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whatstruthgottodowithit · 8 months

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Here You Come Again [Part Fourteen]

Fandom: Elvis Presley, RPF, American Actor

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character

Characters: Elvis Presley, Addison Goodwin, Original Female Characters, Priscilla Presley, Colonel Tom Parker, Vernon Presley, Gladys Presley, Minnie Mae Presley, Marci Cunningham, Jerry Schilling, Red West, Sonny West, Marty Lacker, Joe Esposito, Charlie Hodge, Lamar Fike, Alan Fortas, George Klein, Memphis Mafia

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 6392

Summary: When Addison Goodwin was seventeen years old her life was turned inside out after a chance encounter with her past. Now, fifteen years later her life is the best it’s ever been. She has a home, a good job and a daughter she loves more than anything in the world but will all that remain when an old familiar face rolls into town.

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Graceland, Las Vegas, The International Hotel, Elvis In Vegas, 1970s, 1970s Elvis, Friends To Lovers, Rekindled Romance, Parenting, Time Line is Sketchy, Guilt, Betrayal, Teenage Pregnancy, Hawaii, Hidden Pregnancy, Jealousy, Sex, Absence of Parent, Single Motherhood, Trauma, Oral Sex, Tension

Notes: OKAY SO.

I've finally finished the entire thing and I'm so excited for everyone to read it. It'll be 17 parts in total with a lil epilogue.

The next couple of chapters are gonna be ROUGH so don't say I didn't warn you

Yes I know I named Marci's love interests Tom and Jerry but idec

Addison's dress looks like this

LINK TO ALL PARTS // LINK TO AO3 // LINK TO PINTEREST

When Addison and the girls got back from shopping it was later than expected. One would think being armed with Elvis Presley’s credit card would’ve meant she had no trouble picking something out but instead it had made her cautious, agonising over what to buy as she debated the perks of not going overboard but also getting something she liked. She didn’t want to force herself to buy something she didn’t love just because it was cheap but then again, she didn’t want to buy something outrageously priced just because she could. So she had spent the majority of the shopping trip helping Jess and Lisa pick out a dress each followed by an endless battle by herself in the dressing room as she debated her ten or so choices.

Eventually she had settled on green satin halter neck dress that fell just short of mid-thigh. It was a tad shorter than she would’ve normally opted for, though her normal wardrobe was mostly nurse’s uniforms and jeans these days, but she reminded herself it was a treat and it didn’t hurt that both girls had told her she looked very pretty in it when she’d emerged from the dressing room.

And watching herself in the bathroom mirror she couldn’t help but feel pretty too. In fact, she had been thinking about what Elvis would say when he saw her, if he would like it. She knew it didn’t matter. That after today her little delusions would have to be put to bed but as she tidied her makeup away – in the section of the Elvis’ bathroom counter he had dedicated to her – she couldn’t help but enjoy it. Once she was done she moved back to her room, transferring everything from her current purse into the one Jess had convinced her to buy since it went with her outfit. Then she headed out into the hall, though she was surprised when she walked past Lisa’s room and found the girls inside.

The plan had been to convert the spare room into Jess’ permanent bedroom but since that would’ve meant Addison finding a room in the annexe Elvis had asked if the girls if they wouldn’t mind sharing and fortunately for Addison, they’d agreed. In fact they seemed to be getting along quite well though Addison was wondering when the fights might erupt. Yet as she looked at them she found the novelty of a new sibling hadn’t rubbed off just yet and the pair seemed to be content in just hanging out together. Jess was splayed out on Lisa’s gigantic bed reading a magazine whilst her sister was playing with her dollhouse on the floor, though they looked up as she entered.

‘I thought I was gonna be the last one down,’ Addison said.

‘We were waiting for you guys,’ Jess said, flipping her magazine close before she tossed it aside and got up.

‘Isn’t your dad downstairs?’ Addison asked checking the clock on the nightstand, ‘he said seven.’

‘He’s in his office,’ Lisa said placing her dolls in the doll house before she jumped up and wandered over to Addison watching her with a smile.

‘Okay, well how about you girls go downstairs and I’ll get him?’ she asked.

‘Okay,’ Jess said, grabbing her own purse off the chest of drawers though she paused by the door watching her mother closely as she said, ‘don’t be too long though, we’re hungry.’

‘We won’t,’ Addison said following them out though as they headed downstairs she went to Elvis’ office door. It was closed but when she knocked she heard no response making her wonder if the girls had been mistaken. Nevertheless she decided open the door anyway just in case he hadn’t heard her.

When she opened the door however she found Elvis was in fact inside, sitting at his desk in deep conversation though he looked up as she opened the door, as did the person sitting in the chair in front of him, the Colonel. Elvis stood as she stopped in her tracks dropping her gaze to the floor as she felt that familiar wash of anger and hurt flood through her as she muttered, ‘sorry, I uh, the girls said you were in here they didn’t-’

‘It’s okay,’ he said capturing her attention.

‘We’re ready to go,’ she said refusing to look at the older man who was now watching her though admittedly not as worriedly as Elvis was, ‘I’ll uh see you downstairs.’

‘No,’ Elvis protested, ‘uh I mean I won’t be long really.’

‘We’re nearly done,’ the Colonel barely turning his head to look at her as he watched Elvis, his hand fiddling with the intricate clown head on the top of his cane.

‘Yeah, two minutes,’ Elvis said. He could see her thinking about it, no doubt wanting to flee downstairs, but that would mean ruining the surprise that was waiting for her down there. So, with a much pleading he could put into his voice without sounding too pathetic in front of the Colonel he said, ‘would you hang on, please?’

She wanted to run, to get as far away as her feet could get her from that loathsome toad but she couldn’t say no to him, not when he was watching her with pleading in his bright blue eyes, and so she nodded.

‘Thanks Addie,’ Elvis said before she turned around and headed out the door. He was right, whatever they were up to didn’t take any longer than two minutes but out on the landing it was enough time to make millions of thoughts whizz through her mind. They only stopped when the door opened and the Colonel shuffled out. She watched him head towards the stairs, even more annoyed that he seemed completely unbothered by her presence, even stopping to smile and mutter, ‘Happy Birthday,’ before he toddled off out of sight. When he was gone she headed into the office, finding Elvis shuffling a raft of papers together on his desk though he looked towards the door as he heard her enter.

‘Hey,’ he said turning around and perching against his desk, ‘sorry about that.’

‘It’s okay,’ Addison said though Elvis raised an eyebrow making her sigh, ‘honestly, I mean it’s not like I can get angry every time he comes around is it. He is your manager.’

‘Actually he’s not,’ Elvis said making whatever she had been planning to say disappear in an instant as she rushed forward.

‘What? Since when?’ she asked. She was standing in front of him now, watching him agog.

‘The first time you guys came to Memphis,’ Elvis said.

‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ she asked, her mind flicking through every conversation since then though she was sure something like that she would’ve remembered.

‘Because he’s not out, not completely anyway,’ Elvis said making her frown as he explained, ‘I fired him but uh well to get rid of him I had to make a deal.’

‘A deal with the devil huh?’ she said and though her tone was that of a joke neither of them missed the punch of sentiment behind her words.

‘Feels like it,’ Elvis sighed though he backtracked as her face fell into a frown, ‘no it’s not that bad. I just… I knew he wouldn’t have gone of his own accord so I gave him an out, but it means he’s with me till the end of the year…I didn’t tell ya because I didn’t wanna get your hopes up.’

‘You think he’ll try and get you to change your mind?’ she asked, her stomach in knots at the thought of all of it. She couldn’t believe he had done all of this, how he had tried to get rid of the Colonel once and for all. She hadn’t liked that he was still adjacent to their lives but the reason she hadn’t demanded he get rid of him completely was because she doubted the Colonel wouldn’t make life a living hell if Elvis tried to get rid of him.

‘No,’ Elvis said honestly, ‘no I don’t. I think he knows where his breads buttered, and he knows there ain’t no way we’re gonna be able to work together again. I think he’d rather cut his losses and recoup as much as he can.’

‘You think so?’

‘Doesn’t really matter if not. Either way I can’t work with him not after what he did,’ Elvis said looking down at her. She was closer than he’d anticipated, her hazel eyes finding him less than two feet away, her hand on his folded arms though he hadn’t noticed.

‘You don’t think he’d do something to spite you?’ Addison asked remembering the venom in the man’s eyes the day he’d told her to go.

‘No…I don’t think so,’ he said, ‘I mean he’s been strictly business since I told him. I think whatever anger he’s got goin’ on has petered out now. Besides I don’t think his anger would match mine if he dared come near you guys.’

‘I thought I’d be the same,’ Addison admitted, dropping her gaze to where her fingers lay atop of his arm.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked, watching her as she fiddled with his sleeve.

‘When I saw him in Vegas,’ she murmured, confirming his suspicions on why she had spooked, ‘I thought once I saw him again I’d go off on him y’know? I mean all of this, us, Jess… he ruined so much of it…but I just didn’t say anything. I couldn’t…makes it feel like he won y’know?’

‘Oh Addie he hasn’t won anything,’ Elvis said wrapping his arms around her and pulling her until she was standing in between his legs. She allowed him to, her hands on his chest as she chewed on her lip nervously.

‘We won,’ he said peering into her hazel eyes, ‘me and you. Despite all his meddlin’ we still ended up with Jess and she’s pretty damn spectacular all that other stuff is… unimportant.’

‘I guess you’re right,’ Addison said quietly though he could still see thoughts swarming around in that head of hers. It had been why he hadn’t told her. He didn’t want her worrying about the business side of things, that was on him to figure out. He wanted her focused on them.

‘And after the end of the year he’ll be gone and we can get used to being a family,’ Elvis said.

‘Yeah, maybe you’ll even manage to catch a break huh?’ she said, her uneasiness not ebbing though it felt a different version of it as she realised they were holding one another. She didn’t pull away though, she couldn’t force herself to, the comfort his touch brought being something she needed in her core.

‘Told you I might slow down,’ he smirked.

‘You won’t know what to do with yourself,’ she smiled.

‘Good job I’ve got two kids to keep me busy then isn’t it,’ Elvis smiled.

‘You might be better going to work,’ Addison said though her smile dimmed as the worries took over, he sensed it, but he waited for whatever it was to come, ‘it’s gonna be okay isn’t it? I mean work and everything…this is the right decision, right?’

‘You got that little faith in me?’ Elvis said.

‘Of course I have faith in you,’ Addison said.

‘It’s gonna be fine Addie,’ Elvis said. She mulled it over for a minute and then nodded. Whatever delusions she had been living in for the day suddenly feeling real. As she stood there in his arms she chose to believe he was right. That his life, their life, without the Colonel would be fine.

He was watching her, the urge to kiss her growing quicker and quicker by the second but she pulled out of his grasp, suddenly realising just how close the pair of them as she moved to the door.

‘We should get going,’ she said as he stood up, smoothing out his shirt that had started to crease where he had been leaning.

‘Yeah, can’t have him ruining any more of your birthday huh?’ he said as he followed her to the door though when they got there she paused, turning to look at him.

‘You know as birthday presents go, getting rid of him was pretty good,’ she smiled.

‘Yeah?’ Elvis smirked, ‘I guess I better return your other present then.’

‘I knew you wouldn’t be able to help yourself!’ she said swatting his chest as he chuckled.

‘C’mon your other present is downstairs,’ he said.

‘What is it?’ she asked though Elvis stayed quiet, a smug smile on his face, ‘oh come on! You have to tell me. You know I hate surprises,’ she continued though Elvis continued to ignore her, ‘Elvis!’

She was still looking at him when she hit the bottom step so much so she didn’t notice the crowd in the living room, well not until she heard a familiar voice speak from across the hall, ‘if you hate surprises does that mean I should go home?’

Addison’s head turned at breakneck speed to find Marci standing amidst the group watching her excitedly. Before she could even think she was across the room flinging herself into her best friend’s arms. They wrapped around each other, relishing in the moment, until finally they pulled back.

‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ Addison said making Marci chuckle. If anything she couldn’t believe Marci had managed to keep this from her.

‘Well it’s not every day someone turns thirty-three now is it,’ Marci smiled.

‘How the hell did you do all this? What about the shop? I thought you wouldn’t be free,’ she said.

‘Well Elvis called and asked if I would…believe it or not he can be quite persuasive,’ Marci said earning a chuckle from the room. Addison rolled her eyes, and though she kept in her friend’s arms she turned to find Elvis watching the pair of them with a smile on his face.

‘You’re unbelievable you know that,’ she said. It was true. In fact throughout the whole day he had kept her on her toes, been what she needed at every turn. And even when she had protested him getting her a present he had known her too well and knew there would be only one thing she’d want outside spending time with him and the girls.

‘Oh I know,’ Elvis said, ‘now c’mon you guys have got all night to catch up.’

‘And something tells me we’re gonna need it,’ Jess giggled as the women let one another go.

‘Oh I don’t doubt that,’ Marci said slinging her arm around her niece as everyone started to head out of the door. Addison however lingered waiting until she and Elvis were the only ones left in the hall.

‘Thank you,’ she said earnestly.

‘No problem,’ Elvis said gesturing for her to lead but instead she took the hand he held out and slipped it into hers, pulling him with her and out the door.

✵✵✵

‘That’s when Addie barged in and told them they needed to take their heads out of their asses,’ Marci giggled, making Elvis and Jerry chuckle.

‘It got you the loan didn’t it,’ Addison said rolling her eyes.

‘Oh I bet it did. Poor guy was probably terrified of sayin’ no,’ Elvis chuckled earning himself a shove.

‘He should’ve been. It was a great idea and a good shop,’ Addison said, ‘he was just sexist.’

‘Wait do you not have it anymore?’ Jerry asked as he pulled out of his laughter looking at Marci who was sitting to his right. They were in the club now tucked away in the back hoping not to be disturbed which wasn’t liable to happen thanks to the entourage of men between the four of them and rest of the club’s attendees. If Addison was being honest with herself she’d have been content going home with the girls after the dinner. She’d have been happy sitting around talking with her friends over a few relaxed drinks at Graceland but Marci had insisted they go out to Beale Street and celebrate and though it wasn’t her number one option she hadn’t put a dampener on the festivities. In fact she’d been a good sport even spending some time up on the dance floor but as her buzz started to wane she’d retreated to booth at the back where she spent most of her night cosied up with Elvis, just talking. At intervals Marci and Jerry had reappeared, exhausted from dancing or needing a drink, and the pair had been forced to pull apart from where their heads were tucked together. Somehow the topic had landed on how Marci had got her own shop.

‘No, not anymore,’ Marci said taking a sip of her drink.

‘That’s too bad,’ Jerry said adding in jest, ‘I could do with a haircut.’

‘Well I can still give ya a haircut,’ Marci said, ‘though I’d rather cut Elvis’.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Elvis chuckled, ‘why’s that?’

‘Well if I sold the clippings I’d bet I wouldn’t need to work again,’ Marci giggled.

‘She has a point Jer,’ Elvis smirked.

‘Well fine,’ Jerry said, shaking his shaggy mane off his face as he pouted, ‘me and my luscious locks will just have to find somewhere else.’

‘No, no, it’s fine. I suppose I could lower my standards,’ Marci said with faux exasperation.

‘Well you’ll have your new shop open soon right Mar? Maybe you could do all the guys,’ Addison said. Marci smiled though it didn’t meet her eyes and her tone was airy as she said, ‘yeah.’

And before Addison could respond she stood up looking at Jerry as she said, ‘I wanna dance. Wanna come?’

‘Sure?’ Jerry said allowing himself to be pulled by the hand out of his seat before he’d even managed to put his drink down properly. Addison’s eyes narrowed as she watched them disappear into the crowd, her suspicions about her friend running wild inside her.

‘Everything alright?’ Elvis asked waving a hand in front of her face to snap her out of the trance she had fallen into.

‘Fine,’ Addison said with a reassuring smile before she took a sip of her drink. Elvis wasn’t reassured but he was having too much fun to even want to bring up whatever was the matter.

The day had been amazing. Simple and understated as everything was with Addison but it still felt special. He had loved spending time with the three of them, as if they were just any other family. He liked that she had conceded to him too, if only a little which by Addison’s standards was quite something. He liked that after all she had told him about missing her friend he had been the one to bring them back together, the one to put a smile back on her face. That was why he was worried about whatever was bothering her. He was sure it was about Marci but they could come to that tomorrow. Right now he was enjoying himself.

✵✵✵

‘I need to pee!’ Marci said with urgency.

‘We’re only ten minutes away from home can’t you hold it?’ Elvis asked. They were on their way back from the bar. After her questioning about the shop Marci had started acting distant but not only figuratively. She had put quite some distance between herself and her best friend only heightening Addison’s suspicions and by the time they had decided they were ready to go she had found that her friend was completely and utterly sozzled meaning that there would be little to no point in trying to get out of her whatever it is that was bothering the blonde. But her drunkenness had done more than just make her useless to talk to it had also meant that Jerry had had to hold her up to get her into the car and that her request to use the bathroom more than likely should be listened to even if they were only ten minutes away from home.

‘I really need to pee,’ she said shifting in her seat like a child trying to convince them she wasn’t lying.

‘I’d listen to her,’ Addison said, ‘unless you want a wet patch on that seat.’

‘Fine,’ Elvis said gesturing for Lamar to pull over which he did. Marci cheered as the car rolled to a stop before running her hand over the car door until she found the handle which she then tugged on to open. Then she climbed out, a blur of haphazard limbs until she was on the side of the road.

‘You think she’ll be okay on her own?’ Jerry said looking at Addison with concern.

‘No,’ Addison said honestly, ‘but you’re the one who got her drunk.’

‘But…maybe…I mean you’re,’ Jerry said skating over the specifics though Addison knew what he was implying.

‘Come on Jer. Ain’t nuthin’ you ain’t seen before,’ Elvis chuckled earning a giggle from Addison. Jerry looked between the pair of them and then sighed, ‘fine.’

And then he climbed out, shutting the door behind them though they could hear him call Marci’s name a few times, each with a growing amount of concern as he no doubt tried to stop her doing something stupid. Addison sighed and rested back against her seat closing her eyes.

‘Tired?’ Elvis asked making her hazel eyes open looking at him through the darkness.

‘Yeah a little,’ she said, ‘it’s been a long day.’

‘A good one though?’ he asked hopefully.

‘Yeah,’ she said though there was something in her expression that didn’t lift all the way as she did. Elvis sighed.

‘But?’ he asked. He had been trying to avoid it but he could see the cogs turning and whatever was eating at her he couldn’t just ignore, not if he could fix it.

‘I think somethings up with Mar,’ she said.

‘Yeah?’ he asked.

‘Yeah,’ she admitted shuffling to face him in her seat. A position that he mirrored almost immediately.

‘How come?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know,’ she sighed, ‘it’s just any time I ask about the shop she seems to change the topic.’

‘Maybe she’s changed her mind,’ Elvis said simply.

‘Maybe…but she loved her shop and she was good at it. I just don’t know why she’d not want to start again y’know,’ Addison pondered.

‘Well maybe it isn’t what she’s starting maybe it’s where she’s starting it,’ Elvis said quietly making Addison sigh.

‘I was worried you’d say that,’ she admitted.

‘Why? I mean I thought you’d be happy if she wanted to move back to Vegas. I thought you and Jess didn’t like this...’

‘Tom.’

‘Tom guy,’ Elvis finished.

‘It’s not that I don’t like him and I want Mar to be happy I do. And I have missed her,’ Addison admitted.

‘But?’

‘But…our lives are different now,’ Addison admitted, ‘back when she left it was just me and Jess and it felt like a huge hole was there y’know? But I guess…with you it doesn’t feel as bad anymore that’s why I’m worried. I mean what if she gives this guy up and moves back to Vegas and finds everything’s different now? I mean what if she comes back to Vegas expecting me and Jess to be there and we’re halfway across the country.’

‘Well that’s her choice don’t you think?’ Elvis said trying to ignore the way his heart was hammering in his chest at her words. He was filling the gap. Not only that but the way she spoke of their situation made it sound as though it was about them. Not just Jess. If it was just about Jess it wouldn’t make much of an impact on Marci, Addison would remain a constant but the way she spoke made it seem as though she wanted to be there. Every step of the way.

‘I know but what if it’s the wrong one?’ Addison asked worriedly.

‘Well maybe you have to let her make it to find out it’s the wrong one,’ Elvis said moving towards her, his arm thrown up on the back of the seat. He was watching her, those cerulean eyes boring into her face as her fingers fiddled with the material of his jacket.

‘What if she gets hurt?’ Addison said.

‘Well she’s always got you,’ Elvis said. Addison seemed to think on it for a second and then nodded. His words about Marci were true but that wasn’t what she was thinking of. What she was thinking about was them. How she had told herself no but couldn’t help but want it. Especially not with how close he was to her right now, how the smell of his cologne engulfed her, comforting her. How his hand clasped over hers, stopping its movement against his jacket as he watched her.

‘Can I tell you something?’ Elvis asked. Addison nodded, ‘you look beautiful tonight.’

‘You don’t look too bad yourself,’ she said. It was meant to be a joke, a way of deflecting the uncomfortable flutter that her heart made at his words but it came out flat, truthful.

‘I enjoyed myself tonight,’ he said.

‘Me too,’ she replied.

‘I’m glad I got to spend your birthday with you…well one of ‘em,’ he smiled.

‘Me too,’ she said.

‘You know I have one more present for you,’ he said.

‘Yeah?’ she asked in little more than a whisper.

‘It can wait,’ he said and then before she could protest he leaned forward and kissed her gently. It was soft and light, somehow a mix of what he’d been longing for and somehow not like anything he’d been thinking about when he had dreamed of kissing her. She leaned into it, allowing him to move her backwards as his hand caressed her cheek gently. Yet before he could do anything more she pulled back, placing a hand firmly on his chest as a stop signal. His heart was hammering in his chest but he could’ve sworn it stopped beating just for a moment when he noticed the look of guilt on her face.

‘Elvis,’ she said quietly.

‘Ads,’ he replied in a tone he couldn’t help but make sound like a plea.

‘We can’t,’ she said quietly.

‘Addie,’ he said that begging in his voice once more.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said feeling tears prick at her eyes, ‘we can’t…I just… I can’t.’

He watched as she pulled back from him, chewing on her lip as guilt coursed through her. She wanted to, God she wanted to. Her whole day had been nothing but pretending they were the family she had dreamed about but she wasn’t stupid enough to think that they could survive this, that one of them wouldn’t get hurt. And she couldn’t do that to him, or more to the point she couldn’t do that to herself. Elvis watched her closely and then nodded.

‘Okay,’ he said leaning back against his seat. Addison looked out of the window, trying to quell the guilt inside her that was threatening to push her tears over the edge. Though neither of them had time to dwell on it too long as the car door opened and Marci flopped onto the opposite bench, Jerry grabbing her legs to move her properly into her seat. It was the distraction Addison needed and so she grabbed onto it with both hands, sitting up in her seat with a force smile as she said, ‘you survived then?’

‘Oh Jerry was very helpful,’ Marci giggled placing her legs up on the man in question who rolled his eyes.

‘Do I want to know?’ Addison asked raising an eyebrow.

‘She pulled me into a bush,’ Jerry said.

‘Oh?’ Addison asked.

‘Actually I asked him to pull me up,’ Marci corrected.

‘Yeah, then went dead weight pulling me into the aforementioned bush,’ Jerry said.

‘You didn’t land in the pee, right?’ Addison giggled making Elvis look at her which made it dim. As he looked back out of the window she kept a smile on her face determined not to let the others realise there was something wrong. Neither of them seemed to notice.

‘Nah I think I swerved it,’ Jerry chuckled.

After that the car fell silent though on one side it seemed to be because exhaustion had taken over. Whilst Marci strew herself across the seat, her legs on Jerry’s lap Addison looked out of the window trying to ignore that gnawing feeling inside her. Elvis however couldn’t stop glancing at her. He couldn’t stop thinking of how she had kissed him back, how her lips had melded to his if only briefly. It had been all he had been thinking about. All he had wanted for months, if not since the day he had left for the army.

It just hurt that it hadn’t lasted. That she had pulled away before he could do anything more, before he could tell her how much he loved her. It was a blow for sure, but he could see in her eyes that it wasn’t over, not yet. There was love there, more than just the old love they had once shared. Something new, something growing. She loved him just as much as he loved her, he was sure of it. She just wasn’t ready, and he didn’t expect her to be. Last time they had tried to ignore it, the pull between them, and it hadn’t worked and pulling away from one another had only made them miserable. So he wasn’t going to pull away but he wasn’t going to push either. He wasn’t going to expect her to want to marry him off the bat but they were changing. Their relationship was growing each and every day and if she needed time before she felt ready to progress he would give to her. Because he couldn’t lose her, not again.

When they reached the house Jerry and Addison took charge of ensuring Marci got to her room and got in bed whilst Elvis headed upstairs. Whilst he was sure they’d end up okay that didn’t mean he wanted an awkward goodnight at the top of the stairs, not when he was still licking his wounds. However before he got to bed he stopped by the girl’s room and pushed the door open gently.

He had intended to get the spare room into shape in the time they’d been back in Vegas but that would’ve meant moving Addison away from them and he hadn’t had the heart to. Not to mention that he was enjoying the girls were getting along. It was idealistic he knew that and once they got a little older he knew he’d have no choice but to give them their own space, he just hoped by then Addison would have no need for the bed across the hall.

As he watched them he smiled. Jess was laying on her back, sleeping soundly though he wasn’t sure how she was comfortable given that Lisa’s legs were draped across her torso as she had contorted herself so she was laying upside down in bed. Still they looked peaceful and though his heart was aching at the disappointment of the night he couldn’t help but feel peace too because he knew it wouldn’t be like this forever. At least he hoped so.

That night Addison didn’t sleep well. She couldn’t, not when her mind was replaying the entire night over and over again. Elvis had kissed her and she hadn’t hated it. In fact she hadn’t wanted to stop him, instead she had wanted to give into every delusion that she had had throughout the day. She had wanted him to kiss her, to hold her as though they were together. She wanted to come down breakfast in the morning after spending the night in his bed cuddled beside him, their night full of loving whispers and kisses.

But she couldn’t do that. She had already done that before and looking back on those memories hurt too much. To do it all again and it to end badly again would undoubtedly hurt worse. Making a poor choice last time had almost ruined her, doing it again she was sure she wouldn’t survive it. Not now she had to be in his life. It had been easier before because there had been a clean break. This time there was no chance at that.

That was why she was standing behind her bedroom door trying to will herself to go downstairs instead of hiding herself away like she wanted to. Seeing him under these circumstances hurt enough never mind anything else. Would he be mad? Would he want to talk about it? Last night he had seemed content to let it be but she knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t let it go. She just hoped he’d understand that they couldn’t, that they shouldn’t. She hoped he’d let her go.

When she opened the door the floor was quiet something that made her feel a touch more relaxed. Whilst keeping to herself felt like her best option being immersed in people was a close second as she knew he wouldn’t be able to question her then.

Though as she reached the top of the stairs she heard his voice. He was in his office, on the phone, and though she knew she shouldn’t, she couldn’t help but peep around the door. He looked good – something that didn’t help her troubled heart and was speaking low enough that she couldn’t make out what he was saying. Though as she lingered by the door he seemed to notice someone was there and when he looked up his face seemed to be relieved.

‘Hang on Joe,’ he said, ‘Ads-’

But before he could say anything else she bolted, dashing down the stairs as he called her name from the office though she didn’t slow down. She felt bad about it but after spending the night in emotional turmoil she didn’t have it in her to go over everything just yet.

She only stopped when she got to the den where she found Jess sitting on the floor playing her guitar with Vernon and Lisa offering her encouragement from the loveseat they were squashed on together. Marci was splayed out on the couch, her hand over her face as she tried to block the sunlight out. As she headed towards Marci she found Jerry coming in from the kitchen a bottle of water and two aspirin in his hand.

‘Here,’ he said offering them down to Marci who peeked through her fingers at him before she sat up with a groan.

‘Is she alright?’ Addison asked as Marci took the two pills and then opened her water bottle choking the water down so quickly she had almost drunk the entire bottle in two glugs.

‘She’ll be fine. Actually I thought you two might be feelin’ the same since you hadn’t come down yet,’ Jerry said.

‘I’m good,’ Addison said which she technically was, besides it wasn’t as if her issues would be fixed with some water and rest.

‘How about you EP?’ Jerry said looking past her which made her whip around only to find Elvis appearing into the den watching her with concern.

‘I’m fine,’ Elvis said moving towards her though her attention was pulled as she felt arms wrap around her hips and looked down to find Lisa looking up at her with a smile.

‘Miss Addie guess what?’ she beamed.

‘What sweetie?’ Addison said, stroking her hair, happy for the distraction.

‘We’re going to Hawaii,’ Lisa beamed which widened as Addison’s face fell into shock, the novelty of being the first one to give her the news evidently being huge for the little girl. Addison managed to recover quickly, keeping her voice light as she said, ‘we are?’

‘That’s what I needed to speak to you about,’ Elvis said coming towards them. Lisa let Addison go moving to her dad who picked her up and placed her on his hip as he watched Addison awaiting her reaction.

‘Hawaii?’ was all she could say.

‘I was going to tell you last night,’ he said making a vague memory of him mentioning another birthday present flash through her mind. It had been immediately pushed out when he had kissed her, ‘turns out daddy told the girls by accident.’

‘Oh it was no accident,’ Vernon said making Addison look at him, ‘they’re witches both of ‘em. Heard me talking about a trip and badgered me until I broke.’

‘You didn’t have to tell us,’ Jess shrugged feigning innocence.

‘Yeah all we did was ask,’ Lisa agreed.

As the news settled in Addison felt her stomach churn. Being at Graceland after last night was going to be awkward enough never mind cooped up together on one of the most romantic islands in the world. But she could feel everyone watching her. She could see how excited the girls were about a vacation with their dad. And given that she was kind of the reason for the entire trip she couldn’t say no right? Looking at Elvis she couldn’t bring herself to. He was watching her as if bracing himself for her to decline especially when he asked in a manner unlike himself, ‘so what do you say?’

‘Who can so no to Hawaii?’

SERIES TAGS

@girlblogger2002 @sania562 @caitlin1996 @literally-just-elvis-fics @notstefaniepresley @artlesson8892 @18lkpeters @velvetelvis @jaqueline19997 @elvispresleyxoxo @amydarcimarie @presleyenterprise @everythingelvispresley @elvispresleywife @lillypink @richardslady121 @lettersfromvenus @louisejoy86 @ccab

#my writing #here you come again #elvis #elvis presley #elvis x ofc #elvis presley x ofc #elvis and addison

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kiefbowl · 2 years

Note

i think people (not feminists) find reasons to hate on GoT because it's very "white lady" show about white female empowerment in that sort of culture, which can become a little white savior-y. But i personally like the books and show(s) because they use interesting metaphors to show how women gain power. Like dragons representing Daenerys' propagandized exoticism as a woman, her motherhood, and her pedigree. And how people will overlook a clearly female "messiah" for the dudes with big swords and money.

Hmmm, idk if I completely agree with what you said or even understand it all but I'll go ahead and springboard off this anon to muse a bit about the whole GoT/ASOIAF deal.

To start: I am completely neutral on what other people have to say about ASOIAF. I love those books, I think there's a lot of good stuff in there, I don't think they gotta be read. If a woman (or anyone) doesn't want to read them, totally get it. If a woman (or anyone) reads them and is like "yuck that was bad", I get it! different strokes for different folks! I am also high key critical, too, but I love to be critical. I enjoy taking apart media, whether I like it or not. I don't think there's a single thing on this planet I love unequivocally top-down. Everything has something you can raise an eyebrow at.

more under cut bc it's long....

I think a lot of people, including me, have a lot of good reasons to hate GoT. GoT was a very good adaptation for about 3 seasons, and then dropped off in quality. I'm one of the few who thinks it started getting bad in season 4, while others like to say it was good even until season 6 or whatever. idk cause I gave up on it. They made wild choices that didn't make sense, and they seemed to make choices that were just to be more shocking and violent than they needed to be. For example, the Red Wedding is already insanely brutal and shocking, but for some reason they had to write in Robb's boring love story, cutting the political intrigue of his supposed set-up with his actual wife, just to show some ass and then show a pregnant woman get stabbed in the belly. That fucking sucks so bad. That's bad adaptation, bad writing, bad tv. And that was in season 3, which I already said was still pretty good adaptation. So I got annoyed with GoT good and early, both as a lover of the books and a lover of television in general. I dropped off, but I would keep tabs on it, and delighted in the shitty fuck up it became in seasons 7&8. Still, it's infuriating to know that when it comes to the general public perceptions of some of these characters, the TV show is going to reign supreme.

Now, some feminists might be surprised at some of the female fans of ASOIAF since it's also, like, extremely brutal, violent, and full of rape. And it's true, and GRRM also has made some choices that are just blech. I hate Dany's wedding night scene with Drogo. That was a bad bad choice that hasn't aged well and never will. I guess if I had to choose that scene and a brutally violent scene, I'd choose the one we have, but honestly it would have been better if he just didn't write it. It's also such a strange choice bc in her next chapter it makes it pretty clear Drogo is rough with her going forward, so idk if the wedding scene was part editor's choice or what but it just is so uncomfortable to read. So yeah, GRRM makes some choices that I hate.

But honestly, he makes a lot choices I like. He excels at his mission, which is to write "character's in conflict with the heart." He shines there. And he's created this unbelievably detailed world and history that is really astounding. And even his exploration of misogyny and sexual violence is sometimes quite deft, it's just that it can also be clunky or oblivious a few pages later. But, he's a man, it comes as no surprise. Kinda like how Victor Hugo could write about the horrors of prostitution sympathetically and then go and be a frequent john. Men being men.

And I think ASOIAF has gotten a bit of a bad rep unfairly. Not that it doesn't deserve criticisms, cause it does, and not that women should read it or have to love it, because obviously not. But I think it has a misrepresentation that proceeds it because of 1. the show, which is just it's own mess, and 2. the popularity of calling the books "feminist" at the height of the show's popularity as a reaction to criticisms. It's not feminist, it can never be feminists: it is written by a man.

But if you enjoy fantasy, and want a long and winding series that has unbelievably detailed political intrigue (like it's crazy how the smallest actions and characters still impact the story!), with a deep lore that is surprisingly true to life (not 1, not 2, not 3, but 4 different ethnic groups land in Westeros during it's history and they all matter to the culture, story, and plot?? insane I love it), and you want to be in the heads of female characters that treats their pain and suffering as real and important as best as a man could write it, well this has got some stuff for you to like. Otherwise, if you're meh on all of that and you don't want to read about sexual violence, skip it.

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txemrn · 2 years

Note

Did your MC struggled with either her body image or her emotions after giving birth? Was it difficult for her to get back to her old self?

Hey, Anon!

Thank you so much for the thoughtful Ask!

Before I answer...

Postpartum is such a delicate time period that unfortunately is painfully ignored here in America. We feed women delusional optimism, that having a baby is sunshine, rainbows and unicorns, and while yes, babies are a precious gift, we gotta get real! We shame women who may have negative thoughts during and after their pregnancy. We have a lack of resources to help them. Most women who deliver in the hospital are given ONE postpartum appointment @ six weeks, and they lack proper support at home. For working women, maternity leave is anywhere between 6-12 weeks, often times not paid.

Luckily, it's being talked about more... but it's like a small leak: it's not enough, and healthcare is heading in the WRONG direction. When there is that big of a shift in your life, and I'm talking your chemistry, your anatomy, your physiology, your social spheres, your responsibilities, then of course, there will be a struggle to get back to "normalcy" (there is no going back, only a new normalcy). Some women make it look flawless and others are trainwrecks. But, let's get one thing straight: this is a HUGE change for every. single. woman. Regardless of age, race, culture, education, religion, disability, etc., the struggle is REAL, and I believe here in America, we are creating the struggle by creating unrealistic expectation for our moms, attributing to their mental health, and for some, it will affect the care of their baby.

Pregnant Tatum...

She really struggled emotionally and mentally DURING the first 20 weeks of her pregnancy (keeping her bump a secret for most of that time). It's true what the say: Ignorance is bliss. Sometimes knowing too much can rob you of your joy.

But, she was proactive about this: 1) she had an honest conversation with her colleague/doctor that she was gonna need something for anxiety; 2) she has a wonderful husband who knows her so freakishly well, and before this surprise ever happened, he knew she would probably not handle pregnancy well; luckily he's a great listener, and he's very realistic; 3) she reached out to her closest friends who were already moms for support.

Postpartum Tatum...

She knew stretchmarks, loose skin and a poorly-toned belly were part of the game. She knew she was going to lose her hair, her nails would become brittle and her skin would age. She knew that panty liners would become part of her daily life if she ever wanted to sneeze or cough again. She knew the 25-35 lb weight-gain would not disappear when the baby was born. She knew her breasts would chap, blister and bleed, not to mention lose their volume and tone.

"But when you see your baby, it'll be worth it."

Now that she has gone through the experience herself, she has 2 words: bull. shit. Now hold on; don't come for me. Tatum would gladly lay down her life for that precious one; but guilting a woman for being honest about her experience is bullshit. "Oh, quit your whining; you got a baby." Come. On.

Because she sought out support before the sudden change in her life, the initial rough moments of motherhood were few and far between. She has her low moments still where she feels absolutely inadequate as a mother (mom shame is REAL), as a wife, and as a physician. She gets frustrated with the size and shape of her body, sometimes too embarrassed to even expose herself in front of Ethan. Not to over simplify the "cure", but when she starts taking care of herself, that awful voice of self-hate goes away.

The journey into motherhood is quite the challenge, and Tatum experienced it first hand. She still believes it isn't for everyone, and every woman deserves to make that choice for herself. Motherhood was unexpected... but knowing how perfectly baby Ramsey fits into the family, she is grateful for how everything fell into place at the right time. And the love that she has for that little one is indescribable, not to mention that her love for Daddy Ramsey has grown exponentially.

Thank you again for including me on this Ask! I cannot wait to explore in more detail the Ramseys becoming parents.

#you asked #open heart #ethan ramsey #tatum erikson #motherhood #parenthood #baby ramsey

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i-did-not-mean-to · 2 years

Text

Hands

Here goes a small gift to my friends...particularly

@laurfilijames because Fí

@fandomfaeryreads because Kí

@legolasbadass because Dís

and @myselfandfantasy because Ori

Artwork by @personeh (Go give them LOVE!!!)

Hands - a 1000 words of slight ouchie

Dís’ finger hovered carefully over the brittle, slightly irregular frame as if she was afraid that it would fall to dust if she actually laid her hands on it.

Years of cherished memories as well as dreams of an unsure future washed through her mind like a waterfall of light.

“A gift for you, amad,” she heard Kíli’s voice – light and young as the spring branches that she oft left unpruned despite their haphazard growth patterns – resounded in her mind.

Before they had left to join their uncle and king in the great endeavour to reclaim Erebor, her sons, fruit of her womb, essence of her soul, had offered her an ‘official portrait’ of them.

It had been half in jest, a clumsy attempt to make mock of the dread not one of them could deny, but Dís cherished this painting much more than many far better executed ones stored under sheets in dusty attics nowadays.

It was a shaky promise, a glimpse into a hope that was wavering and flickering like a candle as the months melted into her weary bones. Thorin had made Fí – her firstborn son – his heir and – Mahal willing – his rise to power would produce many more paintings such as this.

Nonetheless, Dís knew that she would never love any of them half as much as this memento wrought from bare, naked love and given under the blessing rain of silent tears.

This one was a testament to her motherhood in more ways than one; indeed, she could recognise Ori’s hand and the small signature in the bottom right corner.

He was such a dear boy, and Dís whispered a prayer to Mahal to keep him safe, for he no longer had a mother of his own which made him one of her foundlings who were nested safely within the folds of her brave, faithful heart.

Her eyes fell on her own fingers trembling against her will; just like humans and elves, dwarrows had two hands and five fingers. All her life, they had told her that she had Durin hands, hands made for epic swords like Thorin’s, hidden knives like Fílis, or fast arrows like Kí’s…but hers were achingly empty now.

Oh, how she remembered the pudgy fists of her sons being so rough where Ori’s long-fingered digits had been as shy and gentle as his soul. Here she stood, princess without a king, mother without her babies, staring at the lines of her palms telling a story she was no longer a part of while her mind travelled back to those other hands that no longer rested in hers.

Ori was tired and frustrated, but his wrist stayed supple as he tried to correct the inevitable blur around Kí’s mouth as his friend and kinsman couldn’t keep his mouth shut for more than a few minutes at a time.

He had spent hours and days working on this piece, a gift full of love for a dam who had been a rock and a home to put even the Blue Mountains in their colossal grandeur to shame.

“Once you are king, you’ll have to sit for these regularly,” Kíli teased his brother who was leaning lightly against his shoulder as if to let him know – no matter how annoying he got – that Fí would have his back.

“If I ever am to be king, I’ll insist you’re in every single one of those damn portraits,” Fí shot back in a self-important but ultimately humorous tone, “brother dearest.”

It would have been funny listening to them squabble like that, Ori thought, if Kí had not been fidgeting and snacking the whole time which – in turn – made Fí grumpy and restless.

“Hold still,” Ori cried – exasperated – but Kíli moaned that he was bored and hungry, as if the whole wheel of cheese he had devoured since the beginning of this session had not been an indication of that.

“One would have thought that a creature who has that long a life would grow to be more patient with time,” Ori muttered, himself the very picture of equanimity.

“I am quite young still,” Kíli grinned, “it might well happen!”

They all shared a laugh at that, overshadowed by the nameless, faceless dread, the fear that they’d never learn what time would have taught them if their lives were cut short by the evil they were about to face.

“I highly doubt that,” Fíli chuckled and mussed his brother’s soft hair that he affectionately – and often quite mockingly – still called ‘baby hair’ in reference to the soft locks he had once stroked for hours on end.

He was happy to have these two utter fools by his side for the most daring quest of his lifetime, just as he was glad that they had agreed to leaving a token of their love to Dís, who was queen in ways Thorin might never be king if he didn’t learn to let down his guard.

Head held high despite her sinking heart, a woman – alone in the darkness and holding a candle to a slightly blurry but very loving painting – wondered who she was on her own.

Dís, daughter of Thráin, son of Thrór; Dís, daughter of a lost king, granddaughter of a dead one, she thought, Dís, the orphan, the widow, the inconsolable.

A ripple of anger and almost petulant rebellion shot through her limbs like a divine spark.

Was she not also Dís, sister of Thorin II, Thorin ‘Oakenshield’, Thorin the victorious, who would lead their people home?

Staring at the rough sketch once more, imbuing it with life by the sheer intensity of her love, Dís muttered: “I am Dís, mother of those two gloriously ridiculous dwarrows; I am the cradle of the future, I am the beacon of hope, I am the source of solace…and I shall wait.”

Unlike her youngest son, she had learned patience in the empty halls of her childhood, she had mined that virtue out of lonely hours and brought it forth from the wells of deprivation and lack.

Dís was unlike the unyielding rock that was Thorin, unlike the flowing gold that was Fíli, unlike the fitful tempest that was Kíli, she was malleable, tempered, and steadfast; hence, Dís would persevere in faith and endurance.

They would come back – as the snow swirled heavy in the frosty air, suffocating the earth, and muting the screams of the rock underneath her feet – she repeated those words over and over again. They would come back, and she would be Dís ‘The Blessed’ once more.

Please comment and reblog if you liked this :D

I usually don't tag people, so if you think I should have known you might possibly like this, rest assured: I do not, I am very dumb when it comes to people...but you can tell me anyway 👀 LOL

<3 MUCH LOVE, NO HATE <3

#fanfiction #surprise #ficlet #the hobbit #thorin #dís #fíli #kíli #ori #ori the dwarf #oomph #tiny ouchie

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a-simple-gaywitch · 3 years

Text

Ohana

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer’s in love with his new neighbor- and her son that’s just like him

Word Count: 3234

Warnings: Typical CM stuff (Amplification specifically), Single Parent!Reader, slight angst

“Ohana means family. Family means no one gets left behind, or forgotten.” -Lilo and Stitch

Spencer remembered the day you moved in. He remembered you lugging boxes up five flights of stairs by yourself. When he saw you struggling with a heavy box, trying to find your key, he decided to be bold and help.

“You look like you could use some assistance,” he said. “I’m, uh, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, I live right across the hall.”

“Dr. (Y/N) (L/N),” you said.

“Here, let me hold the box for you.”

“Careful, it’s heavy,” you said, shifting it into his arms.

Spencer was jostled for a moment from the weight of the box, which was labeled (Y/N)’s Books. “So, MD or PhD?” he asked you as you searched for the right key.

“PhD, I’m too squeamish to be in the medical field,” you said with a laugh. It was the most beautiful sound Spencer had ever heard. “What about you?”

“What? Oh,” Spencer shook his head, focusing back on the conversation. “PhDs.”

You stopped sorting through your keys and turned to face Spencer. “Plural? Holy shit, are you a genius or something?”

Spencer let out a small laugh before saying, “Yeah, technically. But I don’t think intelligence can be accurately quantified.”

You finally found the right key and sighed as you heard the lock click. “Um, you can set the box with the others by the bookshelf.”

Spencer turned to see a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, much like his own, with boxes upon boxes of books in front of it. Some were labeled Academics, some had the same label as the one he was currently holding, and some had Oliver’s Books scrawled across the top.

“So, uh, where are you moving from?” he asked you, following the maze of boxes to your kitchen.

You offered him a bottle of water. “Erie, Pennsylvania. I got a job at Georgetown as an Associate Professor in the history department.”

“Oh, I guest lecture there every once in a while. In the criminology department. Uh, what’s your concentration?” Spencer took a sip from the water bottle.

“Medieval and Renaissance history,” you said. “I get to teach fun classes like Medieval Weaponry and Warfare.”

“Well, maybe I can sit in on that class someday.”

You smiled at him and that was when Spencer knew, you’d worked your way into his heart and you were never leaving.

Spencer remembered the first time he met Oliver. It was 53 hours, 27 minutes, and 15 seconds since the day he met you. He was coming home from an exhausting case when he saw you trying to balance paper shopping bags in your arms while opening your door. A small boy, no older than 6, stood behind you with oversized headphones and a mobile gaming system. He had a huge backpack on his shoulders.

“Ollie, take the keys. Ollie. Oliver.”

“You need some help?” Spencer asked, setting his go-bag in front of his door.

“Spencer, hi! Um, some help would be great.” Spencer took the bags from your arms so you could open the door. “Oh, uh, this is Oliver, my son.”

“Your-your son?” Spencer asked. If you had a son, it was likely you had a partner.

“Yep, he’s my boy.” You tapped his shoulder and gestured for him to say hi. The boy gave a small wave before going back to his game.

Spencer cleared his throat. “So, uh, where’s-where’s his father?”

“California. At least, that’s where he went when he left us.” Your hand was resting on top of your son’s head. He looked just like you. “Here, can you just set the bags on the counter?” you asked after opening the door. Oliver started down the hallway when you grabbed the loop of his backpack. “Not so fast. You know the rules. Homework first, then you can play your game again.”

Oliver groaned and handed you his game. You set it on the counter next to the bags of groceries.

“So, you’re raising him alone?” Spencer asked you.

You nodded and started unpacking the bags. “Yeah. You know, it’s been hard, but I can’t imagine life without my Ollie. He’s my heart and soul.”

Spencer and you became friends quite quickly. He told you about his job as a profiler, and you told him about working at the university. He would come over after cases and watch movies with you and Oliver. He’d help you put groceries away and he’d help you with simple tasks.

He also picked up on Oliver’s eccentricities. He reminded Spencer of his younger self. He didn’t talk much about kids at school and he breezed through schoolwork. His interests seemed heightened beyond what could be considered normal for a kid his age. One day, Spencer decided to ask about it as inconspicuously as he could.

The two of you were playing a game of chess when he brought it up.

“So, Oliver seems to be doing pretty well in school. What grade did you say he was in, second?”

“Yeah, the school bumped him up a grade. They wanted me to move him up to fourth, but I know how important it is to have friends your own age. And he already struggles to make friends.”

“He does? Why?”

You sighed, moving your knight. “Check. He was diagnosed as autistic when he was three. He doesn’t quite get social cues so it’s hard for him.”

Spencer moved his bishop and took your knight. “I’m sure his dad leaving didn’t help.”

“Well, he, uh, he never actually met his dad. Leo left me when I was four months pregnant.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

You waved him off. “It’s fine. It was almost seven years ago. I moved on, and I learned to balance motherhood with college. I completed my undergrad when he was only a few months old and I worked on graduate school when he was a high-energy toddler. It just proved to me that I can do anything. Checkmate.”

Spencer was enjoying a rare day off on a Tuesday when his phone started ringing. He groaned, thinking it was Hotch with an urgent case. But when he saw your name on the caller ID, his face lit up.

“(Y/N), hey!” he said. “What’s going on?”

“Ollie’s school just called me. He’s sick but I have classes and meetings all day so I can’t go get him and-”

“Are you asking if I can go get him?” Spencer said, cutting off your rambling.

“Yes! Could you, please? I’d be so so grateful.”

Spencer smiled, grabbing the spare key you gave him. “Of course.”

“Oh, thank you so much. There’s a spare car seat in the coat closet. I’ll call the school and let them know you’ll be picking him up. Thank you so much, Spencer.”

When Spencer got to the school, he was fidgety. He’d never spent time alone with your son before. And he wasn’t even sure if the kid liked him.

He walked into the front office and said, “Hi, my name is Spencer Reid, I’m here to pick up Oliver (L/N)?”

“Oh, (Y/N) said you were coming to get him. If I could just see your ID?” the receptionist asked. Spencer nodded and pulled out his driver’s license. “Great, if you could just sign Oliver out on the clipboard here, you’ll be good to go.”

Spencer scribbled his signature on the clipboard and the receptionist got up to get Oliver from the back office. Oliver followed the receptionist, his backpack on his shoulders and a paper bag clutched in his hands. His face was pale and he was swaying slightly.

“Hey, Ollie,” Spencer said.

“Hi, Spencer. Where’s my mom?”

“She got stuck at work, buddy. You’re gonna stay with me until she comes home, okay?”

Oliver nodded. “Okay.” He followed Spencer out of the school and climbed in the back of his car.

“Do you want me to put the window down?” Spencer offered, looking back at the boy in the mirror. When Oliver nodded, Spencer put his window down and pulled out of the parking lot.

After pulling into the parking garage, Spencer looked in the mirror again. Oliver was fast asleep, his head slumped against the door. Rather than waking the boy, Spencer unbuckled him and scooped him up in his arms.

Oliver wrapped his little, sweaty arms around Spencer’s neck as he was carried inside. Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was how much he cared for the boy, but Spencer pressed a small kiss to the side of his head. Spencer dug your spare key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, setting Ollie down on the couch.

After covering him with a blanket, Spencer dug around in your kitchen for some ginger ale and crackers. After setting them on the coffee table, he heard a small voice say, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Spencer noticed Oliver watching him from the couch. He sat on the edge of the coffee table, handing Oliver the soda with a red bendy straw. “What do you mean, bud?”

“I know you like-like my mom. But you’re nice to me even when she’s not here. Matt didn’t do that. He called me names when Mom wasn’t around. He said I was weird.”

Spencer knew Matt was your ex from your time working at the Erie campus of Penn State. He was the first person you’d been with since Oliver’s father. And hearing how he treated Oliver didn’t sit right with Spencer.

Spencer sighed and looked at Oliver. “I’m nice to you because I like you, too. And I was a lot like you when I was your age.”

“You were?” Oliver handed the cup back to Spencer to set back on the table.

Spencer nodded. “People still think I’m weird. But being weird is good. How boring would the world be if everyone was normal?”

Oliver smiled. “It would be pretty boring,” he said.

“Get some rest, okay? It’ll help you feel better.”

You finally managed to sneak out of work and get home. When you opened the door, you saw Spencer sitting in the chair across from your sleeping son, reading a book.

“Hey,” he said in a voice just above a whisper.

“Hey. How is he?”

“He has a low-grade fever and he hasn’t been able to keep anything in his stomach. I’ve been having him nibble on some crackers but even that doesn’t stay down.”

“Oh, my poor boy. Thank you for staying with him.”

“Of course. You know I’d do anything for you, for both of you.”

The team got back from a particularly rough case dealing with kids. Hotch gave them the weekend off to recuperate.

“Anyone want to go grab a drink?” Derek offered to the group.

“Or five?” Emily added.

“What do you say, kid? You in?” Derek asked Spencer as the younger man packed up his bag.

“Oh, no, sorry. I, uh, I have plans,” he said with a smile before slipping out of the office. The team watched him hurry out of the building before sharing glances with each other.

“Spence has a girlfriend,” JJ realized.

“Pretty boy has a girlfriend?”

“Think about it. When does Spencer ever have plans? And when was the last time he didn’t stay to do paperwork when we were given the time off?”

“And he upgraded his phone out of nowhere,” Emily chimed in. “He went from one that had only the bare essentials to a smartphone he texts on all the time.”

“We need to find out who this girl is,” Morgan decided.

Spencer had been keeping you a secret from the team on purpose. Not because he was ashamed of you, or embarrassed, but because he knew the team saw him as the baby and they would be invasive if they ever found out. He didn’t want them to scare you away, he loved you too much to lose you. Though, he hadn’t said it out loud yet.

You and Spencer were walking down the street, Oliver asleep on Spencer’s back, snoring against his shoulder, his arms wrapped around Spencer’s neck.

“You have no idea how excited he is for you to see his science fair project,” you said. “It was all he could talk about all week.”

Spencer smiled and adjusted the boy on his back. “I think I’m just as excited to see his project, especially since he wouldn’t let me know anything about it.”

You reached the apartment complex and you dug your keys out of your bag. “Are you sure you can carry him up the stairs? I can wake him if you want me to.”

“No, it’s fine. I got him,” Spencer whispered, moving so that Oliver was clinging to his front rather than his back. He followed you up the stairs to your apartment. When you unlocked the door, he went straight to Oliver’s room and put the tired boy in his bed. He kissed Ollie’s forehead before flicking on his nightlight and leaving the room.

“Oh, hey,” you said when Spencer came out of the room, “Is he still out?”

“Yeah. I think we might have put him in a coma.”

You laughed and kissed Spencer’s cheek. “Go get some sleep. I know you’re tired, too.”

“I’m not-”

“Spence, you nearly fell asleep at the movies tonight. Go.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll go. But not without a kiss goodnight.”

You gave Spencer a kiss before shooing him across the hall. When Spencer unlocked his door and flicked on the light, he saw his team sitting in his living room.

“What the hell? What are you doing here? JJ, I gave you a key for emergencies!”

“This is an emergency!” Penelope said. “You have a girlfriend and you didn’t tell us!”

“Kid, please tell me she’s a single mother and you haven’t been keeping a family a secret from us for years,” said Morgan.

Spencer was still annoyed his friends broke into his apartment, but he couldn’t resist talking about you, especially when they’d already seen you. “Her name’s (Y/N), she moved in about a year ago with her son, Oliver. We’ve been dating for three months.”

“Spence, why didn’t you tell us?” JJ asked.

Spencer looked down at his shoes, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “I didn’t want you scaring her off. I love her. I love both of them. And you guys can be intimidating.”

“Spencer’s coming to the science fair tonight, right?” Oliver asked you as you got him ready for school.

“That’s what he said,” you told him. “And you know Spencer likes to keep his promises.”

“I can’t wait to show him my mold project!”

“Okay, kiddo, we have to go. We don’t want to be late, do we?”

Meanwhile, Spencer was in the conference room at work, worrying about the latest case they’ve been presented. Someone was releasing a new strain of anthrax in public places around the DC area.

But under his stress over the case, he was worrying about you and Ollie. Maybe that’s why he worked so much harder on this one.

He and Morgan were sent to the suspect’s house, and Spencer entered first. Looking around, he noticed his mistake. When Morgan made his way to the door, he slammed and locked the door.

“Reid, what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry.”

Spencer was infected. He knew there was a large chance he would die, but he couldn’t stop working. He needed to find the antidote. HIs breathing was getting heavier and he felt sweat dripping down his face. He pulled out his phone and dialed.

“Hey, Garcia?”

“Reid! Oh, my god, Derek told me what happened. How are you feeling? Are you okay?”

“That’s not important right now,” he said. “Um, can you- can you record a message for me? It’s for (Y/N) and Ollie.”

“Oh, uh, of course.” He heard her typing. “Okay. Go ahead.”

Spencer cleared the lump in his throat. “Uh, hi, (Y/N), it’s Spencer. Um, I-I wanted to let you know that, uh, I love you and…” he paused, taking a breath and blinking tears from his eyes, “and I’m so happy you let me into your life, into your family. And I want Ollie to know I love him, too. You- both of you- you’re my family.”

After that, things happened too fast. Spencer was being pulled out of the house and hosed down before being ushered to the waiting ambulance. He fell out of consciousness on the ride to the hospital.

When he woke up in a hospital bed, Morgan was sitting by his side.

“Are you eating Jell-O?” he asked, his voice cracking from being dry.

Morgan lit up with a smile. “Welcome back, kid.”

“Is there anymore Jell-O?”

Morgan chuckled. “You know, there’s some people here waiting for you.”

“What?”

Before Morgan could explain, you and Oliver burst into the room.

“Oh, my god, Spence!” You ran over and hugged him the best you could with the various medical equipment attached to him. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” you scolded.

Oliver climbed onto the bed and curled up next to Spencer. “Yeah, don’t do that again,” he said. “How can I take you to Donuts with Dad if you’re dead?” He looked up at Spencer with his big doe-eyes and Spencer felt his heart break a little bit.

“You-you want me to go to Donuts with Dad with you? Even though I missed your science fair?”

Ollie nodded. “I don’t care that you missed my science fair. I just care that you’re still here.” He looked up and Spencer and wrapped his arms around his torso. “I love you, Spencer.” He gave Spencer a light squeeze.

Spencer smiled and ruffled his hair. “I love you too, Ollie.” He looked up at you. “And I love you, (Y/N).”

You smiled and gave Spencer a soft kiss.

“Ewww!” Ollie squealed, making you both laugh.

Spencer proposed to you about a year later. You’d both decided you didn’t want a huge wedding, just family and close friends. Rossi gave his backyard for you to use for the ceremony. It was simple and small, but it was special and wonderful. Spencer had flown Diana out, and you’d flown your parents out.

After the ceremony, Spencer announced that the both of you had a surprise for Ollie. He went inside Rossi’s house and returned with a manila envelope. He cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, in this envelope, I hold the most important document I have ever signed.” He opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. He cleared his throat. “This certificate certifies that Oliver B. (L/N) is the adopted child of Spencer W. Reid,” he read.

Oliver’s jaw dropped. “What? You’re- what?”

“Remember all those Saturdays Penelope watched you while Spencer and I went out? This is what we were doing,” you told him.

Oliver ran over to you and Spencer and wrapped you in hugs. The rest of Spencer’s team and your parents joined in. In just two years, your family had gone from just you and your son to more people than you knew what to do with. And that was more than okay with you.

“They may not have my eyes, they may not have my smile, but they have all my heart.” -Anonymous

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #x reader #em's fics

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softshuji · 2 years

Note

your perspective on baji being with a single mother who has a son

*rubs hands together* oh boy. So baji we know respects motherhood quite a bit and so it makes sense that he'd have no issues being with a single mother with a son. In fact I read a fic like this once. It wouldn't bother him at all that she had a kid that wasn't his and in fact I think he'd try super hard to be able to make the kid like him, and be the father the kid needs. He'd be on hand for everything. Sure he'd be a bit rough around the edges but he'd try and his heart would be in the right place.

He'd make sure you had everything you needed, he'd share the household chores, would be really forthcoming with helping and would try and make himself the perfect partner !

#tokyo revengers #toman #tokyo rev #baji keisuke #keisuke baji

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omg-imagine · 4 years

Text

⊱ Perfect to Me ⊰

Pairing: John Wick x Reader

Prompt(s): 6 - “I don’t like when you say things like that. To me, you’re perfect.” & 54- “You’re so perfect. And I’m so fucking lucky.”

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, body insecurity, teeny bit of angst, implied nsfw, and fluff!

Requested by Anon ♡

It was late in the midnight hour when a moment of calm finally arose, giving you a spare minute to breathe. As much as you loved your newborn Ellie, the transition to motherhood had been relatively challenging for you. Granted, a full two months would soon pass, but you were still struggling with finding a comfortable flow in this new chapter of life.

Amid your quiet interlude, you decided to take advantage of it by warming up a bath, a blissful way to end such a long, tiring day. The floor tiles were cold as you padded into the bathroom, exhaustion wearing you down to the bone. You only had four hours of sleep total the previous night, and there was no doubt that it would be the same case later on.

As the water in the porcelain tub began to fill, you stripped off your clothes that were stained with Ellie’s spit-up from earlier. One by one, you tossed each article into the laundry bin, and once you were nude, you happened to glance at the clear mirror behind the double sinks. Steam quickly filled the room, fogging up the entire glass but not enough that it hid your reflection away from you.

For a minute, you stared at the mirror image, the sound of the running faucet unable to drown out the insecure thoughts that were beginning to swirl inside your head. Pregnancy left noticeable changes on your body; from the weight gain to the stretch marks, the sight of it all made you feel less attractive, less desirable. You stood there in silence, scrutinizing every flaw you could see.

It was difficult to ignore those disparaging comments plaguing your mind, and they seemed to grow louder as time went on. Your deepest fear, however, was your husband viewing you the same way. It worried you how one day, he wouldn’t see you as the beautiful woman he fell in love with years ago, and the mere thought of it added on to your burdening stress.

“Baby?”

John’s soothing voice pulled you away from your thoughts momentarily, only noticing now that he was in the bathroom with you and had switched off the faucet before the tub could overflow. His gentle hand landed on your bare shoulder, softly squeezing to display both concern and reassurance. Slowly, he urged you to look at him, and you did, immediately meeting the earthy hues of his perturbing eyes.

“Hey,” you murmured, mustering up a tender smile. “Ellie’s asleep?”

“Yeah, she went down quicker than usual,” John replied, sighing. He looked at you for what seemed like a while, and you hoped that he couldn’t pick up the sadness spreading across your features. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course,” you feigned, though there was uncertainty in your tone. “I was just getting ready for bed.”

John shook his head as he whispered your name out loud. Your eyes dropped to the ground, letting a single tear fall down your cheek when you’re no longer able to hold it back. His palm gently cups the side of your face, wiping away the wetness pooling under your sullen eyes with the pad of his thumb.

“Tell me what’s wrong...” he softly implored, holding you close. John has always cared so greatly about you and seeing you this way was paining him in his chest. If he could, he would do anything in the world to make you forget.

But if only it were that easy...

With a deep exhale of breath, you then lifted your gaze. “I-I don’t know how to explain it, John. Every time I look in the mirror, I hate what I see. I can’t bear seeing even a glimpse of my reflection because it spurs all these bad thoughts about how ugly I am now and—”

“Baby, stop,” John ceased you mid-sentence, his expression showing immense disbelief. “I don’t like it when you say things like that. To me, you’re perfect.”

“I’m not perfect,” you muttered, unable to see yourself the way John does. “In a couple of years, you’re going to realize that it’s true.”

You were just about to brush past John when he suddenly reached his hand out and curled his fingers around your wrist, preventing you from leaving the space. “Turn around, sweetheart. I want to show you something.”

It took you a few seconds until you finally relented, allowing John to guide you back to the mirror. You stood in front of it, your husband lingering right by your side. “John, I’m tired. Can we please have this conversation another day?”

John doesn’t respond to your question. Instead, he pointed to the mirror, speaking with a voice laced with pure affection. “Do you see her?”

You briefly remained quiet, unsure where John was going with this. It wasn’t after he repeated himself did you provide an answer. “Yes.”

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

You still can’t see it.

“John, it’s okay. I’ll be okay. You don’t have to do this right now.”

“Y/N, please,” he sighed out. “Hear what I have to say.”

After a pause, you offered a nod for him to continue, deciding to push away your stubbornness and give your husband a chance to plead his case. You then focused your attention on the glass before you, gazing at the body you could barely recognize. The glaring imperfections stood out prominently to you and looking at them brought tears to your eyes.

From behind, John’s hands shifted to hold you by your waist, his long, elegant fingers caressing over the small round paunch of your belly. He rested his head on your shoulder, his hot breath tickling the delicate skin there as he spoke. “You see this? For nine months, this magnificent body did the most miraculous thing—it made life. It gave us our healthy, precious baby girl. Sure, it’s a little different now than before, but it’s your body, and I don’t love it any less. I promise you, Y/N, you are more beautiful now than when we first met. I will always love you and everything about you. Don’t ever forget that, okay?”

Silently, John pleaded with his warm, chestnut-kissed eyes, a pair that reminded you so much of Ellie, the greatest gift your body could ever give you. She was the light of yours and John’s lives, filling you with a love that you never knew existed until she came into the world. Because of Ellie, John permanently retired from the job you feared would take him from you, and he became the best father a man could ever be.

Understanding that now, you were extremely grateful for the body which gave you this wondrous life. The sacrifices were worth it, and you could finally see the beauty of it.

“Okay,” you smiled softly at John, who looked at you with nothing but a tremendous outpouring of love. “I won’t forget.”

“Good,” he sweetly beamed, eyes crinkling from the smile playing at his lips.

Turning to look at John, you leaned your face just a bit closer, letting your noses graze each other as his calloused hands slid up the curves of your supple figure. Five years together and the heat of his touch alone never fails to send a fire of desire through you.

Threading your digits into the length of his rave hair, you sealed your lips to his. John doesn’t waste any time, and without pulling away, he picks you up in his arms, hastily staggering out of the bathroom and towards the bed where he gently lays you down. As he hovered above, you could feel his hardness pressed against your hip while his eyes raked over your body, drinking in every single inch of you.

“You’re so perfect. And I’m so fucking lucky,” John purred against your skin, his breaths growing slow and ragged like yours.

“You know, I was planning on taking a bath before you showed up,” you giggled, watching as he eagerly stripped himself of his shirt and bottoms.

“After,” John waved off before his mouth pressed hot kisses down the valley of your plumped breasts, your soft skin deliciously contrasting with the roughness of his beard. “We have quite a while until Ellie wakes up for her feed, and right now, I want to prove to my wife how beautiful she really is.”

For a beat, you cradled John’s face between your hands, and as you stared deeply into his adoring eyes, it was apparent that out of the two of you, you were actually the lucky one.

Permanent Tags: @penwieldingdreamer @keandrews @feminine-machinegun @fanficsrusz @thehumanistsdiary @flaminasteroid @lussdew @unaspiringwritings @planetkt @breakthenight @baphometwolf666 @rdjloverxxx

#john wick x reader #john wick imagine #john wick fanfic #john wick x you #keanu reeves x reader

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voltives · 2 years

Note

How about a fic where Nadine reflects on motherhood in some way? Maybe remembering a hard time raising Roman or something?

hey anon, thank you for requesting this! i had so much fun doing this prompt, so i really hope you enjoy.

title: reminiscent

rating: g

words: 1.6k

characters: nadine + roman tolliver

fandom: madam secretary

also available at ao3 here

Her arms had ached from the motion of carrying so many books at a time. From old romance novels to encyclopaedias to musical librettos she sought out in the summer of ‘89. Occasionally, if a title had intrigued her enough, there was time to skim read and thumb over old notes she had made in the margins.

Living alone, she hadn't even realised just how much she had collected over the years. Books, photo albums, even records. Old souvenirs from dead friends. Unopened gifts that she realised were unopened for a reason, because memory had never served her well even despite her old age. None of it had been unkind, barely scratching the surface of the life she had led.

Nadine kept the letters and the memos and threw away much of the rest. Her heart had been different at the age of thirty, when she prioritised status and affiliation over anything, and ambition had driven her to heights she had never seen before. Once, she had been proud to serve her country. Nowadays, it was little more than that. What existed in its place was a faint sense of exhaustion weighing in her bones.

Rifling in a spare box, she glazed over the notes and the texts with little more than an informed hum. There were government statistics, old work documents, and… a red envelope. Papers she would have otherwise been relieved to throw away.

The envelope was covered in a handwriting that was familiar, perversely so, and she couldn’t quite pinpoint just when it was made. ‘For :)’ It read, in jaunty, barely legible writing. The smiley face had instinctively made her smile, even if the word next to it had been smudged to the point of being unrecognisable.

Withdrawing the single folded note inside, she didn’t miss the way her heart tightly clenched on the insides. Her hand began to tremble, as if maintaining such minimal strength was a task.

Nadine stared at the scrap of paper, running over lines and barely legible writing. Marks were made in the form of crudely drawn humans, stick-men-like, except one was bigger in size with rough swirls for hair and bug-like eyes. Beside it was an arrow with the words, ‘Mom,’ followed by a linking of hands and a smaller figure.

It was a portrait made by…

By…

She hasn’t spoken his name out loud for years. And yet, the memories were there. All twenty years of them, mismatched and aching and-

“My sweet baby boy.” Nadine speaks out loud without meaning to. She thumbs over the intricate folds, the text, even the small love hearts that were done in red marker, albeit rushed.

If she thinks hard enough, she can see him there - with tiny hands and a smile that lit up her whole world. If she wonders momentarily, she can see why her cruelty had wandered far enough for the rift to grow six years between contact. Maybe it was pointless to believe he would come back. She would never have forced him to.

Nadine misses him more than anything.

February 10th, 1992

“Roman…”

She crouches down so she is eye level with him. Between cries, he grabs tightly at her shirt, pulling and tugging at the fabric. It doesn’t feel normal for him to cry so much. She doesn’t even know why. He shakes her softly, expecting a response she doesn’t even know how to give.

“Mama!”

“I’m here, baby. I’m always here.” She coos, hesitantly rubbing the back of his head. God, at this rate - she would end up crying too. There was no way she could get fired again for her persistent tardiness. They needed to eat something more than just noodles and rice, and the evenings would spur on another wave of hunger headaches when there just wasn’t enough for both of them.

It doesn’t register that she might be late for yet another day at work until concern falls away into carefully tuned exasperation. There wasn’t enough time to arrange for someone to come by so early and at such late notice. Nadine slings an awkward arm around him, holding him close before reaching for the phone again and dialling once more.

There was one more person - maybe…

“Helen? Helen! Thank god you picked up. Could you come over and look after Roman for a few hours? I k-know I didn’t- it's just till lunch. I’ll come back for him, it's just that I’ve been too late- no? Please. I promise I’ll pay you this time- I just can’t-”

Her jaw clenched as the dial tone clicked, the phone balancing in the crest of her shoulder. There was only so much money left, and how would she even-

Her hands began to shake out of desperation, even when the back of her hand pressed against his forehead. Roman flinched away from her cold hand momentarily, shaking his head - or the pain – away.

He was burning up. Again? It had only been a month since-

“Mom, it hurts! My tummy hurts. I miss you. Please stay?” She was going to be fired again. It was her fault for not planning ahead, of course it was. If she left for work, nobody would be around to look after him, and to even consider leaving him again? It would break her heart.

But then that meant even more days of barely anything. Nadine would have to call him again, and explain. She couldn’t go through that again. Never. Tucking him further into the empty spaces of her body, she held him tight - smoothing down his hair and staring up at the ceiling, waiting for the tears to come.

Hunger stirred within her. She had to put her son first, it was integral that she had to make sure he was safe and fed and healthy before she even remotely considered herself. Another week of leftovers it was.

“I’m sorry it hurts, baby. Mama’s not going anywhere. I’m here. It’s okay.”

By the time the sun began to set, Nadine had already managed to re-organise seventy percent of her condo. The envelope had been a slight shock to her system, dredging a multitude of memories she hadn’t even realised had existed - but those years had represented something inexplicable and profound. Nadine separated them into boxes, categorised by years. She had put the remains of Roman’s old items at the back of the storage, only to be opened when she wanted another reminder.

Motherhood had never been kind to her.

It had eaten away at her conscience as the years passed. Words she had never managed to find the sentences for. Apologies that would never be enough. Nadine spent nights wondering how to fix what she had done, to repair the irreparable damage that occurred when her only son had hated her for something out of her control. She’d let the anger fade away instantly, because it was impossible to hold a grudge against her own son.

Even if she didn’t know.

Especially because she didn’t know.

“I spent a year depressed at Juilliard because of you, Mom And you had no idea, did you? No! Because you never fucking cared about me. You never asked how I was! You only ever care about projecting your failures onto me and suddenly, I’m not enough.”

Her throat began to tighten. The accusation felt like a dagger to the heart. She didn’t even know what to say. How could she have known? It wasn’t like he spoke to her. Did she call him enough? Of course she did, but the dropped calls had meant something. Maybe it was inevitable. Maybe she was just a shit parent.

Thoughts were running through her head at the speed of sound. She couldn’t even look him properly in the eye. Nadine couldn’t defend herself against his anger. Instead, she tried to keep her voice as level as possible.

“That’s not fair, Roman. You said you didn’t want to talk to me. I didn’t know-”

“It’s never your fault, is it? Of course it isn’t. Jesus Christ, it’s like I don’t even have a mother anymore.” He kept his head in his hands, pacing back and forth dangerously. She didn’t even know what to say in response.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I wish you’d told me. I’m so sorry.” She doesn’t know what else to say.

Nadine placed the final item in the box, a wooden sculpture resembling a pair of antlers from a Scandinavian province in the 90’s. That had completed her collection from her travels to the Nordic countries, and she even had the heart to think about sending Roman something as an act of good-will. She didn’t even know where he was. It was possible she’d never see him again for as long as she lived.

Nadine stood up and stretched, proud of being able to clean the place on her own. The floor still required a deep-clean, but for the most part - the boxes were organised and packed away, and a new set of souvenirs were on display in her front room.

After several hours of contemplation, she had decided to keep the photo of him in the black frame on the third shelf up. Even if she wanted to, it was almost impossible to remove, but the summer of ‘99 had brought back one of the happiest memories known to her. It was a reminder of her persisting, unconditional love for him.

To her, it was a recollection of an old life.

#nadine tolliver #madam secretary #roman tolliver #fic request #prompt fill #thank you so much for requesting <3 #my fics

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chaoticpoetic · 3 years

Text

Tracklisting

So far, the only track I’ve heard of is “Easy On Me,” and my best friend has told me it’s about Adele’s divorce. So, going to give my predictions for the songs based on their title alone.

1. Strangers By Nature I would LOVE to believe this is a meet-cute song. There’s the potential it’s about her son, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard a mother describe her child as a stranger by nature. Strangely, it hit a chord with me because it’s how I perceive my biological family. Should be people I know, love, etc. We’re connected by nature, but strangers. But knowing Adele, she’s opening with a power ballad about the distance in her marriage before her break-up. Expect tears early on.

2. Easy On Me So, what I know of so far is that this song is about Adele’s divorce, and was described as her way of explaining her divorce to her son. With a name like Easy On Me, you’d expect this to be about a simple, empowering decision. But my best friend shed more tears over this than I shed over the entire re-release of Red (Taylor’s Version). So, I’m expecting Adele to be telling us how the divorce was anything BUT easy on her. I’m out of tissues. I’m fucked.

3. My Little Love Hoping for a reprieve here, because this sounds like it should be a parent’s ode to their child. I swear to god, Adele. If it’s anything but... Either way, I’m still screwed.

4. Cry Your Heart Out So, I’m naively hoping that this song is her calling out toddler tantrums. “That’s it, darling. Cry your heart out in the middle aisle of Waitrose, just because I turned down your request for chocolate truffles. I’ll be over here writing a mocking song whilst I console myself with more wine.” I can hope, right? Yeah, I don’t believe that scenario, either.

5. Oh My God So, that stage where you’re fighting your significant other, throw your hands up in frustration and exclaim “Oh my god?!” I’m expecting that.

6. Can I Get It Adele? Babes? Is this a thirst track? Oooh, I hope so.

7. I Drink Wine Hadn’t registered the track name before describing my theory for ‘Cry Your Heart Out’. Isn’t it funny how we all hate wine until we hit... well, motherhood. “It’s one of Mummy’s five a day, darling. Eat your avocado toast.”

8. All Night Parking If this chronicles her finding out that her husband was cheating on her, because he parked somewhere else all night, I swear to god... IF it’s chronicling her experiences of dogging, I’m quitting Spotify.

9. Woman Like Me You know that moment you want to point out to your very-soon-to-be ex that they won’t find someone like you? This may indeed be that track. It feels like a stark callback to Someone Like You. People may indeed be easily replaceable in Adele’s discography.

10. Hold On Expecting this to fucking kill me. That period after a break up is rough. “Did I make the right decision?” “How the hell do I move on from this?” “Holy shit, I’m now a single parent...” The reality can really hit like a tonne of bricks. That’s what I’m expecting this to be about. I’m messaging my neighbour to apologise in advance for the earth-shattering sobs.

11. To Be Loved So, this could be about Adele saying she’s ready to be loved because she’s moved on. It MIGHT be happy. However, I’m fully expecting something resembling Taylor’s Tolerate It, talking about how she (or her ex) deserve to be loved. If you hear of oddly specific localised flooding in England, I’m fine!

12. Love Is A Game Theory time. Ms T Swift moved the release of Red (TV) forward to accommodate the release of 30. The two between them have created Sad Girl Autumn. Of course, Taylor’s just released State of Grace (TV) which includes the line “Love is a ruthless game, unless you play it good and right.” We also know a certain Ms T. Swift rather enjoys easter eggs of the not-so-chocolate variety. Could this be hinting at a collab?* Either way, expecting this to be about Adele falling in love with someone new, and the learning that goes into dating. Sometimes, it does feel like a game. And sometimes you date a headfuck who is JUST playing games.

*HOLY SHIT, so there’s rumours about it, but a source has denied it. Watching this space.

#adele #30 #kimliveblogs #kimliveblogsadele30

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saintshigaraki · 3 years

Note

oh saint ur resentful housewife / single married mother post reminds me so much of my mom im so glad to have read it. it makes me want to write it. i know my mom loves me but i often wonder what she would be like if she had just one chance of living a life without the pressure of children.

it's always a sort of bittersweet feeling when someone relates to my experience regarding the whole single married mother thing. on one hand, it's downright depressing how common it is, on the other hand it always makes me feel a little less isolated when it comes to sharing the same fears and worries with other people.

honestly ari, i can not stress enough how much i recommend writing about it. that post, for me at least, was extremely healing. it was a little painful (recounting that conversation with my mom was rough im not gonna lie) but so worth it in the end.

i try not to think too much on the what could have been stuff regarding my mother and what she could’ve done with her life. its sort of an it is what it is situation. i think the most important thing now is to learn from them. the pressure on women to have children is still present in our generation, it's dressed up a little differently, but still very much there.

but now, taking into account what we've learned from our moms, i think we can and should ask ourselves these questions when considering having children: do you really, really want a child? or is there an outside pressure or societal expectation you either consciously or unconsciously feel you need to follow? if you're planning on having a child with a partner and you're both planning on working, is your partner someone you can honestly and truly depend on to split the work of child-raising with you 50/50? what will you do if they don't? are you going to be okay with it if they don't?

theres far far more that should go into deciding to have a child than those questions but i've found they're a good place to start.

there is so much joy that can come from having and raising a child, but i've asked myself these questions and come to the conclusion that motherhood will never be for me. and that's okay! and it's okay if you do want children! it's just good to cover your bases, in a sense.

#ari 🌥#ask

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senseandaccountability · 4 years

Note

If you'll take another one from the poetry prompts, how about #50 (“With a memory all fragmented but inclined to miracles”)?

Small secret spaces Iron Bull’s Tamassran reflects on the boy she raised. Also on AO3: here

This is soft, okay? I’m soft for tiny babies and their not-mothers. * * *

They call her Aqun, a nickname that sticks through the years, though to all the children in her care, her flock of imekari, she is Tama. Tama with the stories, with the stern reprimands, with the cool hands in the middle of a sweaty nightmare. Some of the women work with paper and quill, some with breeding administration, yet some can be found in the temples and the hospital wings tending to those with the broken minds that qamak leaves behind. She has friends that re-educate and friends that deal with nothing but death, its final stages, its remains, its practical matters. Aqun considers herself lucky that her place is to work at the other end of things. Imekari are life, messy, brutal life that shakes her up every day, at every turn. It keeps her awake, it smashes her heart open. She will lose them. She will lose them all, but some will carry pieces of her with them as they go; it’s a thought that sits well with her, a flash of pride that she allows herself. A Tamassran’s job is to evaluate and educate; she isn’t meant to have favourites but she always has. She considers it a rebellion, a reward, or both. * Ashkaari is a big baby, arrives loud and dark-haired and screams for half a day when they place him in her arms. He’s the genealogical product of a Sten, now lost to glorious battle, asit tal-eb, and a re-educator nicknamed Asta though Aqun does not know this. The Tamassrans in charge of recording never show her the notes of the children given to her house. It would cloud her judgement, upset the scales. Aptitude triumphs over inheritance, as it must in any civilized society. Because he will not settle at night she rubs his back and stomach, sings to him to drown the screaming. He is meant to cry it out, they all are; infancy is a test, one of her old instructors echoes in her memory. But Aqun’s head hurts from listening, so she sings. A made-up song of a made-up nug, the king of all nugs, living in a cave. She feeds him another bottle of milk, mutters a rhyme she vaguely recalls from her own childhood and places her mouth against the crown of his head. A snug little nug, small as a bug. The baby looks at her, blinks, and falls asleep. The warm weight of him in her arms, the softness to his mouth, his tiny fists against her palm. That swelling in her chest, its terrible gentleness. The Qunari don’t have motherhood; she understands why.

* The streets boil in the afternoon heat but the heart of the classroom is cooled by heavy stone and clever architecture. Some of the smaller children shiver as they huddle over the letters, painstakingly forming them with mouth and quills. Baqo sits near Ashkaari and Vasaad, one head shorter than the boys but her mind is sharper, her feet faster, her capacity for mischief endless. They love her, magnificently; Vasaad and Ashkaari would both lay down their lives for the troublemaker with the red eyes. Words have always wielded themselves easily out of her, her mind is strong and supple and she makes up stories where the Qun ends, follows its logical conclusions into tales of dragons and war, of ancient times and endless knowledge. “Tell me about the green dragons in the desert again,” Ashkaari implores, big and towering but gentle, his hands shields rather than weapons. He’s apt at storytelling himself, prone to the fantastic and the untrue. Vasaad heeds them both, moving around them like a protector.

Tama allows them slices of freedom when she can. Moments of play, of pretends. Soon enough they reach their true calling and get scattered across the North but days like today, there are green dragons and friendship, willfully blind eyes and make-believe. *

The Arvaarad comes for Baqo only months later, in the middle of the day, as the other children make equations and build models. Four men march in and lift her up, without a word. Her eyes are wide with fear, her mouth open in a silent scream and Vasaad holds Ashkaari back - or perhaps it’s the other way around, perhaps it will never truly matter. They are two now where they used to be three. Aqun shoves the children back into the classroom, hands on their shoulders, their backs. Herding them like cattle. It’s not a bad metaphor; cattle, too, are meant to serve. “She will serve the Qun with honour,” she tells Ashkaari; his eyes are narrow and dark. “She has found her purpose,” she tells Vasaad who stares back at her, his lower lip trembling. They do not cry over saarebas, she reminds them. They do not cry over finding one’s place, wherever and however that place may appear. The one who was called Baqo takes the chains, takes the stitches and Aqun thinks she can feel them, every single one.

The one who was called Ashkaari becomes Hissrad, becomes a grown man so tall and broad of shoulder that Aqun ages a decade just looking at him. He still calls her Tama, still comes by to see her though he has no reason for it anymore. She tells him this once and he scoffs. They share a mindset, she knows, a flair for the inappropriate, a disregard for the brutality of absolute truths. Some days she thinks that it is her greatest failing that she has allowed it to slip into him, a poison in his soul.

* She learns that Hissrad has been given command. That he’s tracking down Tal-Vashoth. That he’s transferred to Seheron. What an honour, she says to everyone who needs to hear it. Basks in the knowledge that she had been right, that she had seen the boy’s cleverness behind those fists, the sharp wit inside the body of a warrior. The other Tamassrans nod and tut, the way they do. All of them know there is also regret, unspoken, treacherous regret for every name they put down on the lists for the positions that will take their imekari far away, into danger and death. The one that was called Ashkaari, who slept soft-faced and defenseless in her arms when no one was looking, takes the orders he is given and Aqun thinks she can feel them, every single one, the devastation of them rattling inside her chest. * Once, he comes to visit. He’s in Par Vollen, temporarily liberated of the burdens of Seheron, his face cut in stone but his embrace is tight and warm and Aqun smiles into the crook of his neck when he lifts her up from the ground. He’s brought cocoa beans and spices; she makes supper and refrains from staring at him like an overbearing old Tama. They don’t speak much at all; he stays the rest of the day. * Once, in the Viddathlok of Qunandar, she sees him when he has returned. He’s shipped from the island of asala-taar like a caged beast, rumour has it; he arrives in chains and is accompanied by soldiers on each side of him. The gossip is unremorseful, crisp, but it tastes of ashes. They had found him surrounded by so many dead they had lost count. That’s a lie, Aqun knows, they always count. The Qun is nothing if not a balance. Ashkaari who used to fear demons, his teeth clattering in the dark, his hands tugging at hers. They get inside your mind, he says. I don’t know how to hit things that live in my head. Hissrad who spends two months with the re-educators but they refuse his request for qamak. It’s partly her fault that they send him off, his faith broken and his mind all fragmented but inclined to miracles. The one that got away. * The one who was called Hissrad becomes the Iron Bull and Aqun first hears it in the queue outside the baker, waiting for her daily bread, then from an agent with red eyes and a hoarse voice.

She hears it and all the way home, her heart hammers the rhythm of the words. He got away, he got away. The Ben-Hassrath agents frown over her, towering like conquerors before a bas and Aqun looks them in the eyes and says: “yes, I failed. I should have seen. He was unfit for the job. I will do better, allow me to make amends.” Says it, while she thinks run, Ashkaari, there is much to struggle against, you always knew. There’s a note, deep and low, singing of her own defiance and she thinks one of the agents can hear it because he holds her gaze for so long Aqun begins to prepare for her own re-education. Then he lets her go. She’s old, she’s beginning to lose her rough edges and her patience shrinks with every passing day, they don’t count on her to rectify her mistake; they let her go. They will go after him instead. * Years later, she hears the news in the streets outside the market. This time, no one deems her in a position to have the reports so she has to make do with gossip. They tell her the attack that Par Vollen loudly condemns while sending resources to Orlais, sneaking ships and coin past all boundaries, has been a failure. That the Inquisition still has the Tal-Vashoth in their midst, that he had not listened to reason or respected the chain of command. They tell her the Viddasala’s direct orders had been refused by the one they once called Hissrad. Nothing but a savage now. His soul is dust. He’s lost. The words sound like curses but they fall like relief in Aqun’s chest, fall like tears on her aging hands that used to hold him. She has educated her last flock of imekari, told her last batch of night time stories. They have been so many, her body is full of their voices, their faces, their nicknames. She has been theirs. Some of them, like Ashkaari, have been hers. She will lose them all but some will carry pieces of her as they go and she has given him her heart, as much of it as he has ever dared to give and loved him in all the small, secret spaces she was never allowed.

#prompt fic #brightoncemore #the iron bull #iron bull #dragon age

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magicofthepen · 3 years

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i am Extremely interested in the titles of every single one of your wips but i am actually begging you for details on 'Veega my beloved' because she is also my beloved <3 (🤝 our unity bullshit ❤❤)

Send me a WIP doc title (list here) and I’ll talk about it!

I’ve had “something Leela/Veega” on my fic idea list since Time War 3 came out....but it’s your fault that this fic has skyrocketed to the top of my priorities now, thank you so much for jumping into this sandbox with me <33

Initially I wasn’t sure whose pov I wanted to write from – we know Leela, we know her baggage going into this world and this relationship, and exploring all those internal emotions could be really interesting? But at the same time we don’t know Veega very well and so *insert “It’s Free Real Estate” gif*

So the project evolved from “something Leela/Veega” to “Veega character study” because I realized if I was writing from her pov, I wanted/needed to know what baggage she’s carrying when she meets Leela, and that means this fic has to be about her life and her backstory.

I keep thinking about Unity as the end-of-the-line, a place people end up when they have nowhere else to go (I feel like there’s actually a quote about this but I can’t find it right now so it’s possible I made that up?) So I see Veega’s backstory as one of running, of losing one home and building another and losing that one too. There’s tragedy throughout her life, but she keeps choosing to create a home as much as she can wherever she is, and keeps choosing to love even in this universe that’s tearing itself apart.

And since Veega’s father was a soldier who died in battle (and she references the battle by name when she’s talking to Romana, as if Romana would have heard of it), I see her story as one of running from the Time War specifically – sometimes she’s ahead of it, sometimes it catches up to her and tears at her world.

The fic is going to be structured around that idea of loss and rebuilding – I’ve kind of split it up in my head into the different families she builds throughout her life? So starting off with the family she was born into – her parents, I’ve invented a younger sibling – and seeing where she grew up and what that world and that family was like (I’m thinking maybe she originally grew up on a farm, and so there’s a ‘coming full circle’ narrative with the farm on Unity, and also she’d have certain skills and memories to lean on when she’s starting the farm on Unity later in life?). And then how that world falls apart – the death of her father and something that forces her family to run/scatter in some way (still working on this bit).

For her second family (when she’s a young adult), I have vague ideas for this group of twentysomethings all on their own who become close friends as they’re all thrown into the same work environment or running in the same direction together.....again, a lot of the details of this fic are still tbd. But I think this part is likely to be quite spaceship-based? It’ll depend on what I decide for how she got separated from her mother and sibling and what kind of work she gets involved with (Veega’s work experience/background is something I’m still thinking about).....but if the first part and next part of the fic are very grounded on a particular planet, I like the idea of telling a story here about her finding a home while hopping from place to place – there's never the same ground under her feet, but there are the people she loves around her.

And then we hit Things Get Bad, Round 2. Also very nebulous right now? In general, I don’t want to just kill of or have her get separated from everyone she’s ever loved throughout her life, but she is definitely quite alone by the time she meets Leela so.....yeah it can’t really be a happy backstory?

But I think Rayo’s father is going to be one of the people in that friend group, so there’s some continuity-of-family there? And I can get into the backstory of that relationship, and then how they eventually ended up alone together on Unity. And this is the third family – the two of them setting up this life on the farm, and Veega getting pregnant, and them preparing for this kid who they’re so ready to love and do everything they can to shield from the war.

And then, not long after Rayo is born.....yeah. (This fic really is just me continually ripping the ground out from under Veega’s feet unfortunately, but also that cycle of loss is what I want to explore – particularly because it parallels how Leela keeps losing one home and finding another one, so by the time they meet they’ve both loved and lost so much - but they still choose to love again.)

So Rayo’s father dies, Veega’s alone with baby Rayo on the farm, things are very rough.....and then Leela shows up, injured and alone, running from the city and the slavers she recently escaped from. And I’m going to spend quite a bit of time on this family (of course). The early days: Veega taking Leela in and taking care of her, Leela protecting her and Rayo (if Leela’s way of dealing with grief is throwing herself into a fight, Veega’s is throwing herself into caring for others). Them learning to communicate (bc language barrier – I could handwave it and say the Trell, who must have given Leela the ability to speak the language on that planet in Mother Tongue, left her with that ability – but I want to try exploring the idea of not having a translator?). And the eventual shock of learning that Leela’s from Gallifrey, and processing that (honestly I could write a whole fic just on that, so I’ll probably just touch on it here?). Growing into being a family, falling in love (and I know it’s from Veega’s pov, but I’ll have to at least indirectly touch on Leela’s motherhood-related trauma and initial wariness around Rayo because of it, and Leela’s complicated emotions towards Romana and Narvin and how there isn’t any closure there so it’s hard to let go?)

One thing I haven’t completely decided is the exact relationship backstory I’m going with for Leela and Romana and Narvin in this fic – it’s not something the fic will get into too much, but I’d like to know in my head? But there is a good chance I’ll end up making this fic What We Choose compliant. I want my post-Time War fic to be a WWC ‘verse fic and I want to get into Leela’s grief for Veega in that fic, so it is all nice and convenient if all the fics can co-exist in the same universe, even if the Veega fic won’t formally be part of that series? And I like the idea of there being an overtly romantic backstory there, because then I can explore how not ever ending things with or being able to talk with Romana and Narvin affects Leela re: getting into a relationship with Veega.

I would actually want to explore a different relationship backstory for those three for the Everyone Escapes Unity AU.....but that’s not an active project/as likely to actually get written, so I probably won’t let that factor into things.

And back from that tangent: so eventually, we once again hit the Things Go Wrong times – the raids keep getting worse and worse. The shadow of the Time War is looming.

Veega gets sick.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted this fic to go right up until her death but I think it will – because I want to touch on Romana and Narvin showing up, and how Veega resents them for crashing into her life but also is glad that they’re hear because maybe Leela will have people to lean on after Veega is gone. Maybe, if they get the TARDIS, Leela and Rayo can run when they need to and continue to keep away from the war as long as they can.

Stylistically, this fic’s gonna be along the lines of knock the ice from my bones or leaned in and let it hurt, with shorter scenes spanning a (in this case very) long range of time. It’s in vague outline stage right now – I’ve got this general structure, but I’m in the process of figuring out what scenes I actually want and making actual proper backstory decisions. It has the potential to end up quite long, but I also don’t want to go overboard – there’s a lot of coloring in the lines I could do in future fics, this one is meant to sort of sketch an outline of her life? So I want to make sure I’m being selective with how many and which scenes I’m including, and if they’re each contributing to the thematic through-lines.

So this fic is gonna take a little while, but most definitely watch this space :)

#unity family #leela x veega #gallifrey audios #veega #leela #sircarolyn #thank you for sending this!! <33 i love talking about the unity family #i don't have anything written yet and i'm in the process of starting to recover from major burnout #so my writing might be even slower than usual over the next many months #but i am committed to this fic especially <3 #ramblings #asks

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