin with his thumb as he smiles against my lips and intensifies our kiss. I make a slight movement, and he instantly pulls away from me, frowning at my leg.
"No, no, no sexy time till your leg is better," he says, shaking his head and kissing the bridge of my nose. "Do you need extra pillow under your leg?" he asks. Or do you want me to take Willow off your lap?" 
"No, I want you to kiss me again," I say as I grip his chin and turn his face back to me.
"Okay, so, I brought additional pillows to our bed, so you may put your leg on them at night," he pecks my lips a few times before pulling away, prompting me to grunt in irritation. “My mom will be here shortly with soup and cookies, as she is concerned about your health. In addition, I composed a song about our hospital visit and-“
"Tom, I love you, but you talk too much sometimes" I chuckle and look at him. "You know, you could use your lips for something other than talking" Tom grins and leans in closer to my lips. "Oh, really?" he asks, softly touching his lips to mine. "I can think of a few things you don't need your leg for" he kisses the corner of my lips and pulls me onto his lap.
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reidology · 3 years
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Dying in a bathtub - Hotchreid
Summary: Hotch gets nightmares and hides in the tub, so Spencer makes it comfy for him <3
Word count: 4.4k
Content warning: discussion and description of nightmares, smut, brief description of physical abuse, light angst, quite fluffy, happy ending <3
AO3
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__________________________________________
The first time it happened Spencer woke up shivering, the cold of a missing body beside him seeped through the sheets chilled his bones. He braved a lazy glance to his bedside, squinting to see the alarm clock blinking big and aggressive red numbers. 05:25. Aaron must have gone out for a morning run, something Spencer never understood. In fact, his reasoning of ‘why run, when sleep?’ whenever Aaron attempted to get him to join always earned him an affectionate eye roll and kiss on the cheek, so why would he ever give that up? No promise of endless coffee can get Spencer Reid to wake up before 7am, much less for exercise.
Reluctantly the sleepy man made his way to the bathroom, knowing he might as well shower and get ready for work now, there’s no way he could get back to sleep without his human furnace of a boyfriend covering him completely. Only, through his grogginess he failed to notice the boyfriend-shaped body softly snoring in the tub.
So he padded over to the semi-closed shower curtain and blearily reached in to turn the water on for it to heat up while he got ready.
Almost as soon as the water turned on, a high-pitched shriek assaulted the young agent’s eardrums. Spencer did what, in his opinion, any caught-off-guard fully trained FBI agent would do— he squealed in shock and fell back on his ass. A moment later the shower curtain pulled back, revealing a very irritated -and very wet- Aaron Hotchner.
“Babe what the fuck,” the older man whined, wringing out his shirt and turning the freezing water off, “I was sleeping!”
“Oh this is my fault?!”
“Yes! Couldn’t you see me?!”
“I just woke up!”
“Me too!” Aaron pointed to his wet shirt as if to say you have no excuse for this.
Spencer let out a frustrated sigh and pushed himself up from the floor. Somehow he upset his boyfriend, he guesses apologies are on the table. He carefully stepped into the bathtub to face his dripping boyfriend and wrapped his arms around the soaking man’s neck, “I’m sorry,” he pouted quite prettily, “But honey, why were you sleeping in the tub?”
“I didn’t sleep in the tub. I went to sleep in our bed, then you woke me up in the tub.” Aaron grumbled.
Spencer thought Aaron looked positively insane. His eyes focused on the older man’s pupils as his hands checked for a fever.
“Do you have a concussion?” He couldn’t help but fret about the man who is usually so well put together. He was obviously in distress though what kind of distress completely eluded the dry man. Aaron waved Spencer’s worried hands away from his face, “No. Spence, I’m telling you, I didn’t sleep in the bathtub.”
“Then how did you get here?”
Aaron shrugged and swatted Spencer’s nosy hands away that were trying to inspect the grumpy man for any injuries, “Who knows? Let’s get some breakfast.” He calmly stepped out of the tub and headed out, leaving Spencer confused (for once).
“... But it’s 5 am.”
_____
Two nights later, it happened again. But this time Spencer awoke to the sound of sobbing. His heart just about broke in two at the sight of Aaron curled in on himself in the porcelain tub, shaking and covered in sweat.
The Unit Chief used to have terrors most nights. After Foyet, all of life’s problems seemed to unravel in his dreams. The sounds and images were so vivid that upon waking up he believed he had done what he’d dreamed. That he’d hurt his family or that Foyet had come back to finish the job.
During hard cases, Aaron would forgo sleep completely, knowing his mind would only haunt him with terror beyond his conscious capabilities. It left him exhausted and agitated for the rest of the investigation. The team and LEOs got frustrated but none had the guts to confront him, except for one young agent who took special notice of his boss.
So Spencer stepped in, and after weeks of getting closer and learning more about each other than they had in the past five years of working together, Aaron digressed and accepted the help that was offered. The following three months ensued so smoothly, the therapy was helping and Aaron couldn’t believe he was sleeping full nights again. He knew it was all thanks to Spencer, who had taken up a very special place in his heart. Aaron knew that Spencer would always be there when he woke up, like an anchor. Something real to hold on to and keep him in place.
It had been a while since Aaron had such a bad episode, luckily Spencer knew just what to do and jumped right into action. Without missing a beat, the younger man climbed into the tub and sat by Aaron’s head, taking hold of one of his white-knuckled fists and gently coaxing it open by rubbing his thumbs from the palm to the back of the hand. Constant pressure, soothing, real. With one hand he threaded his fingers through the brunette’s damp hair, stroking softly at his scalp, willing his nightmare mind to latch onto the familiar touch.
“It’s okay, you’re safe.” He murmured sweetly like a mantra.
Eventually Aaron’s panicked sobs dissolved into pained whimpers, his body lost some of its tension, allowing for Spencer to gently lift his boyfriend’s head into his lap and off the hard floor of the tub. The whimpers died down to light trembles and Spencer shushed him comfortingly, continuing to sooth him with gentle strokes to his head. Slowly Aaron’s eyes opened and Spencer felt the moment panic set in. The taller man’s breathing quickened and tension returned to his body, frozen in fear. God, Spencer should have turned the lights on.
“It’s just me, darling. You’re home, Aaron. This is home. You’re safe.”
Aaron trembled more, his eyes glazed over as if reliving the nightmare, “Shhh you’re safe.”
Spencer placed a feathery kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead that seemed to anchor him immediately. Tentatively, Aaron looked up at his rescuer, relieved to be in his lover's arms and away from the nightmare universe that had felt so real. He burrowed further into Spencer’s lap, wrapped his shaking arms around his boyfriend’s steady hips. He tried to focus on Spencer’s heartbeat in an attempt to regulate his own. Spencer was warm, Spencer was safe. Always safe.
“Foyet?” Spencer asked cautiously, breath fanning over the older’s forehead. Aaron stilled at the name then nodded. The younger man knows that Aaron needs to talk about it immediately, even if it’s terrifying. It allows him to discern dreams from reality, so that the events and sensations of the night terror don’t ingrain themselves into the man’s memories of reality .
“... and Scratch,” Aaron gulped, “They had Jack. I couldn’t... I didn’t know what was real. Couldn’t tell if it was really Jack. He made me hurt him. Oh god, Spence… I hurt him.” Sobs wracked the pained man’s body once again, unable to forget the horror of the dream. Spencer rocked them back and forth.
“Shh… Jack is fine, he’s at Jess’s. You would never hurt him, Aaron.”
Aaron was spent, he couldn’t muster up the energy to talk. He fell asleep once more in his partner’s comforting hold.
_____
The next morning they woke up with aching muscles from being in the bathtub for so long. Spencer couldn’t help but be worried about his boyfriend. There was definitely something going on, and though he respected Aaron’s privacy immensely, he was afraid of the older man getting into a dangerous situation. Was he sleepwalking to the bathroom? What if he tripped and hit his head on the edge of the tub? But most importantly, why were Aaron’s nightmares leading him to the bathtub?
Spencer nuzzled Aaron’s neck in an effort to wake him up a bit more. “Darling, we need to talk about this.” The worry in Spencer’s voice was audible and prompted Aaron to sit up and sigh deeply. He didn’t think this part of his life would ever come back up to the surface, he’d avoided thinking about it for decades and he didn’t know what triggered the habit to resurface. But now it’s affected Spencer, and he knew he couldn’t keep the love of his life in the dark, but some things were so hard to talk about.
Aaron found himself panicking again, flashes of Foyet and his father clouding his mind once more. Images of Sean taking cover in Aaron’s arms while their father pounds on the bathroom door-
“I know. I-” He was cut off with the sweetest kiss.
“You can take your time sweetheart. No rush.”
Even at this stage in their relationship, Aaron wasn’t used to being treated so well. The kindness that naturally radiated off his boyfriend was enough to make his insides melt, the understanding words never ceased to choke him up. But he knew Spencer would be there to put him back together once he gave him all his pieces. He buried his face in the younger’s neck, breathing in the scent of his shampoo, relaxing into his hold. Spencer wrapped his arms around Aaron’s lean form, offering a safe space. Aaron had never been this vulnerable with anyone before his relationship with Spencer.
After a moment of just holding each other, Aaron’s breathing mellowed out and his voice cracked as he explained everything.
“After Sean was born, my dad started drinking. He’d always been somewhat aggressive, scary even. He- he’d get angry and take it out on my mom… and if she wasn’t there... But when he started drinking it got a thousand times worse. I vowed to myself to protect Sean at all costs, I promised him I would never let our dad get to him. So I took the brunt of it when he was sober. But when he was drunk… he would chase us, try to get to Sean specifically. He was just a little kid 5 or 6, I was 15. He would scour the house to find Sean so I took him and locked us in the only room in the house with a lock… the bathroom. I’d carry Sean in my arms and make a run for it. I blocked off the door with a cabinet and we sat in the tub until he passed out.. My dad couldn’t get in but he would pound on the door so loudly, his voice was so angry-”
Aaron inhaled hard, the grip on the back of Spencer’s shirt tightened and his breathing shallowed. Spencer continued rubbing soothing circles on his back, allowing Aaron to take his time.
“The bathtub was the only safe space for Sean and I. We spent whole nights in there, waiting for my dad to pass out. Sometimes we’d tell stories, play games, but other times we cried and I covered his ears with my hands, not wanting him to hear the horrible things our dad was saying. This went on until I went to college, I tried to take Sean with me but my mother wouldn’t allow it. My dad died a year later, when Sean was 9.
“I- because of that, if any of us had nightmares we’d go into the bathroom and sleep in the tub, because no one could get to us in there.”
Aaron swallowed thickly and timidly looked up to the honey-haired man. Had he sounded pathetic?
But Spencer cupped his cheek once again and kissed him lovingly.
“Thank you for telling me. You’re the strongest person I know, Aaron. I'm sorry you had to go through all of that.”
Aaron’s heart skipped a beat, warmth spreading through his chest. He swallowed down all his uncertainties and let Spencer in, he was proud of himself. Both of them yawned in succession, still exhausted from last night and uncomfortable from sleeping in the bathtub.
With a cheeky grin the younger man announced, “Let’s go to bed, I’ll get us the day off.” Aaron was so grateful.
While he called in sick, Spencer had an idea, and he knew just who to call.
_____
“Boy Wonder! How wonderful to hear from you on this frabjous day! We miss you and the Bossman dearly. We are definitely… working. Work is happening, and we’re doing it, and it’s getting done. You can trust me on that. Definitely no piñatas in the break room, where would we even find one on such short notice? Emily doesn’t even know where to get balloons! Anyway, what magical service may I bestow upon thee today, my little lord?”
Spencer bit back a chuckle, “Hi Penelope. Listen I need some advice on… interior decorating-”
Immediately, he got cut off by a squeal, “I’m on my way!”
“No! Garcia- after work-”
The line goes flat.
“Dammit. I should’ve just texted JJ.”
_____
Despite her best efforts, the rest of the team did not let Penelope leave the BAU for a ‘design emergency’. Fortunately for Spencer, that gave him some time to plan what he wanted to do while cooking lunch for his sleeping beauty.
After a full meal of soup and grilled cheese, Hotch retreated to the living room hoping to watch some History Channel with Spencer. They love watching the conspiracy shows together and debunking the awful propositions. Though Hotch learned quite surprisingly that Spencer is very open to the idea of aliens on Earth. However, he has a suspicion that that’s mostly wishful thinking on the part of Spencer's inner child. Nevertheless, it’s adorable and Hotch was excited for it, and waiting patiently for Spencer to finish cleaning himself up.
Before he could question what was taking so long, their doorbell rang a sweet lullabye sound (they had to change it from the awful buzzing that it was- it was too overwhelming for Spencer). Not expecting any company, Hotch was puzzled as to who could be at their door.
“Who is it?” He spoke through the intercom.
“Bossman! Sorry to hear about your incurable case of Work Sickness! If you could let me up, I brought you some warm soup!-”
Spencer bounded through the foyer from the bedroom, practically hopping over furniture and knocking down a flower arrangement, “I got it! I got it!” he heaved frantically.
“Babe, what’s Garcia doing in front of our building on a weekday?”
“Nothing Aar don’t worry about it, Penelope and I are just going out for lunch, see you later!”
Spencer grabbed his satchel and was out the door.
“But- Spencer you just had lunch!” The curly haired man was already running down the steps, “Bye!”
It was Hotch’s turn to be left alone and confused.
_____
In Penelope’s car, Spencer explained his idea to Penelope, without going saying too much about Hotch’s nightmares. In true Penelope fashion, the bubbly bits-and-bobs connoisseur knew the perfect place to get what Spencer needed. Penelope dragged Spencer around the independently-owned home goods boutique like a lost puppy for about two hours. She ended up with more bags for herself and Sergio than what Spencer needed.
A few texts and one missed call from Hotch wondering what the hell was taking Spencer so long prompted them to leave. Spencer thanked Penelope in front of their apartment and air kissed her goodbye, promising to show up at girl’s night next week..
Spencer walks into the foyer as quietly as possible and hides the bags behind the living room’s entertainment center.
“Spencer?”
“Yeah! I’m home!”
Aaron walked out of their bedroom with a soft smile. His round glasses were on, meaning he’s been reading… or looking at case files.
“Are you going through the case?” Spencer scolded.
The bespectacled man didn’t waver. “There’s something the victim’s parents said that doesn’t add up, they said that every Thursday Mandy went to soccer practice after school and swim practice in the next town over in the evenings. She takes the bus so if the unsub was stalking her he’d either have to take the same bus and risk getting caught or have a car- which goes against our age profile- so that would mean there’s someone driving him. Spencer, there are TWO unsu-” He was cut off by being pulled into a kiss. He hummed into it and wrapped his arms around Spencer’s slender waist, pulling them closer together. When they pulled apart Spencer whispered “Two unsubs. The team knows, they’re working on it. You-” he tapped his finger on the older’s chin for emphasis, “need to relax today.”
The resulting pretty pout was swiftly kissed away. None of that now.
“But I don’t know how to relax. I’m Aaron Hotchner, stoic as a statue, stern glare extraordinaire, Mr. Emotionless…”
Spencer rolled his eyes and trailed his hands down Aaron’s hard chest, “I know how to make you relax…” The other man grinned “Oh is that right?” Spencer smirked and led his boyfriend to the couch.
_____
That night when Aaron was gone to bed, Spencer quietly retrieved the bags from behind the TV and set his plan in motion.
_____
He’s trembling. And he can’t recognize his own thoughts, he can’t think straight, all he can see is his son- and Haley with terror written all over their faces.
He barely registers the sound of Jack’s wailing because, as if from right behind his ear, he hears a voice that he interprets as his own thought ‘shoot him’.
‘What?’
‘Pull the trigger’
He looks back up to his sobbing, terrified son, and without hesitation- click- BOOM-
Aaron bolted up from the bed, gasping for breath. His eyes darted around the dark. Jack? Where is he- Jack ohmygod-
His vision landed on Spencer’s sleeping form, breathing shallowly and folded into himself like a pretzel, sleeping soundly like an angel. Spencer. Real. Safe. He took a deep breath to regulate his heart. In for 4, hold, out for 6, repeat. This was exhausting.
Groggily, Aaron slipped out from under the covers and headed to the bathroom to get a drink of water and maybe splash his face a little. He thought of getting into the bathtub for the comfort he desperately needed right now, but he’d be embarrassed if Spencer found him in there again. Who does that? But nothing could have prepared Aaron for the sight before him when he opened the door.
Lights. Yellow, green, purple electric lights on strings, illuminating the room in a beautiful calming glow. They were suspended from the curtain rod of the bathtub, taped to the walls. Gorgeously scented candles perched on the sink, some on the ground, a few tea lights lining the edge of the tub. It smelled glorious and comforting and Aaron couldn’t tell what it was. Pine? Sandalwood? Campfire?
The most breath-taking part was the inside of the bathtub. Patterned sheets hung from the walls and draped over to form a delicate roof. Fluffy pillows perfectly laid out to coat every inch of the porcelain interior, and soft blankets piled on top for added comfort. Lights lined the inside of the sheet tent as well, it looked fantastical. Like something out of a book.
Aaron was floored, to say the least. Was this what Spencer had been doing today? He was flooded by a new emotion, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Spencer had done all of this for him? To make him feel safe?
He was still standing just barely in the room, taking everything in and getting emotional when he heard soft footsteps behind him and felt Spencer’s long arms slink around his waist. A chin hooked over his shoulder and a kiss was pressed to his neck.
“Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?”
Aaron nodded, “You did all this… for me?” A tinge of awe decorated his voice.
“Yeah,” his boyfriend whispered back, “So you don’t hurt yourself when you sleep in here.”
Aaron felt stupid for ever thinking his wonderful, thoughtful boyfriend would ever feel embarrassed by him. Of course Spencer took everything he admitted seriously, of course Spencer cared about what he’s been through, Spencer cares… that's what he’s been feeling. Taken care of. Important. For once in his life, he feels like he’s allowed to let himself be loved.
The stunned man seemed to be frozen in place, not knowing how to respond. His mind was overwhelmed with love for his boyfriend. Spencer pulled away and grabbed the older’s hands, Aaron let himself be led to the makeshift fort.
They climbed in together, careful not to knock over any of the burning candles. Spencer settled on one end of the tub and pulled Aaron into him before he could even think of not cuddling with him. He made space with his legs for his boyfriend to settle between, chest pressed to back, arms wrapped around his love. Safe, warm, and comfortable in a sea of cushions like twin yolks in a shell.
Laying here, in his lover's arms, surrounded by low tranquil lights, and the gentle rise and fall of Spencer’s chest, Aaron felt as serene as he’d ever been. Spencer slid warm hands under Aaron’s shirt, bringing one up to rest cozily on his heart. Aaron turned his head and nuzzled further into Spencer’s neck, feeling the familiar tingle of the man’s touch and murmured a low hum of approval.
Spencer’s other hand, that wasn’t on Aaron’s heart, was used to tip the taller man’s chin up to look at him.
“I know what it’s like to be afraid of your own mind,” he cooed, “sometimes it’s impossible to take yourself out of that world. But in our home, Aaron, I want you to feel safe and protected at all times. I want you to be vulnerable and unashamed. You’re free to be everything you are in here, and I hope that you feel you can be everything you are with me, too.”
Aaron lost himself in his partner’s deep gaze, glorious hazel eyes boring into him. Completely enamored by the words spoken to him, all he could do was nod and lick his lips, trying to regulate his heart rate for a completely different reason now. Spencer had never been so… authoritative before and his sincere but stern tone sent thrilling sparks down his spine. A blush rose up his neck.
Spencer tracked the slow movement of Aaron’s tongue sliding over his bottom lip, and didn’t fight the impulse to drag his thumb over it. “You’re always safe with me.” He barely whispered before angling his head down to catch those lips in a languid kiss. Aaron sighed into it, waiting a little while before pushing himself up to fix their awkward angle. He positioned them so that Spencer was laid down flat on his back, allowing Aaron to lay between his legs once more, chest to chest. They tangled themselves in each other, lips colliding again like a match to a box, igniting a fire in the both of them.
Both were still tired from waking up in the middle of the night, but the desire coursing through their bodies was a more pressing matter. Spencer lifted his hands to frame his lover’s neck and wrapped his legs loosely around his waist, inviting Aaron to grind down onto him, both already half hard from the anticipation. Spencer groaned into Aaron’s mouth. A sound that went right to Aaron’s dick.
They explored each other’s bodies with a youthful novelty, eager to feel more skin. Never once pulling their lips apart. Aaron slipped his hands under Spencer’s shirt and shoved it up under his arms, digging his fingers into those delicious hips. Finally he broke away from the kiss to pepper the younger’s face with sweet ones. Aaron’s heart grew three sizes at Spencer’s soft giggles and let out a low laugh of his own. How ridiculous were they, making out like teenagers in a bathtub fort? Neither much cared to answer that question though, because the impatient genius bucked his hips up to meet his boyfriend’s, who was still in his boxers, let’s get those off.
Spencer eagerly reached for Aaron’s underwear and palmed at his bulge just until he heard that impatient sound from him. He pulled the man’s cock out now fully hard and dripping with precum. A groan escaped the both of them at the sight and sensation. They wasted no time in getting Spencer out of his nerdy physics flannel pajama pants, and grinded their dicks together. Lighting sparked right through the both of them, Aaron balanced himself on one arm near Spencer’s head and took both of their lengths into his right hand.
The rub of their slick cocks together was spectacular as Aaron kept a slow and steady pace, making sure to draw out all the best sounds he knew Spencer could make by nipping at his neck, where he knew the younger man was ticklish. Spencer whined at the excruciating pace, turning into a desperate whimpering mess. Making Spencer wait was so fun.
Spencer’s hands find grip in Aaron’s short hair, keeping him close, feeling the pull of Aaron's big hand on his dick and grinding up to meet him. It’s intoxicating bliss, being taken over the edge by the man he loves.
Their worlds minimized to just the slide of their cocks and the lips on their skin. The whimpering man felt the familiar build up in his abdomen, moaning freely now as he chased his orgasm, guiding Aaron’s hand with his own to feel his touch everywhere.
“Yeah baby,” Aaron encouraged, his own orgasm coming on quickly, “Cum for me baby.”
Spencer sputtered his release over both of their hands and stomachs, momentarily suspended in the intense bliss of his orgasm. He laid there spent, feeling like putty in Aaron’s hands, and pulled him down for a passionate kiss. He took his lover’s cock in hand and pumped him quickly, thumbing the head of his dick on each upstroke. Aaron came with a groan and a shudder, his arms gave out. They laid there catching their breaths for a while, ignoring the drying stickiness between them and tracing slow patterns on each other’s skin. They were so lucky to have each other.
“How are we going to shower now?” Aaron looked up and pouted.
“There’s a perfectly good sink just 5 feet away.” They laughed, Aaron pulled a blanket over them.
------------------------------------------------------
Taglist: @foxtrot91 @physics-magic @ssa-sarahsunshine @hearteyedhotch
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cherriesfineline · 3 years
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Au Pair – Chapter I
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It's finally here – I'm sorry this took so long, this past few weeks have been a mess but here it is, our first chapter for the Au Pair series; I kinda hate this, ngl- I always hate first chapters, a lot of introductory info and bla bla but yeah.
In the weird case you happen to enjoy this and want to be added into the taglist (starting next chapter) you can request it here.
Feedback, likes or reblogs are so, so appreciated! I'm very much new to the whole writing world so yeah it'd be really helpful to hear your thoughts about this <3
Love you all, have a wonderful week beauties!
Warnings: none specifically for this chapter – age gap.
WC: 6.6k
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Y/N was tired, to say the least.
And it wasn’t the tiredness she used to feel after a long work shift at her previous job -where her boss was an old, grumpy lady with horrible manners- or the exhaustion felt after spending hours crying due to a fight with her mother. No, this was different. It was a tiredness she couldn’t get rid of; a tiredness no lavender smelling bath or hours upon hours of sleep could amend.
She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment her brain shifted in such a drastic way. Y/N could easily recognize and admit her life had never been an exciting one; a memorable one. Ever since she was a little girl it all seemed to fly by; graduations, birthdays, friendships – nothing ever seemed to leave an impact and nothing ever seemed as exciting as everyone else put it to be. She knew she struggled with allowing herself to enjoy things, but this far her life had been pretty average.
Maybe it was the fact that she was 22 years old and never been in a real relationship what skyrocketed her fear of dying alone. Now, she knew it might seem exaggerated – 22 years wasn’t a long life at all, but the pungent emptiness she’d been feeling felt like her inevitable destiny – like that’s how life was supposed to be for her.
England felt different, though. But in all honesty, her emotions hadn’t had switched into completely different ones like she’d expected to happen when she applied for this job as an Au Pair all the way back in February.
With a steaming hot cup of coffee between her cold hands, she sat down next to Coco (a very soft grey Scottish Fold) on the giant couch of her new home, scratching in between his tiny ears earning a low purr in response. Coco had become one of her closest friends so far, along with Anya, a three year old girl with cute blonde locks and a laugh so contagious it made the muscles on your cheeks ache after a long playdate.
Maybe moving away wasn’t the smartest choice. It actually might be one of the stupidest choices she had ever made, actually – moving all the way across the globe when she cried herself to sleep most nights due to her loneliness overcoming her (almost inexistent) self-awareness. Y/N liked to believe she had a wide understanding of her emotions, but it was a blatant lie.
At least she was distracted for most of the day – taking care of two kids and looking after a teenager wasn’t an easy task. It required a lot of mental presence; but by the time she was in bed at night, it all hit back again. She thought maybe this is how life is supposed to be for her, lonely – maybe it was not her brain playing her tricks but her brain making her see how her life truly was.
It’d been two weeks since the Lockehold family picked Y/N up from the airport, and on one side getting physically adjusted to this new life hadn't been as rough as she thought it’d be. She did have it easy, if she had to admit – a big room in a giant, beautiful home and a car to her disposal. Emotionally, on the other side, life was still the same.
She knew the moment she heard heels hitting the cold marble staircase Bella was on her way down with Ivy, the eldest of the three sisters, following close behind, complaining about a hangout she was apparently going to miss because they “are expecting a guest” as Bella announced, meaning neither of her parents could drive her. That’s how Y/N found herself sitting in her (borrowed) blue Jeep Renegade driving Ivy to her friend Lily’s house – who lived in the same rich, over-the-top neighborhood as her guest family, which meant the ride to and back was no longer than twenty minutes. During those minutes together, though, Y/N could physically feel the irritation running through Ivy’s blood because first, she still wasn’t too fond of Y/N because she is 16 and doesn’t need a babysitter -her words, not Y/N’s- and second, Y/N is still not accustomed to driving on the other side of the road.
Technically, Y/N had the weekends off. Living with the same people who employed her gladly didn’t mean working 24/7, but she hoped she could earn a couple of points in her favor if she took her free time to drive her around.
After a short conversation between the two (where Ivy refused to save Y/N’s number in case an emergency came up because she could always call her dad), Y/N dropped her off and drove back to the Lockehold’s. What caught her off guard, was the sight of someone in the driveway at the house next door getting suitcases out of the trunk of a black cab – there hadn’t been any movement in the old Victorian mansion since she’d moved in next door. A man, definitely very tall, dressed in a dark suit is all Y/N could decipher since it was already dark outside and she had to strictly concentrate on not switching to the opposite side of the road out of habit.
Alex was coming down the stairs when Y/N locked the front door – Bella’s husband was a very handsome man for his age, probably anyone could admit it. He was kind of scary sometimes, but was a true sweetheart on the inside; he’s in his mid-40’s and it was clear as day his family meant everything to him, he even treated Y/N like his own daughter, always making sure she’s comfortable and inviting her to most family hangouts – even though Y/N declined pretty often to allow them to have quality time as a family (and because being too socially involved drained her, but they needn’t have to know that)
“You wanna join us for dinner? We have a guest tonight. A family friend.”
“Oh, no, I'm good, you guys enjoy yourselves. I’ll say hello, though.” Y/N replied with a smile; and as before mentioned, even though she had the weekends to herself, they still loved to insist on her joining them for fancy dinners and whatnot. The Lockehold’s loved being hostesses, loved having people around (from what Y/N learned this past two weeks) but she really wanted -and needed- some time for herself after being with them the entire week, and even though she loved hanging out with them, she just wasn’t in the mood tonight.
“You sure? Bella made homemade pasta, from scratch. Her specialty.” Mouthwatering, Y/N thought. Bella was such an amazing cook, and even though she worked hours upon hours every day, she still came to her husband and kids in time to make dinner every night, not missing a single day.
“Sounds delicious, but I think I’ll pass, I’m just really tired.” And before anyone could make another comment, the loud bell ringing through the main floor of the house startled Y/N as it’s louder than ordinary – and sounded kind of old and creepy, in her opinion. By the time the constant thud in her chest lowered to a normal speed, she could recognize Bella’s voice in the foyer, meaning she was the one who received their guest, with a deep voice following after saying 'thank you for having me'.
"He's here!" Alex clasped his hands together, a wide smile appearing in his face. Y/N followed him into the living room where Bella was already chatting animatedly with a man; tall and with broad shoulders (but not excessively; just the right amount) his figure was leaning slightly forward as he listened to Bella rambling about all the 'good things he had missed while he was away'. His hands were clasped on his back and when he lifted his head, he made direct eye contact with Y/N without even having to search for her eyes. His brown curls were perfectly placed on top of his head looking extremely soft, and when he ran his hand through it Y/N couldn’t help but swallow harshly. He undoubtedly looked like someone who belonged in Hollywood next to a young Leo DiCaprio and he was definitely older than Y/N – probably already in his 30's, she guessed, but ageing like the finest wine. He had the softest looking wrinkles in the corners of his eyes – those eyes, forest green; reminded Y/N of what used to be home for her. His intense gaze held a lot of emotion, a lot of thought, unlike his face, that appeared stiff and cold, with a slight crease between his brows. His pink, heart-shaped lips were pressed in a line, a cute mole adorning one side of his chin.
"Harry! It's so good to see you, we've missed you." Alex's excitement forced him to drift his gaze away from Y/N, leaving her like a heated teenager salivating for him. Y/N honestly thought he might had left her speechless and most likely with increasing probabilities to make a fool out of herself if someone needed her to talk, as she was certain she wouldn't be able to formulate any coherent sentences.
Harry. It totally suited him, Y/N repeated his name a couple of times inside her head to check on its pronunciation. Alex reached him and pulled him in a big hug, patting each other's back, and Harry's lips broke into a huge smile making a line of pearly white teeth appear. And dimples. God, he had dimples.
This is how I die, Y/N thought.
"So good to see you, Alex." If sex was a sound, his voice would definitely be it.
"Your skin is glowing, Harry. Italy always does you wonders." Bella gushed. And she was right – his skin had this beautiful golden undertone, but it looked natural and radiant, almost like the sun itself kissed and caressed his skin with the softest touches. Alex snapped Y/N into reality when he turned to face her and grabbed her hand to pull her closer to them, starting a long introduction no one was paying much attention to, explaining how he’d missed her arrival, like he even cared, and how she was the Au Pair they’d all been talking about ever since February. It wasn’t until Alex mentioned something about Y/N and Harry probably seeing each other a lot she was suddenly interested in what was actually going on.
“He owns the school the girl’s attend.” Alex directed towards her. Now, Y/N assumed the moment she laid eyes on him he was probably rich – who wears a suit to a Sunday dinner with friends? Rich people are weird, that’s something we can all agree on; but owning a school which’s monthly fees per kid were worth three of her salaries? That was quite unexpected.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry." Y/N offered him her hand, trying to sound as casual as possible, even if her skin felt like it was burning under his intense gaze and her eyes were definitely betraying her.
"The pleasure’s all mine, Y/N." He shook her hand. His strong hold sent shivers down her spine; the cold rings making a big contrast against the heat his hand radiated and she couldn't help but fantasize about how his touch would feel in some other places.
The sudden embarrassment feeling hot against her cheeks made her turn around impossibly faster, feeling guilty at the dirty thoughts consuming her brain while around her bosses – and in front of him. Making a beeline straight to her room, announcing she was calling it a night, she sent Harry a quick -but quite charming- smile, and couldn’t help but soften at the sound of Anya running down the stairs yelling an excited ‘Harryyyy’ once she was past the kitchen.
She knew she got lucky with her commodities – an entire studio-like apartment past the main kitchen of the house, where the servant’s area used to be located a handful of decades ago; but she cussed in a whisper when she remembered half way through her making of a sandwich (four hours after she’d retreated to her bedroom and because she decided on skipping dinner that night, not having enough energy to cook) that her lazy ass still hadn’t bought mayonnaise. Her small kitchen had enough space to hold her snacks, along with some ingredients to make a few meals, since she only had to worry about food on the weekends. Reluctantly, she took the small plate holding her sandwich and made her way towards the main kitchen. There was no way in hell she’d eat a sandwich with no mayo – never in a million years, too dry to go down her throat.
I guess they won't mind if I grab just enough to put on my sandwich, she thought. The house was quiet, everyone probably already in bed, therefore she almost pissed herself when she found Harry sitting in one of the kitchen stools, looking down at his phone with an annoyed expression adorning his face. Almost as if he could sense someone was in the same room, he looked up to find Y/N standing at the kitchen threshold, his face abandoning any sort of emotion.
"Hey."
"Hi." Y/N walked towards the fridge on the far right of the kitchen, opposite from where she came in. "Sorry, I thought no one was here."
"Don't worry, just waiting for Bella and Alex to come back down to have some tea, they're putting the girls to sleep. Would you like to join us?" He offered. And honestly, she'd love to say yes and just listen to him talk with that deep, melodic voice, but her stomach was really hating her right now.
"I'm good, just grabbing some mayo. Thank you, though." She declined with a small smile.
"Next time." He sounded more demanding than suggesting, which slightly baffled Y/N. "Can I ask where you are from?" He asked respectfully.
"A small town in the Argentine Patagonia." Y/N replied with her back facing him as she busied herself with the mayonnaise container.
"Never been to Argentina. Or anywhere in South America, actually." And when Y/N turned around, sandwich in hand ready to go back to her room, their eyes met across the kitchen and she felt the heat creeping up her neck for the second time that night. Y/N wondered how his gaze was always this intense – she wasn’t a fan of how they’d barely exchanged a few words and somehow she felt so exposed.
"You should. It's beautiful." She almost, almost, choked on her own words and when she looked down at her fuzzy pink socks and back to him to try and calm her growing nerves down, he surprised her when she caught him looking up and down her body – in any other case she definitely would’ve felt creeped out, but there was something about him, the fact that he definitely didn’t do it with the intention of her catching him (she noticed how he shifted uncomfortably on his seat after the exchange) and how he simply added a “I’m sure it is," afterwards, she knew she was fucked right then and there – she wanted him looking at her. Was that something bad?
But then – then she remembered how she was wearing her soft cotton pajamas, and she began wondering if he was just laughing internally at her outfit instead of checking her out like she initially thought. And just like a save from heaven, Bella and Alex appeared in the kitchen discussing who was picking Ivy up from her friend's house. "Hi Y/N, still awake?"
"Yeah, got hungry. Stole a bit of mayo, hope you don't mind." She shyly held the plate up.
"Please, this is your house too." Alex waved her off.
"Thanks. Gonna go back now." Y/N pointed towards the small hallway that led to her room. "Goodnight." Turning her body to walk away, she caught Harry's eyes, again, still staring at her, but decided on simply walking away, breaking eye contact, making that small interaction their last one for the night.
&
The following week consisted of Anya and Y/N playing lots of fun games, trying to get a word out of Charlie and Ivy ignoring her for the most part. Her relationship with each of them was completely different, each trusting her at their own peace, getting used to having a stranger around. Anya seemed the only one openly excited to hang out with Y/N every day, and even though she could tell Charlie didn't exactly mind her presence, she still hadn't talked to her as much as she'd like her to.
"What are you up to, Charlie?" Y/N asked the seven year old as she sat next to her in the big playroom they had on the main floor. Charlie kept her gaze locked on her drawing with a handful of crayons on her right hand as she drew with her left. "You're left handed? That's so cool!" Bella had mentioned some time ago that Charlie had a really hard time letting people in, Y/N knew it'd take some time for her to see her as a friend -like she wanted her to- rather than someone who gets paid to hang out with her, but Bella confessed Charlie was actually really excited to meet Y/N, which felt like a small relief, knowing she actually wanted her there – unlike Ivy. Charlie spoke only when necessary and struggled with making friends but her psych pedagogue said she's just really shy and that ‘once she breaks out of her shell, she's unstoppable’. "I love the birds you drew here." Y/N pointed at some small birds sitting in a tree branch.
"Bluebirds." She murmured.
Getting a single word from her was considered progress, in Y/N’s opinion, but that’s all she got for the entire afternoon – even after constantly sending comments her way while playing with Anya so Charlie wouldn’t feel left out, not a single word came out of her mouth. Anya mentioned Harry at some point while talking about her favorite doll (which Harry had gifted her for her 3rd birthday) and the flash of captivating green eyes almost blinded her internally (she couldn’t deny she’d thought about Harry every once in a while this past week)
And it wasn’t until later that same day, after spending a long while sitting alone in a nearby park, she got the chance to see him again – even if he had scared her (almost) to death, she couldn’t help but feel an annoying flutter in her stomach.
She would like to say she loved her long walks during the most unreasonable times at night, but her reasoning behind her late night needs of distraction didn’t exactly thrill her. It was during the quietest and most peaceful times of the day when her mind seemed to speed faster than ever before; the sleepless nights and brain-wrecking thinking of how alone and empty she actually felt, along with the laziness and reluctance when it came to things that used to make her happy weighed her down like carrying a sack of potatoes on her back.
As she was walking past her neighbor's house (the one where she had seen that man with the suitcases last week) she noticed someone sitting on the large porch. Weird, she thought. She hadn't noticed any movement in the house since that night a week ago, to the point she even considered it being empty again. The silhouette seemed oddly familiar though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
"Y/N." She slightly jumped as she heard them call for her, in a strong and deep accent. Was that...
"Harry?" She asked befuddled. Did he live there? She watched as he stood up from his sitting position on the outdoor couch and walked across his front yard to take a closer look at him stopping at the bottom of the short staircase that leads to the porch. "What are you doing up so late?" And then something clicked in her brain – he was probably the man she saw that night, with his suitcases. It made sense, how he probably got home from vacation the same day he had dinner at the Lockehold's – the same day Bella mentioned something about him being in Italy
"Can't sleep." He simply replied, with a small sigh. He then nodded to the seat behind him, and Y/N could physically feel her brain going a thousand miles per minute. She sat on the far left of the couch as he retook his seat on the right, "what are you doing up so late?" He repeated her question.
And Y/N repeated his answer. "Can't sleep."
So they sat in silence, what felt like hours barely being a few seconds. "Didn't know you lived next door." Y/N took the time to take in his side profile - sharp and long nose, the tip curving slightly downwards when he spoke the next line.
"Never mentioned it." He replied apathetically. The unexpected switch in his tone made her immediately shut up, and even though it confused Y/N as to why he would want her joining him if he didn't want to talk, she was dreading going back to her room alone to drown in her thoughts again. She'd take uncomfortable company over being alone when her head got like this, it helped her get distracted; overthinking this situation instead of the same scenarios that constantly lived in her head.
They again sat in silence for a while, this time for longer than a few minutes, and even though it was slightly uncomfortable, there was an unspoken understanding between them. He just wanted company, and so did she. This time, however, it was him who tried for conversation. "Why did you choose England for your Au Pair program?"
"I was actually convinced I was going to choose France," Y/N shared with a soft tone, "but when I met the girls in one of my interviews I just knew I had to come here. Anya was so excited about meeting me, she thought it was already settled." She ended with a small smile on her lips. The memory of Anya smiling happily at her through the computer screen even when she hadn't had met her yet warming her heart.
It was true, the fact that she’d chosen England because of the girls. She wanted to learn French – she knew her way around the English language pretty well; but the French family whom interviewed her didn’t come close to the Lockehold’s at all – she thought maybe the experience of living in a whole different continent with a wonderful family was better than choosing a place because of the language – the experience was being experienced either way.
"Anya is a very special kid. They all are." Harry declared, the left corner of his mouth turning upwards in a small half smile.
Y/N nodded slowly before asking, "How long have you known them?" She could recall Alex saying he was a family friend – but she had no other information about him besides that.
"A while." The small conversation went for a long while, he shared the real reason as to why he was awake so late, explaining how he has struggled with falling asleep ever since he was young, but besides that comment, he kept his life very private; not sharing much information about himself during their chat, and every time Y/N reciprocated a question, he would either answer vaguely or didn't answer at all, changing the subject with another question. "It's really late" He commented, Y/N’s phone reading 1:08am.
"Yeah, I should probably go to bed." She lifted her head to look at him, who was already searching for her eyes. Y/N cleared her throat when a few moments passed by, again, with no one speaking a word. She wondered what could possibly be going through his head at the time, but he nodded, got up and said, "I'll see you around, Y/N." Her name flowed so nicely out of his lips it made her knees get weak. Locking herself in her bedroom (after entering it by the door at the side of the house – which leaded straight to her room) she laid in bed trying to understand why they’d just hang out in his front porch way past midnight when they clearly didn’t know each other very well – or at all, better said.
&
First day of classes came by in a heartbeat. The first Monday of September Y/N found herself getting up earlier than she was accustomed to, since the girl's sleeping schedule was different during the summer. 6:15am read her alarm when she lazily threw the soft covers off her body. A quick shower and minimal makeup application later, she stood naked next to her bed checking the weather app, as to know how to prepare the girl's clothes.
After putting a soft pink sweater on and a pair of flared jeans, Y/N left the warmth of her room to wake the girls up. Going for Charlie first (since she didn't need any help changing into her uniform and Ivy used her own alarm) she didn't give Y/N any work at all, waking up immediately after softly calling her name once. Picking her uniform from her closet and leaving it for her to change, Y/N left Charlie’s room to walk towards the next door.
"Morning, Anya." She whispered as she brushed some of her hair out of her face. Anya’s little nose scrunched up and a soft whimper left her mouth as she switched positions, now laying on her side, "gotta wake up, love." Y/N shook her arm softly, and she finally opened her eyes, a tired smile creeping up her face as she noticed it was Y/N sitting next to her. Y/N left her to rub the tiredness off her eyes while she picked her clothes (since her daycare was at the same school her older sister's attended -Harry's school, Y/N couldn't help but think- her uniform consisted of only a white t-shirt with the school logo along with any pair of bottoms she chose for the day.
After picking up her cute small rain boots and help her get dressed up, Y/N did a cute hairstyle on her with the small butterfly hair clips she chose, and went back to Charlie's room to do her hair, Anya coming along.
They arrived at their school; a big, period-like brick building with hundreds of students roaming around and a beautiful fountain at the front – which actually made Y/N’s childhood look like a big joke; the school she had attended was located in the middle of the mountains in a remote field.
"I'll be here at two thirty. Good luck, girls, I'll see you later." Ivy walked away sending a 'mhm' her way to let her know she heard her, and Charlie offered a small smile along with a wave and walked away like her sister. Y/N took Anya off her car seat and helped her get out of the car, her tiny backpack sitting on Y/N’s right shoulder as she grabbed the hand Anya offered her.
"Mommy said I have the penguins' classroom!" She said with excitement as they walked through the doors at the right wing of the building.
"That's so cool! I love penguins, let's search for the door which has penguins on it, shall we?" Y/N suggested even though she could clearly see their door at the end of the hallway.
"Yes! This one has elephants," she pointed at the door they were passing, "look, butterflies!"
"Like your hairclips!" Y/N exclaimed, and she giggled nodding her head. "Ah! Look what we found..." Y/N pointed at the next door.
"Penguins!" She skipped towards the door, dragging Y/N along. They entered the big and colorful classroom where they found some kids crying in their parent’s arms, others being as excited as Anya.
"Hi there! Anya, am I correct?" A woman who appeared to be around Y/N’s age came up to them, scrunching down to be on Anya’s eye level. She nodded frantically, excitement dripping from her smile. "My name is Miss Pia, I'm going to be your teacher this year." She introduced herself, Anya gave her an even bigger smile and slyly asked if she could go meet her classmates, to which Miss Pia agreed, asking her to first hang her small backpack in the rack at the back of the room, taking it from my hands and running excitedly to do it.
"You must be Y/N, then?" Miss Pia asked, getting back up to her feet. She was short with blonde curly hair sitting high in a ponytail, rosy cheeks and a cute teacher apron on top of her regular clothes.
"I am." Y/N offered her hand.
"The administration office said we would be having an Au Pair this year, they always give us a heads up with situations like these." She explained, and Y/N nodded as she continued, "we have the parents, nannies or in this case, Au Pairs," they both laughed," stay for the introduction, you can leave afterwards."
"Perfect, I'll sit at the back with the rest of the parents." Y/N ended up staying for about half an hour, smiling at Anya every time she turned to search for her when something exciting seemed to be happening. She won't be needing any adaptation, as Miss Pia said, and she was dismissed right before they had their first trip to the playground outside, taking advantage of the fact that it hadn't started raining yet.
Right when Y/N was walking out of the building, she spotted Harry at the main entrance, reading something on his phone. He was wearing a navy blue suit with a white shirt underneath, and he looked even more handsome in the daylight. She made her way towards him, walking up the marble stairs (marble stairs! In a school?), and when he noticed her, he put his phone away and slowly (and trying to be as discrete as possible – which he failed to, again) looked up and down her body. Something about him giving her his full attention made her insides burn, and she couldn’t help but bit her bottom lip to suppress a smile.
"Hi." She stopped in front of him, taking a moment to look at his eyes; they definitely looked a lot lighter now that there was natural light surrounding them.
"Hi." He repeated, "Dropped the girl's off?" He motioned towards the building with his head.
"Yes, just left Anya’s classroom." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
"Miss Pia?" He asked, squinting his eyes.
"Yes. She's nice, looks like she knows what she's doing." Y/N shrugged. She didn't exactly know her enough to have a conversation about her – and she most definitely couldn’t be one to talk, since she herself didn’t know what she was doing half of the time. “How’s the first day back been so far?” He got cut off from his next comment by his phone, and the small crease between his eyebrows grew deeper, which didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N. "I'll leave you to it." She announced, but his eyes found hers again, and it was almost like he was asking for her to not leave him to it, but Y/N didn’t trust her instincts, not with him – not when he made her so nervous her brain couldn’t process things around him, and she was scared of misreading his expressions; he was hard to read. Not like she was expert at reading people but he was frustratingly confusing.
&
They didn't see each other again until a week later on a Tuesday evening – the same day Charlie, Anya and her decided to go for a walk and treat themselves with ice cream from a cute shop across from (what had come to be) her favorite park, Harry and Y/N found each other's eyes across his front garden, just like that night, but this time it was easy for her to recognize him as she could see his face clear and glowing from the sunset shine. His eyes were glued to her until the fence that divided their houses blocked his view, and again, Y/N wondered what could be going through his head.
It wasn’t until after dinner, past her work hours, she decided to leave the house through the door on her room with the sparking curiosity to test if she would run into Harry. Stopping on the sidewalk in front of his house, she noticed he was not sitting outside, and even though that's exactly what she had expected -he was not going to sit there for hours and hours, right?- There still was a small feeling of disappointment that rushed through her, and when she snapped back into reality, it was too late to stop herself as she knocked on his front door.
And Y/N didn’t know where to hide – not like hiding would be less embarrassing but God she did hate herself that moment. The embarrassment running through her veins was painful and made her lightheaded – she knew she had trouble sometimes with not thinking things through, but this was beyond her. He barely knew her. And suddenly his door was wide open.
"Y/N?" Of course she was not lucky enough for him to be asleep and not hearing her knock – life would’ve been too in her favor for that to happen. Of course he was very awake with a half drank cup of tea in his hand and the softest looking pair of grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. "Are you ok? You look really pale." His voice was calm, probably the softest it'd ever been in her presence. At least he doesn't sound mad, Y/N thought.
Harry wanted to be confused, but he was more curious than anything else. For some reason, he felt very intrigued by Y/N – how she seemed confident but insanely insecure at the same time; it reminded him of himself, if he had to be honest. He just learned how to hide the latter.
"Uh, yeah- um, I was-" she nervously turned around halfway to look behind her and back at him again. He raised his eyebrows in curiosity and Y/N really tried her hardest not to step over her words. "I was about to go for a walk, uh, I was wondering if you'd like to join me?" Stupid. So, so stupid, Y/N thought.
"No, I'm good." He replied, finding oh-so-amusing the way her eyes gave her embarrassment away – he was having fun, watching her like a lost puppy trying to think through her next words.
Her mind was, of course, over speeding. She now felt even more embarrassed. Of course he doesn't want to go for a walk, Y/N conscience spoke to her, it's a Tuesday night and he's probably tired and I'm his friends' Au Pair – he probably thinks I'm this young and annoying girl who has a stupid crush and- "would you like to join me?" He interrupted her self-beating up raising his cup and she noticed the half smile adorning his face, almost like he could tell the wheels in her brain were fast-moving.
"Wouldn't want to interrupt-"
"You're not. I wouldn't have invited you in if you were. C'mon in, now. It's kinda cold out here." He disappeared inside of his house, leaving her on his porch with an open mouth and a blank brain. After closing the door behind her and taking her black vans off, she turned on her left as she guessed that was the way Harry went – and she knew she’d guessed correctly when she stepped into a big open-plan concept living room with a giant kitchen on the far back, Harry standing with his back towards her preparing her tea, "sugar?"
"No, thank you." She sat in one of the stools at the kitchen island as she took the scene in front of her. Her very cute (and much older), very hot neighbor Harry, in sweatpants and a very thin white shirt, a small patch of skin showing on his hip, making her tea. His shoulders were broad and she could see his back muscles moving as he poured steaming hot water into the cup, the little curls on his neck so inviting, if only she could run her hand through his soft looking hair just once-
"There you go. Cardamom." He snapped her out of her (probably inappropriate) thoughts, and she thanked him as she grabbed the cup from where he placed it; he stayed in his position standing in front of her on the other side of the island, with his forearms against the cold marble, sipping on his own mug, thinking about how strange it felt to have someone he wasn’t close with sitting in his kitchen after so long. "Why are you up so late?"
"I couldn't sleep."
"I figured. I couldn't either, looks like we both have a bit of sleeping issues, huh?" He sounded playful, but tired. Y/N knew exactly how it felt, being so tired but not being able to peacefully go to bed and get some needed rest.
"I remember you mentioning it before, I figured I'd check if you were up. Walking helps me relax, thought maybe you'd enjoy it too." OK, that wasn't entirely true but her reasoning to be there was quite similar – to check if he was up so they could, maybe, share a quiet night like that one a few weeks ago. None of them understood why they found such comfort in each other’s company – none of them felt like they needed to try too hard.
At some point during their conversation they moved to the couch, where they laid with a wide gap between their bodies. "Elton John's was definitely an interesting read. Lots of crazy anecdotes, you should read it."
"Probably not as good as Keith's, but I'll give it a go." He let a dimpled smile creep into his face, turning his head to look at her from across the couch and the annoying turn her stomach made obliged her to return it, just as bright as his. Finding out their music taste was quite similar made Y/N’s insides all warm and fuzzy, he showed her his vinyl collection (which was quite large) and ranted about how the modern industry was missing a rock star with some of that unexplainable essence old rock bands have – to which she respond saying maybe that something that makes them special was the fact that they were old bands... added to the fact that even though she was an old music lover, modern pop was her guilty pleasure.
Their third teacups were long forgotten on the modern coffee table by the time he noticed Y/N’s eyes were slowly beginning to close and he, as last time, said, "it's really late." And Y/N only nodded and tiredly got up from her position, with him following close behind.
"Goodnight, Harry. Thank you for having me even though I came unannounced." She shyly said, her actions still making her embarrassed even though it had already been a couple of hours.
"My pleasure. We should- do this again," He coughed into his hand, and uncomfortably continued, "I enjoy your company." That sentence alone made her heart explode with a thousand emotions, because even though they barely knew each other and it clearly pained him to admit he enjoyed having her around, his presence made her calm but anxious in a peculiar mixture of emotions. All she did in return was gift him a big smile, face hot of embarrassment (a nice kind of embarrassment, that feeling when you just want to smile really big and tightly hug whoever is making you feel that way) and slowly pushed herself up on her tiptoes to give him a sweet kiss on the cheek. "Bye." He said lastly, and closed his front door with red cheeks and dimples on display.
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- Joey.
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sopxhiea · 3 years
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Lush
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Alfie Solomons X Reader
Summary: The days morph into months and Alfie realizes that he wants more but fate and the wild girl has other plans, ones that make the scary gangster feel uneasy.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 
“I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed this, but first impressions are often entirely wrong.”
Push and pull.
It’s easy, second nature at this point in the game you have been playing for months now. The opponent occasionally manages to surprise you, use your skilled movements against yourself in the battle that’s nearly as old as time. But he’s easily deceived, not by anyone else but you. He trusts you, you find out and the little devil inside smirks.
Poor man.
You’re not around as much.
He finds out that it was all fun and games at the beginning, as it is with any kind of relationship but it becomes harder and harder to reach you every passing day. Alfie’s sitting on his large chair, in front of the old wooden desk with a bunch of papers on it. He doesn’t know what’s on them, although he’s skimmed through the yellow pages at least a dozen times now.
Something went wrong, he thinks.
You still come around, a devilish smile on your lips as you wear a thin dress that leaves more to the imagination than he’d led on. He thinks maybe you’re winning the game still, although he swears in the early hours of the morning when you snuggle against him that there is no game to be played anymore.
But he hears things.
There’s a price that comes with being redeemed wild on your side. He hears of the frequent visits you make to the pubs and the poor men who want to buy you a drink. You let them, although you don’t sleep with anyone but him anymore. It’s not a relationship, not exactly but he doesn’t know what it is. He’d wanted you all to himself and when he got it, it had been very easy for you to slip away from his hands.
He then thinks about the favor.
You’d wanted to go to the country side, somewhere specific too where he assumed you had family. He didn’t know a lot about your ties to other people than the ones in the boarding school so he hadn’t denied you the opportunity. You’d be leaving soon, in a couple days and he wanted to see you once more before you left.
He knew you’d come to him. 
You were such a wicked little thing, Alfie thought. Always got what you wanted without pressing too much, it only took you one smile and he was done for. He gathered maybe it was his age, or the fact that he hadn’t been with anyone like you before but the effect was there on every man as you walked down the street and he realized, a long time ago, that he was utterly fucked and that he was quite okay with it. 
Ollie came into the office, a faint smile on his lips and stack of papers on his hand. He muttered something underneath his breath and Alfie, with the frustration of not getting any work done, raised his voice at the lad. “Speak up, lad!”
“You have a visitor, boss.” Ollie said, the same faint smile still apparent before he disappeared, not letting Alfie ask who the fuck was visiting him without an appointment.
And then the doors opened and things made sense.
You walked in with a bouquet of roses in your hand, ones he’d sent out to you the same morning. The color of your lacey dress matched the rose color of the flowers, hair a bit puffy than usual as you walked inside his now familiar office.
And Alfie felt himself go weak.
The man was someone many trembled against, avoided at all costs and changed lanes when he’d walk down the street. Women were in awe of him to some level but not in the way that made him desirable for more than a week tops but you, oh you, didn’t even care that he was a gangster. 
Seeing as you were much more dangerous than he was. 
“Good afternoon, Mr. Solomons.” you spoke, voice breathy as you left the flowers on his table and shed the layer of the thin coat you were wearing to give him a better look at you. He wouldn’t have you, not against the desk but you could always tease him.
You made your way towards him and his legs instantly opened wide from where he was sitting to allow you easier access. Slowly planting yourself on his thigh, your hands rested on your lap as he looked at you. His hands were now on your waist and hair, caressing as he looked at you like he had been resurrected. 
“’ello, lass.” his voice was gruff, eyes always searching for yours but he realized it might as well be a trap.
“Busy?” you spoke, looking over the desk to see the mounts of paper staring right at him but his response was direct, too fast almost as he played with strands of your hair.
“Nah.” he spoke, making your attention snap right back at his direction.
You nodded at his words before getting up from his lap. He lightly groaned at the absence of your small body on top of his but didn’t lead it on. You fixed your dress, something you’d bought on your own last week and he admired it for a split second before leaning back on his chair and watching you roam around his office.
You were there to tell him something.
“I’m leaving soon, you know.” you spoke, a mere whisper Alfie was accustomed to. He nodded before speaking.
“Aye, I do.” he spoke and you looked at him through a smile, a genuine one you have him from time to time.
“I came here to.....warn you, let’s say.” you said, making him raise his eyebrows at the words.
He liked the game.
“Fuckin’ warn me, eh?” he spoke and you nodded, a light chuckle escaping your lips before you spoke up again.
“It’s good to see your ears are working again.” you teased before hearing his hearty laugh. You basked in it for a second, the sound echoing through the empty corridors outside. Then your soft voice could be heard. “Don’t have me followed, not by Ollie or anyone else.” your words were stern this time, a spark of mischief in your eyes as he looked at you.
“Why the fuck would I do that, lass?” he spoke, amused but he already he knew the answer.
Because he was getting possessive.
Men had gotten away the first weeks of you being called ‘his girl’ but these things only lasted for a bit before blowing over. A month later, you were back to how things used to be, dancing with strangers and using their wallets to help yourself out to a drink. You didn’t sleep with them anymore, not when you’d need some quick relief as Alfie took care of you in that department quite well.
You sighed, swaying your hips as you walked around the office. He forgot, for as smart as he was, he could also be foolish and forget who he was dealing with. You offered him a smile while speaking, looking at him with darker eyes than usual. “You know why.”
And he did, he just preferred to hear you say it.
“Enlighten old me, eh?” he spoke, hands clasping in front of him as he looked at you from head to toe once more before settling on your eyes. He wanted to fuck you against the desk but knew you wouldn’t let him, not today.
You would enlighten him, with pleasure.
“Since our little....arrangement here..” you started off, walking closer to him as slowly as you could and you saw his fingers moving, itching to touch you. “..you seem to think I belong to you. Now, that’s not true and very foolish for a man of your power.” you spoke, almost cooing when you stood right in front of him with hands on your hips. He was looking at your eyes this time.
You had hit a nerve.
It had to be done and you didn’t mind breaking the poor little baker’s spirit a little to do that. Men needed it, some harsh words to be put into their place and you had never been afraid of a gangster. Plus, the way he’d hold onto you in the nights you spent together told you he would do no harm.
“Go on.” he spoke, hand tugging at his beard with dark eyes.
“I know you want me safe and as nice as that is, you know I’m a big girl.” you spoke and he knew what was to come.
You could take care of yourself.
“Leave me alone for the time I’m there and things might change around here for the better.” you spoke, almost giving him some sort of an ultimatum. He looked at you with a smirk on his lips, you were threatening him again but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.
He offered his hand to you as if he was making an offer and you eyed it for a bit before meeting it. His much larger hand enveloped yours as you shook it, the first of many deals to come with the devil and he didn’t know what he was in for.
------
The grass under your feet was cold, the weather nice for the first time in days as you watched the kids run around. You had been here for a while now, it had been a week or so with you staying in the countryside and it already felt like a month. Time passed differently around the forest, you had realized and it had done some good in clearing your mind to a certain degree.
This was a place Lisa had taken you a couple years ago to blow off steam at first. It had quickly become a favorite of yours after meeting the owners of the other houses. The place you were staying at was hers, a timeless gift to you so that you could come here whenever you wanted and spend time with her family.
She was married now, a kid on the way and the husband was a successful businessman, or so you’d heard.
That had been the case with many of the girls your age who had been lucky enough to leave the boarding house. You walked next to her mother, a smile on her lips as she spoke to you about how happy Lisa had been and it made you feel content that at least someone who left that damn place had found her happy ending. 
It wasn’t long before the sunset came around, little kids running around the open field. You didn’t mind the mud on your light colored dress, the weather was nice enough to make you forget some things.
Like how much you had grown attached to him.
It was hard to tell if it was love, you didn’t know how that felt to begin with. You didn’t show it, not to him or anyone else but your heart was at ease when he was around and it had made you confused. You had mastered not getting involved with people after all and the entire relationship you had with the gangster had grown so complicated that you had forgotten to keep your heart in a cage in the meantime.
And he’d caught it, he just didn’t know it.
You watched the kids dance and their mothers clapped. All of them were slightly younger than you, a content smile on their lips as they watched their little ones. You wouldn’t be able to that, you’d made peace with it a long time ago that motherhood was not for you but you craved human connection, much like any other living being.
“Ms. Y/N?” a boy spoke, not older than ten years old with flowers in his hand.
You offered him a smile and spoke, voice softer than it was in the city. “Yes?”
The boy slowly gave the flowers to you, red colored roses that stared up at you. You offered him a curious set of eyes and he spoke before running away. “You have a visitor.”
The boy then ran away and you stood up, careful with the flowers as you looked around. The other mothers around you didn’t seem bothered, like it was common occurrence as you looked around in the open field before settling on a familiar form. Broad shoulders, no cane in hand but his hat instead.
A smile found your lips but you got rid of it quick enough.
Walking towards him as he looked at your approaching form, he saw a part of you he had not seen yet which only made him wonder about the depths of you. Your feet were covered in dirt and grass, the ends of your dress wet and grassy from the running around you had done the entire day around the fields. Your hair was messy, picks and a few leaves on top of your head as you approached him with a smile.
He felt like the wind had been knocked out of his lungs.
“You’re following me again?” you spoke with a playful tone. Hand coming to your face to push some of your hair back.
He giggled.
The man who had crushed another man’s windpipe with his left hand giggled. The very bad, scary gangster giggled as he looked at you with a smile you had missed. This was him in his pure form and it made you want to hide.
“Came to see how you ‘ere doin’, yeah, ‘s all, luv.” he spoke with a smile on his lips which you mirrored and nodded at his words.
And then, you did something he didn’t think you’d ever do.
Taking an unsure step towards him, you wrapped your arms around his middle and put your head against his chest. Your head barely reached his chin but you could hear his heart beating, fastening with each passing second before he returned the embrace. His hug was tighter than yours, enveloped your entire body in his as he planted a kiss on top of your head.
“I’m glad you did.” you whispered against his chest, hoping he hadn’t heard in the three seconds of you being as vulnerable as you were capable of being with him.
He nodded at your words, confirming that he’d heard but he didn’t reply. It didn’t need a reply. He smelled of musk and rum, some vanilla you could still place as he hugged you. He didn’t let go, not until you did and took a step back with flushed cheeks.
This was the same you he had seen that day in the boarding school, knees bloody with soft eyes.
He cursed at his heart for being so soft.
“Are you...” you spoke, trailed off and then met his eyes and remembered what you were going to say. A smile found his lips as he looked at your flustered form but he had been holding one of your hands the entire time. “Are you staying?” you asked, voice breathy and hopeful.
How could he say no?
“If you’ll have me.” he spoke and it made you giggle. He was a stupid man.
Then, he just watched you.
He watched as you went up to the women and asked for a bigger mattress for you and him. He watched you shyly nod as they asked questions about him and watched you hold his hand as you led him to the cottage. He watched you sit on the dinner table, next to him, talking to the smaller kids about their findings around the field with a halo around your head. He watched you converse with the women around and giggle, smile like you hadn’t done in his time of knowing you and the entire time, you could feel his fingers caressing your knuckles.
------
You turned around on the bed next to him. Alfie should’ve been asleep, he had driven for hours to reach you but your shuffling on the bed made it impossible, along with everything he’d seen today. He pulled your body close to his, almost on top of his broad form and you gasped, realizing he was awake. 
You slowly sat on top of him, not quite straddling his thighs as he looked up to meet your face. “Do you hate me?”
His eyebrows furrowed at your question. Of course he didn’t. He hated everyone else, the people he worked with and the men he had to hire, he even hated Ollie sometimes but he had never even come close to hating you. He slowly sat up much like you’d done a couple minutes prior but cradled you on his lap in a careful manner while doing so. You watched him the entire time.
“What the fuck did ya’ say, pet?” he asked, thinking he must’ve been imagining or hearing things. The entire night felt like a dream to begin with and he wasn’t sure what was real anymore.
“I said do you hate-” you started speaking and he realized he had heard you correctly.
“No.. Why th-” he started speaking but realized his voice was too harsh. He stopped, kissed your hand and then continued. “Why the fuck would I hate ya’?” he asked, genuinely curious and also quite angered by your words. He would never do that.
“The Alfie I know would’ve hated me after the past couple of weeks.” you spoke, voice a mere whisper and he understood every word you’d been saying.
You hadn’t behaved well and he knew it. You knew that he knew it.
“The Alfie you fuckin’ know, yeah?” he spoke with a smile on his lips this time. He dismissed the entire idea of him hating as you as that was out of the question, he had not even thought about it once. You made him confused and sometimes, frustrated but that was it. He liked that anyway.
“The one who came to the boarding school, the one whose wounds I cleaned...” you trailed off, counting first experiences with him as you sat on his lap. He fixed the strap of your nightgown as you spoke and nodded when you didn’t speak any further.
“Lass...” his voice was a mere coo, like he was talking to a kid and you felt the need to be babied by him even though you’d hate it if it was anyone else. “I don’t know if you’ve ever fuckin’ noticed this, right, but first impressions are often entirely wrong.”
You nodded at his words, searching his eyes for a....lie of some sort, to see if he was saying it just to please you but that was nowhere to be found. You sighed, looking away into the room, away from his eyes this time and he pulled your face towards him to face his moonlit face.
“So no?” you spoke, earning a laugh from him and a shake of his head. 
“No, lass. Never, okay?” he asked, as to make sure that you knew, for sure, that he would never feel that way towards you.
All he earned was a nod from you before you laid on top of him again.
Maybe some people were good. 
Most had been mediocre at best, people only cared about themselves and as far as you had been concerned, Alfie was the same. But he had surprised you, at every little turn and it made you utterly confused. It put you in a place of wonderment about him.
You slowly got up again, sitting on his lap once more and earning a throaty groan from his lips. You didn’t know if it was because of the position you were in or because he wanted to sleep but he seemed wide awake as you looked at him.
“You didn’t listen to my warning.” you spoke against his face as he got your hair away from your face, a silly smile on his lips as he nodded.
“No, I fuckin’ didn’t, right.” he spoke, his words following the previous ones soon after. “I got fuckin’ worried.” it was a mere whisper but you’d heard it.
It earned a giggle from you.
“There’s no need to be worried.” your voice was soft as you spoke against his lips, pecking them every now and then during the conversation.
“Hm.” he grunted, deepening the last kiss you had given him. Your little mewls made into his mouth, vibrations meeting his chest before you broke the kiss.
You looked into his eyes and realized this was as good of a time as any to ask the one question you’d been thinking about. The one keeping you up at night and the one that had made your stomach feel sort of sick when you had thought about it because it was so unknown to you.
“Alfie...” you whispered, face a little away from his to gain space so that he wouldn’t try and kiss you while you spoke as he did often.
And you’d ask him.
It was a given fact that if you didn’t ask, you’d regret it and you didn’t see it as a question that should be asked in his office with his anger on the highest level it could be. He was soft now, as kind as he could be, away from the mess of the city and his job.
“Are you in love with me?” the words left your lips, sure of yourself as you looked into his eyes.
His orbs were housing a storm now, no longer as calm as they had been as you looked into them. You didn’t shy away from his piercing gaze, wanted him to tell you all about what he was thinking but he just cleared his throat and stared at you for a bit.
How did you not know?
The answer was obvious to Alfie, had been for some time now but he found out that you were quite clueless when it came to it. He didn’t chuckle at how blind you were to his feelings but just offered you a stare, a kind one at that.
“What do ya’ think?” he asked, challenging you as he kept playing with your hair.
“I don’t know....that’s why I asked.” you spoke softly, honest with him for the first time about all this: about how you felt and the fact that it was affecting you daily.
“Ya’ still don’t fuckin’ know?” he asked, expressing his genuine surprise at last. You shook your head, eyes meeting his once more in the dark room with curious eyes. You spoke up afterwards, impatient and panicked.
“If you’re not going to tell me then-”
“Aye, I am.”
You couldn’t look up to meet his eyes then, the courage didn’t come to you. He watched you fumble, try to get in a more comfortable position while avoiding his eyes at all costs. A smile found his lips when you groaned, realizing you had nowhere to go.
There was nowhere to go.
“I don’t know..” you whispered at last and that’s when he wrapped his arms around you and spoke against your temple.
“Ya’ don’t have to fuckin’ say it back, right.” he whispered, making sure that you knew. 
Maybe you would.
You presumed it wouldn’t be today or the nearest future it could possibly be but sometime in the next couple of months seemed doable. You had not done this before, this part of the game was new to you where the lines of what was real and what was not blurred in together. He was peculiar, different in a way that pushed out of what you really knew to be true. Men weren’t gentle like this but he had been, they weren’t as kind or understanding.
He was so stubborn, never listened to anyone but himself but he felt himself stilling with you. Like the war was a distant memory, more so than it already was. It felt as though some of his deepest scars didn’t exist and it was all because you had made it felt that way.
He pulled your body closer to his then, watching the way moonlight kissed your skin. This was a reality for Alfie that had not existed before, a line where he could be kind and loving.
And you were it for him.
--------
Tagging: @clairecrive  @parkbearum @sourirez  @vetseras @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum @fuseburner @r-rose08 @innerpaperexpertcloud @caffinated-tree @cathartichaoss  @ihavefandomsssss @thatchickwiththecamera @sugarcoated-lame @alainabooks143 @enrapturedbythemoon @a-southern-doctors-drawl  @houseofdupree @evangelinesolomons​  @kissmyoops a/n: hello, dear ones!! I hope you liked this chapter and thank you for sticking with me on this. I think there’s going to be one more and that would be it for this series but i would love to hear any other ways of going about it. Do let me know if you’d like to be tagged and what you thought of the chapter!!
And Ramadan Kareem to all who celebrate <3
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vvitchering · 3 years
Note
32. “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” for bobadin?
This is my first time writing for this ship and my second time writing Boba so I am FEAR (TM) but I think I actually like the way this came out?????
~ It’s been a month and a half since the beroya had come to stay at the palace. Six since the loss of his child and his creed. Boba doesn’t like to think about what Din had been doing to himself in the time between handing his son over to the jetii and when Boba had finally managed to track him down halfway across the galaxy. He hadn’t known Din long at that point, but anyone could have seen the defeat and hopelessness in his posture and demeanor. 
If Boba had taken any longer to find him, he isn’t sure there would have been much left to find.
Given purpose once again as a hunter and personal guard for the usurper king of Tattooine, Din is flourishing. Now, Boba counts on him almost as much as he does on Shand. She may be his right hand, but Din is as close to clan, aliit, as either of them are going to get and that means something to Boba. They’re both orphans, survivors from a scattered culture; and in every word of mando’a they speak to each other, every nostalgic smile, every instance of innate understanding, they grow a little closer. 
Things have been going well, possibly too well, suspiciously well. So while it isn’t a complete shock when Din begins to pull away again, it still hurts. They haven’t shared a meal in days. The mats laid out for combat practice have gone unused. Din hovers at the edge of Boba’s vision when he absolutely must make an appearance and he all but evaporates like a desert breeze the second he’s no longer needed. 
Din begins to stay out on hunts for longer stretches of time. He reports the relevant details on his return and disappears again until he’s summoned. His absence burns like acid but Boba tries to give him his space. He doesn’t know what he’s done to offend the man, but it’s clear there’s been a shift in their relationship and if he doesn’t want to lose the wayward beroya yet again, he’s going to have to do something soon.
He gets his chance one afternoon after he’s yelled at his court to disperse and he’s made his way to the chambers they use for exercise and weapon storage. Din is already there, moving through his forms, beskar spear in hand. His movements grow stiff and unnatural the moment he realizes he has company and Boba feels the last of his restraint snap.
“Do you have some issue with me all of a sudden?” he asks. Din flinches like he’s been struck. 
“Have I offended you in some way? Made you feel uncomfortable or unwelcome?”
Din fidgets with the spear and shifts his weight from foot to foot as if he’s debating making a break for it. Boba frowns. He’s never pressured Din to go helmetless, he knows he finds a certain kind of comfort and familiarity in keeping that part of himself intact, but he finds himself wishing for the umpteenth time that Din trusted him enough to remove it in his company. 
Right now, it feels like just another impenetrable barrier between them.
“No, it’s not that.” Din finally responds, tilting his head as he speaks in that curious way of his.
Boba moves closer, motioning for Din to continue. They’re having this discussion, no matter how much Din looks like he’d rather take off running. Whatever he’s hiding, it’s hurting them both and Boba can’t, won’t, stand for it any longer. He’s come to value Din’s companionship in a way he’s quickly realizing is frighteningly irreplaceable. The thought of losing it permanently sends cold shivers up and down his spine in a way nothing else ever has. 
Boba sets his jaw. Despite the avoidance techniques Din has been favoring lately, he is still Mandalorian, as is Boba. They will clean the air as their kind have done for centuries. 
Boba lunges. 
The attack catches Din completely off guard and they fall to the mat covered floor with a muffled clatter. Din loses his grip on the spear and it rolls away out of his reach. He struggles under Boba’s weight in a weak attempt to avoid being pinned down, but Boba has him just where he wants him. He leans almost his full weight onto Din’s chest, keeping him down, and presses his forearm into Din’s throat. He takes care not to press too hard; he wants to subdue and restrain, not hurt. 
Din inhales raggedly but goes obligingly limp, unwilling to fight back. It’s like the fire that they’ve both worked so hard to kindle has left him again. Cold fear zings through Boba, mingling with the adrenaline from their short lived tussle and he feels sick to his stomach as he realizes this might be the last time he’s allowed this close to Din. 
“Tell me. Please.” He begs. And it is begging. How far the mighty Boba Fett has fallen, pleading with a no-name beroya from some backwater covert for forgiveness for some unknown slight. He’d fall even further if it meant he could keep Din by his side just a little longer. 
He can’t see Din’s eyes behind the dark of his visor, but he can feel the strength of his gaze. He can feel him tense again beneath him as he registers Boba’s pathetic pleading. There’s a moment of complete stillness before the world tilts and Boba gasps for breath as Din manages to swap their positions and slams him into the ground. It’s not gentle. There’s force in his movements, real intent, and Boba would sigh in relief if he hadn’t just had the air mercilessly knocked from his lungs.
“I have lost everything in my life that mattered to me,” Din begins, and his normally calm voice is edged in steel. “My home. My family, twice over. Everything I had left fit inside a storage locker in my ship and that’s gone, too.” 
“You’re not the only one who’s lost things, Din.” Boba reminds him gently.
Din laughs miserably. He’s shaking slightly, Boba can feel the tremors where Din is pressed against him. 
“Sometimes I think I’m cursed.” Din says quietly. “I never get to keep anything important. My creed, my ship, the kid, everything I loved...” He trails off, viciously biting off what sounds like the beginning of a sob.
Din’s hold on Boba loosens significantly as he falls apart and Boba takes the opportunity to grasp at Din’s wrists, gripping them lightly but securely. He’s not great with words and even less so with comfort, but he can do this at least. He can anchor Din, help him weather the storm he’s fighting through, and see him safely back to shore.
“I pulled away because I thought if I ended this myself before it turned into anything it might hurt less than waiting for something to come along and end it for me. Cut something out of my life on my own terms for once, you know? Couldn’t do it, though.”
“Din--”
“Ne’johaa, I’m not finished.”
Boba swallows his interruption and stares up at Din pointedly. 
Go on. Get to the point of all this. 
Din takes a measured breath and then lets it go. 
“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified. I don’t want you to be another thing I lose. I won’t survive it. Not again.”
“Oh. Is that all?”
“Is that all...Boba--”
“Now it’s your turn to shut up. C’mere.”
Boba shifts his grip to hold Din by the forearm with one hand while the other slides up over Din’s shoulder to pull him down by neck. Their helmets clink together at their foreheads and the sound echoes through the chamber. Din makes a short shocked sound and throws his free hand down beside Boba’s head to support himself but makes no attempt to pull away. 
“I’ve lived through far more than my fair share of hardship in this life. You don’t get to look like I do without having survived some absolute shit situations.”
They’re separated by the metal of their helmets, but Boba would swear he can feel Din’s warmth seeping through.
“If this is something you want to pursue,” he continues, “I’m amenable to that. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere any time soon, verd’ika.”  
Din makes a strange wheezing noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh and sniffs loudly before collapsing slowly on top of Boba in an exhausted but relieved heap. 
“Not that I’m not enjoying you sprawled out on top of me like this, but do you think we could relocate to a more comfortable surface? A training mat isn’t exactly an ideal place for a cuddle.” 
“Trying to get me into bed already? You’re shameless.” Din laughs, clear and true, and it’s the sweetest sound Boba has heard in a long time.
--
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, do a writer a favor and reblog! Likes are nice, but they don’t get this story out there for more people to see. I’m also toying with the idea of putting this one up on my ao3. Thoughts?
mando’a words beroya - hunter Ne’johaa - shut up verd’ika - literally “little soldier”, used here as an affectionately insulting term of endearment as its usually used for little kids
(I really like Mando’a as a language, I think its fascinating, and writing a ship that consists of two Mandalorians gives me the perfect excuse to WAY over use it because I barely ever get to. I apologize for NOTHING. I wasn’t expecting this to be so long. I’m fully planning on coming back to this when I have fresh eyes and revising and editing some parts where the pacing feels a little off!)
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yandere-sins · 3 years
Text
The Fox Wedding - Embrace the marriage (Kita)
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Summary: You are to marry the fox spirit Kita Shinsuke after you accidentally agreed to become his wife by signing the deed to your new home. A contract is a contract, he says, but is there more to this marriage than you know? Will you be whisked away by one of the foxy twins instead, or have to marry Kita after all? Can you be with a creature that only seems tender on the surface, or will you try to run even if it might cost you your life? Choose your route carefully, you never know what these foxes are up to!
Characters: Kitsune!Kita Shinsuke x afab!Reader
Rating: Explicit   Warnings for this chapter: Yandere, Kidnapping, Forced/Unhealthy Relationship, Rough Handling, Mention of bite marks, Mention of Non-Con, Pregnancy, Mention of (not human) blood, Monsters, Mention of burns, Verbal threats
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“Don’t you remember?” 
He asked you this again on that one gloomy night as you rearranged your kimono. You had gotten good at putting it on, not because you wanted to learn how to do it, but because it was the only thing that made you feel better about yourself. The way Shinsuke owned you was painful, stinging, and tear-inducing, and you felt better not having to see the countless bite marks of possession he put on you. Thus, you learned how to do it. Better you than a maid, or worse, Shinsuke himself. 
“I don’t.” 
Your answer was always the same. How long had it been that you two were wed on that sun-filled, rainy day? A month? Three? Half a year? Yet, he never stopped with his riddles, and this question was the only one that arose every once in a while. Your heart ached with the desire to go home, leave this godforsaken country to be where you belonged - where you never should have left. But of course, it wasn’t that easy. 
“I see,” he whispered, and from the moon shining in through the open windows in your shared bedroom, you could see him nod his head thoughtfully while his eyes focused on your stomach. “You were still so small back then. The smallest human I had ever met.” 
His soft smile was lost on you as you shook your head, unbelieving of his words. Shinsuke didn’t like unnecessary talks. He’d rather have a quiet morning than one filled with small talk you learned. And when he spoke, it was hard to accept what he said. Nothing good ever came from him saying your name. No affectionate string of words sounded like he meant it when he said it in the usual indifferent tone. An ‘I love you’ was quick to change into ‘Mind your manners’, and often he ignored your wishes in favor of fulfilling some kind of clan duties. 
Perhaps, the only moment you managed to catch him off-guard was when a doctor - or something close to that just less human than you liked - announced your pregnancy, but you had been too shocked to be able to react to the sincere smile on his face and the tight hug he gave you despite the news being more of a tragedy to you. It wasn’t the child’s fault, even you knew that, but from day one, you felt responsible for it yet devoid of the feeling that you could love the kid like a normal mother would. 
With your hand falling to the little bump on your stomach, you were glad it was still decent enough to not be immediately visible. Yet, as long as you were aware of the growing life inside you, the more you felt the dread of having to take care of yourself for its sake. There were worse wounds that Shinsuke could inflict on you, and unfortunately, you wouldn’t even put it past the clan to follow his lead rather than step in and stop him. It still made your blood freeze to think back to when you saw the real him for the first time. No, not him. The monster he was. 
It was hard to forget the ashen creature that brought fresh meat for the village. You always thought foxes were small, playful yet wild animals, but that didn’t seem to apply to fox spirits. These images kept flashing before your eyes as you stroked your belly reassuringly, the baby inside of you not yet in need of comfort, but you sure were. 
Fox spirits were tall as bears, and every one of them deadlier than a pack of wolves. It was bewildering to learn that Shinsuke wasn’t even fully grown yet, only six of nine possible tails emerging from his back once he turned into that beast. You could have sworn with his fox form being as tall as you were, he’d be at least grown out, and it unnerved you to imagine what he’d look like once he was. 
Even if he allowed you to pat his fur, nudged you into the affection despite smearing deer blood all over you, it was no less reassuring to know what he really looked like even if he acted like that. You had seen him snap a deer’s neck in two cleanly with his maw. You had heard him growl. And none of this made you any less afraid of your own husband, the father of your child. 
Involuntarily, Shinsuke had made you become what previously had been your worst nightmare. You were a healthy woman, so it was only a question of time until his forced intimacy would produce the child everyone around you was looking forward to. Except you, but how could you possibly be when this wasn’t what you wanted at all?
Even so, you realized the child was just another innocent soul in a much more complicated scheme of his ‘love’. One you still not understood even though he was so insistent that it existed. Nevertheless, you couldn’t let yourself be punished and endanger the little one, always seeing these huge, beastly creatures in your inner eye whenever you thought about running or misbehaving. However, you also couldn’t stop yourself from flinching when he reached over to caress your stomach, unable to forgive and, even more so, forget what all he had done to you.
Tearing you out of your life, your world even, force you into this relationship and himself on you, was small compared to the ‘lessons’ and ‘training’ he made you go through to become more fitting for your role as his wife. Your maltreated body was only one evidence of his ‘care’ and ‘love’ that he so generously had sworn to you before your wedding. There was no ‘happiness’ in sight even after being married for so long. If he thought that child made you happy, he had been wrong.
Answers. Answers would have made you happy - or at least, made this more endurable. 
“Back then, you were scared too.”
His palm clasped around your hand tightly as he began to circle it over the baby bump. He acknowledged your flinching, your fear. Though even if he noticed, he only ever did so in his favor, dismissing it to do whatever he pleased or continuing to force you into obeying his will. Shinsuke always looked serious and talked with logic, you wouldn’t have believed the slyness in all of his doings even though it dawned on you that it was one of the foxes’ main traits. 
“Back when?” you mumbled, wanting to pull out your hand but getting stuck in his grasp, sighing inwardly as you gave up on fighting him. Not when he was so close to the child. You didn’t want to risk upsetting him. 
“Twenty years? Thirty? Time--” Interrupting himself, Shinsuke let out a thoughtful hum, clearing his throat before he resumed speaking.” Time is tough to calculate when you live for so long. Day is day, night is night. Sometimes it snows, and sometimes it rains, and all the other days are mostly the same. Only now, you are here with me, and that makes me happier than anything else.”
This time, it was on you to ponder, wondering about the time frame. There was no reason to get upset about the fact Shinsuke didn’t seem to know your current age, nor how long it really had been. The message ’a long time ago’ was received by you either way. What you couldn’t rack your brain around was that there wasn’t an instance you could remember meeting Shinsuke before, especially since you hadn’t been to Japan when you were as young as he made it seem-
“Oh,” you whispered. Oh, you had been to Japan before as a child, with your family to visit friends that resided in this beautiful country. But you had forgotten all about it, how old had you been? Four? Maybe five? Now you remembered that the reason for your first trip as a teenager had been to see the country you had been to before but could barely remember since you were just a toddler back then. 
Finally sitting up from his futon, Shinsuke moved over to sit next to you, his right arm snaking around your waist while his left hand remained on your belly. “Do you remember it now?” he cooed softly, leaving a kiss on your cheek as he waited for an answer patiently. 
“There was a fox…” you mumbled, straining yourself to remember what happened so long in the past. “I think it was wounded.”
“Continue,” Shinsuke instructed gently, bringing his lips to your temple before brushing back your hair to continue down your neck, leaving pecks of affection behind wherever they wandered. 
“It was wounded, and I… I--”
“You gave me your rice ball,” he finished for you as you struggled with your words. 
“That was… you?” you slowly but surely pieced it together, and he nodded, pulling you closer to him and burying his face in the crook of your neck. His embrace was tight but less formal than any other touch he laid on you so far. A wave of honest emotions seemed to overcome him as you remembered, a voice of relief leaving him as your shared past revealed itself to you.
“But… But--” 
So many questions rushed into your head before you could even utter one of them. How much of what happened was coincidental? Was everything planned? Staged? Arranged? Your thoughts must have shown in your gaze, and though he only looked up for a split second, you were sure he noticed it as he chuckled a few times. 
“The truth is, back then, I wanted to kill you. I came back for you every day, and you were always playing in the garden, but your parents were always around watching you.”
Shinsuke sat up straight, instead now pulling you to lean on him and petting your hair. Your instinct detected hostility in his words, yet, your body told you to stay put and not allure him of the fear that crept up in you. You now remembered the silver fox you had met as a little kid, and though the memories were spare and rare, to think you could have died by his maw back then made a cold shudder run down your spine. 
“I didn’t want the humans to find out my clan was in that forest - now, this forest - I knew it would mean that I caused them to have to leave or hunters would come. However, when you did tell--”
“No one believed me…” This time you finished his sentence instead, and Shinsuke nodded. 
“I couldn’t rest, so I came back day after day, until suddenly… you were gone.” 
“Yeah, we flew back home after two weeks,” you mumbled, explaining it to him despite realizing you wished you had kept it a secret. He simply didn’t deserve knowing even a little bit more than necessary.
“Exactly.”
Gently rubbing your back, Shinsuke kissed your hair, his grip on you unbudging, but there was no notion and no feeling of yours that stayed hidden long from him. “Later I found out that the owner of that house - your family’s friends, I reckon? - were aware of us, and their ancestors were granted land from us to build their house in exchange for keeping this village and residents hidden. It’s passed down as a family secret.”
“And then…” For the first time, you sat up, and Shinsuke let you go without a moment of hesitation. Slowly, but surely everything made sense, even if those answers were less relieving than you had hoped. “I bought their house when they became too old to live there. Was that- Was that all planned?”
With your brows furrowing, you looked at his face, and Shinsuke closed his eyes for a moment thoughtfully, humming in contemplation. “Was it? Who knows. Once I learned the truth, I decided you shall be my bride.”
What a dissatisfying answer, you thought, and your expression faltered, body turning away in displeasure. For the first time since you were married, you heard him make a deep sigh, the shuffling of fabric behind you as Shinsuke inched closer, having recognized your defensive stance as telling him you weren’t all too happy with his story. 
“If we say fate brought us together, then destiny arranged everything. But I rather think that it was meant to be. You coming back to me is because we are meant for each other, [Name].”
“I don’t agree,” you muttered, feeling defeated. All this time, you had wondered how and why this all happened to you, but in the end, it really had just been Shinsuke’s doing. Part of you felt more betrayed, but the other half wasn’t actually feeling impressed by the knowledge. Disappointed, but not surprised, as a friend of yours always liked to say. “Then why the contract? Why set me up like this?”
“What do you think? Do you think you would have married me otherwise? Do you not despise me? Think that I am a monster? I think that’s what you called me before.”
The level of self-awareness was nothing you would have expected from him. Instinctively you would have liked to argue against him, but at the same time, his words depicted your feelings quite well. “Maybe I wouldn’t have thought that if you had--”
“[Name], please.” There it was again, the patronizing tone in his voice that had been the end to many of your conversations before. His arms wrapped around you from behind, lips landing at the back of your head as he mumbled into your hair. “I waited for you all this time, and know my feelings. There was simply no need for a year-long courtship and proving what I felt.”
“I could have needed it. Are my feelings that unimportant to you?”
Gripping his arms tightly, you dug your fingers in as best as you could. You had enough. Enough of his will being absolute and everything centering around him. All this misery just because he decided on marrying you long, long ago on his own. For the first time, you managed to pull out of his hold by your own strength, twirling around quicker than him being able to capture you again and complain. 
“You are a monster! I don’t care about your feelings either since you can’t seem to respect mine! I never wanted any of this!”
Gesturing loosely to him and your stomach, you made room for your anger, even getting up to stand your ground properly. You half expected him to follow, but Shinsuke kept sitting comfortable, merely lowering his eyes and shaking his head. “Calm down, [Name]. You’ll wake the whole village with your voice.”
“What if?! As if they didn’t know how I truly feel! As if they didn’t just turn a blind eye on this situation for your sake!”
“Arranged marriages are very common here--”
“But not arranged by the groom himself! And even so, you still forced me into this, I couldn’t even refuse! You… You beast! You monster! You’re the absolute worst being I ever met, and I hate you! I hate you so much!”
Finally, Shinsuke looked up again, his gaze calm and collected as always. It was the last straw that even now, he did not budge from his views, and you decided to do something you had tried to avoid ever since becoming pregnant. Turning on your heel, you marched towards the door, gripping into the depression of the sliding door to open it. As luck would have it, these kinds of doors didn’t have locks. Thus someone usually watched over you, never leaving you alone, but weirdly enough, it didn’t budge no matter how hard you pulled and tore on it, demanding quietly that it would move out of your way.
“[Name] stop. It’s not good for the baby to get so upset,” Shinsuke called after you, and you just knew he was standing up as he spoke, causing more pressure to fall onto your shoulders. You’d run away. No matter the cost, you wouldn’t stay here. Feeling the door heat up, you jumped away from it, shocked, looking at your fingers while eerie, small flames sparked up at the spot you just touched. By now, you were a little too familiar with foxfire and what it felt like, and yet, angry as you were, it only made you spin around to face him, not expecting to have his face right up in yours the moment you turned.
“I said, stop.”
“Then I won’t listen,” you hissed back at him, rubbing your fingers carefully as they trembled in fear. Never before had resisting him done you anything good, but you reached a point of no return. 
“Let’s go back to bed,” Shinsuke instructed again, his patience wearing noticeably thin as you were unbudging. “You go to bed. I am going home.”
Taking a deep breath, he stared you down with those sharp, shining eyes of his, a glare that usually made your knees buckle in fear. You never had given him such a hard time before, normally yielding before it got this far. In some way, it was thrilling, in another, nerve-wracking. 
“I’ll say it only once more,” Shinsuke warned, reaching for your wrist that you pulled away before he could reach it, slapping his hand away in the process. 
“Or what?” you spat at him, as disgusted as you could. This would end here, you decided. All of it: The fake marriage, your submissiveness, the way you played along and embraced your role as his wife until now. The child too, if you got out of this house, this village, and his clutches. 
“You saw the beast before.” Shinsuke spoke his words calm and slow, but his voice lowered dangerously as he kept up his glare unbudgingly. It was just his way of not losing his temper despite you being aware that he wasn’t going to be gentle from this point onwards. There was a never before heard tremble in his voice as he spoke again, the sentence making every inch of you freeze in fear.
Perhaps, you had needed that. One last attempt of being deviant. How else would you have learned that this place might not make you happy, but at least it was the only place that would keep you safe. Safe of Kita Shinsuke’s true nature, the one completely insane from his love for you. How else would you have known that calm waters were the deepest of them all? Deep enough to let you drown in them if you did anything to disturb them?
Maybe, being his wife wasn’t the worst there was. 
“But you haven’t seen the monster yet.”
The worst was Shinsuke himself.
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a/n: Thank you for reading Kita’s route of this story, I hope you enjoyed it! I noticed last chapter that it didn’t seem as enjoyable than the Prologues, I still hope that you will move forward to explore the other routes and enjoy this experience ^-^ Let me know what you thought, that would make me very happy ♥
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Satisfied?
➤ Go back to the prologue to change your fate
➤ ?
Read other routes first to unlock more fates
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blu-joons · 3 years
Text
DATING PENTAGON HEADCANON A⇴Z ⇴  Kang Hyunggu
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A ⇴ AFFECTION
Hyunggu always finds himself getting incredibly ticklish whenever he’s affectionate with you. You’ve learnt over the years where all of his sweet spots are, and always make sure to hit them just right whenever he’s close to you.
B ⇴ BEFORE DATING
You were a guest on his Unboxing podcast when you met Hyunggu for the first time. The two of you clicked instantly, poor JinJin barely got a look in with how well the two of you bonded. The episode was a huge success, and Hyunggu refused to let you leave at the end of the recording without getting your number.
C ⇴ CONFESSION
His confession ended up being in the form of a letter, he’d told you about how he writes letters for his fans, and so he decided to do the same for you. When a piece of paper came through your letterbox, you almost binned it as an advert, but something inside of you told you to open it, relived you did, when you read through it and realised what the contents of it where on the other side, instantly calling him.
D ⇴ DATES
With Hyunggu so busy, dates between the two of you were rare, and so usually you ended up meeting at the studio in the evenings when Hyunggu was busy with work. You’d pick up food on the way, and he’d have the studio set out to make room for you, taking advantage of currently not having Jinho around to try and make it a bit more of a homely place for you both. They weren’t always perfect, and often your conversations were in between demo edits, but the time together was what you savoured the most.
E ⇴ EXPERIENCE
There had been a couple of brief romances in school for Hyunggu, but in terms of dating as an adult, he didn’t really have a clue where to start. He worried a lot initially about messing things up, it wasn’t just his fanbase that he had to impress with your relationship, it was yours as well. He knew that with eyes watching, your relationship just had to work. To begin with, he put a lot of effort into the smallest of things, but once you reassured him and told him just to trust in the two of you, he began to relax a lot more.
F ⇴ FIGHTING
He was quite sensitive to arguments, they weren’t something he enjoyed, and tried to avoid as much as he possibly could. Hyunggu was far too kind to ever really raise his voice around you, if he felt as if an argument was brewing, he’d take a hold of your hand and encourage you to calm down with him before things could get out of hand. If an argument did arise, it took Hyunggu a little while to calm down after, he’d usually head to the studio for a bit and return home when he was confident that home would be relaxed again, and that you’d be ready to talk things through with him probably rather than shouting.
G ⇴ GETTING TO KNOW HIS FAMILY
Hyunggu’s family meant a lot to them, it was a bit of a make-or-break deal for him for you to get on with his family. They loved how you had the same career as Hyunggu and could understand the things that he went through. However, it was only when they met you in person, did they realise how spot on you were for one another.
H ⇴ HOME
You’d often get disturbed in the early hours of the morning by Hyunggu at your front door, desperate for a place to crash at night. Your place was closer to his studio than his own, and he also knew that there was no way that you’d ever turn down to cuddle him, no matter how early in the morning it might’ve been.
I ⇴ “I LOVE YOU”
Just like his confession, Hyunggu decided to be the first to say, ‘I love you,’ by writing you a letter to tell you how he felt. He was too shy to say it to your face for the first time, but he’d written enough letters in his time to know exactly what he wanted to write in order to make sure that all of his true feelings came across to you.
J ⇴ JEALOUSY
At times, Hyunggu was definitely a little sensitive to how other people acted around you, whilst he didn’t want to describe himself as someone who got jealous, he’d be very much aware if someone was beginning to step out of line or you were starting to get uncomfortable. He trusted you and knew that attention was sometimes just part of the job, but Hyunggu also wasn’t going to allow himself to be pushed aside either. When the two of you were alone again, he’d definitely talk to you about how he was feeling too.
K ⇴ KIDS
The future was something that Hyunggu found himself thinking about quite a lot after he got with you, how he saw his family, and how he saw the two of you. He loved to sketch, especially about his future, and over time, kids naturally became a part of the picture. Whilst you both knew it wasn’t going to be something that would happen too soon, knowing that he thought about it a lot still meant the world to you.
L ⇴ LAUGHTER
Hyunggu was a funny guy, he knew that he had the abilities to make the majority of people in his life and knew that his humour on the podcast was one of the first things that drew you to him too. He loved being able to entertain you and keep the smile on your face, even if you were having a particularly bad day. He loved to create a positive atmosphere wherever he could. If you were trying to draw a laugh out of him too, you knew there was always one thing that you could do, tickle him until he begged you to stop, even then you’d carry on a little longer, enjoying the sounds of his laughter ringing out.
M ⇴ MISSING
As with other emotions, when he missed you, Hyunggu found himself writing notes down, scribbling little drawings of you to think of you by. His diary became his life when he was on the road, his thoughts and feelings were always noted, which also helped him try and remain a bit more positive for you too. At home, he’d leave little letters scattered around various places in the house for you to find, each one with a little message that he knew would make you smile and pick your mood up when you missed him. When he came home, there were always ones still to be found that you’d read through together too.
N ⇴ NICKNAMES
Hyunggu’s nicknames for you were the sweetest, he never just settled on one, but you could guarantee that each one he had for you was adorable. ‘Sweet,’ ‘petal,’ and ‘honey,’ were just a few that were used again and again.
O ⇴ OBSESSION
He was obsessed with your hands and how they’d often explore his body whenever the two of you were close to each other, finding new sweet spots on him.
P ⇴ PDA
Hyunggu loved to mess around with you, and so whenever he was affectionate in public with you, he’d do something stupid that he knew the fans would love too. He’d flick your ear, or tickle against your hip, anything that would make you giggle and usually end up with you slapping his hand away from your hold.
Q ⇴ QUESTIONS
Your opinion on everything that Hyunggu did at work was something that he valued greatly, and so he’d often ask you for your thoughts on his projects, even the incomplete ones, a second opinion meant a lot to him.
R ⇴ RANDOM FACTS
Selcas were another thing that Hyunggu loved to take, and so he’d often uploaded selcas of the two of you on social media, knowing how much the fans adored you. They’d usually be staged with him pressing a kiss to your cheek, bringing a blush to your face just as the shutter went down. Whilst you’d usually be left embarrassed by it, Hyunggu, and both sets of fans, absolutely adored how cute the two of you were.
S ⇴ SEX
The two of you would try to treat intimacy as a serious and passionate affair, but it never usually lasted long. If either of you caught each other in a ticklish spot, then it was game over, and you’d break out into giggles beside each other. Hyunggu loved being close to you, but as soon as he caught your waist, or usually caught the nape of his neck, all passion would be discarded, ending up creating a mess between yourselves.
T ⇴ TEXTS
Throughout the day, it would be a habit of Hyunggu’s to send you a selca so you could see how he was doing and where he was. It was also habit that you sent one back to him, as he’d always be disappointed when you didn’t.
U ⇴ UNIVERSE
To Hyunggu, you were very much his best friend, you understood him, and he understood you. Your personalities just seemed to click, striking up a strong bond that always seemed far too good to ever be broken.
V ⇴ VACATION
When the chance to go away came up, Hyunggu had expressed how keen he was to go away with his family. You were more than happy for him to go, only to be surprised when he suggested that you joined them too. There was no way he could go away with his family when the biggest part of his family wasn’t there with him.
W ⇴ WHINING
Hyunggu didn’t tend to whine too often, he understood sometimes that you were busy, but he certainly had only a limited time before he couldn’t bite his tongue anymore.
X ⇴ XXXXX
His lips would normally attach against your cheek, attacking the blushed spot that only darkened with each kiss that he gave you. For you, you always went straight for the crook of his neck, it was definitely a weakness of Hyunggu’s, which was why it was your favourite spot to reach. He wouldn’t be able to stop giggling, squirming in your hold whilst your lips ran along the length of his neck, catching against his jawline too.
Y ⇴ YOU
You were his rock; you were there for him through absolutely everything.
Z ⇴ ZZZ
At night was usually when Hyunggu got the cuddliest, he loved having you as close to him as possible, being able to feel your heart beat was a great comfort to him when he tried to fall asleep at the end of a busy day.
---
Masterlist
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little-mad · 3 years
Text
Downsides of Thievery Pt. 11
~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~
Gavin wouldn’t really say he was a good judge of character, the amount of friends in low places he had was a testament to that. However, even he could tell that this new alteon that had appeared was bad news.
There was something about the way the guy held himself--it was cocky and arrogant, as if he was certain he was the most important person in the room. Not to mention the sleazy little smile he was wearing that seemed to promise trouble. But what Gavin hated most was the way the guy looked at him. It was hard to describe, but the only thing Gavin could think of to equate it to was how middle school bullies looked right before they were about to trip some poor kid in the hallway.
The green-eyed giant had been speaking in the same language that Gavin had heard a couple times throughout his time in the alteon dimension. Of course, he couldn’t understand any of it, which made him nervous for some reason.
“Not really much to look at, is he?” the new alteon remarked, now switching to English. “I know all humans are pretty pathetic, but I was expecting someone a bit tougher looking.”
Gavin scowled. This guy had intentionally alternated to speaking in a language Gavin could understand so that he would be able to hear the insult. Why was he being purposefully antagonistic? Yeah sure, Gavin was a criminal, but even Rael hadn’t been that big of a dick at first.
“Ashryn, I suppose you’re stationed here? Rael inquired. Gavin could tell he was trying to change the subject, to shift this “Ashryn” guy’s attention elsewhere.
“Why can’t he just tell this asshole to screw off?” Gavin thought to himself crankily. He tried to catch Rael’s eye but was unsuccessful. It was like he was very intentionally keeping his eyes up and forward.
“Hmm? Oh yes, that’s right,” Ashryn responded absentmindedly. He was apparently too preoccupied with staring at Gavin to give Rael his full attention.
What was it with these alteons and staring unabashedly? Just because Gavin was a comparatively tiny person from an alternate dimension didn’t mean they had the right to gawk at him like he was some sort of zoo animal. It was like all their manners flew out the window when it came to humans.
Ashryn stepped closer, a crafty smile still on his lips. “This is your first time dealing with a human up close, isn’t it?” he said to Rael while still not looking away from Gavin. “You don’t really realize how entirely inferior they are until you get close to them,” he continued. “Sure they look tiny and pathetic from afar, but up close you can really get a sense for how insignificant they are.”
Gavin really didn’t have a short temper, it was one of his few good traits actually. For the most part, he’d learned to just brush off insults and move on. He had given up on being well liked the moment he decided to become a thief. However, even Gavin’s temper had its limits, and he had just about reached his.
Springing to his feet, Gavin glared up at the massive elf-eared bastard standing in front of him. “What’s your problem?” he demanded, hands clenched in fists at his sides.
If this guy really wanted to insult Gavin and the rest of humanity so badly, why couldn’t he do it in his own native language? Oh yeah, because he was a complete ass. Ashryn didn’t just want to disparage humans, he wanted Gavin to know about it. For whatever reason, this alteon had decided he wanted to start a fight.
Next to Gavin, Rael had tensed up. The human hardly even noticed, he was too busy shooting daggers at Ashryn. Besides, Gavin was none too pleased with Rael at the moment anyways. He was basically just letting his comrade, or whatever they were to each other, run his mouth freely.
The grin on Ashryn’s face grew only wider at Gavin’s outburst. He took a step closer. “Rael, I think I’ve angered your little human,” he commented with a chuckle.
Gavin didn’t wait to see how Rael would’ve responded. Forget getting him to defend him. Who cared if Gavin was miniscule compared to Ashryn? He was going to stand up for himself. Someone needed to teach these giants some manners. Gavin was already in trouble, so it might as well be him.
“Okay you big, pointy-eared asshole,” he started with a bang. “Just because you’re bigger than humans doesn’t make you better than us--in fact with an attitude like yours, I’d argue you’re substantially worse than most humans I know...and I know some pretty shitty humans.” The words were flying out of his mouth almost of their own accord. It was like he’d opened a floodgate that he couldn’t close. “You’re clearly just a pompous dick who--”
“Enough!” The words echoed around him like thunder. At the same time there was a rush of air, a flash of movement, and then a thud that vibrated up through Gavin’s feet.
It took a moment for him to register the giant hand next to him, and a few more moments for him to realize it had just slammed down beside him. Gavin looked up, following the arm connected to the hand, expecting to see it attached to Ashryn. Instead, he was met with the rage filled face of Rael.
And then all of a sudden he was back in that clearing, pinned under a hand bigger than his entire body. The fear, the intimidation, the betrayal--it was all the same, probably even worse now actually. The worst part was that he didn’t understand, he didn’t understand why Rael was staring down at him with nothing but fury in his teal colored eyes.
Despite their turbulent relationship, Gavin had...well he had come to trust Rael. For god’s sake, he’d nearly considered the alteon to be something akin to a friend. So why...why had this happened? How had Gavin screwed this up?
“You will show some respect,” Rael growled down at him, and it was like Gavin was looking at a completely different person to the one he’d been talking to only a few minutes ago.
-
Why had he been put in this situation? Why did the guard outside the office have to be Ashryn? Why did Gavin have to snap like that? These questions swirled around inside Rael’s head as he looked down at the fearful human standing mere inches away from where he’d slammed his palm down on the bench.
“You had to do it,” a dark part of Rael’s mind told him. “If you hadn’t, Ashryn would never respect you, and he’d defame you to the entire Imperial Guard.” It was true--if Rael had failed to scold the human that was in his charge after he’d blatantly insulted an alteon soldier, he would be viewed as a failure among anyone who was anyone. Still, he hadn’t enjoyed doing it.
It wasn’t like last time, when Rael had trapped Gavin under his hand. There was no sense of satisfaction or pleasure derived from the action. All he could feel was a mess of anger and guilt.
He was furious that Ashryn had essentially manufactured the situation, but he was also angry with Gavin for quite literally forcing his hand. If the human had just kept his mouth shut, if he’d ignored Ashryn’s goading, then none of this would have happened. Why couldn’t Gavin have just made things easier?
“Well,” Ashryn spoke up with an appreciative tut. “I must say, you certainly know how to put a human in their place.”
Rael shifted his gaze towards the alteon. He couldn’t stand looking at Gavin anymore, seeing the fear and betrayal in those hazel eyes only deepened the heavy pit that was forming in his stomach.
“And you apparently know how to rile them up,” Rael muttered as he moved his hand away from Gavin and placed it back on his own lap.
Ashryn gave an amused chuckle. “Maybe so,” he answered with a satisfied grin on his face.
Despite having a primarily amicable relationship with one another, Rael had never much liked Ashryn. While they were about the same age and had gone through most of their training at the same time, Ashryn was regarded more highly within the Imperial Guard. Rael attributed this largely due to the fact that Ashryn’s family has had a long history of involvement with the Guard. Perhaps that also explained why the man was so pompous and smug all the time.
It was then that the door to the Emperor’s office opened for a second time. This time, it was a group of some of the top Imperial advisors exiting. They all eyed Gavin as they passed, however none of them said anything, only acknowledging the two soldiers with brief nods. Rael noticed that the last advisor out failed to close the door behind her, leaving him with a view inside the office.
There, sitting at his desk, was the Emperor of the entire realm of Iaela. He wore a calm smile on lips and waved a beckoning hand at Rael. “Bring in our human guest,” he called, his tone authoritative yet somehow still polite.
Ashryn was quick to assume his position beside the office door. He stood up straight, his arms behind his back like a perfect soldier. However, the part that the Emperor wouldn’t be able to see was his face--with that, Ashryn smirked over at Gavin. “Why does he look like he knows something that we don’t?” Unfortunately, there was no time for Rael to ruminate on his uncertainties. The Emperor was the very last person to be kept waiting.
Rael turned to Gavin. The human had gone pale and his body was so tense that it looked like the guy might bolt at any second. Rael was sure that the last thing Gavin wanted was to be picked up after what had just happened. However, there was no choice. There wasn’t even time for Rael to allow the human to walk onto his palm of his own accord.
As gently as possible, Rael carefully scooped the human up into his hands. Thankfully, Gavin didn’t put up any kind of fight; he gave a quiet gasp, but otherwise made no audible complaints. Once Rael was sure he wouldn’t drop the little man, he began to make his way into the Emperor’s office.
Immediately upon getting past the doorway, Rael felt a whoosh of air and heard a soft thud, indicating that the door had been shut behind them. This left him and Gavin entirely alone with the most powerful person in the realm.
This wouldn’t be Rael’s first time speaking with the Emperor, however it was certainly his first time alone, without any advisors, scribes, or guards around. Rael swallowed hard. He couldn’t mess this up--he had to prove himself to be a proper soldier worthy of being accepted into the ranks of the Imperial Guard. He wasn’t a peasant anymore, he was a proud, noble soldier.
“Rael, correct?” the Emperor inquired, the name sounded so foreign coming from his lips.
Rael nodded silently as he dipped into a low bow, which proved somewhat difficult while keeping his hands horizontal and steady for Gavin.
“Very well, Rael, could you place that human on my desk please?”
(Also, as a side note, I fixed up some continuity errors in chapters 6 and 9 if you feel like skimming through and seeing the minor adjustments)
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storybookstalker · 3 years
Text
A Helping Hand
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 - Author’s Note -
➥ Sorry for my absence! I’ve been struggling with my mental illness and with school a lot so it’s been hard to really keep up with anything. Hopefully this somewhat makes up for some of that time! This is a smallish fic I made for my art trade with @yandere-starchild​ ! I really hope you love it as much as I loved your part of our trade! 
↳ Yandere - Platonic - Bruce Wayne : Batman 
↳ Yandere - Implied - Tim Drake : Red Robin
It’s insanely lucky that she’d managed to get into Gotham High to begin with, especially without having the whole support thing that seemed to come with having parents. Nor any other kind of support network. She didn’t exactly have friends at the school, regardless of how hard she used to try,— not that she had many, to begin with— but she’d like to think that grades were more important than friendship. She’d found somewhat of a friend in some kid named Tim a while back, but he’d gone and dropped out. Not that she blamed him, even if he was weird with how he just suddenly greeted her as if they knew each other one day. No, Ymir would have dropped out a long time ago if she had the choice. The classes were long, tiring, and too early; and forced her to stay up way too late in a cold effort to keep up with the curriculum. She’d zone out in forced attempts to jot down the teacher’s notes, it’d probably be more fun to watch paint dry than do this. The detention from falling asleep in class only led to more trouble with the dean and with her legal guardians, and more falling asleep on cold desks from sheer exhaustion. 
All of this funneling down into why Ymir found herself waiting outside the probably electric, kinda scary looking fence that surrounded the Wayne Manor. Looking back on it, this was most likely a horrible idea. 
The other week she had run into Tim again, quite literally bumping into him and pouring hot coffee onto his nice (and probably expensive—) looking sweater. He didn’t seem to mind all that much surprisingly— despite her embarrassment— and somehow the two ended up chatting like old friends in a booth, bonding over their shared frustration with Gotham High. 
“Y'know, I actually used to be pretty good with your classes! Just lost the motivation to do them.” 
“Haha, yeah I know what you mean,” Ymir agreed, “It’s just really hard to keep up and it doesn’t help that I’m falling behind a bit…” 
That’s when he offered to tutor her. It was a little shocking, considering she had just dumped hot coffee on his nice sweater. His logic was that he’d have to go back to the school eventually, so helping her study would benefit both of them. 
“Besides,” Tim continued, “we should try to get to know each other better.” 
And so, that’s how the very tired girl ended up spending a few days with Tim every week. 
Usually, they’d meet at a library or something but Tim asked to study at his house this week, which led full circle back to her standing in front of Wayne Manor. Ymir probably should have known that Tim was a Wayne long before this point, but apparently, it had never come up. Or, rather she probably just didn’t pick up on it, not that it mattered now. 
Ymir wondered if he had jokingly given her a fake address until the manor’s gate began opening up. Her nervousness only managed to increase the closer she got to the house, not that she could easily turn around with how the gate shut behind her, everything looked way too expensive for her to even be looking at. The front door was even more intimidating; was she supposed to use a different door? Ymir’s dizzying resolve just barely steadied when Tim appeared and greeted her, calling her inside. 
If Tim noticed her awkwardness, he didn’t mention it. He and the manor’s butler, Mr. Pennyworth, seemed to welcome Ymir. Pennyworth, though Tim tried to encourage her to call him Alfred, offered drinks and snacks throughout the study session. The older man would step in to help if either party seemed to have more questions than they could answer but it was mostly just the two teens for the majority of the time. Ymir’s nerves soothed themselves as time went on, by the end of the session she found herself talking to Tim normally. Ymir went home with a smile, maybe she’d found a friend, finally. 
Weeks passed, and while her grades did improve, Ymir’s parents seemed unhappy with the entire situation still. It was hard to enjoy her time with the Waynes when her parents would scold her for having “too much fun”, apparently too happy to be studying as she should be. She was sure Tim noticed it, but vocalizing anything happening would just ruin it more for her.
It wasn’t until Tim had to cancel a study session that all it tipped over. Her confusing relationship with Tim, her parents shoving their expectations down her throat, school— all bundled into a breakdown in front of the Wayne Manor. The constrictive lump in her throat dropped to her stomach when Bruce Wayne himself stepped out from the gate and invited her inside. 
Ymir tried to backtrack, Tim wasn’t there so why would she come in—? 
“Nonsense,” Bruce brushed off her stuttering, “Any friend of Tim’s is always welcome here.” 
He waited for her to follow before leading her into his Manor. In which he sat Ymir down and got water for the teary-eyed student. Bruce explained that Tim had mentioned that she seemed overly stressed, “Which is odd, from what Alfred and Tim tell me you’re doing much better grade-wise.” 
Ymir’s heart dropped to her stomach, she didn’t really want to shove her family issues onto the most wealthy man in Gotham. Especially not after all the help Tim gave her. What kind of a ‘thank you’ is crying and whining? 
Ymir steadied herself, “I am. I’m passing now, I’m grateful for everything Tim’s done for me, Mr. Wayne.”
“Bruce is fine, Ymir. With how often you’re over here you might as well be family.” Bruce smiled, almost in a reassuring way, as if he already knew how overwhelmed she was. “And since you’re basically family, I want you to know that this is a safe place for you. If you need anything, you can tell me.” 
The lack of care from her own parents and the warmth from the Waynes came crashing down on her, hot tears came rolling down her face as she attempted to explain herself. There was no rush from Bruce or Alfred, both of which comforting her in their own ways. 
She spent the next few hours venting out her emotions about her family and school, Bruce offering advice. Tim appeared later on in the evening, inviting her to watch a movie to help calm down after her comfort session with Bruce. 
Meanwhile, Bruce made a call home and ensured that she was allowed to stay over should she want to. The Waynes were more capable of taking care of Ymir, Bruce just had to make sure they could continue to protect her. Not that it would be difficult. With a family like Ymir’s? All he needed to do was pull some strings, her family should be proud to have their daughter be accepted as a ward of Bruce Wayne himself. For now, he was happy to wait until she was comfortable enough to call the Manor her home. 
↳ END ↲
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ohheyitsokay · 3 years
Text
steal
part 7 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series
pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader
wordcount: 2.5k
warnings: strong language, mentions of previous substance abuse and mediocre family relationships, a happy, happy ending
summary: it’s a Triple Frontier Baseball AU! Trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball.
in baseball, to ‘steal’ is for someone already on base to to the next base when the ball is live, but before his time. 
In this chapter, Frankie takes you out to dinner, and in telling you about himself, accidently goes way too hard, way too fast. 
>>
Frankie called and asked you to an early dinner.
Early, so the restaurant wouldn’t be crowded. Early, so he wouldn’t have the chance to overthink. Early, so the boys wouldn’t catch word and cause chaos.
Early, so he’d have all the time in the world with you, if you wanted.
When he picked you up, neither of you had the time to worry about your clothes or hair or fuss with it, and it was a relief. Someday, you hoped to get the chance to dress up for each other, but for now, casual seemed most fitting. He opened the door of his truck for you, holding your hand as you stepped into it. It wasn’t that you needed the extra help, he just seemed like he wanted to. 
You didn’t see, but his hand flexed, tingling as he walked around to climb in the driver’s side.
The talk came easy - Francisco forwent superfluous pleasantries and when he asked you questions there was no doubt in your mind that he actually wanted to hear your answers. You found yourself spilling about your job, flushing when you caught him watching you talk closer than the road, something soft in his eyes.
It was a stereotype, that a baseball player would like diner food, and you were pleasantly surprised when his truck slid into the tiny parking lot of a mom ‘n pop Hispanic restaurant. It was cute, watching him run around to open your door again, and he asked “Is this okay?” as he helped you down.
In response, you shifted your hand in his until his large fingers were laced with yours, and said yes, of course a little breathlessly. There was a lovely lady both serving and hosting who acted like she knew Francisco, giving him a broad wink and rapid fire teasing in what you could only assume was Spanish. In truth, you were too distracted by the way his thumb was running over the back of your hand, and the smells of corn and peppers and homemade tortillas.
Seated, she asked if you would be alright with anything, and your date looked eager and hopeful, so you would be a monster not to agree.
“So you come here often,” you said when she left. Not a direct question, although you were sure you wanted to hear the story. Francisco grinned.
“Are you flirting with me?” His eyebrows dipped in the middles, betraying a little more hope than he intended.
“Yes?” It was easier to tease as the waitress put plate after steaming plate between you, and a container full of warm tortillas. You spread your napkin over your lap as you thanked her, ignoring the growl in your stomach. As much as you liked that he let you talk, you wanted to know more about him, wanted to give him the chance to say whatever he left out the other night. There was certainly more to the solid catcher than met the eye, learning him felt as natural as your hunger.
“I’m serious though, what should I try first?” You pointed at various things with your fork, and Francisco almost wiggled he looked so happy. It was a dream, having you tucked into the little booth across from him, trust in your eyes.
“The green chili, Anita makes it from scratch regularly and it’s fantastic,” he pointed, eyes watching with joy as you dug into the smothered burrito. Your moan shot through him, warming his whole body more than the food he swallowed in a hurry. “Good, yeah?”
“Amazing,” you didn’t ask again, how he knew, just began filling your stomach. He told you about various dishes, sharing them with you like it was the most natural thing in the world. Eventually, the story came out naturally.
“I used to come here a lot when I first moved to town,” he shrugged. “It’s halfway between the stadium and where my family is right now.”
It was easy to meet his eyes and you didn’t pry. Twirling a long string of molten cheese on his fork, it poured out of him, telling more than you felt like you deserved to know and watching you carefully.
He started at the beginning, how it felt like home, this little restaurant, but safer. His mother and sister lived in a small town nearby. It was messy, his youth, full of shit a kid shouldn’t have to deal with. Baseball had been his way out, his chance at a life he couldn’t have. To be good at something, to have a team to belong to. Clean uniforms and clean money, from prizes, that put meat on his bones and filled out his sister’s cheeks.
He became Frankie, pouring his heart into it until he excelled, working like he needed it to survive.
When the scholarships rolled in, he picked the one farthest away, sending checks from his nightshift part-time home more often than he called. He thought his life was good, that running away was working. Being drafted was a dream come true – and a nightmare. It came with and confirmed nasty truths, about the industry and people who wanted his success for all the wrong reasons. Those first few years were full of parties and bad decisions, chasing highs and losing track of himself in the thick of it all. One night, Santi dragged him back, reminded him why he did all of it, reminded him who they had dreamed of being. Showed him they could still be those people.
“I didn’t really know him then, we played on different teams. But we hit rock bottom around the same time and ended up leaving early from the same party.” Frankie pushed the final few grains of rice around his plate, and you wondered if that was the party Tom had gotten busted at. If they really had rescued each other, more than they realized.
God or fate gave him a second chance, and they got traded to the same team the next season, close to his home. He started visiting, supplying himself instead of just money, still playing the game - but allowing himself to enjoy it, be a human.
A tray of sopapillas came as he was telling you animatedly how bad his mother was at gardening, and how silly he felt trying to help her. It made him glow, his pride at how far he had come and you wanted to hug him. Frankie stared at the soft, puffed pastry, as if realizing for the first time he had no idea how long he’d been talking. Then he pushed his card into Anita's hand and shot you a nervous look. You shrugged, but it wasn’t about the payment, at least not entirely.
“Would you want to take these to go?”
“Go where?”
“I was thinking maybe… to meet them?” There was a silent beat, as your hands almost dropped the plates you’d been stacking.
“Wait, shit, sorry I just –” Frankie had never felt so stupid in his life. He blew it, he definitely fucked this up. He had just told you his entire life story and decided now, your very first date? Yeah, that would be a good time for you to meet his family. Thus far you’d listened and reacted like a dream, as kind and considerate as you’d ever been, but this was too much. 
Your laugh cut off his spiral.
“Okay,”
“What?”
“Okay, let’s do it.” You were shaking your head in disbelief, but god was your smile beautiful. Bright and genuine, it made him wonder again if you felt like he did. Like this wasn’t really your first date.
Like you were as deep as he was, already.
-
On the drive he told you the rest of it. His sister was running from herself like he had, except in sucky, deadbeat men. About how when they had conversation that carried them in circles and he wanted to lock her up and force her into therapy, or when the world of baseball became too much, how he went to that restaurant. How he would eat home cooking all on his own, and breathe until he found the right words for himself or for her.
When you offered him your hand, over the middle console, he took it without hesitation. It was soft and fit into his like it was meant to be, and he was reminded again how in awe he was of you. This was by no means what you had agreed to, not normal under any circumstances, but you were trusting him, rolling with it like he was worth it. 
He wanted to be, wanted all of this so bad he could hardly breathe. 
The rest of his story left almost no time for him to prep you, but when the door to the little mobile home opened, his mama greeted you like she knew you were coming.
You were lovely stepping into his truck with your hand in his, and you were lovely across from him with green chili sliding down your chin as you flushed, but this... was something else. It hit him full force, that you had listened and learned and stayed. With Tom hitting on you, with the mess at the party they shouldn’t have been at, with all of the shit in their pasts, and even this. You were really here, at his mother’s home, kissing her cheek and letting her call you his novia and accepting all of his life, all of him. 
His madre only hugged him after you, and her beam brightened as she watched you follow him, in slipping off your shoes. Every time he saw her, he thought she looked a little smaller - you’re just growing, mi frijol -  but she looked small next to you, too. Her voice was extra high as she cooed, ushering you into the cluttered mobile home, and he could help but smile as he followed, too in love with the moment to be embarrassed of her questions. 
You had listened closely, sympathetic but surprisingly determined not to be pushed away. This felt like simply an extension of that awkward and beautiful dinner, the way his mother welcomed you with open arms and rapid fire questions about yourself. She mercifully left out pushy questions about your relationship as you settled into the paisley couch, and Frankie was as warm and solid against your side as he had ever been.
There were little wrinkles around his eyes as he watched you and her, and as you began asking her questions about herself, he was more sure about you than he had ever been. It wasn’t gone completely, the feeling that this was ridiculous and he’d ruined whatever you had by going unreasonably fast with you, but he did his best to ignore it. Instead he focused on you, something he was learning was good luck.
His heart ached when you fit into his side, practically in his lap as you used him to ground yourself. It felt natural, in an intoxicating way, and he wanted you. Just like this.
When his madre thought she heard a knock and went to check, he found himself rubbing the top of your head with his jaw, his cheek, his nose. The whole night felt like it wasn’t real.
“Thank you for rolling with this,” he whispered into your hair. Your shoulder moved up and down again on his chest – a shrug.
“You’ve already met James, it’s almost the same,” you shifted to smile at him, nad he shook his head before noticing your eyes flit behind him.
At the door was a woman, dark stains under her eyes, belly stretching out the thin fabric of her shirt, and eyebrows drawn together.
His sister.
Then his mother came in pushing glasses of tea into your hands, almost as cool as the introduction, and you settled back against Frankie. Your life had become so strange these past few weeks, but you had known for what felt like a long time now. Together, it would be okay.
-
The drive home was dark, and silent for a long moment as you collected yourself, and Frankie was glad the evening started early.
“So this was a long date,” Frankie said, a question and an apology. You huffed in laughter and he offered his hand to you, saying your name with adoration, imploring you to talk to him.
“It was a lot,” you said, honestly, but you took his hand, thankful for the openness.
“Yeah,” his voice cracked, and you could see him struggling not to watch you anxiously. “I didn't plan on taking you home and all that happening, plus my mom calling you my- ”
“I know, Francisco,”
“Fuck. Do you… do you have any questions? Or…” he was beginning to panic, the undercurrent of anxiety finally uncontrollable.
His sister had been short with you, as much as she’d been with him these past few months. It was a lot, so much more than you deserved.
“Do you regret it?” It was an honest question.
Frankie’s mouth opened a little bit, his eyes suddenly steady on the road, really thinking. Then he shook his head, and a knot you didn’t know you had undid itself in your chest. He used his hand to draw yours to his mouth, ghost kisses over your knuckles, mustache only tickling a little bit. “I want you to be a part of my life, querida.” 
The truck hit a bump, and you felt pressure, and then like you were floating. You nodded, trying to find the words to tell him you wanted that, too. 
Finally, you said, “Thank you for letting me,” and he laughed. It was rich and deep and full of relief, almost giddy as it broke the tension, and you laughed too. He let your hands drop back between you, but didn’t let go, squeezing gently.
 The words unsaid didn’t really seem to matter, as he cruised five under the speed limit towards your home. 
 When you asked, “Why do you still go to those parties?” it was the last thing he has been expecting. The rush of wind by the widows felt loud as he thought.
“I guess… sometimes it feels like I’ve got nothing better to do.” It sounded lame, even to him. That wasn’t all of it, it was more complicated than that, but you understood. After this whole time, you’d stuck around, of course you did.
“What about next time, instead…” The stars were twinkling, winking at you, “You go on another date with me?”
“You still want to?” Frankie had hoped, really hoped, but hearing you offer was something different. Fire in his chest, hot and bright and powerful. When he looked over, you were nodding, smiling at him with a certainty on your face that matched his own. 
“There’s a game tomorrow,” he was half joking.
You laughed. 
“Okay.”
He pulled over under a streetlight to kiss you. 
<<
translations:
madre - mother
novia - girlfriend 
mi frijol - my bean
taglist:
@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge
hey batter batter taglist:
@icanbeyourjedi @studyofawearymind @hnt-escape @athalien @the-witty-pen-name @daffodin @sarahjkl82-blog @pintsizemama @anaaaispunk @pjkimrn @dobbyjen
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consumeconstantly · 4 years
Text
Who Are You (and what will you become?)
1(you are here)| 2 | 3 | 4
Summary: “Over the years, I have found that blood means very little.” 
The ice clicks against the glass almost inaudibly, condensation dripping down the side. 
“So tell me, M. Wayne, why do you think I should even begin to consider you my father?” (all biodad bruce can be read as stand alone but are posted in chronological order)
__________________________________________________
At the tender age of nineteen, Marinette Dupain-Cheng has already become a jaded woman. It doesn’t shine through very often, hidden behind a carefully crafted facade of Parisian-brand carefree attractiveness and pigtailed youthfulness, but there exists, in Marinette, a certain bitterness.
“For a vigilante, you’re not very secretive,” Marinette remarks, keeping her tone measured, almost playful, so as not to draw attention to herself. 
“Marinette.” Bruce inclines his head and allows the bartender to serve him a whiskey sour. He doesn’t drink alcohol because it alters his mental state in ways that are unpleasant, but ordering a drink helps him fit in, and with Marinette, the person he wants to talk to, right at his side, he can’t have his normal ginger ale substitute. “It’s good to see you.”
“Mmm.” She takes a sip of her French 75, playing up an interest that Bruce knows is a lie. “M. Wayne, you say that as though we’re familiar with each other.”
“Sabine and I were close,” he says. 
Sabine is one of the few people who knew about his existence as Batman that didn’t live in Gotham. Many years ago, they were friends. Colleagues. (More.) Of course she told her daughter about who he was. How could she not have? 
Sabine is-- she was--
“Close, you call it,” she says with mock awe, words slurring together. “Closer than close, really. Too close for comfort— at least, too close for you.”
When Bruce and Sabine’s paths crossed all those years ago, he was struggling trying to raise Dick. Sabine was equal parts a mother and a mentor to Dick in all the ways that Bruce couldn’t be. When she left for Paris so abruptly after the two of them parted ways, Dick didn’t take it very well. Even moreso when communications halted permanently. The fact that the radio silence coincided with Marinette’s birth is something only Bruce is privy to.
However awkwardly he and Sabine left off, it doesn’t change the facts. Bruce’s lips thin. “I’m here to offer you a home.”
Swirling her French, Marinette taps at her phone, swiping away at a few messages that she’s not interested in. “I’m nineteen and more than capable of taking care of myself. Though I suppose it stands to reason that it would be difficult for you to know that, what with how busy your extracurriculars keep you.”
“I’m not doubting your capabilities.” He’s looked into what Marinette has been up to over the past nineteen years of her life. He’s never been particularly concerned with her upbringing, not with a woman like Sabine at the helm of her childhood. Bruce was right not to be worried; Marinette has grown into a multi talented, extremely well connected entrepreneur based on her own hard work. Judging by the crowd that she runs with and the multiple charities that she supports both financially and with her own time, she will be a force to be reckoned with in a few years; Tim regularly extols the virtues of the brand MDC, and if he knew that he was sisters with the designer, he’d never stop raving about her. MDC is already being compared to the likes of Dior and Gabriel when they were first starting out. Her finances aren’t anything to scoff at, and at a few galas and charity parties that he’s had to entertain, anyone who's had the privilege to wear an MDC original talks about how sweet and kind the head designer is while complimenting the CEO’s business savvy.
Bruce has to admit that he’s impressed by how she manages to keep her identities separate. No one suspects the head designer to also be manning publicity and business. 
He’s been watching her for the past day, and he has to say, for somebody whose parents just died, she carries herself with remarkable ease. If not for the red around her eyes and line of shots on the bartop, Bruce would believe that Tom and Sabine’s death didn’t phase her at all. 
“There’s a but, isn’t there?” Marinette says bitterly.
She’s right in that assumption. As skillful as Marinette is in her field, she has no practical combat experience. A brief stint in fencing and martial arts but nothing beyond that. Even if she practiced martial arts for years, that wouldn’t be enough to convince Bruce to let her go off on her own. Martial arts as a hobby is an entirely different game than fighting for one’s life. 
Marinette is simply not the kind of person who can face down a League member and come out of it alive. 
“It’s for your safety.”
For the first time since entering the bar, Bruce sees a flash of true emotion cross Marinette’s eyes. It’s hard to see the color of her eyes in the dim lighting, but it’s impossible not to see Sabine in how her eyes narrow. Perhaps the dim lighting makes it easier to; in the light of day, Marinette’s eye color— it’s too similar to the shade he sees in the mirror. 
“My safety? What about my parent’s safety?” 
At that, Bruce internally cringes while keeping his face carefully blank. Tom and Sabine… their end wasn’t pretty. Not the most gruesome deaths he’s ever seen, but it was up there. Bruce never thought the League would do something as cruel as desecrating the corpses of the people they murdered. They may be assassins for hire, but most times, they do have some sort of morals. 
The worst part about it is that their death is most likely a result of Sabine’s past relationship with him. Last month, a tabloid that drew comparisons between Marinette and Bruce. It didn’t take long for another person to dredge up pictures from when he was still with Sabine. Tom and Sabine didn’t have enemies well-off enough to hire the League. But Bruce? Bruce did. 
“I’m not interested in any protection you have to offer me.” Marinette shakes her head. “Don’t worry. I’m not like you. I won’t become a vigilante out of rage or as a coping mechanism. I’m not going to go chasing after the League in a foolish pursuit of misguided justice.”
But Marinette doesn’t understand. She has a target on her back with her newfound association to him.  
“I haven’t been active in your life--”
“Understatement of the year,” Marinette mutters.
“--but I’m not going to let you die when I can prevent it.”
Downing the rest of her French, she takes the Moscow Mule away from Bruce’s hands, eyeing the liquor up on display. She drinks the cold alcohol and revels in the burn that slides down her throat. Marinette swipes on one of the notifications she’s received on her phone in order to respond to it. “You’re a good man, Bruce. But your desire to protect me— what does it stem from? What do we have in common? Why would you use your time and effort on what’s essentially a stranger?”
Bruce has no good answer for this, but he has an obvious one. As soon as it leaves his tongue, it feels wrong. “We share the same blood.”
He can’t bring himself to call Marinette his daughter. That means that he would be her father and he’s not deserving of that title.
Marinette pockets her phone, eyes trained on a set of unusually shaped glasses on the shelves. “If that’s your answer, M. Wayne, let me tell you something. Over the years, I have found that blood means very little.” 
The bartender comes around and tops off the whiskey sour. The ice clicks against the glass almost inaudibly, condensation dripping down the side. Bruce can’t tell whether the bartender knows Marinette or not, but he certainly looks concerned enough to, with how his eyes shift between Marinette and himself rapid fire. When the bartender’s gaze settles on Bruce, mouth turned downward, clearly suspicious of his presence, Marinette just waves him off with a gentle smile. 
Her smile turns up the same way Tom’s did. She’s right; family is more than blood. 
“Your answer to why you want to protect me is that we share blood, but you speak nothing of our relationship. Shouldn’t that have been the first thing you brought up?”
Bruce shifts uncomfortably on the bar stool. Marinette just laughs at his apparent awkwardness. “Talking of blood relations seems to be something you don’t enjoy, and yet the entire premise of your protection rests on it. Tell me, M. Wayne, do you think I should even begin to consider you my father?”
Even as inebriated as Marinette must be, she brings up points that he himself wondered on his way to Paris. Wanting to see Marinette safe goes beyond a simple duty to morality and virtue. Though Bruce is known for adopting kids with tragic backstories, it simply isn’t feasible to adopt every single one he comes across. To bring Marinette into his family at this age, to expose her to the life he lives would be beyond cruel. In essence he’d be replacing two parents with a ticking time bomb: himself. 
“Don’t consider me a parent, just a guardian. It’s in my best interest to see you safe, and the best way to do that is to have you move to Gotham, where my colleagues and I can assure you around the clock protection.”
At first, he distanced himself from Sabine and Marinette because he didn’t want to disrupt her current relationship with Tom. Even if the two of them insisted that he could still be part of Marinette’s life, it just didn’t feel right to have the title of father when he wasn’t the one to put in any of the hard work. Then, as Tom and Sabine grew more comfortable in their life together, settled down and opened up a bakery, he was blindsided by Jason’s death. As his daughter grew older and older, there were just too many things in his own life for him to ever hope to kindle a relationship with Marinette.
Marinette laughs, but it’s really more of a bark. Her voice is too hoarse for it to come out any other way. Bruce can’t imagine how much she’s cried this past week. “If you wanted to keep me safe, where were you a week ago? Where were you two years ago? Where were you when I was thirteen? M. Wayne, I’ve heard a lot of rumors about you throughout the years, and I’ve always brushed them off as nothing more than tabloid gossip. But perhaps they got one thing right about you: you’re a liar.”
Marinette stands, swaying slightly.
“This— if you truly want me to uproot my life, I need more than you saying it’s in your best interest. I need—” Marinette reaches up to her earrings and allows her eyes to flutter shut. She needs more than a distant guardian. She needs someone to confide in. Someone she trusts. “It was nice meeting you, but I don’t need your pity. Not now.”
As she weaves through the crowd, Bruce can’t help but wonder whether he made the right decision all those years ago to not be apart of her life.
@biodad-bruce-month
Late to the game as always. This will be a multichapter fic but all parts can be read as one shots (and also as always anything posted to tumblr is never checked for accuracy and stuff so whoop)! They’ll be released in chronological order. If you want to get tagged in all things maribat, instead of commenting it under a fic, I’d appreciate an ask or a dm instead! I haven’t been able to go back through all the previous comments and create a taglist yet but perhaps. eventually. 
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