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funnywiccanwritingcorner · 1 year

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Le joyau le plus precieux

A Lucky Luke Modern!AU fanfiction

Chapter III - Family

Days passed. Although he still let Lucky Luke slip away, the police chief wrote a note of praise to Joe Dalton for recovering the loot. Everyone congratulated him, but the detective cared little: he was still emotionally messed up. For everyone his was a victory, but for him it was an embarrassing memory that he would never recount. Besides, that damned thief had filled him with a lot of questions: why was he stealing? Although this one wasn't actually new, it had just taken on a different meaning. What did he mean by trusting him? Besides, what was he doing with one stolen item at a time? He rested his face on his desk, huffing. The forensic analysis of the bag containing the jewellery had led to nothing; it was spotless and without fingerprints. They had nothing in their hands. The most frustrating thing, though, was being... wooed? There was no other way to describe it. Yes, being wooed by that hottie. Worse, he couldn't get that persuasive voice out of his head that said “I'll show up”.

Joe was going crazy.

Was the thief going to keep that kind of promise?

-Detective Dalton?- A squeaky female voice announced the entry into the office of a young woman with voluminous red hair in a suit. -Betty, I already told you, you can call me Joe...- -We're at work, I'm trying to be professional!- she joked. -You're Averell's fiancée, practically one of the family.- -But I'm also the department's psychologist. Speaking of which, I'd like to remind you that our weekly session has moved to Thursdays, at least for a while.- -Problems?- -I am under pressure to accommodate external agents in my office, my schedule is full. But I'm always there for my future brother-in-law!- winked the woman. -You are kind. Thank you. But at the moment my only worries are about work, as usual.- Betty gave him one last understanding smile before opening the door again, but froze: -What a fool! I almost forgot: later on I will send you through Pierre some permits to sign; these are therapeutic leaves that I recommended myself. The captain can't take care of it, and I need a valid name.- -Of course, that's fine.- Leaving the office, the redhead crossed a short corridor until she met the other three Dalton brothers at an appointed point. Immediately William asked her:

-So? Everything OK? -No. He seems a bit tired, and says he's worried about work, but I think he's hiding something.- -Maybe you should prepare a leave of absence for him too; you know, this Lucky Luke thing puts a lot of pressure on him- Averell said. -I could do that, but I'm sure he would answer that he doesn't need it.- -He's been weird ever since he stopped Lucky Luke from stealing from the Palace of Versailles- observed Jack, -maybe he's not happy that he escaped.- They continued to speculate until lunchtime; the four brothers stood in the hall and all went out together.

There was a diner, not far from the departmental headquarters, called “Mère L'Oie”, where they always went to eat. Wedged between the shop of a well-known shoe brand and a perfumery, it was distinguished by its lemon-yellow sunshade awning and sign, where above the name was painted a row of ducklings following their mother; the latter carried a wicker picnic basket in her beak. It was Averell who had suggested it as a “favourite lunch spot”: the portions were generous and every Wednesday there was raspberry tart for dessert. They even had a table practically reserved, near the large window overlooking the street.

It was when it was time to order the second course that William brought up the subject of Lucky Luke to test the waters: -So, Joe, do you have a new plan in the pipeline?- -Please?- His brother was overthinking, fiddling with a corner of his napkin. -Lucky Luke. What are you going to do with him?- -Well... I would say that at the moment deploying extra forces was not effective. I need to go over a few things, it's gonna take a while.- -Whatever. If I have to do some research...- -Let's check the list we've already drawn up- Joe cut in short, -How about chicken cutlets with fries?-

To call a house “cozy” is just another way of saying it is small. Back then, the Dalton brothers house could be described as very cozy, to some as stuffy. Because you know, most males are messy, and even though Joe had established rules and cleaning routines from the start, only the youngest seemed to abide by them to the letter. A flat consisting of three rooms, a bathroom and a kitchen/dining room/living room. To them it was a castle. Averell claimed it was a metaphor for their close bond. After all, they had always done everything together, from primary school to the police academy, as well as mischief when they were kids.

Yes, they were real hooligans: they lit firecrackers under their grandfather's armchair, attached cans to their cat's tail, and once they grew up they went on to smash shop windows and vandalise in every way possible. Their mother, exasperated, literally dragged them out of their small American town by the ears to take them to Europe, to Paris, and to teach them discipline she sent them off to make their bones as police cadets.

And there they were, gathered on the couch after a day's work of patrols, paperwork and reporting, munching popcorn and watching a movie, annoying each other from time to time; Averell was the favourite target because he was ticklish. -But wouldn't it be simpler to freeze that parasite?- commented William, -I mean, if it has acid blood, it seems the logical thing to do.- -Shush, I want to follow!- Jack scoffed. The younger man clutched a pillow in his arms, curled up in his seat: -Joe, there are no such beasts, are there?- -No, Averell, they don't exist- the elder replied boredly, -And look, the guy's fine, he pulled that thing off himself.- But at the next scene, much more horrifying than the first, Averell hid his face in his pillow: -How disgusting!- -Come on, he just got a little monster out of his stomach!- remarked one of the twins with an evil giggle, who exchanged a fist bump with the other. -Iiiiiihh!!! Stop it!!- Joe turned off the television set: -Ok, that's enough! Off to bed!- -But Joe...- -If you don't want to do the dishes for a week, obey.- So shortly afterwards it was his turn to go and reassure Averell that no aliens would bite his face off during the night. A typical evening at the Dalton house.

Seeing his younger siblings sleeping blissfully, the twins in their bunk beds and the younger one hugging his pillow mumbling in his sleep, was something that always made Joe feel good. He scolded them often, and sometimes they fought by punching each other, but the affection that bound them together was evident. The eldest was always the last to go to sleep, partly because he wanted to make sure everything was locked up, and also because he always lingered watching Paris at night from his window, with the streetlights casting a yellowish glow over the streets and pavements. Suddenly his mobile phone rang. He went to look: unknown number. He answered anyway, with a brief hesitation: -Hello?- -Hello, Detective Dalton.-

#lucky luke #joyau #joe dalton #modern au #fanfiction

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winterscaptain · 3 years

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a horrible first.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: this takes place during rite of passage, where the unsub is the cop committing murder of undocumented immigrants crossing the border. we pick up right at the end, at the quasi-standoff in the desert. let me know what you think and i hope you enjoy it!!

words: 1.3k warnings: language, canon-typical violence and death, reader shoots and kills the unsub, mild dissociative symptoms following trauma, nothing too horribly graphic

summary: “the true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.” ― g.k. chesterton. au!march 2010

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

You brace yourself for a screaming stop in the SUV, immediately following Aaron to cover as Boyd flies out of the decrepit structure on an ATV, firing an automatic weapon of some kind.

You take a shot.

Time seems to slow as you watch Boyd go down, tzhe innocuous red dot in the middle of his forehead beginning to weep even before he hits the ground.

Derek fires his rifle from inside the car, but the deed is done. Boyd’s dead.

Aaron raises his head. If you had your wits about you, you’d see him counting off, making sure all of you are there. “You all right?”

“Yeah!” Morgan shouts as he leaves the car, but you’re stuck in place.

“No!” Emily immediately answers, turning on Derek. “Are you out of your mind? You blew out my eardrum.”

Aaron’s been there - the ringing is damn near unbearable.

“What did you want me to do? He was coming right at us!”

“I told you I had him.” She’s holding both hands over her ears, but you’re sure that’s not the only reason Derek’s raising his voice.

“He was shooting at us, Emily.”

“Well, you could have given me a heads-up!”

“The loaded MP-5 and the lunatic shooting at us wasn't enough? Come on.”

Aaron lets them bicker, but notices something odd.

You haven’t moved. You’re staring at Boyd’s body, your service weapon still in your shaking hand, your breath shallow.

He approaches you slowly from the side, extending a hand toward your gun. He says your name quietly, but you can’t hear him. He repeats himself and you startle as he gets a little closer.

He’s not as brave as you were when you pulled him off Foyet. He’s almost afraid to touch you, afraid you’ll hurt yourself or draw away from him.

The look on your face also scares him - it’s simultaneously blank and absolutely horrified. For a moment, he thinks back and realizes, with a little bit of shock, that he knows what it is.

You’ve never shot to kill before.

“Hey hey hey,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. He places a hand over the barrel of your gun. “Give that to me, okay?”

Another voice echoes in front of you. It’s Derek, who’s reached Boyd’s body. “Great shot, kid! Right between the eyes on a moving target. They teach you that at the academy?”

You let Aaron take your weapon from your hand, blinking a couple of times. He flips the safety and tucks it into his pants at his lower back, keeping his hands free.

Derek catches on, turning around and sobering.

Aaron can feel the rest of the unit creep up behind him, but he waves them off. They take a few steps back, watching with bated breath.

They all remember the first time they shot an unsub, their first kills in the field. A horrible, wretched first.

“Can you take a step back toward me?” Aaron asks.

You take a step back and trip, stumbling over your feet.

Aaron’s there to catch you under your arms, pulling you close. All at once, the levee breaks and you let out a sob, turning into him for refuge.

He closes his eyes and wraps around you. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You did the right thing. It’s okay.” He huffs, and it’s almost a laugh. “That was a really good shot.”

You clutch his vest, your arms locked around his waist. He keeps whispering to you as the crime scene techs arrive and start their work, shielding you with his body.

+++

You sleep on the plane home. Aaron sits across from you, working on the after-action report on your behalf. He looks up every couple of minutes as if he’s afraid you’ve disappeared in the time between his last check-in and that moment.

Derek, Spencer, and Emily watch him watch you.

“That sucks,” Emily says. “My first hit me hard, too, I think, but like… days later.”

Derek nods. “Yeah. It’s a shitty first, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I’m glad Hotch is over there. Probably the best person for this kind of thing.”

“Best person for the kid, too,” Dave says. Derek and Spencer frown.

Dave continues, clarifying, “Every one of us has someone we prefer when the day gets hard, whether we know it or not. Anchors, if you will. Good to have.” He looks over at the two of you again and doesn’t elaborate further.

You stir, and when you open your eyes, there’s a fresh glass of cold water next to you on the little side table. You take it gratefully, taking a couple of sips.

Aaron watches you orient yourself, check the time, and start your search for your report.

“I’ve got it here,” he says, offering it to you. “You have a bit more to do, and I have to keep your gun until all the paperwork goes through - protocol for use of lethal force with a firearm. It’s a simple review, no need to worry.”

You nod, taking it and thumbing through the extra pages in the back. You’ll probably ask Derek about the best way to fill them out.

Could ask Aaron, too.

Hotch.

Ask Hotch.

“How should I fill these out?

He takes a second, interrupting his own reply to stand and promptly plop himself in the seat beside you. “First things first - tell the truth. You did the right thing and nobody in their right mind will dispute that.”

“Thanks.”

The shadow of a smile passes across his face. “You’re lucky - this is cut and dry. Not all of us get a dirty cop on an ATV wielding an MP-5 for our first review.”

“Lucky?” You sound skeptical, at best.

His mouth quirks. “I know. Poor choice of words. You’ll probably have some rough nights. Do you want me to set up an appointment with the psychologist? The unit technically has one on retainer but -”

“You never use them because you’d rather hold all your emotions right there -” You poke his chest “- until you die?”

The little smile appears again. “You been listening to Haley again?”

“What, from beyond the grave? You bet. So, watch your ass, Hotchner.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll be sure to do that.” He sobers, his eyebrows pinching in an adorable look of concern. “But really, if you want…”

“That might be nice, actually. To talk to someone.”

“And you know you can always come to me, right?”

You nod. “Of course.”

The dull hum of the plane fills the silence between you for a little while.

“I was really scared, Hotch.”

He resumes his listening posture, leaning on his elbow with his fingers laced together.

“It all happened so slow - and so fast? - at the same time. I don’t know. He just… He went down and I was so afraid that he’d shot Derek or Emily I mean -” You take a breath. “I heard the gunfire behind me and the glass breaking and I just didn't want to turn around and find them dead you know?”

“Yeah,” Aaron whispers. “I know.”

“I was so stuck that I didn’t even realize Derek was talking to me - he was right in front of me and I couldn’t see him. And then I started thinking about Boyd and all that hate and…”

You trail off, unable to continue with any degree of coherency, so you ask a question instead.

“Is it always this hard? Does it get easier?”

Aaron wavers for a minute. “Yes and no. It’s never ideal - you know you’ve made a mistake when you have to use lethal force, but you get more confident about making the right call in those situations as you see more of them. You’ve been with us for two years - I’m - No.”

He stops and his brow crumples.

“I was going to say I’m surprised you made it this far, but I’m not. I’m impressed. And proud. It took a dirty cop on an ATV -”

“Wielding an MP-5?” You finish for him.

“Yeah. It took that much for you to pull your trigger with any lethal intent, and even then you didn’t want to. The entire way you were talking about a de-escalation strategy - don’t think I didn’t hear you.”

A flicker of warmth blossoms in your chest and maybe, just maybe, you feel a little better.

+++

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#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #tali talks cm #tali writes fanfiction #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 3 years

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White Lies (Pt. 13 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 2.7 K

Summary: Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she's pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she'll wake up soon, with her memories intact.

But when you finally wake up, there's nothing inside. You're quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can't wait to meet him, because you know you can't deal with this by yourself.

<- Previous part (12)

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{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

Change Of Heart

“You and Daniel were in a relationship that ended sometime before we met,” Keanu says, gathering his stuff as you do the same, both starting to take the baggage to the living room. “He is Mrs. Davis' son, and I guess she didn't like much when you two broke apart.”

“And where is this Daniel now? I'd like to meet him if he's part of my past.” You stop by the door, as Keanu checks on his phone for the car he just called.

But he puts his phone away, eyes on you. “Daniel passed away a week before your accident.”

“Oh...” You whisper, looking down. “So that's why Lucia got so sad when I said we weren't considering the name.”

“Yeah.”

Furrowing your eyebrows at his weird expression, you step forward and tiptoe, placing a kiss on his lips. “Let's go home, babe.”

•••

Going back home happened without any incidents. But the next days were filled with medical appointments. You assure him you're fine, but Keanu seems to be in an urge to make sure you're completely fine. You try not to complain about it, but things get weird when you notice a strange expression on his face. For too many times to count you caught him looking like he was just about to say something, but for some reason, he gives up. It makes you confront him a couple of times, but he assures you he's just worried as the pregnancy goes on.

Some weeks go by, and you're getting impatient to find out the baby's sex. On your many ultrasounds, they're always on a position that makes it impossible to see it. But you're hopeful for today, and, as you lie on the bed with Keanu, your back against his chest, you take in the soft morning light.

Keanu has an arm around her waist, a hand caressing her belly. Her bare back keeps his body warm, and despite the constant feeling that time is running short, he places kisses on her neck.

He was supposed to tell her the truth weeks ago, the moment they got back from Miami, but he just couldn't. This went too far, he went too far. In every possible aspect. Keanu didn't only fell for her, but he was intimate with (Y/N) too many times to count, and that makes him feel more guilt than anything else.

Her second trimester is just about to end, and now, he's caught in between. Again, for the millionth time, Keanu is caught in between two feelings. His love and his morals.

In his defense, Keanu did try to break the news several times. The words, the destructive, dangerous words were at the tip of his tongue, ready to desolate his life. But they got stuck, and he was too weak at the thought of losing her. Of losing the baby that he loves so much. It doesn't matter how many times he reminds himself the kid isn't his, he's failing to get this fact to grow roots in his heart. Keanu loves the child as if it's his own.

Guilt threatens to devour him entirely sometimes, but right now, in this moment, happiness suppresses everything else. This is his personal paradise, with her, the baby, healthily growing inside her.

Keanu always wanted a family. Settle down, take less and smaller roles. But nobody ever made him feel like he could. Of all the women he dated, nobody ever made him feel like he would give up everything. He thought he knew what love was, and he thought it wasn't as strong as people say... But now, life proved him wrong. This is love, a wrecking ball that came and destroyed his walls, his heart, his wrong perceptions. If only it happened some other way. If he wasn't caught up in this web of lies.

Dr. Harris wasn't happy to know he was sleeping with her. (Y/N) told her, of course, and even though it was in her usual shy and reserved way, the psychologist got the meaning behind the words. And she confronted him, very harshly, and Keanu could do nothing but listen and agree. Because this is wrong. This is the worst kind of betrayal.

(Y/N) moves a little, breathing deeply as she wakes up. A hand finds his, pulling it to her chest, placing a soft kiss on his fingers. “Morning.” She whispers, voice still clouded by sleep. She's used to it now, Keanu is always awake first.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He replies, fingers caressing her chin. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, but I miss lying on my stomach.” She complains, turning around and snuggling into his chest. “What time is it? We have an ultrasound.”

“I know. And we should probably start getting ready.”

“Alright.” (Y/N) mutters, but doesn't give any signs she'll move anytime soon.

But he knows what today is all about, and it will certainly make her excited. “Hopefully we'll finally find out if this little one is Sophie or Liam.”

“Yes!” Immediately, she pushes herself up, an arm sustaining her weight as she looks down at Keanu. And he tries not to stare at her nude figure, even though this is silly compared to everything they're done. Still, he thinks he should at least try. “The baby must be in a good position today. I can't wait anymore.” With that, she's up, smiling as she makes her way to the bathroom.

And Keanu is left behind on the bed, surrounded by his bad decisions. Maybe this is the right time. Maybe, being this happy, she won't hate him so much.

With a lump in his throat, he goes on with his routine, until they're almost ready to go. Keanu waits by the bedroom door frame as she fixes her hair, the bathroom door half open. This is way too sudden, but if he doesn't do that now, if he waits any longer, he'll never be ready. He'll never be brave or strong enough to do this. He took too long already. Now, he can only hope, pray, that this will somehow end up the way he wants.

That he won't lose her.

The moment he sees (Y/N) walking out of the bathroom, Keanu gives a step forward, arms crossed, heart beating so fast it threatens to jump off his chest. The words are at the top of his tongue when his eyes take in her posture. (Y/N) holds the skirt of her blue dress up, all the way to the top of her thigh with one hand, and on the other, there's blood. Bright and red, staining her fingers and the palm of her hand. His eyes turn to her face, blank, scared as she looks at him.

Without thinking too much, his mind on the verge of collapsing, he forces himself to move, quickly making his way over her.

You hate the smell of the soap they have here. You hate this hospital and what it means when you're brought here. It's only far worse now. You're still trying not to burst into tears, trying not to break down again. There's no pain, so that's good. And no more bleeding, which is even better. The feeling you got when you found blood on your underwear was the worst thing in the world. For a moment, a desperate moment, you thought you were going to lose the baby. You wanted to yell, but you didn't have it in you.

If it wasn't for Keanu, you don't know what you'd do.

Now, still walking terribly slow out of nervousness, you leave the hospital bathroom, finding Keanu seated on the edge of your bed, already looking at you.

“Hi, beautiful.” He says, and you remember this was one of the first things he said to you. “Come and lie down. Why did you put the dress on again?”

“Because it's clean and I don't want to stay here.” Instead of doing as he said, you stand before him, your forehead on his chest. “I thought I was going to lose our baby.” Your voice cracks as some tears roll down, arms around his midsection.

“I already spoke to the doctor.” Immediately, you pull away, just enough to look into his eyes. “He assured me you're both alright.”

“Are you sure, Ke?” You plead, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I almost lost my mind.”

“He wants you to rest and that's all. He–” He's cut short by the door being open, and you see Dr. Wright and your obstetrician.

“First of all, you must know the baby is alright.” Dr. Williams says as she comes closer, a tablet on her hands. “Sometimes, such discharges happen, mostly as you progress from the second to the third trimester.” She kindly smiles. “Everything you two need to do is keep up the good job. Make sure to rest, eat healthily, and exercise. But I'll recommend you to lie down for the rest of the day, ok?”

“Ok.” You quickly agree.

“It would be good to avoid surprises. The bad ones at least.” Dr. Wright adds, oddly staring at Keanu. But that's normal, he still needs to look after you, so some things are directed to him. “But we have good news today, right, Dr. Williams?”

“Yes.” From under the tablet, she takes a picture from the ultrasound and hands over to you. “The baby was in a good position and we already know the sex.”

“Oh my God.” You exclaim, smiling for the first time since the incident. “What is it?”

Dr. Williams smiles, exchanging a glance with Dr. Wright. “Mr. and Mrs. Reeves, you'll be having a baby boy.”

“It's Liam!” You yell, throwing your arms around Keanu again. “I was right!”

“You were right.” He agrees, a second before you kiss him, not minding the audience.

“Well, you're free to go home. And call me if you need anything.” Dr. Wright says and the obstetrician agrees before they both leave.

At least something good happened today. You'll finally be able to paint the blank white walls of the baby's bedroom, and buy what you still need.

“I was right.” You repeat, smirking at Keanu. “But we can try again and maybe it'll be a girl. I mean, if we ever spoke about having more than one kid.” Blushing a little, you bite your lip. There are still a lot of things you need to be updated on, and you still get a little sad when it happens.

“I'd love to have more kids if that's what you want, sweetheart,” Keanu says and you smile, kissing him again. “But now let's go home. You need to lie down for the day.”

“Can we stop and buy the paint for Liam's room? We already know the color so it'll only take a minute.” You know you have to rest, but you can't help but feel excited for finally being able to finish off the baby's bedroom. “Please? I'll stay in the car.”

Keanu gives you a look because sometimes you don't always do as you said you would. “Fine, but you won't be painting anything. I can do it myself.”

Nodding, you watch as he takes your bag and guides you out of the hospital room you hate so much. Hopefully, there will be a day you won't have to keep coming here, not because of some incident and not for any appointments.

You did wait in the car this time, and as much as you wanted to hit the mall and buy everything blue and green, Keanu forces you to give up the idea and head straight home. And when you get there, you have his undivided attention. He doesn't only make an incredible lunch, and an incredible dinner, he gives your legs a massage, and it takes a lot of effort to just lie down instead of jumping on him. But this is peaceful, slow, and sweet.

In the weeks that follow, nothing bad happens. You feel great, but you also heavier. Liam is growing fast, and you can't wait any longer to meet him. And neither can Keanu. He gets even more protective with time if that's even possible. And after you almost slipped in the shower, you're not even allowed to shower by yourself. Of course you pretend you're annoyed, but the truth is that you love it.

Despite feeling uncomfortable during this period, Keanu makes everything perfect. There are still no signs you'll get the memories back, and that's a fact now, but you'll follow your psychologist's advice. And Laura's advice, since they're pretty much the same. Living in the past will only get in the way of what's happening now. You have an amazing husband, who loves you deeply, and a child on the way. The present is wonderful, and you won't let anything ruin it.

You're around week 37 now, marking it on the calendar on the fridge door, a hand on your back as you make your way to the kitchen table. Keanu is still upstairs, and you take this chance to pour some honey on your plate. You're still eating the awkward combination when he comes to the kitchen, and you try not to let him see. But Keanu sees everything, and when he takes his place across from you, you feel his eyes burning.

“What?” You innocently ask, shrugging your shoulders.

“Are you eating bacon with honey?”

Biting your lip, you raise an eyebrow at him. “I happen to love honey. And bacon. So it makes sense.” He giggles and you kick his leg under the table. “Don't mess with the pregnant lady.” Warning him, you push the plate away. “I'm done anyway. I'll move to the couch if you don't mind, my back really hurts.”

“Sure. I'll join you in a bit.”

“Ok.” Dragging yourself to the living room, you lie down, hands on your swollen belly. You're almost drifting off to sleep when you feel Keanu sitting down, lifting your legs so he can move closer, caressing your thighs. “Ke, I'm huge.” You complain, eyes on the bump.

“You're beautiful.” Bending down, he places a kiss on your exposed belly, since you have the shirt pulled up. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

“Yeah, I doubt that.” Pouting a little, you try to hold back the giggle when you see his eyebrow raised.

“I would love to show how beautiful I think you are, but Dr. Williams told us to give it a little break.”

“Don't even remind me.” You never complained about anything with your obstetrician, but when she told you and Keanu should probably avoid sleeping together, you had to speak up. Even though your cheeks were burning. But in the end, you did comply. And you wouldn't have much of a choice anyway, since Keanu does everything the doctors say. “I heard your phone beeping. Everything alright in Arch?”

“Yes. That was just Lucia.” He says, obviously a little annoyed. “She just moved here. She's renting an apartment not so far away.”

“What the hell.” Sighing, you roll your eyes. This woman won't leave you alone, it doesn't matter what you say. “Why is she doing that? Isn't it obvious we don't want her around?” A couple of weeks ago she showed up again, and another argument happened. Keanu had to kick her out because the recommendations were that you shouldn't be put under any kind of stress.

“She loves you and the baby. That's why she wants to be around.” You don't get it. Keanu doesn't like her either, so why does he still speak like this?

“I know you can't stand her, you don't have to fake it with me.”

“But this isn't about me, sweetheart, it's about you and the people who were in your life before.”

The kindness in his voice makes you sit up, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You're amazing, did you know that?” Placing kisses on his face, you smile. “I love you. I'm worried to death and I'm trying not to get anxious with the labor, but you're making everything perfect. You're the best husband I could ever have.”

“I'm just trying to be the husband you deserve.” With a hand caressing your cheek, Keanu kisses you full on the lips, and you take no time before kissing him back. You don't know what you'd do without him, but luckily, you won't ever have to find out.

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist @partypoison00 @mariafetamina @fortheloveoffanfic @trin303

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

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miracleonice87 · 4 years

Text

Begin Again

a Mathew Barzal song fic

a/n: a one shot based on “Begin Again” by Taylor Swift. obviously I don’t own any of Taylor Swift’s music/lyrics! I’m not even a big Swiftie anymore (edited: lol dying bc I wrote that before she released folklore and evermore and sucked me RIGHT back in) but I love her “Red” album and always listen to it in the fall. also, the NYC traffic/parking/location situation in this is purely fantasy BS, lol.

summary: Mat Barzal meets Hayden Parker (fictional) in a coffee shop, and they start something new.

warnings: swearing. talk of a concussion/migraines/weight loss — otherwise, complete and total fluff.

______

With a deep breath, you glanced at your reflection in the mirror hanging near your front door before you left your Brooklyn apartment. You hadn’t worn these heels for several seasons now — he hadn’t liked it when you wore high heels. You had let his opinions — on your clothes, shoes, music, books, movies, and friends — dictate how you lived for too long. You smirked now, admiring how the pointed-toe snakeskin stilettos looked paired with your raw cut black jeans and silky pink blouse. He would’ve hated this look (“too gaudy,” he would have said), which made you love it that much more.

You popped in one AirPod and flipped the inside lock on your door before pulling it closed. You made your way down the hall as the lyrics started to flow.

There is a young cowboy, he lives on the range

His horse and his cattle are his only companions...

You fought the urge to roll your eyes thinking about your former flame’s constant unwarranted comments about this classic ballad which often wafted through your apartment from the record player in the living room.

“I don’t get this song — like, is he singing to himself?” he would ask. You never bothered to tell him the real background and meaning — you loved the song, and you got it. You always had.

Emerging from the main entrance of your building, you hummed along to melodies from your favorite playlist, and walked the three or so blocks to your destination. Soon, you were stepping in from the bustle of the street to find solace in an only-slightly less busy coffee shop, one you had come to frequent because of its location — sandwiched within the six blocks between your apartment and the fashion magazine where you were interning this semester.

“Hi, one large double shot mocha, please?” you requested, stepping up after the man in front of you paid for his order. You tapped your AirPod to pause your music, just in time to hear: “Nice shoes.”

You lifted your head and glanced toward the pick-up section of the counter, where a classically handsome man in his twenties stood donning a well-tailored navy blue suit. Your heart lurched in your chest as you realized he was looking straight at you.

“Me?” you inquired softly, just to be sure, as you slipped your bank card back into your wallet. He nodded, smiling. “Yes, you. Nice shoes.”

You bit your lip involuntarily, slowly walking his way to wait on your coffee. “Thanks. You’ve got nice style yourself,” you complimented, and you were surprised by your own boldness in that moment. Something about his confidence made you confident, too. And something about his model good looks seemed unsettlingly familiar somehow.

He extended his hand as you took your position next to him. “I’m Mat,” he greeted. You couldn’t help but smile, nearly breathless from his innate charm.

“Hi, Mat,” you replied, engaging his handshake. “I’m Hayden.”

“Hayden. Pretty name for a pretty girl,” Mat mused, holding onto your hand for just a moment longer than was customary. You knew it was silly — God, was it silly — but you felt yourself blush at his flattery.

“Large Americano,” a barista called out. Mat stepped forward, thanking her and stuffing a bill — you couldn’t help but notice that it was a large one — into the tip jar atop the glass pastry display. He turned back to you as he unfastened the lid and blew gently on his coffee. Another thing you couldn’t help but notice — his perfect pink lips.

“So, Hayden, are you a native New Yorker?”

Hmm, you thought. Why isn’t he running for the door after getting his drink? You decided to play along, feeling more daring than you had in ages.

“I am not,” you confessed. “I’m from Maine, actually.”

“Ah, still an East Coast girl,” Mat remarked with a grin. “I’m from the West — near Vancouver.”

You arched your brows. “Wow, Canadian, huh?” Mat chuckled.

“Born and raised. You know what they say, though: opposites attract,” he commented, hazel eyes piercing into you even as he took a cautious sip from his cup. You studied his face — he seemed more familiar with each word he spoke.

“They do say that, don’t they?” you retorted, skirting his inference. Just then, the barista set your mocha on the counter.

“Thank you so much,” you said, also pushing a tip into the jar, thankful that Mat’s attention was on grabbing a cup sleeve from the island nearby instead of on the much smaller bills you had to offer the staff.

You turned toward the island, too, reaching for the cinnamon. Mat offered you a sleeve as if it was second nature, and you graciously accepted, trying to relax the muscles on your face that seemed to have permanently turned upward into a smile since you’d been in the man’s presence.

Suddenly, you gasped.

“Islanders,” you whispered under your breath as Mat watched you stir your cinnamon into your drink. He froze.

“What?” he asked with a nervous laugh, wondering if he had heard you correctly. Your eyes darted around, making sure no one within earshot was paying attention.

“You play for the Islanders. Right?” you asked softly. He nodded, silent, ducking his head a bit; you began to backpedal.

“Oh, God... I didn’t mean - I, uh... I promise I’m not like a hockey fangirl, or anything,” you choked out, cheeks flushed. Your hands started to shake slightly as you replaced the lid on your to-go cup. “I just, uh, my brother. My brother played hockey. He always talked about you, and, uh, I just realized that that’s why I recognized you.” You winced.

“This... this isn’t as weird as it sounds, I swear,” you insisted. “It’s just that, my brother played in the Q. He was good, and, uh, I knew about all the other good hockey players, because of him.”

Mat’s demeanor had quickly changed — from slightly uncomfortable to giddy. He was smirking at you while you sputtered, taking a sort of masochistic pleasure in watching you squirm. His grin was infectious.

“What’s your last name?” he asked when you finally stopped talking. “Parker,” you responded, the two of you stepping away from the island and taking up residence near the front windows of the cafe.

“Parker... Parker,” he repeated. You were distracted by how good your name sounded falling from his tongue. Then, he gasped, too.

“Oh shit, your brother’s Nick Parker? Damn, how’s he doing?”

Your brow quirked as you watched the light flicker on in his eyes when he pieced it together. A National Hockey League star recognized your brother’s name, your name. What the hell was happening?

You cleared your throat, attempting to come back into orbit. “Uh, yeah, he’s good now. He, uh... it was a battle there for a couple years. He had migraines every day for about 16 months... lost a lot of weight. It was... it was tough,” you told him, your voice lowering noticeably. Mat watched you carefully, concern written all over his striking features. It was evident that Mat knew your brother’s story.

Your older brother Nick had been a top 20 prospect in the Quebec Major Junior Hockey League as a teen, playing forward for the Halifax Mooseheads. But after a nasty late hit during a playoff game, he had been left with a debilitating concussion and, after a long period of unsuccessful rehab, had been forced to walk away from the game just as he was entering his prime.

Those troubling days hung like a thick, black fog over your family’s history, and you suddenly recalled being 15 again, cross-legged outside Nick’s bedroom door for hours, begging him to let you into the dark room to hold onto him as he cried, both because of the pain and because of the weight of his unrealized dreams. It had taken countless neurologist appointments, physical therapy, and your parents’ unwavering insistence that he regularly see a sports psychologist for him to return to some semblance of normalcy after a long road to recovery.

Now, minus the occasional treatable migraine, Nick was thriving. You beamed at the thought, your well-polished black nail picking at the corner of the cup sleeve on your mocha as you looked back to Mat and continued.

“But he’s finishing law school now, seeing a therapist and keeps himself in great shape, which helps. He’s getting married next summer to this great girl,” you finished, pride swelling in your chest at how far your brother had come. Mat’s eyebrows lifted, his worried expression morphing into elation.

“No shit!” he exclaimed. “Damn, I’m so happy for him. Tell you what, lotta guys wanted nothing to do with him when he was tearing it up. And we were all gutted for him after it happened.” You gave him a grateful smile.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “I’ll have to let him know you said that.” Mat nodded, then pressed on. “Maybe I’ll get the chance to tell him myself one day,” he added brazenly, casually taking another sip.

No response came to your brain, so you curled your fingers around your own cup and took a long draw, eyes darting to the activity outside the window, Mat’s never leaving your unsure face.

The church bells chiming from a nearby steeple were the only thing that could pull Mat’s gaze from you, as he checked his large-face Rolex. He seemed angered by the time staring back at him, and he ran his hand aggressively through his hair as his eyes rolled just slightly.

“Listen, Hayden, I hate to do this,” Mat began with a sigh. “But we’ve got a game in Pittsburgh tomorrow night, and the team plane leaves in like half an hour.”

You’re surprised by how deflated you feel in that instant, casting a downward glance at the shoes Mat had complimented only minutes ago, before you’d started feeling like maybe you’d known him your whole life.

A quiet, “Oh,” was all you could muster, still not meeting his eyes.

His hand then came to rest on your upper arm, and it’s only then that you noticed how big it was, long fingers curling easily around your bicep.

“But hey... I’ll be back late tomorrow night. Whaddya say we grab coffee here the next morning? Wednesday. Maybe 8?”

You turned your eyes upward to take in his face. He looked hopeful. He was hopeful that he’d see you again.

You nodded. “I’d love to, Mat. I’ll meet you here.”

Mat beamed, a relieved breath falling from his lips. “Good,” he commented. “I’ll see you then.” He leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, leaving you reeling when he pulled away.

“Bye, pretty Hayden,” Mat said with a wink before turning and exiting the coffee shop, walking down the block to the Cadillac he’d just unlocked. He was still in sight when he glanced over his shoulder and threw you another breathtaking grin. You smiled back, frozen in place as you watched him drive away.

_____

Mat was going to be late.

At least, that’s what you had convinced yourself at some point within the last 48 hours.

He was either going to be late or he was going to stand you up altogether. So even though you woke up at 5:30 and initially felt the need to rush through your routine to get down to the coffee shop as quickly as possible, you didn’t. You forced yourself to slow down. Because Mat was going to be late. Or, he wasn’t going to be there at all.

So you were surprised when, after throwing on a red chiffon dress with tiny white flowers and a cognac leather jacket, you walked through the coffee shop door at 8:02 and heard, “Hayden!”

Your head snapped up.

At a corner table in the back of the shop was Mat, dressed in a smart grey sweater and distressed black jeans, a silver chain looped around his neck, standing to wave you over with a broad smile across his face.

He came. And he’d arrived before you did.

You walked over to Mat and he embraced you warmly, the two of you exchanging kisses on the cheek. He squeezed your elbow affectionately as you stepped back from him.

“Oh, here. Let me,” Mat said as he pulled your chair out and motioned for you to sit.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, his chivalry catching you by surprise. Once you were seated, he pushed your chair in slightly before taking his place across the table from you.

“I got you a mocha,” he told you, nodding at the cup in front of you. “Double shot, right?”

You nodded. “You’re sweet. Thank you,” you said, the two of you beaming at each other for a moment, lost in a daze.

“So how was the game?” you inquired, pulling you both back to earth. Mat cleared his throat before answering you.

“It was good! We won. It’s usually a tough battle with them but we kinda dominated, which was nice for a change,” he spoke, looking pleased.

“You score?” you asked teasingly as you sipped from your cup.

“Uh, yeah, actually,” he told you with a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Two goals and an assist.”

Your eyebrows lifted on your forehead. “Mat, that’s amazing! So my brother was right. You are good.”

Mat shook his head, trying to shrug you off.

“Ah, nah. I kinda think it had more to do with a good luck charm I met this week,” he remarked slyly. You licked your bottom lip before biting on it gently. Mat took notice, mirroring your motions as he stared at your lips.

“So, how’s work been this week?” It was Mat’s turn to deflect.

You told him how hectic it had been, with you arriving at the office around 9 and leaving at 6 on the day you’d first met, then departing after 7 yesterday, despite it being only a part-time internship in addition to the five classes you were taking online. He asked about your combination of on-campus and online learning throughout your college career in order to accommodate your dream internships, and he was already in awe of what a hard worker you were.

You pointed out that you weren’t the only one at the table with a crazy schedule, and you asked him how he balanced hockey with his personal life. He answered you easily, launching into stories about his teammates and his family and his friends who all kept him grounded in different ways. There was one name he kept bringing up — Tito. He told you that you’d have to meet him. Before you could hesitate, you said you’d like to. His visage brightened at that answer. He reminded you of sunshine.

He continued to regale you with a vast array of stories, stopping often to ask you questions and invite you to tell him stories of your own. It took a bit of time, but soon you were opening up about your own life — your parents’ recent and shocking divorce after 30 years of marriage, and your struggle with your grandmother’s death last fall.

It wasn’t all dark, though. In fact, most of it wasn’t. You also told him about the crazy theater actor roommate you’d had when you first moved into the city to study fashion at NYU, and how her frightening antics had eventually pushed you into accepting your uncle’s offer to pay for your own apartment in the city, as he was single and childless and had always delighted in spoiling you and your brother. You told him about your only two cousins on your dad’s side, two siblings bracketing you and your brother in age, and how the four of you were more like siblings than cousins. You told a slightly off-color joke at your own expense that most of your friends and coworkers would never laugh at, but it left Mat breathless, throwing his head back with boyish giggles flowing from his mouth like your favorite song. This caught you off-guard — you couldn’t believe he actually seemed to think you were funny. The last one certainly never did.

At some point, the conversation shifted to music. Mat’s jaw dropped when you told him that you own every James Taylor album on vinyl, after he told you that that’s one of his favorite artists of all time. He said he’s never met anyone who has as many James Taylor records as you. You simply shrugged. You explained that you and your mom have seen every tour James Taylor has been on since you were eleven and had started playing guitar. Mat’s eyes went wide — he told you that he dabbles in guitar, too.

After this, you quieted a bit. He noticed. It comes off to him as shyness, but you know what it really is. It’s fear. All at once you realize just how far you’ve let your guard down with this stranger. You’ve only just met this person, yet you have more in common with him than anyone you’ve encountered since moving into the city.

He sensed that something was off, so, in the silence, he reached a hand across the table and took yours in his grasp, stroking the back of it with his thumb. You looked into his mesmerizing eyes, and your hesitance melted.

After several more minutes of easy conversation, you check the time. You need to be at work in ten minutes.

“I’m sorry to be the one to break this up this time,” you started, and Mat sat back, looking understanding though disappointed. “But I’ve gotta get to work. Thankfully, it’s just right down the street.”

“Let me walk you,” Mat quickly insisted. You smirked at him, digging in your purse to find your office key.

“Didn’t you drive here?” you asked, chuckling. He simply shrugged. “Yeah, but if pretty Hayden works just down the street, I might as well walk her to the office and spend a few extra minutes with her,” he told you with a smug grin. You felt your cheeks get hot.

“Sounds good to me,” you admitted quietly. Mat nodded, then rose from his chair, reaching for his wallet to leave another tip.

“Thank you,” you said, putting your hand on his forearm tenderly. “For the coffee. For this.”

He smiled down at you. “You’re welcome,” he replied.

The two of you walked out the cafe door, which Mat pushed open even from behind you. You pointed in the direction of your office building and the two of you fell into step, side by side. Your heart leapt when Mat reaches for your hand. It felt unbelievably natural — which terrified you.

Your recent relationship history flashed through your brain all at once, like a film reel. Your brain screamed, “Slow down!” while your heart whispered, “Relax.” You weren’t sure which to believe. You opened your mouth to bring him up, to give a fair warning, to tell Mat that you might not be ready for... whatever this was.

Then, he started to talk about the movies that his family watches every single Christmas. You weren’t at all sure what had brought that subject to his mind — maybe your earlier questions about his younger sister back in Coquitlam — but you’re grateful for the diversion from your own messy mind. You decided to engage him on that topic instead, rather than bring up your last boyfriend who’d shattered you then walked away.

And for the first time in eight months, you decided to leave what’s past, in the past.

Like a pinball machine, Mat had already bounced to yet another new topic — his practice later this morning. As he finished a story about pranking Tito in the locker room after a skate last week, you bubbled over with giggles. He watched you with admiration and wonder coursing through his entire being. You eventually observed how he was gazing at you, and you sensed that he had something more important to say than his joke on his teammate.

“Hey, so, uh,” Mat started, clearing his throat. Your suspicion had been correct. “What are you doing tomorrow night, after work? We have a home game tomorrow at 7:30 and I, uh, I wanted to see if maybe... you wanted to go? I requested a ticket for you... just in case you want it. If you do... I was thinking maybe we could grab dinner after?”

The sentences Mat spoke seemed to be rolled into one giant question mark. His unwavering self-assurance had seemed to falter slightly for the first time since you’d met him, surprising you. You only needed a moment to consider your answer.

“I’d love to come watch you play,” you told him, wrapping your hands around his upper arm affectionately. You watched him exhale, a smile slowly overtaking his face.

“Thank God,” Mat breathed, making you both burst into hysterics as he leaned his head down to touch yours for a moment.

Bewilderment overcame you as you realized that you hadn’t felt this way about anyone in... you couldn’t even remember how long. You’d thought it might never happen again. That for you, this feeling might just be... gone.

You couldn’t believe that on a Wednesday, in a cafe, you’d watched it begin again.

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suitofvibraniumarmor · 4 years

Text

If You Just Realize

Part Eleven: Time to Realize

Summary: New hope is sparked for Sebastian and Y/N after their date. Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader Word Count: 2360 Series Warnings: Death, angst, sadness. Lots of creative licensing, I’m sure. Chapter Warnings: Night terrors, almost smut (is that a warning?). Square Filled: This entire series will fill my realized feelings square for @marvelfluffbingo. A/N: I’ve much enjoyed writing this series, and I hope all of you enjoy reading it! The tag list is open; requests to be added can be done so here. There are bits and pieces of Romanian throughout the series, mostly from Google Translate and the few things I’ve picked up as I learn the language.

Also, I don’t know why I’ve never mentioned it before, but a huge song inspiration for the title of this fic (and some chapter titles) is Realize by Colbie Caillat.

Series Masterlist

Image found via Google Image Search.

When Milena woke from her nap, Sebastian informed her that she would be going to her grandparents’ house for the evening while Sebastian and Y/N went out for a little while.

As she ate her snack of grapes and crackers, Milena frowned. “You’ll come get me later?”

Sebastian nodded. “I promise, we’ll come get you later. Unless you want to sleep at Bunica’s house?”

The little girl shook her head adamantly. “No, here! In my room!”

“In your room it is, then,” Y/N assured, kissing the top of Milena’s head. “We’ll try to hurry so that we get you before you go to sleep, but even if you fall asleep over there, you’ll wake up over here. Okay?”

Milena seemed to be appeased for the time being; she nodded and went back to her snack. Sebastian and Y/N exchanged a worried glance. Though they had an appointment the next week with the child psychologist, the terrors had seemed to be a thing of the past.

“When you’re done with your snack, why don’t you go fill up your backpack with the things you want to take over there?” Sebastian suggested.

She finished her snack quickly after that, then raced to her room to get her things together.

“Do you want me to take her over there? Or go with you?” Y/N offered.

Sebastian shook his head. “No, it’s okay, I’ll take her. I don’t mind — I’m going to see if Mom will take her earlier so we can get to dinner earlier and get back to pick her up. I don’t want to trigger another terror.”

She took his hand and squeezed. “We can pick another night, if you want?”

“No, I want us to do this, I don’t want to put it off.”

“Okay. I’m going to go make sure she’s not packing her entire room. Why don’t you call your mom and see when she’s okay with Milena coming over, call the restaurant to make sure we can get a table when we need.”

Sebastian grinned. “I will do all of that, yes.”

Y/N frowned. “Why are you grinning like that?”

“You sound like such a … wife and mom. In a good way, Y/N/N.”

She scowled at him for a moment, but a shy smile soon broke through. She swatted at him for his teasing, but he caught her arm and reached to tickle her side. Y/N shrieked and scrambled to get away, but he held tight and pulled her against his chest. His arms went around her shoulders and hers instinctively wrapped around his middle. Their laughter died down as they both realized this embrace was no friendly, playful hug; there was far more between them than friends and convenient spouses.

Y/N cleared her throat and pulled away from him. “I’m going to check on her, you make those calls.”

Sebastian nodded. He watched her go and wondered if he would ever have the courage to tell her how much he cared for her, without worrying about risking their friendship.

As Y/N padded toward Milena’s room, goosebumps rose over her skin. She had been so warm in Sebastian’s arms. He had been clear, though, that he didn’t want to lose the friendship between them, and she wouldn't allow her own feelings to overshadow what he needed just then.

The drop-off went better than they expected, so Y/N and Sebastian felt much lighter as they headed to dinner. Thanks to a reservation, their table was ready when they arrived.

“You look amazing,” Sebastian smiled over the table at her. “New dress?”

Y/N nodded, blushing. “Sort of. Had it for a while, haven’t had the chance to wear it yet. This seemed like as good an occasion as any. Thank you, for suggesting we do this.”

“Of course. I love having Milena around, but a little one-on-one time is always appreciated. What looks good on the menu?”

They mulled over their options for a few minutes before they both decided. The waiter brought back their requested bottle of wine, took their food order, then left the table. Sebastian poured wine for both of them, then held his glass up in the form of a toast.

“To us,” he smiled, “and making this crazy life work for us.”

“To us,” she returned, clinking her glass gently against his before sipping at her wine. “Mmm, that’s good.”

Sebastian nodded his agreement. “I noticed the boxes from Los Angeles seem to be slowing down.”

“Yes, thank goodness. I didn’t realize how much stuff I had! My assistant got rid of a lot for me, if you can believe that.” She chuckled and blushed a little. “Her new task is going through my mail and sending what didn’t get forwarded that may be important. That should be about it. The landlord is doing the walk through early next week, and that’ll be that.”

“You’re not keeping your place there?”

She shrugged, nervously fiddling with the linen tablecloth. “My lease was up there in a couple of months and I figure if-slash-when I move back, I’ll maybe look at buying a house or getting into a different building.”

“If?”

She cleared her throat. “Well, you know, even after all of this, I want to stay close for Milena. And it’s not like you and I are only going to be friends until this is over. We’re always going to be friends, Seb. You said yourself, you don’t want to lose us, and I don’t either.”

They were both quiet after that. Y/N realized how desperately she wanted him to make some sort of remark that yes, they would always be friends, but that there was potential for more — not even potential for more, but just plain more. That this wasn’t going to end. That she didn’t need her place in Los Angeles because her home was here, with Sebastian and Milena.

“Did I lose you?”

She snapped back to the present, chuckling an apology. “Lost in thought, I suppose. Less talk about me, more about you. How are you doing with all of this? It’s been a lot of change in a short time.”

Sebastian sipped his wine. “I’m getting through. It seems surreal a lot of the time. Milena asked when Irina was coming to get her, you know, and I realized that I’ve subconsciously been waiting for that, too. I have so much good right in front of me — Mom, Anthony, you, Milena, the new house. Life is moving on, but it’s so … so … absurd, honestly, that it’s moving on without Irina.”

“That’s understandable. You both were a big part of each other’s lives. For whatever it’s worth, I think she would be really proud of the way you’re handling this — of everything you’ve already done for Milena.”

“I couldn’t have done any of it without you here,” he said, reaching across the table to take her hand.

She held tight, but shrugged. “You would have figured it out, you know. I may have helped, but you would do anything for that little girl and for your sister. A person would be a fool not to see that.”

“I just …” Sebastian breathed in deep and let it out, his hand still holding tight to hers. “I don’t know really what I’m trying to say, maybe. You’ve always been my friend, someone I could count on without a doubt. But the way you’ve stepped up here — I won’t keep repeating thanks I’ve already offered. You go and talk about staying here with us though, and it gives me new gratitude. New hope, too.”

New hope. Y/N looked into his eyes, releasing his hand so the waiter could set their plates in front of them, and saw that the hope Sebastian was referring to was quite possibly the same hope she was holding onto that the love she felt for him may one day be mutual.

As promised, Sebastian and Y/N picked Milena up from her grandparents’ house before she was asleep. Georgeta smiled and opened the door for the couple, welcoming them into the house.

“She’s been yawning for an hour,” the grandmother sighed, “but she refused to lay down, even to watch cartoons or something. She just kept saying, ‘Uncle Seb will come, then I can sleep.’”

Sebastian sighed. The counseling appointment couldn’t come soon enough. In the meantime, he would do the only thing he could do: love that little girl more than ever, make sure she felt safe, and tell her as often as possible that as much as he could help it, he would never abandon her.

“Are you so tired?” Y/N cooed, carrying Milena into the house.

Milena nodded against her shoulder. “Do I have to take a bath?”

“We can do that in the morning,” Sebastian offered. “How about you and Y/N go pick out some jammies and I’ll be in soon with your water cup, okay?”

Another nod. Sebastian headed to the kitchen to fill a sippy cup with water — something Irina had actually started, to avoid Milena getting out of bed at all hours — then headed to join them in Milena’s room.

She was already changed into one of her favorite nightgowns, and Y/N was brushing her hair before fixing it into a short, loose braid. Sebastian carried Milena to the bathroom, insisting that she at least brush her teeth before bed. The little girl whimpered but did as she was told.

Once she was finally tucked in, Sebastian reminded her that her cup was on the nightstand, kissed her forehead, hugged her tight, and told her to sleep good.

“Y/N, will you read me a story?”

Y/N nodded. “Okay, but I get to pick out which one.”

She traded a glance with Sebastian, who winked at her before leaving to his own bedroom to change out of his dinner clothes. Maybe he would see if Y/N was up for a movie and some popcorn — it was relatively early, after all.

Only a few minutes later, she joined him in the bedroom, kicking off her shoes at the door.

“We didn’t make it halfway through the story and she was out,” Y/N smiled, “doing that soft little snore she does. Too cute.”

Sebastian grinned and sat at the food of their bed. “Yeah, I know that sound. Most perfect snore I’ve ever heard.”

“Agreed,” she smiled softly, leaning against the doorway.

He met her eyes; the look there wasn’t evoked from Milena’s snoring, he was certain. He drew his bottom lip under his tongue and tilted his head. Y/N’s smile faded, but her eyes stayed bright; God, he had always loved that about her. Obviously, since he had dubbed her nickname from the trait.

In unison and still without speaking, she pushed away from the doorframe and he stood from the bed. They met in the middle, standing without touching for only a few seconds before Sebastian pulled her arms around him, then gently pushed his fingers into her hair, using the movement to tilt her head up towards him so that he could press his lips to hers, soft but urgent.

She pressed into him, her fingers grasping the cotton t-shirt he had just put on. Sebastian kept his hands in her hair, tugging only slightly at the root. A sharp gasp pulled her mouth away from his, and Sebastian could only smile against her lips.

“So maybe I’m not the only one who’s hopeful,” he commented. His voice was low and gravelly; his desire to have her was taking over his entire body.

Y/N shook her head. “Definitely not the only one.”

His smile returned, and so did hers. With a new rush of hope and desire, Sebastian reached just far enough under the hem of her dress to grip the back of her thighs. He picked her up off the floor, still kissing her, and gently set her on the bed.

She scooted back to the pillows, waiting for him to discard his shirt before he knelt onto the mattress. He took in the sight of her, waiting for him to make the next move. He knew the nervous chewing of her bottom lip, the excited half-grin that produced a dimple at the top of her cheek. That look of love and desire wasn’t new, but it wasn’t something he had ever imagined would be directed at him. Wasn’t something he had ever wished was directed at him, honestly, until their wedding night.

“You okay?” Sebastian whispered, reaching for her hand and pulling her into his lap.

She nodded, kissing him softly. “Nervous. But good nervous.”

“Just tell me if you want to stop, okay?”

“I trust you,” she assured, softly kissing his bottom lip.

Sebastian pressed his lips firmly to hers. She reacted in kind, nipping at his bottom lip before returning to the kiss. Y/N pushed herself further into his lap so their bodies were flush against each other; the resulting friction tightened his pants and drew a soft moan from her lips. He broke the kiss to put his hands on her thighs and slowly begin pushing the skirt of her dress further up.

“May I?” he chuckled.

She grinned and nodded, claiming his lips again. Sebastian’s hands rested at her hips, his fingers splaying over the back of her lace panties.

A scream broke through the otherwise quiet house. They pushed away from each other in an instant and scrambled off the bed. Sebastian reached for his discarded shirt and pulled it over his head.

“I’ll get her, you can change if you want,” Sebastian offered, walking a few steps backwards before she could catch up with him.

Y/N sighed and turned back to the bedroom, already working the dress over her head. Milena’s cries grew louder, even after Y/N could heard Sebastian trying to soothe his niece. With a million and one thoughts in her head, she discarded her dress and her undergarments, quickly exchanging them for a cotton nightgown and fresh underwear. Knowing how the night terrors usually went, she decided to wash her face and brush her teeth, then padded through the house to join Sebastian and Milena.

AllOfTheThings: @captain-s-rogers @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @hurricanerin @horsesandbandsforlife @im-not-an-armrest-im-short @shynara51 @sea040561 @pinknerdpanda @xtina2191 @jackryanplz @beakami @heartsaved @fullprunerebelstatesman @blackwidowismyhomegirl @averyrogers83 @jennmurawski13 @connie326

IYJR: @elsatxx @tanelle83 @amanda-teaches @etherealwaifgoddess @kmuir1 @ntlmundy @jayankles @rebekahdawkins @denise1605 @rhadigen @peace-love-hobbitness @itsallyscorner @mizzzpink @auspiciousharriet @the-murder-strut-murdered-me @learisa @tellmewhatyouwill @katherinereid @lokilokilokilokilokiloki @auriandthepussicats @tellmewhatyouwill @itsmycorneroftheinternet

#marvelfluffbingo2020 #sebastian stan #reader insert #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian x reader #queue and i remember budapest very differently

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zuffer-weird-girl · 4 years

Text

A/n:This has been on my drafts for too long now. Is not one of my best works but is certainly something that I thought a lot when I first read the chapter and comung to understand Pops and Kai relationship as father and son. I hope this not come as petty or ahitty like some works of mine because this one I meant it to be... special.

Allert for murder and suicide mentions

Only by a miracle

"Why if I do even need to ask for? Just bullshit ..." he asked, barely bothering to look in your direction while he watched the news ... at least try to pretend he cared.

After the raid of the hassaikai, the league of villains; especially because of Shigaraki; taking his arms, taking away what little significance was left for the poor man, Chisaki had simply put everything aside ... his interest in things and knowledge, his goal of "cleaning the world", even of at least care about his physical and especially mental state ... the reason why you two are having this conversation right now. The only thing that he seemed to not have lost hope or interested thankfully was you.

"I just thought that maybe it was something to help you ... "you answered quietly, gently approaching and sitting right next to him" a psychologist may be a good idea especially after everything ... happened. That co-worker of mine can help and- "

"With all due respect (Y / n), I'd rather rot in Tartarus than accept someone else's help ... After all," he sighed, an empty, melancholy look in his golden eyes "that's what I deserve . "

"Stop." you immediately spoke right away, eyes burning with the urge to cry at his words. "Please, we already had this conversation ... you don't deserve it." leaning your head on his shoulder you can feel how tense his body was but soon relaxed ... as if he had actually released a weight from his shoulders.

sighing, your boyfriend finally seemed to slowly return to the real world than the torment that had turned his head as he looked at you.

"You're going on yours at least I hope." you nodded, gritted your teeth and widened your eyes when you saw the familiar green hair of the boy responsible for literally almost beating Kai.

You tried to take control before Kai saw it but already feeling his body tensing and the way his shoulders started to shake you already knew that he had already seen the boy.

You barely remedy what you at least think of the boy named Deku ... upset and irritated because he beat your boyfriend along with the other almost hero Lemillion beat his boyfriend or pity and fear if Chisaki happened to find him. As much as he no longer had his arms, he was still strong ... you have already witnessed several tantrums and breakdowns of his in the last few monthswhwre he had torned the small apartment you two lived now down ... his depression and panic attacks and paranoia were horrible .... but with sure what hurt you the most was when he woke up from a nightmare ... feeling a torturous pain in the place where his arms were supposed to be ... but all this was psychological pain. kai knew how much it affected you, and knowing that you were too stubborn to leave him, he insisted that you do therapy instead of him.

"Let's...turn this off." you mumbled before taking the remote and turning off the tv after turning to him and massaging his shoulders until he saw that he had calmed down at least a little.

"You know ... how about you come with me tomorrow?" you commented, happy that you had finally unlocked him a little "The same place where my therapist is where he is hospitalized and-"

"No ... he would be the last person who would at least enjot my presence angel." you frowned, your hope to at least pay a visit to the poor elderly in a coma fails again. You knew the amount of guilt and sorrow Chisaki carried of putting Pops on a coma, but behind that cold facade and th walls he had constructed, you knew better... You knew that he his intentions truly weren't on the bad side, but even you had to agree he had gone way too far on his path.

Sighing, you stood up, making Kai look i to your eyes questionably before you kissed his cheek lovingly mumbling that you were going to make his favorite for the dinner, smiling sadly at how he sighed and leaned on you, mumbling how he didn't deserves you and such things.

You went to the kitchen before jumping at your notification on your cellphone and beaming happilh at your door frame.

"Ne ne! Hon!" You put the box you just had received and openes for him to see, hoping to see him lighten up a bit.

You smiled and almost teared up when he gave one look at the box and let out a weak chuckle, looking at you with adoration.

"Seems like I wont be needing feeding anymore." He commented as you jumped on him to cage his frame on a hug as tears threteaned to spill from your eyes.

That was the first time in months Chisaki had come close to even smilling... things were slowly starting to get better... but yet, you knew it was never going to return back the way it was... and the worst?

You knew that not only you felt something was missing.

The next day you woke up feeling your boyfriend's arms prototics holding you close to your chest, the back of your neck feeling the warmth of his breath while his lips lightly brushed your skin. You mumbled to yourself seeing the schedule and gently raising the fake arms for you to slip past them to get out of the bed. Uou smiled when you saw and heard how Chisaki complained in his sleep at the loss of your warm, getting close to him and giving him a kiss first on his temple then lightly on his lips, stroking his hair for good measure.

Getting ready and leaving a note for Kai to see when he wakes up, you left your apartment for another appointment with your therapist ... after of course going to a flower shop.

"Good luck with your father-in-law, young lady"

"Thank you doctor" you responded by leaving the office and walking through the hospital corridors, avoiding the eyes of doctors and nurses when you passed and went to the room where he was. You entered with the permission of the secretary, your heart and body always seemed to freeze when seeing Pops in the vegetative state, machines saving him from death but not bringing him back from the coma that Kai had put him in.

"Good morning Pops." you whispered, exchanging the dead flowers on the table next to the machines to replace them with the new ones you had bought before your consultation "I came as every time."

Taking a chair and dragging it to the side of the bed you sat down with a sigh before smilling at the sleeping elder.

"... we miss you. All of us, both subordinates and me and ... Kai." you bit your lip before you started saying "I don't know if you can really hear me every time I say this, but I swear to you that Kai just wanted to make you proud... Pops if you knew how much he suffers and regrets doing this to you ... " you wiped the tears from your eyes with the back of your sweater. You looked at the old man's face ... resting on the hospital bed for months now.

"Doctors say that even at your age you are a fighter." you giggled before returning your attention "... I tried to bring him here but he feels so guilty that he has no courage to come face you again .... please if one day you wake up again, forgive him, please... you were the only one he trusted and respected since childhood ... "you sighed before taking the bag and giving the elderly a small and careful hug as he used to do while he was awake" I ask a thousand pardons for him... I’ll be back next week Pops, maybe I can get him to come here next time! " you giggled sadly before frowning. Saying a little goodbye, you went towards the door ... but when you touched the maceneta you froze, hearing the sound of the mattress twinks and the fabric of the sheets moving ... looking slowly over your shoulder you gasped in astonishement and shock, bringing your hands to cover your mouth while your eyes watered when you saw tired gray eyes and the little smirk that the elderly person gave you in your bed even with numerous tubes in it.

"How good it is to see you again my dear. How long have I been away?"

"Sir is truly a miracle that you woke up from this coma honestly." The doctor said in astonishment as you awkwardly finsighed mumbling explaining all what had happened during the elder's absence.

"The shie hassaikai members are ALL on jail?" Pops asked calmly but you cringed hard at seing how wide were his eyes as you nodded.

"We're... trying to pay Chro- I m-mean Kurono! To get out of prison though... is a start." You clenched your jaw as Pops muttered something to God as he burried his face on one of his hands.

"Well." The doctor smiled at you both as she made her exit "You still have to spend one week to check up, but soon you will be able to go away wuth your..?"

"Daughter in law." The elder sighed, finally lifted his head up to show his gratitude to the medic before she left. Looking back at you "How is my granddaughter? Eri? I suppose you didn't know about the plan that boy had on his mind."

"Y-yeah.. She is on the hands of the hero Eraserhead, as far as I know of, the U.A took her custody to help her to control her quirk for real this time." You grabbed his hand and squezzed assuringly "She is on good hands Pops. I promise you."

"For once." He sighed before giving you a smile. Your phone buzzed and you excused yourself to pick it up.

"Hey hon.." you spoke as Pops furrowed hsi eyebrows, mentioning with his hands that he also wanted to hear.

"Where are you? Your apointment should had ended by one half an hour ago?" The nonchantly voice of Chisaki made you worry about how Pops body seemed tense as he montioned for you to jot speak a thing about him.

"U-uh... it got longer?"

"You're shit at lying, you know that right?" Pops smirked while you blushed a bit.

"Sorey sorry.." you rubbed the back of your neck a bit "I-I went to that place where they sell those sweets you like, that's all."

You heard a sigh and frowned at how tired your boyfriend sounded as he spoke on a vulnerable tune you had grew used to on the past few months... but Pops widened his eyes, almost not recognizing the vouce behind that cellphone.

"Just hurry up and get back home... I feel like one of those is about to come again.." he spoke as if that were a burden, you hummed immediately promising him to be home soon before saying how much you lobed him and hanging up.

"One fo those?"

"For these past few months he had gotten depression and some PTSD attacks..."

"Hironic." The eldery sarcastically chuckled with bitter as he leaned up his back on the mattress "He was the one to put my grandauther through hell, put me on a coma, ruin the whole bussines of my family and now, he is the one with depression." You furrowed your eyebrows at that. Taking a breath in, knowing that was something that could happen you talked back.

"I know the things he had done were wrong Pops... but believe me when I say he just wanted to-"

"(Y/n) my dear. As much as I know how generous you are, you can't actually try to be on Chisaki's side this time." He glared at you as you gulped "I lost count on how much I tried talking him out of those absurd ideas of his, but as always a stubborn one, he continued on and left the path I tried to teach him for years."

"Well, with all respect sir, you cant totally blame him if he was raised by a mafia boss no less." You grumbled as the elder narrowed his eyes at you for the first ever time.

"I taught him manners. He was the one who didn't followed them. Preffering to take this dark and horrific path. The yakusa is superior to villains and what he does? Becomes one of them despite fighting others that we are not? Is he bipolar now?!"

"Pops please just listen to me... We both know he suffered before you took him in, he feels in debt with you ever since that day."

"And he retributes me with this. Putting me on a coma."

"Pops I-"

"Stop defending him kid!" He yelled and you flinched away from him in shock "That man put my own grandaughter through hell and used her as some lab rat experiment, and now not only i lost my own daughter but her as well!"

Silence consumed the room... you felt at the verge of crying before taking a huge breath in determination. You wont let him, you wont let the man who created the one you love speak like that without you giving him a reason.

"Kai done these things, thats for sure ... but his whole life he felt trapped by the fact that he never got to repay you. He had absurd ideas for that? Of course, I will not cover up his errors. But I am not going to let even you Pops speak like that. Since you already knew he wasn't listening to you, why didn't you take him away from Shie Hassaikai's work and just put more pressure on him saying that he would, one day, be the new boss? Your sucessor no less?! " he remained his glare to his hospital room window "... he just wanted you to be proud of him .. so he still protects Shie Hassaikai's honor ... Pops do you even know that he lost only his arms still fighting to give you something?!" You cried as the old man opened his eyes wide and finally looked back at you "For the past months he and I have been in our personal hell, he has nightmares every night! Do you even happen to remember that you had to comfort him the first night he slept at your house? imagine the attack only ten times worse! do you even know how it was to see him begging me for me to kill him ?! "you sobbed while the man was still in shock to hear what you said and your state.

"my dear why are you still going through this?" he said almost breathlessly while you wiped your tears, almost leaving the room.

"Because I love your son ... and I know he loves you in his own weird and antisocial way ... Please I know that it is very difficult to forgive him, but I beg Pops ... try it... both of you only have each other now...." you sighed and left the room without even saying goodbye to him or the nurses asking if you were okay.

Two weeks had passed after that. You remained a secret that Pops woke up from his coma to prevent Chisaki to fell on one of those nerve train racking thoughts of his...

"You win this ever time, is not fair." You whined as your boyfriend smiled, replacing the many pieces back on the shoji board back again.

"So why do you even still insist on playing it then with me no less dearest?" He asked, not exactly expecting an answer before he froze at the way you kept looking at him with love.

"Because is your favorite game. And I love seing you happy while playing it." You giggled at the immediate scoff to hide his blush as he closed his eyes, his black mask preventing you to show his smile as he mumbled an affectionate "crazy woman".

You giggled even more at that. Things were surely better than they could have been. Thanks to your teraupist you were also able to help your own boyfriend... his attacks had stopped and you never felt more relieved to see that the bags from beneath his eyes were slowly dissapearing.

"Ugh... im hungry!!!" You whined loudly again, rolling over to lay your head on his lap as he looked down at you with an arched eyebrow.

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"Take out." You proclaimed before he flipped your nose.

"Absolutely not. Is disgusting." He growled as you whined and put your bottom lip out.

"One time it won't hurt! Pleaseeee???? Please my devil??" You smiled mentally at seing the tip of his ears going red "please my handsome cutie softie delicious-" he hushed you with one of his fake finger son your lips as he growled.

"Fine fine, have your way brat. Jesus Christ you're so spoiled." He offered you one of his last used, that the police couldn't track, credit cards as you lowered his mask to kiss him.

"Says who again?" You giggled before sighing in bliss when he brought you close, you stradling his lap as you circled his neck with your arms, contained your noises as he trailed his kisses down to your jaw.

It has been so long since you two had-

You both growled when your cellphone ringed, but Kai still stood on his track as he mumbled in your ear for you to pick up... although he still continued to carres your thighs as he vould feel them again and lay kisses in the crook of your neck.

You widened your eyes though whem you saw that it was from the hospital... you had beem visiting and making conpany to Pops even despjte the argument you had gotten to him, but now it seemed he was free to go... shit. You couldn't hide this anymore from Kai.

Although you gasped back to the current reality when you felt a certain... hardness on his lap.

"If you tell me you have to go Im setting this place on fire." He mumbled in your neck as you whined. That surely must be the worst cockblock you two had in your relationship. You nodded as he growled again, making yourself out of his laps, he let you go hesitantly.

"What is even about this time?" He said nonchantly as he adjusted his hair back.

"I... have to go to the hospital."

"Is that therapist of yours again?" He asked in annoyance as you left in a hurry, crossing his arms and auspecting at your attitudem

"I-It will be quick!"

"You didn't answer my-" and the door closed while he sighed loudly looking up at yhe ceilingx having to deal with the problem you had caused down there "Fucking brat." He growled out loud standing up with a hiss to go to the shower.

The drive back from the hospital was so awkward... the pregnant silence making you go crazy as Pops remained quietly the entire ride.

"I thought a lot about what you said once my dear." You yelped and looked at him in surprise.

"Eh?"

He smiled before looking at you with a serene expression.

"I was never once a good father example for both my actual daughter or Chisaki. Part of me didn't want to believe, but Kai needed more than just my help after I took him in... Guess he took on my stubborness."

"N-no, that was not what I meant-"

"Relax kid... I just recalled what you said back there when you left. There is nothing left for me asides from trying to at least solve things with Chisaki... I cant thank you enough, both of me and him weren't on the right side, so is not on place of me to judge him... specially when I tortured a childhood friend of my once."

... wait whAT-?!

The train stopped and you hesitantly took Pops hand when he offered it to help you stand up.

You two walked before you stopped by the front of your apartment complex as you looked at Pops uncertainly, but he only nodded with a smile.

"Is time for me to speak with him after who knows how long."

You shakily entered your apartment as coincidentally Kai emerged from the tiny hall, drying his hair with a towel, already dressed on his casual clothes as he opened one of his eyes to look at you.

"Better have a good explanation or else punishment is going to be extra harder." He smirked devilish and you would have gotten turn on if it weren't from right after he widened his amber eyes as if he had saw a ghost as Pops entered, crossing his arms as he looked back at Chisaki.

"Hello, Chisaki." He spoke seriously before smilling at how the man he created for years now seemes as a fragile boy who had been caught for doing sonething silly.

You aproached Chisaki slowly before taking his hand, making him look at you to remind him it wasn't one of his paranoia events... Pops was there. Smilling at him.

It was real.

The elder aproached, a small still present on as he looked at Chisaki.

"You seem way better than the last time I saw you. I'm glad to see that."

He couldn't speak, his throat was sore, it hurted too mcuh to even breath near this man again. He knew what had happened, so why on hell was this old geezer smilling at him iut of all people?! He could feel his eyes start to burn as he clenched on your hand before flinching violently when a hand that wasn't yours rested on his shoulder.

"I'm not mad at you. Is all in the past, I know your intentions weren't what happened... and I forgive you, Kai." He pulled Chisaki for a hug and the man himself tensed accidentaly letting go of your hand and lifting his metal arms in the air awkwardly. "But I hope one day you can still forgive me for not being a good father to you... my son."

That was the last straw for the man once called himself the name of his quirk, to break completely. He cried, silently, but the river of tears falling down his eyes was still there as he clenched the back of the man as he trembled... muttering how he hated himself and how much he was ashamed and sorry as Pops also apologized.

You smiled at the scene, trying to left the room but failing when your boyfriend and Pops called you back instantly... these two had still long to talk... but Kai still wanted you there. With him. As he always wanted.

After all, you and Pops were the only concept of family he ever had learned.

#bnha villains #bnha #bnha characters #bnha x reader #bnha imagine #chisaki kai #chisaki kai x reader #overhaul x reader #overhaul #fanfic overhaul #my writings #zuffer writings

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pizzagrlmeetsboy1980 · 3 years

Text

Okay the last bit of sweetness before I get back to the saltiness of TNS xD

AU where Fred stays and becomes human and Lizzie has become a child psychologist that encourages imaginary friends and discourages pills.

@neil-neil-orange-peel @frankenbolt

C’mon Ryan you can talk to me.” Lizzie said moving down to Ryan’s level. Even sitting on the floor so he was higher than her. Ryan Palmer was 6 years old and was sent her by his school for physically hurting other kids. He had been pushing and smacking other children. His parents were in the waiting room.

“I’m not talking to you! I didn’t DO anything!” He stubbed up.

“Okay. Fine. We don’t have to talk. We can play if you want. What would you like to do?” Lizzie said smiling.

“Nothing. I don’t like you. I don’t like my stupid teacher or my stupid school or anyone! I just wanna go home!” Ryan said crossing his arms.

“..I’m sorry, Ryan. I know...you’re not happy. And that’s okay. You can be mad if you want.”

Ryan got up and shoved Elizabeth. “I’m not mad! I just don’t wanna talk to you!! I hate girls!!”

Elizabeth sat up. She smiled.

“Ryan. What if I let you talk to a boy?” She said gently.

“I don’t care! I won’t talk to him either!” The little blonde boy pouted.

“Wait here..I’ll be right back.” She said. She walked to her office and sure enough there he was. Linking several of her paperclips together.

“Oi! Dr.Snotface! Are you done?!” He asked sounding bored. “I’m STARVING.”

“Not quite. But I need a favor.” Lizzie said. “...I need you to talk to an angry little boy for me. I asked his parents just now and they’re fine with it.” She said.

He rolled his eyes. “...Can we shag tonight if I do this?” He raised his brows up, hopeful.

“...Don’t say that so loud!....But yeah. If you can get him to talk...We’ll do it...that sounds really bad. Should I be endorsing this behavior?” She chuckled.

He shrugged smilingly

He hopped up and dusted off the sleeves of his mint green shirt.

“Oh, Snotty. Just watch. All that fancy learning you did compares nothing to MY talent.”He said. She followed him into the room Ryan was in.

“Ryan..This is Fred. I thought you might like him a little better than me.”

“I’m not talking to him either.” Ryan said.

“Talking? Why talk? I was just gonna go outside and swing a little maybe throws some rocks at a tree..” he said. “None of that requires any ol’ BORING talking.” Fred said. Shrugging. He walked outside and miraculously Ryan followed him. He grinned.

How does he do it? Elizabeth thought seeing the little boy follow Fred. She sat at the bench far away from the two. Giving them space.

As soon as he got outside Fred ran toward the swings and raced Ryan to them. Beating him.

“Slowpoke.” He said sitting down to swing.

Ryan swung a little.

“You got a name, Slowpoke?” Fred asked.

“Ryan..” he said lowly.

“Well that’s a WEIRD name. Tch. Americans..” Fred got off the swings climbed on the large steel jungle gym and Ryan followed him.

“...You’re a werid grown-up..” Ryan said.

“Well you’re a WERID kid. See I can say that too!” Fred stuck his tongue out.

“...I don’t wanna talk to her..” Ryan said.

“I don’t blame you. She’s really boring sometimes but...I’ll tell you a secret. No body makes chocolate chip biscuits better than her. No one!”Fred whispered.

“...Biscuits?” He looked at him.

“Oh. You call them cookies.” He said. “Oh. I like peanut butter better.” The boy replied.

“Would you talk if I got her to make you some peanut butter “cookies” ?” Fred asked.

“...Is she your girlfriend or something?” Ryan made a disgusted face.

“Worse. She’s my -wife-.”He smiled, scrunching up his face.

“Oh GROSS!” Ryan shouted.

“Now now..She’s not THAT gross. Trust me,Faceache. You’ll feel very differently about girls one day. Or you won’t..Maybe you’ll like boys or no one. And that’s okay. I’ll still be your friend. I guess. If I’m not doing anything else that day.”

“...I don’t have friends.” Ryan said.

“I JUST told you -I’m- your friend! Well. I see how it is now...” Fred rolled his eyes and waggled his head at the offense he had experienced.

“No I mean at school. But it’s all cause of...that stupid baby. It’s a stupid GIRL. I wanted a brother! No one asked me if I even wanted to be a big brother! And everyone keeps telling me to be all excited and I HATE IT!” Ryan screamed and punched Fred in the arm.

He looked incredibly offended.

“Is that the best you’ve got?!” He scoffed.

“NO!” He shoved Fred off of the jungle gym and jumped down and thumping on his arm.

He was crying and flailing. He was so mad. His parents were so caught up in that stupid baby. He felt like they didn’t care about him and he was just mad at the world.

He tired himself out and he hugged Fred’s arm. Ryan was so desperate to have someone to cry to and scream at. He was scared to do it to anyone else.

Elizabeth smiled. She was glad he was getting all that out. She knew that anger very well.

Ryan was sleepy now. Fred leaned down and let him climb on his back.

Ryan sniffled. Fred smiled. Carrying him.

Elizabeth looked at Ryan. “Do you feel better?” She asked.

“Shut up..” Ryan said. “He said you’d make cookies for me!” Ryan said sniffling.

“Let’s ask your Mom and Dad..” Lizzie said.

Fred handed the sleepy, sniffly Ryan over to his parents. “Work on that right hook, Faceache!” He said, leaning down at him.

“...Work on not being such a weirdo, Werido..” Ryan said wiping his eyes.

He was actually talking! His parents were aghast.

She made another appointment and bid them farewell.

“...So..what was wrong?” She asked.

“Well you saw his Mom..she’s pregnant he’s mad that no one asked him how he felt about it.” Fred shrugged.

“Poor, Ryan..Well we can start talking about it at least..” Elizabeth said. Starting to walk to the car.

He grinned mischievously and came up behind her and pinched her hips.

“..Do you remember what you said you’d do?~” he asked kissing at her ear.

“I do....I still feel a little weird about that..” she said turning around to face him.

“Don’t. You’re ..”okay” at what you do. Now let’s go home and get naked!” He said bouncing up and down a little.

“I thought you were starving?..” she said raising a brow.

“...I am! Let’s just eat in bed! We were planning on breakfast for dinner anyway. I can just lick up whatever syrup gets on you!” He grinned aggressively nipping her neck.

“...What am I going to do with you?..” she smiled kissing him.

“...I have a list!” He chuckled. “Would you like it alphabetically or chronologically?” He asked taking the passenger seat while she took the driver’s seat.

Honestly? She wouldn’t have her life any other way.

#drop dead fred #rik mayall #phoebe cates

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unichrome · 3 years

Text

I’ve been wanting to write down as much as I can remember from the month at the hospital in April, and this tumblr blog is the only thing I have that even remotely resembles a journal. So here it is, feel free to read and comment if you’d like, but please don’t reblog.

I was living in Copenhagen when this happened.

A few weeks prior, I started a new medication, an antipsychotic so the usual side effect was to be expected: tiredness. But I’ve been in this carousel before, I know the worst is over after a week or so. I did indeed become extremely tired, and this was during working-from-home corona days so most shifts I ended up napping in the couch at any chance I got. Easily slept 12+ hours per night. It kept getting worse, I couldn’t stay awake during the days, became extremely lethargic. And it didn’t get better after a week, it just kept getting worse. So I called my psychiatrist and told her the medication wasn’t working and I felt so very bad and tired.

I got a new appointment with her, which I can’t even remember really. She got worried and sent me off to the psychiatric ward, where they did the standard blood test. Then sent me off to a room. Luckily I had anticipated for something like this to happen, so I had brought the work phone as well as chargers, so I could call in sick to work. A while later, three people suddenly entered and told me I had to go to the hospital right now, two of them were from the hospital transport. They took me to Amager hospital, I was so confused and not really present at all. I don’t know what they told me, but I needed a blood transfusion immediately. I stayed there for a night, the only thing I can remember is going to the bathroom once.

The Amager hospital apparently wasn’t capable of providing the care I needed, I was transported yet again, to Rigshospitalet. The memories from here on are very blurry and sporadic. Eventually I heard that both of my kidneys were failing, when I was admitted on April 22nd, my kidney functionality was around 18%. If it drops under 20% it becomes lethal. Kidneys are also responsible for the production of blood, which wasn’t happening anymore and I had a very dangerously low count of red blood cells.

I’m super difficult to get blood from if the first attempt isn’t successful, as the poor nurses became painfully aware of after failing on the first try. During one of the first days there, when the daily blood test was to be taken, they didn’t succeed. Three nurses tried, eventually they called for a narcosis doctor to try with a ultrasound machine to find my veins, but it didn’t work very well either. They stung me all around the body, down to my feet and it took at least an hour to get the sample and my body had pretty much gone into shock since medical procedures and needles of any kind are one of my worst fears. Because of this it was decided to install a port for draining blood so this wouldn’t have to be repeated every day.

A kidney biopsy was ordered as well as more detailed blood tests to figure out why this kidney failure was happening. I would also have to call my parents in Sweden and tell them what was happening, and the fact that they couldn’t come and visit me, at all. I was in a quarantined zone of the hospital where no visitors were allowed, not even family. But also Denmark had closed its borders at the time, so they couldn’t even enter the country in the first place.

My only contact with the outside world was my phone that I treated as the most precious thing in the entire world, it was also pretty much the only thing I had with me. I would have long calls with my family talking about the most mundane and boring things but it was such a blessing to hear about, I would drag out the subjects as much as I could and so would they. I’d often cry after having to stop the calls.

The biopsy and tests revealed that I had antibodies that shouldn’t be there. My immune system was attacking the body, pretty much. This autoimmune disease is very rare, Microscopic Polyangiitis, and will cause kidney failure (and other organ failures) if not discovered and treated in time. Since I barely had any prior symtoms, it wasn’t discovered in time. My lungs were also examined as the disease usually targets kidneys and/or lungs, but no significant damage was found there luckily.

I was put on steroids (prednisone 60 mg) that would support the kidneys and dampen the damage from the antibodies as well as chemotherapy (Sendoxan 100 mg) that would shut down the immune system almost completely. Synthetic hormone injections every week to stimulate the production of red blood cells.

Every morning a blood test was done a 6:00, as well as checking the temperature and blood pressure. I was forced to drink 3 liters of fluid every day (which I logged on a paper meticulously - every ml counted) and I could only pick between water, disgusting orange juice or disgusting apple juice. Except during lunch, when I got a small package of milk - this became pretty much the highlight of my day. One glass of milk. That was like pure joy, it tasted so divine. In just a few days your entire world shifts in such a way that this package of milk is what you look forward to the next day.

All day I was bedbound and in a haze, time was entirely dependent on medicine, meal and test times like a work schedule, from the 6:00 tests to the final 23:00 medications, that left 7 hours of rest that was robbed from me because prednisone makes you unable to sleep well, even with the sleep aids I got. Despite being in bed almost all day every day, I was constantly sleepy and tired but I would never get any rest. Couldn’t even pee normally either, had to collect everything in a bottle for them to log.

But of course it would get worse. After about 6 days, my doctor came in and told me that the treatment didn’t seem to be working fast enough. My kidney functionality kept dropping, now at 13%, creatinine levels above 400 (it should never be above 80 for women, around 200 is kidney failure). They had one more weapon to combat this - plasmapheresis. This would mean connecting me to a machine that would take out my blood, clean it from the harmful antibodies, and put it back in again. Hopefully this would buy me time for the treatment to win. To do this, they had to cut up my throat to insert two tubes that would take in and out the blood. I had to be awake during the whole procedure to control the breathing as instructed.

I wasn’t connected to the machine all the time. A few hours every other day. It was noisy, sounded like a miniature washing machine, and I hated it so much. The tubes in my throat, blood going in and out of me, it was just pure terror even if the procedure itself didn’t hurt. I got some mild sedatives but they were way too mild and didn’t do shit. The fact that I didn’t have to be connected to the machine every other day became yet another highlight like the milk. I’d talk about how today was such a good day because it was a no machine day, like a holiday.

Showering was horrible too. Because of the tubes I had to avoid getting them wet as much as possible while still somehow washing the hair. Then the tape around the tubes had to be changed and I hated anyone touching that area. I went for as long as I could between the showers, up to 9 days.

I was quickly becoming very weak, as the medications and chemo ate away at my bones and muscles. My legs have always been strong, I’ve had no problems doing squats with a grown man hanging on my back. But one day when I was in the bathroom, I spilled some toothpaste on the floor. I squat down to wipe it, but I couldn’t get back up again. My legs were way too weak. I ended up having to drag myself up via the toilet and sink, it felt so humiliating I refused to use the button to call for help. I bet it took several minutes to get back up standing.

It was still very unsure if I would make it, the plasmapheresis wasn’t a guaranteed help. One day a psychologist came to talk to me, but the only thing I remember is that he asked if I was afraid of death. I told him that my current biggest fear was the damn tubes in my neck, the constant needles, every day the touching and prodding of my body, but it didn’t seem like it got through to him. Maybe because my Danish was so damn shitty too, I could barely articulate myself and what I felt in Swedish, much less in English or Danish, I think I was mostly rambling incoherently.

In the meantime my parents had been writing the hospital for updates and visitation possibilities, and eventually the kind nurses and doctors there started fighting for getting my parents to visit. They got granted an exception by the hospital to visit my room once per day, but they still couldn’t get into the country. My parents contacted the Danish police asking if an exception could be made since it now was entirely possible that this could be the last time they’d see me. They were eventually granted permission and now the final hindrance remained - getting there. Since they live far up north, the transportation options are limited especially during corona. There were essentially no flights, so the second best option was train for about 2 days.

As luck would have it, the plasmapheresis did help, my kidneys were slowly recovering and once I got up to around 25% functionality, I was free from the damn machine and the medications now had the upper hand against my stupid immune system. In the final days at the hospital, my parents arrived. And we could actually be happy because it seemed like the danger was over. I begged the doctor to release me and let my parents help me at home instead. I knew how to take the medications by now and it wouldn’t be necessary for daily tests anymore. She agreed but I had to come to the hospital every few days for a checkup.

And that concluded my first chapter of this disease and kidney failure. Thank you for reading all the way to here, I appreciate it.

#njursvikt #sjukhus

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direnightshade · 3 years

Text

Broken Patterns

“Where are you working, if you don’t mind my asking?”

The steady tick, tick, tick of the wall mounted clock nearby fills the silence that follows the woman’s statement. I glance around nervously, taking in the sight of the room. The walls are white and the bottom half is trimmed with a molding that I’ve only ever seen in places that are far too expensive for me to afford. Meanwhile, the top half of the walls are covered in a multitude of photos and art, each one framed in mismatched metals. To my left there is a bookshelf that spans the entirety of one wall. It is filled to the brim with books of varying genres.

Oh, how I long for a place such as this some day.

My gaze swings back to the woman with the pinched face and the short, jet black pixie haircut. I swallow thickly and wipe my already clammy palms along the tops of my jean-clad thighs. “I just landed an internship with Simon & Schuster.”

A steady scribble of the tip of her pen can be heard as she scrawls across her piece of paper, humming in acknowledgement, though I am certain the sound is a mere afterthought; one to appease me as if she’s giving off the appearance that she’s listening. “And when did you move to New York?”

“Two years ago, right after I turned eighteen.”

More scribbling follows, and I shift anxiously on the velveteen couch that has been dyed a pretty shade of dark green. Almost immediately, I am pinned to the very spot I sit by the intense gaze of the woman who is meant to be my therapist. There are no words exchanged, but the look that she is giving me seems to say it all: stay still. I sink into myself and remain in place as she has so silently willed me to do.

This is only the beginning of the session, and already, it is unlike anything I would have expected.

“So, tell me,” she says, finally satisfied that she’s written all that she can for the time being, “what brings you into my office?” Her posture has straightened considerably now, and for the first time since I’d stepped foot past the threshold of the room’s door do I feel as if she’s actually listening to what I have to say.

I inhale a shaky breath in hopes that it will steel my resolve, and when I exhale, I begin to tell her everything.

I tell her about the screaming that became a staple in my childhood home; about how it had all been my fault, because of course it was. I had been unable to grasp the simplest things that were being taught to me. It certainly hadn’t been because the expectations that were set so heavily onto my shoulders were so unrealistic that no child at my age could have lived up to them. No. No, of course not. That wasn’t it at all. It was all me. My failings.

I tell her about how I’d taken out all of my pent up anger and aggression out on the dolls that my mother had so lovingly gifted to me; that I’d mutilated them so badly my mother took me to see a child psychologist claiming she thought me to be some future murdering psychopath. Isn’t that hilarious?!

It’s an absurd thought. Truly.

I couldn’t harm a fly…

I tell her about Ben.

He was, I think, the first person I ever thought I loved. I met him, of all the places, on Bow Bridge in Central Park one crisp Autumn morning. I’d been fresh off the train, barely in the city for a full twenty four hours when we’d crossed paths. He’s a painter—a lovely one at that, I’ve always told him as much—and when I’d stumbled across him, he was painting the landscape. I couldn’t help but admire his talents. I think I may have stopped and gawked for far too long and perhaps that is what caught his attention, though I am sure if he was here, he would sing a different tune. He loves to tell people that when he saw me it was if I had walked straight out of one of his paintings; a dream incarnate. The line makes me roll my eyes with disgust now, but back then in the early stages of the relationship, that line would always have me hook, line, and sinker.

But therein lies the problem, you see. I am a sucker for pretty words, for people who can paint me the loveliest picture of a life that I have always wanted but yet to have. And, oh, how he painted that lie well.

Over time the compliments and the affection have waned significantly, and now I fear that it is only I who is trying to give it my all any more. I believe that he is seeing someone else, that the pretty words he once showered down on me are now being put upon another heart, leaving mine to rot.

He checks his phone late at night when he thinks that I am asleep. I can hear the steady tap, tap, tap of his thumbs against the screen and every now and again, I can hear the soft laughter he emits whenever whomever she is responds with some undoubtedly witty remark. Where he once used to be so adamant that we put our phones aside and focus on one another, he now has done a complete one-eighty. We sit on opposite ends of the couch whilst he entertains himself with whatever conversation he is so engrossed in, meanwhile I am left to watch this movie—one that he chose—alone.

I am turning into my mother more and more every day, I realize. I am untrusting and paranoid, always asking him who it is that he’s taking calls from or who he’s texting. He tells me it’s nothing, that it’s just work, but he was never this busy with work before…

Two days ago is when he’d come clean.

My suspicions were not unfounded. He had been seeing someone. Her name is Mina and apparently she is lovely.

There is a brief bout of scribbling of a pen against paper, and when it stops, my therapist lifts her head once more to look at me. “How does that make you feel?”

Like I am a waste, I want to tell her. It makes me feel as if I am nothing; that if the one person on this planet who was meant to love me cannot seem to then perhaps I am, myself, unworthy of such a gift.

My features soften and I allow the corners of my mouth to turn up into a small smile. “I feel fine.”

The woman reaches up to pull her glasses down off of the bridge of her nose, setting the frames atop her notebook. She exhales a sigh and regards me carefully before doling out a reply. “This is a new development for you. Surely you must have some sort of feelings about it.”

“I told you that I’d had my suspicions. I’ve had more than two days to process the inevitable.”

“Having a suspicion and having confirmation are two completely different things. This idea in your mind has since been made real. Doesn’t that hurt you,” she counters.

The smile that had been so carefully put into place falters, and my lips press into a thin line.

It is clear that my therapist is pleased with this non verbal response as she once again resumes her note taking.

“No,” I reply carefully.

“No?”

“No.”

There is a stretch of silence that follows my insistence, and soon enough, she sets the notepad, pen, and her glasses aside and regards me carefully. “What are you doing to cope?”

I barely manage to bite back the snort that nearly bubbled up to the surface. Cope? Since when have I ever coped with anything? I suppose, if we are being technical, what I do is a form of coping, albeit an unhealthy one. I take those feelings, the ones that weigh on my chest so heavily that it feels as if it may very well collapse under the strain, and I compact them until they are so small I can easily store them in a cage that I have built myself. I tuck them away and store the box somewhere deep inside myself, never allowing them to see the light of day so that I never have to deal with the emotional traumas that I have been dealt.

“I work,” I say matter-of-factly, as if the idea of me needing to do anything else is utterly absurd.

She hums and clasps her hands together, setting them atop her lap. “And what have you done for an emotional release? Anything at all? Or are you throwing yourself into work to avoid the situation?”

My jaw clenches at her insistence, though, I don’t know why I would have expected anything else. Perhaps I wasn’t expecting this first session to have become so deep so quickly. “If you’re asking if I’ve cried, the answer is no.”

“And why not?”

I am growing more and more irritated by the second. I could, if I so wished, put an end to this right now. I could get up and end the session, thank her for her time and walk right out of the door. Or, the pen sitting beside her on the end table would push straight into her eye socket rather nicely, I reckon…

No. No, I rid myself of that thought and exhale an audible sigh.

“Because what is the point? Crying doesn’t fix the relationship. He’s made his choice.”

“Crying can be a good release for us. It’s very cathartic.”

“I’m not wasting my tears on someone who didn’t have the decency to leave the relationship before giving a part of themselves to someone else.”

The irony is not lost on me that eleven years later I find myself in another office in a different part of the city with tears freely spilling down onto my cheeks as I reach for the tissue that is offered to me. When one isn’t enough, I am gifted the entire box.

It feels as if I am crying out years and years of repressed emotion, and I fear—as my body wracks with sob after sob—that the tears will be never ending. This therapist, who I have already decided is miles above the one I’d seen when I was twenty, sits and waits patiently for me to let it all out. She has been nothing short of supportive and I feel relief.

Earlier this week I had requested that Charlie jot down the number for his therapist’s office so that I may make an appointment of my own. Though he, too, has been more than happy to listen to me when I vent my frustrations or cry on his shoulder when things become a little too overwhelming for me, I have come to realize that perhaps it is not fair of me to unload so much onto him when he is still dealing with so much himself. And what’s more, is that I have realized that I have begun to fall into an old pattern.

Rather than fully dealing with the emotional upset he has caused with his trysts, I have once again begun to tamp down and repress my negative emotions in favor of pretending that all's right with the world. Not only do I not want to shut myself down and risk ruining this relationship, I also do not believe my tactics to be in the best interest of Little b. So, if nothing else, I will do this for them.

When the tears finally subside, and I have once again managed to pull myself together, I take a moment to dab a clean tissue against the underside of my eyes. Just as I am inhaling another shaky breath, my therapist—who is not the same woman that Charlie shares his allotted time with—poses a question.

“Have you discussed your feelings with him?”

I sniffle and ball up the tissue in my hand as it comes to rest in my lap. “We had a long, long discussion after things calmed down. He knows that I was—am—unhappy with his choices.”

There is a soft sigh emitted when she shifts in her seat and crosses her legs. One hand rests on her knee whilst the other keeps her chin propped up as her elbow sets on the arm of the chair she’s currently seated in. “You told me that he’s admitted to opening up to someone emotionally when he felt he couldn’t do that with you and that this seems to be the root of your dispiritedness. I’d like to talk about that.”

I wouldn’t, I think to myself almost immediately.

But, this is why I am here, after all. I need to discuss the things that I wish to bury. Only then do I have any real chance of repairing the damaged, unhealthy parts of myself. If we, as a family, have any real shot at moving forward, then I must face this head on regardless of how much I want nothing more than to run the other way.

And yet…

I am struggling.

“Do you still worry that this may be an issue?”

My head hangs forward, and I close my eyes tightly to ward off the onslaught of tears that once again threaten to force their way out. There is a slight tremor that starts in my chin and works its way to my bottom lip. I hate this, this feeling of being rendered speechless, of being weak and vulnerable. I hate that, once again, I have given someone else the power to crush me so.

I nod wordlessly, the motion so slight that it would have been missed had she not been paying careful attention.

“Has he done anything to make you think that it is?”

Another stretch of silence follows her words, and this time, I find myself shaking my head. No, no he hasn’t.

And yet…

I am afraid.

And…

My therapist says my name to grab my attention, and when I finally lift my head to look at her, it is with tearfully blurred vision. “If he has not done anything to make you think that it is, then tell me about the steps he has taken to attempt to alleviate those fears.”

I inhale a shaky breath and begin to list off everything from deleting the long list of contacts in his phone to quitting his job at the theater. When the subject of the move to Los Angeles is brought up, I am asked that one question that haunted my thoughts mere days ago.

What do I want?

How do I feel?

“I…” My lips press together as I trail off, and I work my jaw as I take a moment to think. “I want to leave. I think the move will be good for both of us, and not just because this means that Charlie can see Henry more regularly now.” While I speak, I lift a hand to dab away the last remaining tears from my eyes, finally feeling more confident in this turn of conversation. “You know, when I first moved here, I loved this city so much that I resolved to stay here until I turned old and grey.”

There is a small smile that forms when I speak, and I huff out soft laughter. But as I shake my head, the smile begins to wane. “But now… After everything that’s transpired over the last month… This city that brought me so much joy just feels so oppressive now. Some of the places I used to love to venture to have been tainted by the awful confessions that he’s bestowed upon me. What I want is to leave. But most importantly, what I want is for this to work...”

By the time that my session concludes, I am feeling infinitely better than when I’d initially walked through the front door. For the first time in all the times that I have tried—or was forced to try—therapy, I am leaving a session with tools that I feel will be useful in aiding my own emotional recovery from everything that I have dealt with in life. For the first time in my life, I will attempt to cope with the emotions that I feel in a healthy way. I feel, for the first time in a long, long time, like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

When I make my way out of the building, I am surprised to find Charlie waiting for me just outside. There is a fleeting look of concern that flashes across his face when he takes in my red-rimmed eyes, but just as quickly as the look emerges, it dissipates entirely when a broad smile stretches across my face. “You came all the way out here to get me,” I ask, the pleasant surprise evident in my voice.

“Wanted to make sure your first session went well,” he says just as he reaches out for me once I’m near enough.

A soft hum is emitted when his hands settle on my waist to draw me in closer, and I lift my arms to wrap them loosely around his neck. I tip my head back slightly to look up at him, taking a moment to soak in his features before I speak. “You were nervous.”

He huffs in automatic response, his gaze darting to the side momentarily. “Absolutely not.”

If it is possible for my smile to widen any further, then it certainly does so. “It’s okay,” I say, fingers raking through the hair at the nape of Charlie’s neck whilst he continues to hold me close, safe and out of the way from any passersby. “We’re okay. It went great. Probably the best session I’ve ever had. Now I know why you’ve chosen that office.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

We smile at one another, and for the first time in over a month, I truly feel as if everything will be alright.

#B+C #B+C+b #personal au #cw: pregnancy #cw: infidelity #cw: angst #iamakiller

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bonvoyagenoona · 3 years

Note

i can’t believe you’re actually interested in checking the chicklit out, i was actually half expecting you to politely decline 😆😆 so thank you very much for being interested!!

regarding plot points and characterizations that i’d like to point out:

(warning: SO MUCH SPOILER and incoherent rambling ahead so please don’t judge 😂😂)

1.) the book mainly focuses on the female lead (that we’re going to refer to as Lexi for the rest of this ask since that’s her name in the book)’s characterization and missing life trajectory, not so much the romance.

2.) i mean, the romance is still there, but i do however feel like we’re not given much about the male lead (that we’re going to refer to as the architect for the rest of this ask) aside from the fact that he: has got a dry humor, tells it how it is, doesn’t give a single fuck about anything but Lexi and architecture, is sexy (hence me saying that’s yoongi lmao)—which is fair bc the book is told from Lexi’s POV and it’s first person too, no less, so we only get scenes of him when she interacts with him.

3.) i guess what im trying to say is that i actually don’t mind how the romance is done in this book despite the infidelity (mind you i do NOT condone infidelity but like i said before, the infidelity is justified… somewhat) because i have to admit that the architect is kind of irresistible and there’s this one scene of them in the second half of the book where Lexi finds out just how much she loved him before she lost her memory—but i just wish we got to know more about the architect, and how the romance blooms between him and Lexi before AND after the amnesia. (but miss cheryl, please know that this isn’t me trying to dictate you what to write!! you can do whatever you want with your yoongi AU of this!!)

4.) i have to admit that im a sucker for amnesia AUs hence me having picked this book up in the first place. but what i really like about the book is the main essence of it.

allow me to show it to you in the form of an excerpt taken from the book:

““One day, really early on, when we were still just friends, it all came out. The whole story. How that day changed your life. How you took on your family's debt, booked a cosmetic dentistry appointment the next day, went on a crash diet, decided to change everything about yourself. Then you went on TV, and everything became even more extreme. You rocketed up the career ladder. You met Eric, and he seemed like the answer. He was solid, rich, stable. A million miles away from..." he breaks off into silence.

"My dad," I say eventually.

"I'm no psychologist. But I would guess."

There's silence. I watch a small plane heading higher and higher into the sky, leaving a double trail of white smoke.

"You know, when I woke up, I thought I'd landed the dream life," I say slowly. "I thought I was Cinderella. I was better than Cinderella. I thought I must be the happiest girl in the world..." I break off as Jon shakes his head.

"You were living your whole life under a strain. You went too far too soon; you didn't know how to handle it; you made mistakes." He hesitates. "You alienated your friends—you found that the hardest of all."

"But I don't understand," I say helplessly. "I don't understand why I became a bitch."

"You didn't mean to. Lexi, give yourself a break. You were thrust into this boss position. You had a big department to run, you wanted to impress senior management—not be accused of favoritism... and you floundered. You did some things the wrong way. Then you felt trapped. You'd built up this tough persona. It was part of your success."”

oh, look. you don’t have to read the whole book to find out what it’s all about because i basically just spoiled the whole of it to you 😂😂😂

but yeah. although i DO have to mention that there are elements of this book that we could absolutely have done away with (this book was written by a white woman and published way back in 2008), but overall i quite like the book.

LET ME REITERATE THIS TO YOU ONCE AGAIN, MISS CHERYL: THIS IS NOT ME DICTATING YOU WHAT TO WRITE. THIS IS ME MERELY GIVING YOU THE MOTIVATION BEHIND ME SUGGESTING A YOONGI AU OF THIS BOOK TO YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE, BUT YOU ARE THE WRITER—YOU DECIDE WHAT TO WRITE AND HOW TO WRITE IT. IF ANYTHING—IF YOU DECIDE TO GO COMPLETELY OFF COURSE OF THIS BOOK THAT ITS BASICALLY AN ENTIRELY NEW STORY? BE MY GUEST!!! JUST AS LONG AS THE OC ENDS UP TOGETHER WITH YOONGI AT THE END LOLOLOLOLOL 😂😂😂😂😂

Ahh, thanks so much for the context and info! I'll check it out and see what pulls me in! Just as a heads-up, I don't really have any set timelines at the moment, and I have a few works in progress, so I don't have an estimate on when I might possibly be able to get this to you.

But!

I absolutely love how much you enjoy this story, and I'm so thankful you shared it with me! The way you shared the idea was intriguing, too. I'm so curious about what happened with Lexi. I'm quite excited to start imagining Yoongi in the architect's / Jon's place. I'm also interested in trying something new as a writer!

Though I pull influence from so much of what I read and watch, I do tend to develop and write my own stories. So, the approach I envision myself taking here would be one where I put my own spin on things. Nevertheless, I do love a Yoongi happy ending! (all kinds 😏)

I hope this is OK, but I've tagged your asks with 📚 Chicklit Anon to make sure I don't lose track of our conversation! Let me know if you'd prefer me to structure my communication with you another way, and I'd be happy to oblige 💜

Thanks for sharing, and I'll keep you posted!

#asks #your asks #📚 chicklit anon #thanks again for sharing and excited to dig in!#📚chicklitanon

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kingsuckjin · 5 years

Text

The Enigma of Bunny |Pt. 11

Pairing: Jungkook, Yoongi, Jimin, Seokjin, Taehyung x reader featuring Namjoon and Hobi

Genre: mystery, thriller? Idk anymore.

Synopsis: You find a very sick young man in an alley and out of the bottomless barrel of kindness that is your heart, you decide take him home. Only then do you realize this stranger doesn’t speak, but that’s not the only strange thing about him by far. Who is he? Where did he come from? What happened to him? And why can’t he remember anything or even speak?

Warnings: None

Words: 4.5k

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➡My Masterlist

"So, the school definitely wouldn't be open right now- so here's what I have so far." Yoongi looked down at his phone as you sat in the driver's seat watching him and ready to listen to the information he had taken down so far. "Bunny was a trainee. He lived with his group. Went to an art school and juggled a night job. He was a happy kid until about a year before everything he began acting strange, depressed, he kept to himself, had to have had the girlfriend by then if she knew him well enough to supposedly help him through his family's death, he was on his phone a lot, probably with her. 'He had to call her all the time' those were the group guy's words, that's fucking weird but anyway... he got really bad after his family's death, seemed to cling to this weird Amanda girl, he cried a lot, showed up to work with cuts and then quit everything all at once, he didn't even show up to pick up his last check. There's two things I think we should do, the first being come back tomorrow and talk to maybe a professor and also talk to the police back home." Yoongi read off what he had typed up on his phone.

"Yoongs, I'm not driving all the way back here just to-"

"Call them you dummy. Call the school and see what you can find out." Yoongi interrupted you along with an added eye roll.

"I think we should go straight to the police, honestly this is getting weird." You admitted with a stressed sigh and ran your fingers through your hair..

"Oh so you believe my crazy theories now?" Yoongi tilted his head as he looked at you as if to say I told you so. But it was all beginning to dawn on you that his crazy theory could be right after all, you had never had a good feeling when thinking about where Jungkook was now, but you just couldn't fathom one of Yoongi's theories being right.

"It's not about who’s right and wrong, I just have a terrible feeling. I've- I've had it for a while now- I- I just didn't think it could be true..." You did, you had this strange sinking feeling in your gut that just wouldn't go away and it had only worsened as time went on. "Why didn't anyone see all this weird stuff and go to the police initially?! Why did no one care?!" You went off in frustration, pounding at the steering wheel as you drove.

"It's not that no one cared or didn't see it, it was the same reasons you had. Probably no one believed creepy shit could happen to someone they knew. See, everyone always sees this kind of stuff on the news to people they don't know, never to them or the people they care about so when it does happen it's probably hard to recognize the signs. But this does happen, it could happen to anyone." He explained

"What though? What exactly are we talking about here? What happened to him?" You asked feeling your hands already shaking. You just wanted him to confirm it one more time, to say it out loud again so it was nailed into your head.

"Y/n, I think he's been taken." The words made you feel sick. You began to sob uncontrollably and Yoongi made you pull over. You couldn't help but imagine Jungkook chained up around his wrist in the dark like he had explained in his dream once before.

"Oh god Yoongi, please don't say that." You wailed but he was was already leaned across the car console holding you.

You had let him go so long he could already be... you didn't want to think about that. Guilt ran through you as you thought about how you had made him go back, possibly to his captor. Your sweet Bunny might be somewhere hurting and dark and cold. That would mean he wasn't lying about coming back, he just couldn't.

"It will be alright, let's hope it's not true and just keep looking." Yoongi told you gently.

You waited until you your tears slowed down and dried your damp cheeks with your sleeve before beginning the trip back home. It was a long, quiet drive. You knew that when you get back you'd probably end up staying on Yoongi's sofa like you have the past few days. You hadn't really wanted to stay at your place alone because of Jimin, the psycho down stairs, the break up and now all of this. You felt like life was really starting to eat you alive and it was probably your own stupid fault.

The next morning after you woke up on Yoongi's sofa and he made you coffee, you headed home to have a moment to yourself to process all of this and make a decision as to what to do here. you sat there on your sofa staring at your phone on the table just thinking about it all.

This whole thing seemed just too much for you and Yoongi to handle, you weren't professionals, you weren't police, you weren't really detectives and this was not a game. Not only that, but you felt like time was ticking away, maybe every moment mattered.

You picked up your phone off the coffee table and made the call.

"Seoul police department." A vaguely familiar voice answered.

"I was wondering if I could speak to detective Namjoon?" Your voice cracked from nervousness a little but you cleared it and tried to push it aside.

"He's not here but can I take a message for when he gets back?" You could almost swear you had heard this officer's distinct voice before but you couldn't recall the name.

"Uh yeah tell him its y/n, y/l/n from-"

"Ohhh! Y/n or noona, I remember you. This is officer Jung, from the day you came to pick up that Jeon boy. I worked with detective Kim Namjoon on that case. Is there something I could help you with?" You now instantly remembered the cheerful officer.

"You did? That's great, then yeah there might be. Were you there when Jungkook’s girlfriend picked him up?" You asked. Was it okay to ask something like this? Did it go against some sort of confidentiality? Should you have even asked?

"Unfortunately not, we left it to the other officers, we really didn't feel the need to be there for that. Why?" He seemed curious now. You felt nervous about this and you were sure that he would just think you were crazy, but you had to do something.

"I think there's a problem."

"What kind?" He replied immediately.

"You're not going to believe me but... I was concerned."

You went on to explain everything, absolutely everything from the psychologist appointment to what the people who knew him had said.

His next words startled you.

"Do you think you could come down here? Detective Kim should be here by the time you get here. This is... it's rather strange." Officer Jung actually sounded like he might believe you.

After the phone call you got dressed but as you did so your phone began to ring nonstop. You picked it up and let out a groan at the word "boss" across the screen. You rid yourself of the annoyance in your voice and the slight fear of getting yelled at by this man for not working, and answered the phone.

"Hel-" your words were cut off by his stern, deep voice.

"Why have you not been answering my calls and texts?"

"I-I-uh…" you fumbled for an excuse.

"What more could you want from me? I've given you everything I could think of and you still refuse to do your job and you ignore me."

At his words a spark of bravery ignited inside of you.

"Frankly, Taehyung, you can take your job and shove it." You thought it would feel good to just say it, but unfortunately that spark of bravery had already abandoned you and died leaving you with nothing but nervousness.

"Is that so?" His voice seemed calm and almost amused by your little outburst. "If this is your resignation from your job then I don't accept, if you really want to quit then come see me and we can talk it over, if not, you're still employed by me and I'd appreciate it if you answer your calls and texts."

"Yes sir." You replied in defeat.

"Listen, I don't care how busy you are or what's going on in your life. When I reach out to you, you make yourself un-busy, you owe it to me, got it? I'm the single most important thing to you from here on out, understood?" His voice was firm and you could just envision him giving you that cold look of his.

"Yes sir." You replied with your voice far weaker than before.

"Good. Something needs to be done about this and we will be meeting before the week is over, I'll be in contact." And with that, the call ended.

You had a seat on the side of your bed for a moment to collect yourself until you decided to put the call behind you at least for now until you did what you needed to do right now, and that was to go to the police station.

You felt like you couldn't do it alone right now and decided that maybe Yoongi would be useful being there to so you headed right back to Yoongi's apartment and you didn't even have to beg for him to get dressed out of his pajamas at noon and come with you.

Officer Jung and detective Kim were already waiting for you when you and Yoongi arrived. Nothing was said, making you think that officer Jung had already filled detective Kim in on your story. They led you both into a small, basic white room with four chairs and a tape recorder on the rickety looking plastic topped table.

"Do either of you mind if we record this?" Detective Kim asked and you and Yoongi both shook your heads and had a seat across from them. He clicked a button on the recorder and a red light came on.

"Alright now, just start from the beginning, officer Jung has already explained everything to me but I just need it for the recording just in case this might be something very serious like you are insinuating." You were once again stunned and left wondering why and how they believed you when these accusations were even hard for you to believe.

"How much from the beginning?" You asked and looked between the serious faced officer and detective.

"To when and how you met Jungkook, I need to know everything from both of you." Detective Kim looked at you and Yoongi.

You both nodded.

"This is Sargent Jung Hoseok and Detective Kim Namjoon from the Seoul police department and we are here with Y/N Y/l/n and-"

"Min Yoongi." Yoongi replied.

"Go ahead." Detective Kim looked at you again with a reassuring smile which did nothing to settle your nerves.

You started from the beginning telling the whole story with Yoongi occasionally adding comments, and both the police officer and detective asking questions.

You had been interviewed for hours giving every detail you could, when you felt your phone going off in your pocket.You ignored it and tried to stay focused on what was being asked next, but it was hard when your phone just kept letting out little vibrations in your pocket.

"Now, this is a personal question, but we have to know everything." Detective Kim said "Did you and Jeon Jungkook ever sleep together or were you ever involved romantically during any point when he was with you?"

"Yes." You replied and swallowed hard but no one in the room seemed to bat an eye at your confession.

"When was this?" Officer Jung now asked.

"The night before he left." You let out a sigh after your reply.

"Did he say anything strange to you during that time? Did you two sleep together or did you just share your feelings with each other?" The detective asked.

You swallowed your nervousness once again as your hands shook a little. Why was talking about this so hard on you? You wiped your sweaty hands on your jeans and just left there on your thighs.

"Both. We slept together and he told me he loved me, I said it back. I guess all of that time together just... it made us close." You tried to reason why everything that night happened.

"That seems reasonable." Namjoon gave a confirming nod along with his words that helped urge you to speak more.

"He also left me a note for me to read after he left." You added, knowing you should mention it.

"Do you have the note?" Officer jung asked raising a brow at you, you could tell it had peaked his interest.

You pulled the note out of your bag and Yoongi gave you a weird look so you explained as you laid it on the table.

"I figured I might need it when you asked me to come down." You shrugged as the detective picked it up.

"May I read it? Out loud for the recording?"

"Yes." You replied to the detective who unfolded it and then began to read, making your cheeks feel hot.

"Y/n.

Please don't be sad. I understand that you just wanted to do the right thing. You wanted me to see if I loved her and you wanted me to find out who I am, but I promise you I'll be back soon. It hurts to leave, it's scary, I hate it, but it's okay, we'll both be okay until I'm home again. I only say I'll be back because I know there's no way I could love someone as much as you, find someone as giving and caring as you. Just hold tight for me for the next few days and I'll come home to you.

-love,

Your Bunny"

"So we now have it in writing that he promised he would be back." Officer Jung said. "That's important as proof of intent on returning."

"Y/n, do you have any enemies or stalkers or maybe ex-boyfriends that might not like the idea that he was staying with you?" Namjoon asked "I know you think it could be this Amanda girl, but what about on your end? I just want to be through."

"I just got out of a relationship and the guy and I kept running into each other before hand and he even met Jungkook but I don't think he would..."

"What was his name?" Detective Kim asked right away.

"Kim Seokjin, but as I said-" you wanted to argue that he was a nice guy, that he would never want to hurt anyone but in your paranoid mind you were now seeing everyone as potential suspects.

"Just trying to be thorough." The detective reminded.

"Jimin." Yoongi said out of nowhere catching everyone's interest.

"Park Jimin, your stalker. Or even your boss, he's rich and evil enough to do something horrible like this."

"Tell us about them." Officer Jung told you. "And it's important to remember to tell us if you were romantically involved with them and how."

You began to sweat even harder. How were you even supposed to talk about what happened with your boss? You looked to Yoongi beside you, as if to curse him for even bringing it up but when you did you felt a hand take yours under the table.

"It's okay, I've got you. No one is going to judge you here." Yoongi said softly and both the detective and officer agreed.

You didn't want to, but you told them everything and hoped Taehyung wouldn't find out about it.

As they had promised, no one in the room seemed to judge you as you told them everything about your boss, Jimin and Jin.

Office Jung and Detective Kim said that they'd look into the potential suspects, and talk to Jungkook’s former group, bar, and even the school and update you with any news.

But that wasn't enough for you. When you and Yoongi got back out to your car an overwhelming feeling of frustration and helplessness ignited in you and you once again found yourself sitting in your car with Yoongi looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to burst and spill your thoughts, and you did.

"There has to be something more I can do." You sighed.

"I don't think there is. The police can handle it from here, they can do more than we could." Yoongi told you as if that were supposed to stop this suffocatingly helpless feeling you had bubbling away in you.

"So what now? I just wait?" You said it with slight anger at this now being out of your hands. You didn't regret going to professionals but it felt so out of your control now and you hated the feeling.

"Pretty much." He shrugged.

"I can't do that... I've already waited too long! What if he's hurt?! what if hes-" you began to feel panicked and trapped from feeling so helpless, your eyes began to water up.

"Y/n." Yoongi interrupted you with a firm voice "it's best not to think about that right now. You did the right thing by going to them and they took it seriously. I'm sure they'll find him."

You closed your eyes, laying your head back against the headrest and took a deep breath to calm you but snapped your eyes open at the feeling your phone go off once more.

"Who the fuck is-" you had already taken out your phone but reading the name alone on the texts was enough to stop your sentence.

"Stop cursing, it's unlike you." Yoongi scolded but you were too deep in reading the texts to reply to him. He had most likely seen your lack of reply and eyes glued to your phone and finally took notice.

"What?"

You began to read some texts out loud to him.

"Jin: I'm so sorry, I didn't think things through before just leaving like that a few days ago. I was stupid. I thought about it and realized you would never do anything like that."

"Jin: will you please forgive me, baby?"

"Jin: I love you and I feel so guilty for leaving. I'll make it up to you if you let me."

"Jin: please reply, its breaking my heart. I just love you so much."

"Jin: you forgive me don't you baby?"

"What the heck?" You said in confusion.

"What? He misses you." Yoongi shrugged.

"Can you believe this guy? It's been four days and he thinks calling me baby and saying he loves me will somehow-" your confusion had turned to annoyance upon thinking about it.

"Wait." Yoongi paused and you looked at him in the now momentarily silent car as he looked to be thinking. "He told you he loves you? When did you two start saying that to each other? I thought we had a conversation about that not too long before the whole incident where you told me he hadn't said it yet and you didn't know if you were ready to." Yoongi seemed puzzled but so were you.

"Exactly. I think he thinks telling me now will get me back or something." You said with a scoff.

"And why is he calling you baby? I've been around you two enough to know he calls you cutie or lamb chop or cupcake." Yoongi pointed out.

"I don't know what he's thinking."

"Well either way you're not supposed to mention to anyone the police investigation so don't do that if you decide to take the idiot back." Yoongi, leaned back in the passenger's seat, crossed his arms and huffed.

"I know, I know. I just have a lot of stuff going on right now and I can't take him back." Your voice was weak, Jin’s texts had succeeded more than you'd like to admit at planting a tinge of guilt, or a small bit of longing for him in your mind.

"Well tell him that." Yoongi said so you began to try to write out a reply to Jin, but you deleted it and wrote out a new one before erasing that too and deciding on a simple reply. You read your reply to yoongi only after hitting send.

"I do forgive you but I just can't do this right now, Jin. I'm sorry."

Jin's reply back was immediate.

"Let's just talk this over, okay? Just come see me. If you don't want to do this right now then that's okay, I understand, but just come talk to me, baby."

Yoongi was now reading the text over your shoulder making you turn and give him a dirty look before he spoke one word quickly and rather urgently.

"Don't."

"Why?" You asked with your brows furrowed in confusion.

"Somethings not right."

"What? What do you mean? Don't be paranoid, Yoongs."

"I'm not, I just have a bad feeling." He said and you rolled your eyes "have I been wrong yet?"

"I don't know yet."

"Fine. Let's go see Jin. Right now. I'll stay in the car while you talk to him." Yoongi decided for you.

"It could be a while. Look, It will be alright-"

"No, what if it is Jin, huh? What if he was stalking you and that's why you kept running into him like that? You don't know what he's capable of when he's upset. What if he kidnapped Jungkook so he could run into you again and-" Yoongi spewed out his worries that felt like quite a reach to you.

"Yoongi, I've known him forever, he's not like that. Even when he gets upset it's not even that serious." You tried to reason.

"Or what if it's someone else entirely, what if its not even him texting you? Someone who doesn't know he doesn't call you baby?"

"You're being crazy! Why are you so protective over me anyway?! Why are you helping me with all of this when you like me?! What if it's you?! What if you're the only insane one?!" You went off now. You understood all of this made him worried but he was letting it make him paranoid.

"I'm helping you because I'm your friend and I care! I care about your feelings! Yeah, I like you but it doesn't matter because someone is missing and this is all so fucked up and weird! At the end of the day all I want is for you to be happy because you're kind and you've been through enough and you deserve it!" He yelled back.

You paused with your anger and frustration melting away. You stared at him in wide eyed shock until you felt tears in your eyes again.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to yell and make you…" Yoongi said with sincerity but you shook your head.

"No, I'm sorry. This is all a lot. Not what you said just now, everything, all these-these problems I don't know how to fix." You sniffled.

"I know." He laid a hand on your back for comfort. "But maybe if you go talk to Jin it will help solve maybe one of them."

You nodded.

"You can come with me, it shouldn't take too long." You started your car and gave into his worrying. What he was asking wasn't much, plus you felt bad for calling him crazy.

"What exactly is his address?" Yoongi asked and you told him but of course asked why.

"I don't know, I thought you mentioned he lived the other way across town, my mistake." He muttered while looking at his phone.

"I thought about moving there, those are some really nice apartments but now that... it's over with Jin and I... you know, I don't really want to live next to him."

"Well you don't know that. He seems to know he messed up. Maybe after everything settles down..." he trailed off.

"I-I can't." You admitted.

"I figured. I understand you're still waiting." Yoongi did seem to understand, just like he always did.

"Thank you." You announced before taking another deep and calming breath and to rid yourself of nervousness and worry, not only from everything today, but also from heading over to see your now ex boyfriend to talk.

"For?"

"For being so concerned about me all the time, for helping me every time I need it, for just being there. I know you like me and I'm sorry-" you wanted to try to talk about it, to let him know you hadn't ignored his confession, but he didn't seem to want that.

"No. No, it's no problem. You're kind of the only friend I have and I really don't want to ever mess that up. I've thought about it before and if you did like me and we did end up dating one of us would screw it up because that's honestly what we're good at doing in relationships from what I've noticed, so it's no big deal." He told you.

"I'm- I'm your only friend?" You asked with a bit of a smile.

"Yeah, I'm kind of not a people person in case you haven't noticed." He muttered ad you couldn't help but laugh a little at how true that was.

"That's kind of cute that I'm your only friend." You were now grinning.

"Shut up. I'm your only friend too."

"Oh. Oh yeah." You said in realization.

He then muttered something.

"What?" You asked him wondering of you said what you thought he did.

"I said and I like your polka dot umbrella, its cute! Damn, listen better." He said loudly and defensively.

"I can't when you mutter everything." You said but you laughed at what he had just told you about your umbrella. "I'll get you a matching one for your birthday."

"You better not." He replied dryly but with a hint of a small smile.

The car was silent for a little bit before he spoke again.

"You don't owe him a conversation, he left you like an idiot."

"I know Yoongs, I'd still like to be on good terms with him though. Not a fan of people hating me."

"If we just go home now I'll pay for pizza and let you pick the toppings this time." He offered but you just sighed and shook your head as you drove. "I'm afraid of you getting hurt, not even like me being crazy and accusing him of things, but...emotionally hurt from him again."

"I promise, I'm over it already. I'm over Seokjin." You assured him. "Plus we're almost there anyway, might as well go."

"Alright." Yoongi sighed in defeat.

Taglist:

@rikkafunthepureone @illnevertrustmyselfagain @sam-moss @minyoongi-infiresme @appreciatethefoolishness @sugajinny @loserjeonjk @im-emo-motherfuckers @savanna-1 @bulletproof-points @ddaengyoonmin @adelina1299 @hyungwonopex @jeonsclit @dinorahrodriguez @aaaaamnaaa @wildbeest55 @youraveragealto @weebasaurusrex @amudot @rhayad @m1lktae @arcofpiper @curlykoo @ilvebeenabad @liviaolivia @vampire-jimin @treatpeoplewithkindnesshoe @monsterwoosboo @obeythehemmings @jimintaelove @heyitsayjayy @peachy-bhun @ruinedbyjin @busansgloss @mikaisthicc @kassandravictoria @wifeofkimtaehyungofbts @a-kookie-with-my-tae @nooooooooona @exochanyeoltao @pastel-devil-06 @myownescapetowonderland @aylinruiz18 @madjammil @valleyvictoria @chloefran

#Jeon Jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #min yoongi #Yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #kim Seokjin #seokjin fluff #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #park jimin #jimin x reader #bts smut #bts fluff #bts mystery #yandere bts

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vmheadquarters · 4 years

Text

We’re still playing our game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors are taking turns to tell a Veronica Mars mystery story. Each writer crafts their chapter and then “tosses” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected!

Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. --Chapter Twenty-Six of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @jeanie205. And stayed tuned next week for Ch.27 from @nevertothethird - tag, you’re it!

_____________________________________________________________

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX by @jeanie205

Business hadn’t exactly been booming at Mars Investigations lately, and even though she knew her dad was right, that the PI business, like almost everything else, was cyclical, Veronica still chafed under the inactivity.

She’d filled in her time the past few days with a flurry of office organization and some paperwork she’d been putting off for weeks, interspersed with a couple of bread-and-butter infidelity stakeouts. But either the unfaithful spouses had gotten stupider over the years, or Veronica had just gotten a lot better at sussing them out. Because while the pay had been good - great, in fact - it hadn’t taken her long to come up with the Money Shots.

So now she was at loose ends again. Even Mac had taken the day off after completing her update of the MI website, which she’d told Veronica was “a disaster.”

“They aren’t going to hire you if your site looks like it was designed in a high school IT class,” Mac had said, shaking her head.

For as much good as it’s done so far, Veronica thought, sitting alone in her office with nothing to do.

Her glance fell unconsciously to her bottom right-hand desk drawer. The deep one.

Well, maybe she didn't exactly have nothing to do.

There was a case of sorts, if she wanted to count guessing the ending of a whodunit written by the least likely mystery writer she could ever have imagined. An activity that Veronica had so far found not particularly entertaining. Mostly because the plot was already so convoluted that she doubted the eventual reveal could ever make much sense.

On the other hand, she’d become rather fond of Ruby Jetson, and knew they probably owed her for helping to exonerate Logan of murder. Besides which, she had promised.

With a guilty sigh, Veronica pulled open the drawer and hefted out a thick envelope.

Ruby had brought her the manuscript nearly a week earlier, eager to know if the story was good enough to “fool” the seasoned detective. Although she’d shown up without an appointment, Veronica had taken the time to read several chapters, Ruby smiling delightedly whenever she’d frowned in puzzlement.

“I knew it was a good mystery,” Ruby had boasted gleefully. “That even you wouldn’t be able to figure it out.”

By then, it had become apparent that Ruby expected her to read the whole damn book right then and there! Thank god Mac had soon caught on and poked her head in the office door, reminding Veronica about “her appointment.”

Ruby had looked disappointed when Veronica carefully re-stacked the loose manuscript pages and slipped them into the large envelope, stowing everything away in her bottom drawer.

“I’ll finish it soon,” she’d promised faithfully.

But she never had, although Ruby had called every day, looking for an update.

“Hurry up, Veronica,” she’d complained only the day before, the exasperation clear in her voice. “I need to send it to my publisher.”

Veronica had been surprised. Ruby already had a publisher?

As she slipped the manuscript out of the envelope, quickly flipping to the red post-it she’d left to hold her place, she fleetingly wondered who in hell might actually want to publish Ruby’s novel.

Picking up where she’d left off, Veronica noted the same peculiarity that had struck her the week before. Ruby’s chapters often varied so wildly in both style and format that it was almost like they’d been written by different people. She paused in her reading, considered for a moment if Ruby might have some kind of dual personality disorder. After all, the woman did have two names.

Or... maybe the answer was much simpler. Maybe Ruby had a collaborator, the same person, Veronica thought with growing certainty, who’d passed along all the personal information that Ruby could never have dug up, no matter how much “research” she’d done.

And that was another thing. Veronica’s annoyance rose as she came across yet another intimate-sounding encounter between book-Veronica and book-Logan. Ruby had promised her faithfully that the names in her roman a clef-slash-murder mystery would definitely be changed in the next draft. Veronica sure as hell hoped she followed through. Otherwise, the fledgling author was going to be bombarded with lawsuits. And Veronica Mars would be at the head of the line.

She sighed, turning back to the story just in time to find that... Ruby had killed herself off!

Or at least, she’d killed off Della Pugh.

Veronica’s eyes narrowed in surprise at this fictional turn of events. Was this some sort of symbolic “killing” of her original self so that her Ruby persona could thrive? She shook her head, finally deciding she was no better as a psychologist than she was a literary critic. She flipped quickly to the next chapter and soon wished she hadn’t. A delusional, Veronica-obsessed Duncan Kane was not exactly pleasant company.

Veronica was considering with wry amusement how the man himself might view his portrayal (should he ever see it) when she was startled by the ringing of a phone. Not the office land line but the cell phone that she had to dig out from the depths of her well-loved but totally inconvenient studded black leather bag.

She might not have even bothered had the sounds of the Perishers’ “Sway” not told her it was Logan calling. She’d assigned him that ringtone in a burst of nostalgia the same day she’d updated his photo from pukka beads to dress blues.

The fact that he was calling was in itself unnerving. If Logan wanted to communicate with her during the day, he almost always texted. So of course her mind went immediately to the worst-case scenario.

“Logan! Is everything okay? Is my dad...”

“Veronica!” Logan cut in on her abruptly. “Are you watching the news? Turn on the news!”

“Wh-what? You mean, like... CNN?”

“No. The local news. It’s a breaking story on a continuous loop.”

“Okay.” Mystified, she grabbed the remote from a drawer and powered up the wall TV that she hardly ever used.

And there was that creepy newscaster, the one who invariably reminded her of Vinnie Van Lowe.

“... a tragedy right here in Neptune last night when promising new writer Ruby Jetson was murdered in her own home.”

Veronica gasped. It couldn’t be!

“Veronica! You still there?”

“Yeah, Logan, I’m here. I can’t... I can’t believe it.”

“Believe it. And there’s more. Keep watching.”

Onscreen, the newscaster was just beginning the introduction of an “important witness” to the tragedy.

“We’re fortunate to have with us here in the studio the man who discovered the body of Ms. Jetson. Neptune’s very own school principal turned book publisher, Mr. Van Clemmons.”

Veronica nearly fell off her chair. Holy shit! Clemmons was Ruby’s publisher?

She quickly turned up the volume, desperate to hear every word.

“I understand you were about to publish Ms. Jetson’s first novel, Mr. Clemmons?” the Vinnie-clone asked in that fake tone of sympathetic interest that all newscasters somehow managed to perfect.

Clemmons nodded.

“That’s right. Of course, I’d known her as Della Pugh back when she was at Neptune High, but she’d made some changes in her life, and if she preferred to be Ruby Jetson, who was I to say she shouldn’t?”

Veronica rolled her eyes. Right, Van. You were always so forward-thinking.

“And the book?” the newscaster encouraged, refusing to be shifted off-topic by anything about the actual victim herself.

“Well, ah, Ruby came to me with the idea. Some kind of murder mystery. Very popular genre, of course. But the story was to be based on people she’d known in high school. I thought it sounded... promising. And she was just about to deliver the first draft. Said she’d finished it but was waiting for some feedback from a trusted friend.”

Veronica blinked. A trusted friend?

She wrenched her mind away from dwelling on the sheer... unexpectedness of Ruby regarding her as a friend, because Clemmons was still talking and she didn’t want to miss a word.

“Ruby kept delaying turning in the first draft, so I stopped by last night to see if I could... hurry her along.”

Clemmons paused briefly, and for the first time looked visibly shaken.

“And that’s when I... found her.”

The newscaster nodded slowly. “Not a pleasant experience.”

“No, indeed,” Clemmons agreed.

“And the book?” Vinnie’s doppelgänger was not to be thwarted.

Clemmons shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid that’s not going to happen after all. Only Ruby had copies of the manuscript, but there weren’t any in her apartment. And her laptop was missing, too.”

“The police...?”

“Didn’t find anything, either.”

“So the book won’t be published.”

Clemmons shrugged. “I can’t publish what I don’t have.”

The newscaster paused to make sure that viewers caught the significance of his next question.

“Do you think it’s possible that poor Ruby was killed because of something in that book?”

Clemmons hesitated. “I suppose it could be,” he said finally. “But I guess we’ll never know. If there ever was a manuscript, it’s gone forever.”

Veronica stared at the screen for long seconds before she muttered the words under her breath.

“No, Van. Not quite fucking gone.”

She switched off the television and picked up her phone. “You still there, Logan?”

“No, I’m here,” he said, appearing suddenly in the office doorway. “Thought maybe I should come by.”

She nodded, and as one their eyes fell on the loose pages still sitting in the middle of Veronica’s desk.

In seconds, she’d scooped them up and shoved them back into the envelope. But this time, the manuscript wasn’t crammed unceremoniously back into that deep bottom drawer. This time, Veronica opened their rarely-used safe and locked the thick envelope securely inside.

Veronica thought Logan must have sensed how shaken she suddenly felt because he was across the room like a shot, and in seconds she was wrapped in his arms.

“I’m sorry, Veronica,” Logan said softly, breathing the words into her hair.

“Yeah, me, too,” she murmured into his shoulder.

Then she took a deep breath and stepped back from Logan’s arms, determination stiffening her spine as she gazed up at him.

“Somebody killed Ruby over that damn book, Logan. And we’re gonna figure out who the hell did it.”

#veronica mars #veronica mars fanfic #vm fanfic #vmhq presents #murder we wrote #round robin

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imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

strangers

TITLE: strangers CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 10/? AUTHOR: hiddlemediddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine being a psychologist set to question Loki during his incarceration in Stark Tower. Initially, he scoffs at the prospect of a ‘psychological examination’. However, Loki grows quite attached to you and complies to each and every programme you have in store for him. RATING: Mature NOTES/WARNINGS: And Loki is free! Not for long, mind you. But free nonetheless.. x - Loki was upright for a matter of seconds before he rushed over to embrace you. The full force of his body and embrace collided with your body. Feeling him fully, pressing against your entire body, was unlike anything else. His hands were pressed against your middle and they moved upwards to your cheeks. His long, agile fingers cupped your face and you felt entire waves of emotion. Loki’s head descended to your lips and he kissed you deeply. His tongue flitted out and you caught it with your own. Your mouths opened in rhythm to one another and you pressed further into him.

A great crash happened to your left side, the side of the door. The kiss was broken immediately and you both turned suddenly to see a very angry Fury and a very angry and immediately confused Thor burst inside with weapons. The signal from the straps on Loki’s bonds had given them a signal that Loki, by some miraculous action, had broken free. “How the hell did you break free from Frigga’s bonds?” Thor said in disbelief, but once he saw you both having broken your kiss so quickly, his eyes widened. You were so close to one another, his disbelief became directed at your proximity. “You both have some explaining to do.” Fury said, frowning at the scene. You didn’t think you could countenance turning your head to look at Loki’s facial expression. Loki was swiftly pulled away from you and guards detained him to be dragged out of the room. You raised your eyes hesitantly to see the looks on Fury and Thor’s faces. Pure shock was written there. *** Loki was pacing his cell, reflecting on all that had passed two days ago. He had been like this, almost constantly, for two whole days. It was on that second day that Frigga returned from Asgard, clearly exasperated by the entire ordeal. Having felt she had only returned to Asgard, she was immediately notified of a shift in her magical energy. A breakage. Loki breaking his bonds, the bonds she had magically attached to him. The mortal constraints were given the finishing touch which would ensure her son was bound. Thor had returned to Asgard immediately to bring her to Midgard. It was a complete and utter mess that she felt her son had orchestrated in his frustration. But when Thor explained the way in which Loki was found, bonds free, Frigga raised her eyebrows in surprise. Not shock, but surprise. Loki couldn’t stop thinking about you. He barely slept in fear that you had been completely unearthed and your reputation dragged through the gutter. He yearned to see you, but he knew it was impossible. He didn’t need release, he hadn’t needed it for weeks. You had released him. Loki feared he would never see you again. He stopped still and the thought came as clear as day to his head. Escape. Escape the cell and go to that apartment in New York you lived in. He didn’t have a clue where it was, but his energy was so attuned to yours that he didn’t doubt that he would find you in no time. “Not so fast, Loki.” A voice came from the distance. The soft, familiar voice of his mother. She walked through the wall of the cell, no need for a door. The outline of green surrounded her body as she walked into the cell to meet him. “Reading my mind, mother. You have always been so tuned into my thoughts, I find it difficult to believe they could be cut.” Loki said fluidly, though Frigga could hear his voice shaking. “Escaping is not the answer, Loki. You will see Robin again. Of that I am certain.” Loki’s mind clouded when he heard your name. He sat down on the small, barely furnished bed he had slept in for far too long. Luxury was foreign to him now. “Have you seen her?” Loki asked. “No, not yet. You must play along, Loki. I know it is tempting to rush off and see her, but you must trust me. Have I ever betrayed your trust?” Loki was silent for a while, frustration building up inside of him. It threatened to turn into anger. “I am impressed, Loki, of how strong your magic proved to be in those moments. I should be training harder.” Frigga smiled gently at him. “If or when you see her, tell her I am sorry. Please.” Loki whispered, disregarding what she had said to him. Frigga watched her son’s emotions unfurling before her very eyes. She moved towards him and Loki moved his hands to hold hers. They slipped through the holographic projection that was her entire body. She wasn’t truly there. “And you are not.. averse.. to my affection for her?” Loki asked slowly, his eyes averted. They remained trained on the floor. “Not at all, I think she is wonderful.” *** Nick Fury had formally suspended you from Loki’s rehabilitation programme on the grounds of ‘inappropriate behaviour’. You weren’t surprised, only shocked that he hadn’t done it as soon as you walked out of the door. He had to first coax out an explanation from you and you struggled to find the words. “How long have you and Loki been like.. this?” “Two weeks.” You said honestly. “But.. the feeling has been there for longer. Not acted upon, naturally. But due to - ” “Yes, observation. Prying eyes. I have to say, Robin, I am surprised. And I’m rarely ever surprised by shit like this. You were struggling to trust us and it was you who abused our trust. You should have pulled out of the programme as soon as these inappropriate feelings got involved.” You felt the flames of anger fanning in your stomach. “Send me a letter in the post, put it all on paper. I know I’ve done wrong, Fury. Let me gather my thoughts before you drag my name through the mud.” It was with that that you left. It had been days since the occurrence and you had received the formal suspension through an email by Fury. You carried on seeing clients for those days, but you knew that you might have to start cancelling appointments. Most of the clients were being transferred to their local mental health branches, with you as a type of go-between. You felt cheated. You had put your entire career on the line for him, just as you told yourself you wouldn’t. Just as you had said you wouldn’t to him. Everything you had worked so hard to attain. SHIELD was capable of grabbing the rug of your foundations from under your feet and dashing them in an instant. Taking your entire career and destroying it in no time at all, no matter how long you had spent in building it up from the bottom. All because of your desire for one man. Your desire for Loki. A desire you knew could never have been stopped. Even in the chaos of it all, you didn’t stop thinking about him. No matter how hard you tried to stay calm and banish him from your thoughts, he came back to you stronger. You were thinking about what he might be doing, what he might be thinking, as you were both so suddenly connected and then so suddenly separated. A soft knock came from the door of your apartment. It was so soft that you wondered whether you were hearing things. You hoped to the lord that it wasn’t some family member or other who had flown over from England to New York as a surprise. If it was, you were in no fit state to entertain them. You wondered whether you should change out of your pyjamas just in case it was Fury, but realised that you didn’t actually care. You sauntered over to the door and opened it, hoping that it was your mind playing tricks with you. You almost spluttered in shock when you saw Frigga standing on the other side of the door. “Robin! May I come in?” she said cheerily. “Well, yes. I - ” You said, shocked. You instinctively moved to the side and extended your arm to let her in. But it was an automatic response more than anything. “I’m here unofficially, of course.” Frigga smiled gently. You closed the door behind her and you turned, a sudden anxiety gripping your body. “Frigga. I’m so, so sorry. I can’t tell you how.. how sorry I am for all of this..” “What have you to apologise for, my dear?” Frigga smiled gently. She took your hand into her own and placed her hand on your cheek. “It’s all my fault, Frigga. I should never have - ” “Hush, my child. None of that talk. Come along, let us sit. You have a beautiful home.” she said. You sat with her and she didn’t remove her hands once. “More powerful than I could ever know, my Loki.” Frigga said wistfully. “Breaking the bonds of my magic like that. He has never once, in his life, succeeded in surpassing me in that respect. It just proves the strength of his feelings for you.” “Frigga, I don’t understand. Aren’t you angry with me? You trusted me to help heal your son and look at what’s happened - ” “And you have, my dear.” “What?” “You have healed my son. He is a healed man, only broken now by the consequences of discovery. He has always been one to put himself before others, but as of late he has been acutely aware of the needs of others and how grateful he is. When I speak to him, I feel as though my Loki is back. You have brought him back to me, Robin. He was ready to reenter society weeks ago. Now, he is only broken by all that has happened. He fears ceaselessly that he has ruined your career, something you prize so highly.” You see the tears forming in Frigga’s eyes as she speaks so fondly of Loki. You join her when she speaks of Loki’s fears for you. “Frigga.. I’ve ruined everything. He won’t be released now for.. Who knows how long..” “None of this is your fault, Robin. No one is to blame, my dear. All will be well. I am here to warn you that there will be a meeting regarding what has happened on Monday morning next week. You will likely hear from Fury soon, but I wished to see you before then. Thor believes I am taking a very long wash.. Little does he know.” You smiled at her. You definitely knew where the mischief came from. Monday morning, you thought. It was Thursday and you needed to prepare, but prepare what? “Loki will be there, detained of course. But he is permitted to speak, a statement of sorts. My dear, do not despair. I saw him earlier and he is, well admittedly distressed. He told me to tell you that he is sorry were I to.. ‘bump into you’.” You squeezed Frigga’s hand. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” “I don’t know what Loki would have done without you.” Frigga smiled gently. “Everything passes, and this will pass along with it all.” You trusted her, just as you had trusted Loki. And you knew you still did. You just missed him desperately. You rested your head against Frigga’s shoulder and she comforted you. “You worry about your job?” “Not as much as I should.” You chuckled. “I’ve been wanting an excuse to get out of it for years, really. I do love it, don’t get me wrong. But I’ve been working the same ropes for years and years now. I’ve been yearning for a change and, as bad as it sounds, this seems to have quickened my need to transition.” “And do what, my dear?” “I’m not sure. I’ve always thought of going back to England. I do miss it, despite how pretentious it can be. Going back there and doing anything really. Working as a florist, in a cafe. Just something other than all of this emotional backlog.” “A simple life. We all yearn for it.” Frigga chuckled. “Or just another adventure. This has almost been that adventure, but I just know I need to get away from this complicated life.” You said. Frigga rubbed your shoulders with a smile. It was the most comfort you had received in a very long time. Even your own mother wouldn’t do something like this. “I have your answer, Miss. Robin.” she said with a smile. “Come to Asgard. Come to Asgard and live your adventure.” You raised your eyebrows in shock. “Go to live in.. space? Bloody hell.” “Yes! And why not? Yes, you are mortal, but we have plenty of mortals living in Asgard. You will have your independence, you could even continue what you do here on Earth over in Asgard. The possibilities are endless, my dear.” Your heart was thumping loudly in your chest. “But I can’t just drop everything.. can I?” “I will give you some time to think, Robin. Take care of yourself, I would recommend running some hot water and soaking for a while. Do exactly what I told Thor I was doing right now..” x

#Loki #Angst #Submitted fic #submission #strangers #chapter 10 #hiddlemediddles

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opheliasbrokenmind · 5 years

Text

trust me? - alfie solomons

hii! i actually wrote this one at school in march or april lol and finally posting. it’s a alfie x shelby sister one, i hope you enjoy reading. your feedback is what makes me keep writing so feel free to send me anons and don’t forget i’m always open for requests

London, the city where everyone has a chance to live their dream lives. You have always loved London but you couldn’t believe that you were there. The war ended but nothing changed. You knew that men were damaged, and some of them will never heal. They’ll never be the same, their minds were broken in a way no one was able to fix. Also, their hearts were as broken as their minds. You still didn’t go to see your brothers after the war but you knew they were damaged as well and you knew you probably wouldn’t help them. Maybe that was the reason why you didn’t go, you were afraid of what you’ll see. Even if you could help, they wouldn’t let you. You took their stubbornness after all.

You heard their business, how illegal it was. That was another reason to not go there. You didn’t come back after they returned, you finished your psychology degree and graduated from university. Working in a clinic, you didn’t leave London and settled there. You wrote so many letters to Polly and she let you do whatever you want to do, convinced your brothers that it was the right thing for you. They wanted to visit you but you refused all the time, told that you were so busy in the clinic. They didn’t insist, knowing you would come back when you want.

Ada was the only sibling you kept in contact, always wrote letters to each other. She understood you unlike the others, knew you needed to stay away. She supported you and send you money and gifts frequently, but she didn’t visit you when you didn’t ask. You were always a good listener and you loved helping other people so you loved your job. When you were just a little kid, you gave advice to your brothers, comforting them. You always made them feel good when they looked sad. Before leaving for the war, your brothers started to do illegal businesses and you didn’t want to be a part of it. You told them it was no good but they didn’t listen to you so you left the city and moved to London for college.

Now, you were a kind woman at her mid-twenties and you were beautiful than ever. You earned plenty of money from the clinic and you were happy. You were able to buy most of your request and needs. You knew the people were after your family so you didn’t use the Shelby name. Although, you loved the life you created for yourself.

***

It was an autumn evening. Your appointments of the day ended and you left from the clinic a little early. Walking back to your home, you decided to go to a bakery. The bell rang when you opened the door and saw a man, he was charming and his blue-green eyes looked directly into yours as a tiny smile played on his plump lips. He was at least ten years older than you, he had a ginger beard and he was the most charismatic man you’ve ever seen in your life. You were too busy eyeing him so he smiled a little, ‘How can I help you, love?’ With his deep voice and thick accent, you gulped down, ‘Well, I want some cookies.’ You said and nervously played with your hands.

Your thick coat was covering your curves but your chic suede dress was still available to be seen. He also admired how beautiful and strong you looked, couldn’t help but like you. ‘It’s cookies, then.’ He said and started to prepare your order. ‘Have a seat, love.’ His enchanting voice made you relax and even though you knew that it won’t take long to prepare some cookies, you sat. Seconds later someone appeared in the bakery, ‘Sir, they’re waiting for ya.’ The man spoke dreadingly and the charming man frowned, ‘Do I look like I give a fuck about that? Can’t you see that I’m here with this gorgeous lady? That fuckers can fucking wait, ay? Go tell’em!’

You didn’t feel bad with his angry words but realising he called you ‘gorgeous’ you couldn’t help but smile and blush a little. The man said something and left the two of you alone again. Feeling his eyes on you, you turned to him. ‘What’s it, sir?’ You asked. ‘Nothing, love. Would you want a cup of tea?’ With his question, your heart started to beat faster. ‘That’d be great but I’m sorry, I can’t. It’s getting pretty late and I really don’t want to walk alone at night.’ Actually, it wasn’t a big deal for you, you always walked home alone when you worked too much. You just wanted to see how far he can go.

‘Then I’ll walk you home, darling.’ You expected this but you felt surprised when he talked. But on the other hand, you noticed he wasn’t just a baker. The way the other man talked to him, he was scared yet respectful. He was much more than that and you wanted to learn everything. ‘Then I’ll only drink if you join me.’ You offered a smile and he accepted with a smirk on his face, ‘I’m definitely not a tea person but I will if you want me to be.’ He brought two cups and handed you one. Sitting the chair across you, he looked at you boldly.

‘I think there’s a soft man inside of you but you just don’t let him show up.’ You talked without thinking and immediately wished that you won’t regret it. He seemed a little shocked but answered, ‘Maybe. Should I take that as a compliment, love?’ He was pretty brave but in the end, he wasn’t an ordinary man. ‘Take it if you want.’ You said and took a long sip from your tea. ‘So why are you here, in London? I didn’t see you here before and it’s impossible not to notice you with your prettiness and yes, that was a compliment.’ Blushing just a little, you tried to ignore his question but of course, he waited for you.

‘I moved here for university and when I graduated I started to work here.’ You answered simply, without giving any details. ‘Would you mind if I ask you what’s your job?’ He asked and you replied, ‘I’m a psychologist.’ He looked surprised, ‘Why do you want to help mentally damaged people?’ With his question you smiled brightly, ‘I do believe that being mentally ill is not a thing to be ashamed of. An example, you went to war, didn’t you? Think about what have you seen there, what have you been through. The war broke all men and most of them are still suffering. If we don’t help them, what will happen? I worked with soldiers, they were just young lads and one of them couldn’t bear all the pain, the memories haunted him and he killed himself. For what? Because some sons of bitches wanted a war. The ‘big’ men pushed them into hell and we did nothing for them.’ You took a long breath and continued to talk.

‘My brothers went to war as innocent kids and they probably came back as men. Men with pain, men who are afraid of everything but showing no emotion. Is that it? You fought with machine guns but you can’t fight with your memories? Too afraid to ask for help? Because they think that if you go to therapy, you’re not normal. But I’ll always be there if someone decides to have help.’ He listened to you carefully, impressed by your voice which filled with lust and passion. ‘You’re right, love.’ You smiled a little and finished your tea, ’If my cookies are ready, it’s time for me to leave.’ He stood up and handed you a packet ‘Wait a sec, right? I’ll take my coat.’ You shook your head, ‘You don’t have to do that, the man said that there are people waiting for you.’

Coming back with his coat and hat, he spoke, ‘They can wait more, I’m not letting you go back to your home alone, after taking your time.’ You thought that you probably shouldn’t let him but you nodded. You left the bakery and you led him to your home. ‘What if I’m a serial killer, love? Why do you trust me?’ He asked and you smiled, ‘So, you think that I didn’t notice your gun? I’m sorry, sir but I’m not stupid. By the way, if you wanted to kill me you should have done it in your own bakery.’ He chuckled a little but looked excited, ‘We have a smart one ’ere, right? I still don’t know your name, darling.’ You ignored his question and stopped, ‘Here’s my home.’

Alfie stopped and looked directly in your eyes, ‘Then you aren’t gonna tell me, ay?’ A small smile played on your lips as you opened the door, ‘If you really want to know, then come here tomorrow. At four o’clock, for tea.’ You thought he won’t come back but he did. Of course, he did, you were different than all women he knew. You told him your name, he told you his. And he spoke, told you a lot about his life. You two soon became friends, you loved everything about Alfie, you understood him. After two months he finally opened up and trusted you, told you about the war. You did everything for him, then he asked you for a date. He was really nervous while asking, you smiled warmly and accepted.

He took you a cute but luxurious restaurant and treated you like a gentleman. You talked about anything and everything, you cherished each other’s company. You knew that he was a rough man but when it comes to you... He was a big softie. He acted like the person he wanted to be when he was with you. You brought happiness to his life and Alfie was glad that you were with him. Yeah, he was older than you but that wasn’t a problem for neither of you. Alfie saw you as his equal, letting you pay for the meals when you go out.

He loved the way you live your life. In weekdays you worked and studied. You woke up early even when it wasn’t necessary and visited him, bringing him his favourite coffee -not that he was a coffee person- and had a small talk with him before leaving for your job. He appreciated the things you’ve done for him, returning the favour. In the evenings, you read books and sometimes made dinner and invited him. You had a good music taste and he relaxed with your soft murmurs. Alfie and you always go out at the weekends; visiting museums, art galleries. He closed the cinema for you when you two go to the pictures.

You got tickets for theatres and operas, forcing him to come with you. He never refused though. Alfie tried his best to take you to a concert when a new orchestra came to the city. You made him feel younger and he made you feel loved. When he asked you to go for a date, he waited for you with a bouquet in his hands and he brought desserts to you from the bakery every time he visited your place. You knew his real job but you also knew that he had to do it. You heard that he was working with the Shelby family, with your brothers but you didn’t say anything. You noticed that he was a little paranoid and didn’t want to make him nervous.

***

It was a normal morning, you woke up to Alfie’s soft snorts and smiled, he looked so vulnerable to you. He was smiling a little and he was defenceless. You leaned in and planted a kiss on his right cheek, the feeling of his beard making you laugh. Alfie murmured in his sleep and turned a little, then opened his eyes. ‘Watching me, pet? Mhmm, come closer, will ya? Good girl.’ He wrapped his arms around you and you rested your head on his chest, his heartbeats warming your heart. ‘Morning, Alf.’ He yawned, ‘Yeah it is.’ You smiled and drew circles on his bare chest with your finger, letting him bring you closer. ‘Have any plans for today?’

‘No but I have a thing on my mind right now.’ You raised your head to look at him, ‘And what’s that?’ He smirked, ‘You. We should get rid of that pretty dress of yours, don’t ya think so?’ You pretended like you were thinking but it wasn’t a secret that you both enjoyed morning sex. ‘What are you going to do about it?’ You teased him. Alfie warned you with his eyes, ‘We don’t wanna ruin it, do we, darlin’?’ He said and took off your nightgown, the silky fabric leaving and exposing your body. ‘Oh, always ready for me, kitten.’ You smiled when he got up a little to lean on your now naked body. You closed your eyes at the feeling and let him take the control.

After an hour you were both tired and breathless, you turned to Alfie, ‘Well that was a good one.’ He watched you, your eyes were shining, ‘Hmm, ready for round two?’ You were going to answer when someone burst in Alfie’s bedroom and you immediately pulled the sheets to cover your body. ‘Really, mate?’ You heard his shouting but didn’t see the other man. ‘Morning Alfie! Whose that whore in your bed?’ You froze with the sound of this familiar voice, it belonged to your brother. Alfie cracked a smile, ‘I wouldn’t call her a whore mate, considering she is your sister.’ You gripped the sheets and turned your eyes to Thomas, watching his face drop.

‘y/n! The fuck you’re doin’ ‘ere??? Do you know who is he?’ Your brother shouted at you but you were looking at Alfie now, ‘Y-you knew who I am?’ Alfie smiled warmly, ‘’course I do, love. Since the day you walked in my fucking bakery. I recognize these eyes anywhere.’ You frowned, ‘But...’ Thomas talked for you, ‘You tricked her, didn’t ya? Just for your benefits.’ Alfie was furious, ‘Give us a minute, get the fuck out of here mate.’ Thomas insisted, ‘I’m not going anywhere without my sister.’ You looked at him, ‘Please, Tommy. Just a minute.’ He didn’t say anything and left the two of you alone.

‘Is it true, Alfie? All of these was a lie? Did you make me think that you loved me just to blackmail my brothers?’ Warm tears filled your eyes and you couldn’t stop them. He watched you carefully and held your hand with his big one, ‘Do you trust me, y/n?’ You shook your head, ‘I don’t know what to believe now. But tell me the truth or I’ll never come back’ Alfie sighed, ‘When you came to the bakery, I knew who you were but I decided to stay quiet and wait for what’ll happen. You didn’t have a clue who I was so I went along with that. At first, I thought you were spying on me but I learnt you weren’t seeing them for a long time. I gave ya some details about my business, just to see if you were working for them.’

‘You never spoke to them and you were always so kind to me. Then I think I just fell for ya... Didn’t want your family to learn but that’s it, right?’ You didn’t say anything and started to dress, he stood there and watched you. That was probably was the last time he saw you, thought Alfie. Once you were done, you walked to him and looked at his deep eyes. ‘I understand if you don’t come back.’ You frowned, ‘You trusted me Alfie, and I won’t give up easily. I believe you and I’ll fight for us.’ You leaned in and kissed him softly, your arms wrapping around his neck. He pulled you in a big hug and kissed you passionately, ‘I’ll wait for ya, love.’

‘That’s enough, y/n. Come ‘ere, now.’ You sighed and left the home with your brother, his car was waiting outside. That was going to be a long ride.

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