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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

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Here to Misbehave (Pt. 17 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer is concerned about Reader’s growing impulsiveness, but Reader is the one who gets a call from JJ asking if she can come get her boyfriend. Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader   Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+)   Content Warning: Discussions of drugs, death/dying, suicide, overdose; Alcohol, addiction, oral (male receiving), handjob, fingering, Daddy Kink, fights, PTSD, hospital talk, drunk smut w/ blanket consent Word Count: 12.5k

MASTERLIST

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When I opened the front door, I realized that I had returned to an empty home. I wasn’t sure which was weirder; the realization that the house was empty, or the fact that I was referring to her apartment as my home. It certainly had started to feel that way.

It never stopped being a shock that I would find a home in someone so quickly and with such little self-awareness. I'd certainly never suspected that the house we’d be in would also be shared with several other people, all of whom were significantly younger than me and shared almost no similarities with me beyond our love for (y/n).

And even if it wasn’t the weirder of the two realizations, the fact that she wasn’t there was definitely the more troubling one. I tried to gather at least a little evidence before I called her; I wasn’t exactly excited about being blindsided again. Judging by the red solo cups that were scattered in the kitchen, I had an idea of how her friends had spent the night. The fact that no one was here led me to another conclusion that I desperately hoped was inaccurate.

Her phone rang four times before she picked up, which was strange in itself. When she did pick up, she sounded like I expected her to. Tired. Groggy.

“Hello?”

“Hey little girl, where are you?” I hoped she couldn’t hear the fumbling of my keys in my pocket, or any other sign of just how anxious I’d gotten in the last three minutes. “Oh. I’m sorry, Spencer, I forgot I was supposed to see you today.” She mumbled, sounding genuinely apologetic if not a little confused.

“You… forgot?” I repeated, quickly making my way over to the calendar hung on a bulletin board outside the kitchen, noting the nothingness over both the current and following week.

“Yeah, I guess I got carried away with school.”

She was lying. I couldn’t be for sure about what, but it was obvious. If she was really having that much trouble with classes, she would have told me. We’d gotten past the whole insecurity over me thinking she was stupid thing a long time ago, and she knew I would always let her learn it on her own if she didn’t want my help.

“... What are you not telling me?” I tried to make the words playful, although my hand was now nervously patting the side of my hip at an alarming rate.

“Nothing! I just got distracted. I’m... a little busy today so we should just meet up again next weekend.”

“A week?” I knew she was probably getting tired of me parroting her words, but that just seemed like a ludicrous amount of time. Usually, we went barely a day or two without seeing each other when I was in the city, cherishing the time together when I wasn't called away to attend to crimes halfway across the country.

“What’s going on?” My voice was quickly falling into that register that warned her I was about to start profiling her, whether I wanted to or not. And unfortunately, she chose the worst possible reaction to that warning, further tipping me off to the fact that something wasn't quite right.

“Spencer, stop being weird.”

But I wasn’t. I knew that I could be weird; it’s kind of my thing. If you looked up weird in the dictionary, you wouldn’t find my name, but you’d definitely find a description that perfectly characterized my personality.

“You’re the one being weird. Turn on your camera.”

“I can’t. It’s dark in here.” She shot back her answer so quickly, I knew that she had already anticipated the request.

“Then move.” I ordered more than suggested. She understandably didn’t take kindly to my reaction, but I know she also knew why I was doing it. The excuses she was giving weren’t even well thought out.

“What is this? An interrogation?” She scoffed, “Do you think I’m cheating on you with barely dissolved stitches in my intestines?”

I took a deep breath, sitting down at the kitchen table still sticky with leftover sugary liquor and turned the phone onto speaker. “Turn it on.” This time, my voice broke with the order. As much as that didn’t make it sound authoritative, it did make her feel guilty.

As the screen lit up, it all made sense in the worst possible way. She was forcing a fake smile, her other hand resting against her face in a failed attempt to draw attention away from the the mottled skin of her left eye.

“I’m not cheating on you. Happy?” The words were sharp on her tongue, an anger in her features paired well with the understanding that I wasn’t wrong to be worried. I honestly think that was what bothered her the most – that she wanted it to be nothing, for me to be overreacting, but knew that it was a little more serious that she let on.

“I’m definitely not happy. What happened?” I was already at the door by the time the sentence ended... She shut off her camera just as quickly, hearing the commotion from my side. “Where are you? I’m coming right now.”

She sighed, and I could see it clearly despite the fact that she wasn’t on my screen anymore. “I don’t want you to come here. Spencer, I’m fine.”

I might have believed her. I might have honestly given her the benefit of the doubt – let her lie to me a little, and just accept that a black eye wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Eventually, she would tell me how she got it, so I wouldn’t need to worry about it.

But it became very obvious very quickly that it was not just a black eye.

“Ms. (Y/l/n)?” A third voice announced in the background, accompanied by the distinct sound of an alarm sounding in the distance.

“... Are you in a hospital?!”

“For fucks sake. I hate dating a profiler.” She grumbled, implicitly admitting that my conclusion was right. She wouldn’t let me have another word, speedily slurring her goodbye. “I have to go, Spencer. I’ll call you later. Love you!”

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Anyone who has spent a long time in inpatient knows that nosy nurses are both the best and worst kind of people to be assigned to your stay. They were the best because they always had the best gossip and would spend their precious little free time sharing stories about their lives that were always more entertaining than whatever poorly budgeted gameshow was on the old, staticky television.

They were the worst because one wrong move meant that you were the subject of gossip. And boy, were they good at getting it out of you.

“Trouble in paradise?” She sweetly hummed as she pushed my bed down the hall.

I wanted to tell her that there was trouble, and that it was through no fault of my own. If the other people in the hospital didn’t have the audacity to be sick at the same time that I needed a CT scan, then I wouldn’t have even still been here. I could have been back at home, where… well, I guess Spencer would have figured it out either way.

“Yeah, I guess.” I sadly admitted, playing with the string of my gown. “He’s just a worrywart.”

The woman had that glimmer in her eye, the kind that came from years of seeing the same stories over and over again. Although, I had a hard time believing she’d ever been in this exact scenario, I guess they were all kind of the same after a while, semantics aside.

“Well, that makes sense considering your current state.” It was more of a reprimand than anything else, and I audibly groaned to try and get her to stop there. She didn’t, though, having spent enough time with me to know I needed to hear it. “You were very lucky, you know. If things had been even just a little bit different…”

Couldn’t you say that about everything? If things had been even just a little bit different, I never would have met Spencer in the first place. We never would have fallen in love or fought or done any of it at all.

I didn’t like thinking about that. I didn’t like even considering a life without Spencer. No matter how much pain I’d been through, or what traumatic memories were dug up, they were worth it.

That’s what she wanted me to realize, and she had succeeded. Suddenly, as we turned into the room, I was overcome with guilt at the way I’d ended my conversation with him.

The nurse knew it, too, because as she transferred me onto the scanner, she smiled. “I’m just saying, sweetheart. If he woke up next to your hospital bed last time, I understand why he’d be scared.”

Chewing on my lips, I thought about the last time I was in a hospital. I thought about how Spencer had curled his giant lanky body onto the bed and barely slept for 2 weeks. I could see the way his eyes got more sunken by the day, but never stopped shining with relief. I could hear him chewing on ice because he didn’t want to leave to grab food until after I’d woken up, and the cold would distract him from just how hungry he was.

“He must love you an awful lot to be that worried.”

I hated when they did that; when they read my mind and said exactly what I was thinking.

“Yeah, I know.” I tried to smile. It was hard with the stabbing pain in my stomach and the aching in the entire left side of my face, but I managed. It was just one of those things where if I thought of Spencer, my body had to react. It was as natural as breathing.

Which, speaking of…

“Take a deep breath in.” The technician alerted me from the speaker.

The high pitched whines of the CT scanner weren’t as obnoxious as the MRI machine. I was silently grateful that they were still too scared to use the giant magnet. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be stuck in a confined space, listening to loud banging that sounded too much like gun shots for my comfort.

Even just the thought made me nauseous. I felt like a baby, to have such a strong reaction to something so stupid. I’d been in an MRI before. I was a in a hospital. Nothing bad was going to happen to me, and I knew that.

But even now, in a machine that made virtually no noise and barely covered half my body, I wasn’t able to hold in a breath. Each time I tried, it felt like I was choking on Spencer’s lap again. The stinging in my stomach felt so much stronger, even though I knew it was healed.

The world felt like it was closing in on me, and every second that passed felt like days. I couldn’t even trust myself to guess how long it took for them to get images that should have taken no longer than 5 minutes.

I felt like such a burden. Like I was in their way. Like I was doing it wrong. Like I was a little kid, thinking that she knew what she was doing and could do it on her own.

I wanted Spencer.

That was the only thing I could think, and although it should have been comforting, it just left me feeling empty. The thought of him wasn’t enough to stop the tears streaming down my cheeks. The hands of the nurses trying to calm me down didn’t help, either. They felt wrong. They felt cold.

I just wanted Spencer. I wanted him to be there to hold my hand and distract me from my own thoughts. I wanted him to replace them with other things, like he'd promised me. I wanted to make new memories far away from here.

But I couldn’t. I was an idiot and I’d gotten myself back in the hospital, and he wasn’t here because I told him I didn’t want him to be. Why had I told him that? There was no reason that made any sense.

Once we finally did get out of the damn radiology department, I could still only barely function. The ride back to my room was much quieter, and the nurse didn’t meddle anymore. Gossip was only fun when it didn’t hurt like this.

Again, I couldn’t trust myself to guess how long I’d been in the CT scanner, but as we crossed back into my room, an overwhelming sensation of relief washed over me when I saw his satchel in the seat beside my bed. I hated the knowledge that I’d wasted 45 minutes of the technician’s time, but I was just so fucking happy that he had actually come.

Being alone in my room wasn’t a big deal anymore, because I knew it was only temporary. So as soon as I could, I sat up and waited patiently for my favorite mop of curly brown hair to peek around the corner.

He didn’t disappoint. He rarely did.

“Hey little girl.”

All the tension melted from my muscles, my head finally resting against the pillow with a dopey smile on my face. “Spencer.” I sighed, holding my hand out to him to usher him closer.

He gladly took the invitation, taking wide steps so he could be with me sooner.

“You shouldn’t be here.” I grumbled, flicking him on the arm while I locked our hands together. “But I’m glad you are.”

It was obvious from the way he let out a deep breath that he was also relieved to see that I wasn’t angry at him for coming. However, that’s also where his relief stopped. Because he’d seen me an hour prior and knew that I hadn't been crying then. But now, on top of the black eye, he saw the red rimming my sclera.

Taking my hand into both of his, he pressed a hard kiss against the back of it. Without looking up, he muttered into the skin a sad plea.

“Talk to me.”

“About what?” I asked, pulling back on my hand so he would stop with the shameless display of romance in such an awful place.

“Whatever’s going on.” He paused, but was clearly unhappy with the open ended question, and just as quickly specified, “What happened last night?

Unfortunately, I still wasn’t in the giving mood, even when it was information, and even if the person begging me for it was the boyfriend that I’d just cried for in the CT Scanner. If anything, that almost made it worse.

I hated feeling like this. Vulnerable.

“Nothing.”

Spencer was getting fed up, but it was like I couldn’t stop myself from fighting with him. I didn’t want to. I wanted to tell him that I needed him to take care of me and ask him to hold me while I cried on his shoulder about nothing at all, but I couldn’t. He would do it in a heartbeat, but I couldn’t ask him to. I couldn’t ask him for anything.

I couldn’t need anything without feeling too horribly guilty.

“Please don’t lie to me.” He was begging again, looking up at me with those impossibly warm amber eyes. He smiled when he saw the way my lips curled at the sight of him, unable to be angry for too long.

“Am I not allowed to have any stories for myself?” I joked, reaching forward to poke his face. Instead of moving away to avoid my hand, he leaned into the touch.

“You can. I just...”

“I know. You’re worried.” I responded with an exasperated sigh, rolling my head back. I could still feel him watching me, though, with a precarious smile, happy to see my spirits relatively high while also being deeply unhappy about the circumstances.

Wanting to see that full, confident smile again, I realized I didn’t have much of a choice. I’m sure that whatever he’d come up with in his head was much more sinister than what had actually happened.

“Fine. Stop looking at me like that.” I mumbled, gesturing to the childlike pout and laughing when he sucked his lips into his mouth in an attempt to follow my direction. I was glad he was still in a joking mood, because I had a feeling it would disappear as soon as I started talking.

I took a deep breath, looking up and away before I began my explanation of the stupidest night.

“I went out for drinks with my friends–”

“Drinks?!”

It hadn’t even been five seconds and he’d already cut me off. I couldn’t blame him, but it was so freaking annoying. This was exactly why I hadn't told him. Well, that and the fact he could get in serious trouble.

“I didn’t have any! Geez. Chill out.” I yelled back, chuckling a little bit at the conflicting looks of terror and relief. Because while he obviously believed that I didn’t drink any myself, it gave ugly context to the nightmarish guesses his mind had concocted.

“And everything was fine. We were on our way home. But then some asshole started messing with my friend. And she was way too drunk and started crying.” I was groaning internally the whole time, thinking about all the different ways this whole situation could have been avoided. Honestly, I don’t know why she had decided to try and square up with a cat caller when she knew damn well that she would start crying the second he raised his voice.

Which, of course, he had.

“So, I told the guy to fuck off. And he did not like it.”

There was a powerful rage boiling under the surface of Spencer’s skin, which was only betrayed by his clenched jaw and the sheets scrunched under his hand. “Did they arrest him?” He said, trying to calm the trembling in his voice. He wasn’t angry at me for being a victim, even if he was probably a little annoyed that I went out without telling him.

Not like he was even in the state, anyway.

“I didn’t press charges.”

He took a deep breath, clearly about to tell me that I was stupid for not holding him accountable. That I could’ve gotten hurt and he would’ve gotten away with it. That I could’ve died if he’d hurt me the wrong way.

I didn’t want to hear it.

“Stop. I didn’t want to go to court, and I’m fine. I didn’t even need invasive surgery again.”

Spencer was still angry but trying to settle himself down before he spoke. He could hardly even look at me, his hand leaving the bed to run through his hair and shake his keys in his pockets.

I wanted to tell him that the tension of silence was worse than if he’d just raised his voice at me, but I couldn’t even gather the energy to do that. My body and mind seemed resigned to their current state; they’d just given up.

“(Y/n)...” He started, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up at the use of my name. They didn’t retreat, especially not when he dragged a chair over to my bedside, sitting down and placing a gentle hand over mine again.

“Are you okay?”

It was so sincere. So pure, so unforgivably kind. My hand that had felt paralyzed seconds earlier twitched under his. “I just told you.” I shrugged, fighting the urge to pull my arm away again. I wanted him here. I wanted him to touch me.

So why did it hurt? Why did everything hurt?

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” His voice broke, and I saw the way he was holding back tears with his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. He was biting back so many things he didn’t want me to know.

But again, I was too tired to fight it. So instead, I said nothing.

“It doesn’t take a profiler to see you’re hurting.” He continued, urging me to give him anything to work with. “How can I make it better?”

He just wanted to help. Why couldn’t I let him help?

“I’m fine. Nothing even happened to me.” My throat tried to reject the words, my brain screaming at me that they were fundamentally untrue. But my heart hurt, pounding louder in my chest to tell me that the logic was wrong. Because I was a big girl, and I shouldn’t be scared by things that already happened.

I’m safe, right? I don’t need to be scared, right?

Spencer could see the panic on my face because I couldn’t even have hid it if I'd wanted to. And my brain was telling me to not to. It told me that I needed to talk to him, to let him listen.

“That’s not true. You’ve been through a lot.” He bargained, trying to locate that little voice in my head with his offerings. He wanted to pull that small part of me out and force it to talk so that we might finally be able to start to move on.

“You go through worse every day.”

‘It’s common for patients suffering from PTSD to minimize their suffering or compare it to others. It’s a completely normal response, but I want you to try to resist belittling your own feelings. They’re yours, and no one else’s. Okay, sweetheart?’

The voice was so clear in my head, my body jerked in response. I looked around the room, looking for any sign of the man who’d told me them first. But he wasn’t here; he hadn’t been here for some time.

“Do you know how many profilers I’ve seen leave in my time at the bureau?” Spencer distracted me from the thought. He probably figured my flashbacks were more sinister than what they actually were. As upsetting as they had once been, hearing my dad’s voice in my head was usually oddly soothing.

“No.” I answered blankly, trying to pay all attention to the man who was still here.

“Four. And I’ve considered it myself.” There was a soft chuckle to hide the guilt in the admission.

I didn’t know why he felt bad for it; his job was so ridiculously difficult. On top of constantly having to rearrange his life on account of the various inextinguishable evils in the world, he had to face those evils every day and try to figure out their inner workings in order to thwart them. The only time I'd ever done that, I'd killed all three of them. Not the best track record.

“The first one, she... she reminds me a lot of you.” The soft twinkling in his eyes, much like emotional music in the movies, alerted me that a backstory was coming. Based on the extent of just how nostalgic he was coming, I guessed that whatever he was about to say was deeply important to him.

However, I was fragile enough as it was, and I didn’t need to add jealousy to my current emotional repertoire. “Is this another JJ origin story? Cause I don’t think I can handle it.”

He laughed, shaking his head at the frustrated pout that formed on my face. “No,” He said quietly, taking a pregnant pause to formulate the story. “Her name was Elle.”

The story he told was woven well, although I expected no less. He told it passionately and with absolute sincerity. He told me about the woman who was one of the first people he'd bonded with on the team. The playful relationship he described was painted so vividly in my imagination.

I wanted to meet her. But by the end of the story, it was obvious that it wasn’t an option. He didn’t say anything about it, but from the far off look I could guess that he hadn’t seen her since that last day.

“She was like a sister to me, and to see her fall apart and not be able to do anything to help her... it was one of the worst feelings in the world.”

And I understood then, why he was worried about me the way he was. He was projecting his previous experience on me, but things were different with me. At least, that’s what I told myself. Realistically I should have been reminding myself that she'd had the training and resources to overcome her obstacles, whereas I was basically still a stupid kid. The prospect of facing the reality was too difficult though; I just shrugged it off.

“Well, I already killed the people who did this to me.” I chuckled.

Spencer did not appreciate my humor. There was an even stronger concern that flashed over his features, worried by my flippancy over the death of three human beings.

Fuck, I should feel worse about it than I do, shouldn’t I? But if I thought about it, then it hurt so badly. If I had to pick one, I would pick apathy every time. I would choose the emptiness before the ocean of remorse.

“I’m not worried about them.”

I had drifted away from him again, and the sentence forced me to look at him.

‘I’m not worried about them. I’m worried about you.’

I’d said that before. Those were my words.

I pulled my hand back from Spencer, rubbing my forehead with both hands before wincing at the sharp pain around my eye socket. It took me a minute to focus on the sentence and dive deeper into its implications. But once I remembered why it instilled such a visceral reaction, I nearly gagged on the words.

“Wait, you think I’m going to kill myself?”

“I didn’t say that.” He quickly responded in the most defensive manner possible. If that was his attempt to calm me down, it did not work. It only pissed me off even more.

Because there was only one reason why he would think I was going to kill myself. I hadn’t given him any reason to believe that was a risk. Yeah, sure, I was being reckless and impulsive, but I was a teenager!

“Why would you think that?” I demanded an answer, and he was immediately hesitant to provide one. It was all the evidence I needed to reach my conclusion. “Don’t lie to me, Spencer Reid. You asked Hotch, didn’t you?”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair now that it was obvious, I wasn’t going to want him to touch me. “Yeah, I did.”

“You told me you wouldn’t, Spencer! You promised!” I ground the words out between my teeth, hoping he understood just how much I was holding back my volume.

He looked over at the screen monitoring my heart, noting the way the spikes appeared at an exponentially faster rate. “I know.” He whispered with an evident guilt.

“What did he tell you?” I hated the way my voice shrank with my shoulders, my body insisting that I assume to the smallest position I could. Because as much as I hated that Spencer had asked when he told me he wouldn’t, I was desperate for the information.

I’d always wanted to see the files, to hear the story as they knew it. I wanted to know what happened, and this was probably the closest I’d ever come to that, unless that whole Ouija board thing is real.

“Probably the same stuff that you already know.” He knew he was disappointing me. He shouldn’t have felt as bad about that as he did, but I’d take the implicit apology for what it was.

“Tell me anyway.”

Spencer should have been delighted to have the opportunity to talk at me for such a long time, but I also understood why he wasn’t. They weren’t the best topics of conversation, your ex-best friend and your girlfriend’s dead father. But he was a trooper and a skilled conversationalist, despite people not being able to understand that.

“He told me that there were several missions your father was a part of that ended controversially. That… he reported several violations that were never followed through on.”

The words so easily unlocked memories I had tightly and resolutely locked away, it was unsettling. I could hear my parents arguing about the philosophy of blame and responsibility. My dad always arguing that he couldn’t stand aside and let innocent people get hurt. My mom reminding him that he couldn’t save everyone.

‘We also get to see a lot of good.’ Spencer had said on our first not-a-date.

‘Yeah, but which do you see more of?’ I’d asked, and he’d avoided the question. I remembered seeing the question dance across his vision before he shut it out. He'd wondered why I was so confident in my conclusions.

“And the last mission…”

He didn’t have to wonder anymore.

“I saw the report.”

My breath was knocked from my lungs by an invisible fist to my damaged gut. I swallowed, trying to regulate my heart that was at risk of setting off the damn machine next to me. “What did it say?” I whispered, clutching onto the sheets and my gown, hoping it would be enough to keep me grounded.

“Killed in action.”

“That’s fucking bullshit.” I barked, my brows furrowing regardless of just how badly it hurt to contort my face so badly. “He didn’t– H-He wasn’t–“

“I know.” Spencer responded, a note of pity in his voice that made my face twitch in annoyance.

I turned to him with the same snarl, years of repressed anger resurfacing and wreaking even more havoc on my already destroyed life. “Do you? Do you know?”

“I mean, I can’t ever know for sure but… You weren’t the only one who felt that he...” He couldn’t say the word suicide, and for once, I was grateful. “It seems like all of his team had the same concerns.”

He was trying so hard to calm me down, to placate my fears and rage. He was sympathizing the best he could, but the truth was he would never be able to understand just how fucked up it was. He hadn't been there when it was happening, so the only thing he could do was try to slap a band-aid on a well-settled scar and hope that my not being able to see it made it hurt less.

“I’m sorry.” He uttered the two words cautiously, his heartbreak clear in his eyes. He had nothing to apologize for, but there he was, doing it anyway.

“For what?”

“That you’ll never have your answer.”

I don’t know what I expected him to say, but his answer took me by surprise. Of all the explanations I’d heard after an unnecessary platitudinous apology, I’d never heard that. And even worse, I’d never heard it in such a broken way, sounding for all the world like he believed he'd failed tremendously.

“I’m sorry that... that I couldn’t find it for you.”

I couldn’t stand the sight, and my hand found his cheek like it did so often, returning home to find that it was just a bit more stubbly than I remembered it. “It’s not your job, Spencer. We’re not one of your cases.” I assured him, running my thumb over the rough skin and remembering that he’d only just gotten home from exactly that: a case.

He did so much for me every day, but in the past few months he’d had to do so much more. And as much as I tried not to, I took him for granted so often. It was never as obvious to me as it was in that moment, when a tear slid down his cheek at the tenderness of my touch. He always expected anger and pain. I didn’t want him to feel that way with me.

“But thank you for trying. I appreciate you.” I tried to throw my soul into the words as they formed on my tongue, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. “I love you very much.”

“I love you, too.” He sighed into the small embrace, leaning his weight more heavily into my hand. Still holding back, he grimaced at the words he shared. “If I’m going to be honest, I looked something else up myself. Not on any FBI database just... old school research”

I wanted to act surprised, but it was the least shocking thing I’d heard in a while. So instead I just stared at him, with the closest I could come to boredom while still being interested in what he had to say.

“Yeah? What’d you find?” Finally settling into the inevitable resignation, I moved my hand up the side of his face to tangle in his hair. It was so soft despite not having been washed for a few days. I could tell he hadn’t slept much. I wondered why he'd bothered digging into my past in the precious little free time he had.

But then he said it, reminding me of the pain of the cemetery and the events that both preceded and followed it.

“Trent Loughton.”

My fingers stopped in their exploration of his curls for a second, but eventually continued. “I see.” I hummed, trying not to push the conversation any further than he wanted to take it. As emotional as the topic was for me, it must have been harder for him. After all, he was the one who shared the nasty habit with Trent.

“I-I saw how he died... and I think I can fill in the rest myself.”

“Mrs. Loughton did give a lot of clues.” I laughed, mostly to stop myself from crying. That woman didn’t deserve any more of my tears. It was because of her that I’d spent years trying to convince myself that Trent’s death wasn’t my fault. Deep down, a part of me still believed her.

But honestly, it wasn’t my opinion that really mattered to me. It was Spencer’s. If he thought I was a failure, or that it was my fault for what happened, I wasn’t sure we’d ever be able to move past it. I wasn’t sure that I would ever be able to move past it.

“The drugs he overdosed on... they weren’t yours.”

Relief washed over me, but my mind told me not to get too comfortable, yet. “No, they weren’t.” My body had such a strange reaction to the words being said without an argument. I didn’t need to convince Spencer; he already knew. He not only believed me – he had come to the conclusion himself.

“So why did you say they were?”

It was such an easy answer, I knew he had to know it already. His hesitance to come to conclusions on my behalf, while appreciated, wasn’t necessary in this situation. “Pretty little girl with no record and a batshit war hero dad stood a better chance in the criminal justice system. I didn’t ask my dad to protect me, but he did.”

Spencer clearly sympathized with my father more so than me in that moment, which made my heart flutter in a remarkably inappropriate manner. I just couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that those damn psychologists were right – We really do sometimes pick men that remind us of our fathers.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Spencer said under his breath, and I wondered which one he was even talking about. It honestly could have applied to my whole life. He would have meant it each time, too. Because to him I couldn’t do anything wrong. I tried to take solace in that, but it honestly caused another voice to creep into the back of my mind.

I’d never be as good as he saw me. I’d never be worthy of his love.

Shoving those anxieties away again, I nodded in solemn recognition of the years I spent working to come to that same conclusion. “I know. It just took me a while to figure it out.”

My hand finally fell away from his face, although he grabbed my wrist to stop it from going too far. There was another hesitancy in his body language. His face turned down and his leg bouncing so gently I almost missed it.

“Is he the one you were talking about? The one you loved?”

Ah, nothing like a subtle hint of jealousy to boost a girl’s ego. I chuckled at the sound, swaying a bit in place to let him suffer a millisecond longer. “No. Not exactly.”

But then I genuinely couldn’t figure out how to say it. How could I describe what we had shared, when I'd spent so long trying to forget it? Had I loved him? Probably. No, I'd definitely loved him, just not in the way Spencer was thinking. Not like I loved Spencer.

“It was like, he always liked me, and I always thought we’d end up together because that’s how it happens in the movies, right? I was supposed to fall in love with him.” I ranted, trying to move my hands that were currently wrapped up in Spencer’s. “But I didn’t, and then he was gone and...”

We both stopped, his eyes trailing after me with questions he didn’t voice yet. He wanted me to finish before he decided whether or not they were worth it. I wanted to explain to him that they weren’t. As important as Trent was to me, he was gone.

“It’s fine. I’m sure he would be glad I found someone who makes me happy.” I was confident in that, at least. Because as I stared into those big hazel eyes, forcing themselves to stay open just to listen to me talk about my life, I was glad, too. “Even if that someone snoops too much for his own good.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

There were many reasons, most of which I didn’t want to go into. But the way he was looking at me shattered my heart into a million pieces, and I knew that if I lied to him now, it would only make it harder to put those parts back together.

He just wanted to help. I knew I should let him help.

“I didn’t want to think about it.” I admitted for the first time out loud. “I didn’t want to consider all the similarities. I didn’t want you to think I was just looking for a man to replace the ones I’ve lost.”

I couldn’t tell when I started to cry, but it was even more exhausting and painful than normal. Which is why I didn’t hesitate to accept Spencer’s offer when he stood up, wrapping his arms around me just tightly enough that it wouldn’t hurt.

“I didn’t want to lose you, too.” I whined, the comforting scent of his cologne filling my lungs and reminding me of all the beautiful moments we’d shared so far. We had so many more to go.

“You won’t lose me. I’m here to stay.” He said, reading my mind like he always did.

“I know.” I started to laugh, but this time it wasn’t held back by secrets. “You’d think a girl could lose you by getting in a bar fight an hour away and going to an unnamed hospital but nooo...”

He laughed too, although his was much more reserved. Spoilsport.

Spencer’s arms tightened around me briefly, holding me closer to him before he backed away, his hands finding home on my cheeks. I anticipated a kiss, which was usually what happened when he held me like that. But he didn’t kiss me, instead giving me a gentle instruction.

“(Y/n), look at me.”

My eyes, bruised and dry, still opened at his command.

“No jokes. No lies.” He asked, clearly enunciating each word. “Should I be worried about you?”

All I could hear was the sound of my heart and the humming of the machines. I was brought back to the CT scanner, the way it felt to be choking on air. Flashes of other men I loved were racing through my mind. I couldn’t save them, I remembered, before my eyes landed back on Spencer.

My stomach twisted at the memory of a wooden box, a check, and suddenly all I smelled was the pine of the forest.

“(Y/n)?” He asked again, although I saw he’d already received half of the answer.

“No. I’m fine.”

The most terrifying part about it was that I believed what I said, but the look on Spencer’s face told me that I was lying. And I believed that, too.

—————————————————

The thing about coming back from a gunshot wound to the stomach is that it takes a ridiculously annoying amount of time. Like, yeah, the pain is something awful, but the wait for things to return to normal was even worse.

I didn’t even know how long it’d been, my brain blocking out anything that reminded me of that day. If I ever really needed to know, Spencer could tell me. I was basically only keeping track of the days by deadlines for school and the dwindling prescriptions I had left.

My follow-up appointment was next week, and it couldn’t come soon enough. Spencer told me he would come with me, but I hadn’t really heard from him in a couple of days. He didn’t even have time to tell me about the case, although I could tell it was one of the “bad” ones – not that there were really any “good” ones.

But still, it was almost 11pm and I was about to go to sleep, but I wanted to wait a little bit longer before I called it a night. I was just hoping that I’d be able to talk to him, even if it was just to say goodnight. I missed his voice like crazy.

So when my phone lit up, I didn’t even look at the caller ID. There weren’t many people who would call me this late on a Friday – my friends were all already out for the night.

“Hello?” I sang into the receiver, already excitedly spinning around in my chair.

But the voice that responded was decidedly not Spencer.

“Hey, (y/n), right? It’s JJ.”

Her voice rang like a record scratch through my head, and I halted in my chair. “Oh, hey JJ... Why are you calling me?” Suddenly, my enthusiasm morphed into an overwhelming anxiety and darkness that threatened to crush everything in its path. “I-Is everything alright?”

But then I heard it. The sound of terrible music, loud laughter, and the general bustle of a restaurant. It was followed by an even more nervous JJ, “Uhh, yeah. Everything is fine. I was calling because Spencer might have had a few too many drinks and—“

Above the chaotic noise that I just described, I heard Spencer Reid loud and clear. Well, maybe not the clear part. His inaudible slurring sounded vaguely like a rant I’d heard before. Then again, hadn't I heard them all at this point? ?

I hadn’t put it together yet, though, and once I did, I couldn’t help but laugh. “My boyfriend is drunk? Cute.”

I was already standing, gathering my things and tossing my jacket on to head out when I asked, “Do you want me to come get him?”

“Please.” I’d never heard a more relieved woman in my life. The very thought of him driving his best friends insane with his drunken lessons was enough to combat my exhaustion. The poor thing was probably humiliating himself one sip at a time.

But for every chuckle, I was really just hiding a deeper concern. Spencer wasn’t supposed to be drinking. Spencer wasn’t allowed to drink, and he knew that. Out of the two of us, he was the one who put himself at risk more often, and I had a goddamn bullet wound.

��Sure thing. Just send me the address.”

It dawned on me somewhere along the 20 minute drive that Spencer had not only finished his case, but also come home and gone out for a drink with his team. Normally that wouldn’t bother me, but the fact that he hadn’t told me about any of it...?

I tried not to think about it, knowing that talking to him about it tonight would be a waste of time, anyway. From the way he'd sounded over the phone, he wouldn’t be in any state to talk about the deep nuances of addiction and our relationship.

So I pushed it away, trying to enjoy the fact that I’d be able to see him again. Now that we’d cleared the air about my past, things felt strangely calm. I told myself it wasn’t just the eye of the storm because I wasn't sure I could handle much more excitement lately.

Showing up at one of the bars I used to frequent didn’t do much to convince me otherwise, either. The stench of cigarette smoke and alcohol hit me like a freight train as soon as I stepped out of my car. How did I do this every other night before?

As I approached the door, I didn’t even recognize the bouncer’s figure in the shade of the dim porch light. I recognized his voice, though, that’s for sure.

“Hey Jailbait, haven’t seen you around.”

Shit. Slower now, I hesitantly approached him with the most innocent and well-meaning look I could muster, knowing full well that another part of my life was going to be exposed tonight. At least this time, Spencer was the story and not the listener.

“Hey Tom...” I nervously laughed, drawing out the words while I came to a stop.

“Heard some pretty crazy shit went down to keep you off the scene. Must be bad if it keeps you away from me.”

It was weird to think that they talked about me. But I guess it was to be expected; we were all friends before Spencer Reid. And when someone in those friend groups goes missing suddenly, there’s usually reason to be worried. But in my situation, the worry wasn’t really necessary (aside from the whole being shot thing, I guess).

“Crazy is a good word for it.”

He leaned forward, beckoning for me to move in even closer with a wave of his hand. I complied, although I was a little confused as to why we were being so secretive.

“Hey, sorry, but... I can’t let you in tonight. You know I normally would, but the place is swarming with feds tonight.”

Then I remembered that I actually had to explain the reason for my absence, rather than just think about it in the abstract. “Oh no, I know.” I peered around him, trying to spot the man past the door. It wasn’t hard, considering how goddamn tall he was.

I pointed to him, causing Tom to turn with an amused grin before I explained, “I’m here for the drunk noodle man.”

The look on his face – hilarious, and a little insulting.

“What? Jailbait’s picking up a fed? Damn girl what’ve you been into?” He laughed, barely able to control himself. He laughed so hard, in fact, I’m surprised there weren’t tears in his eyes.

“Stop that.” I whined, but he didn’t listen.

“Does he know who he’s dating?”

The question hurt more than he could have anticipated. I didn’t want to confront those messy feelings, so I bundled them all into an annoyed exclamation. “Yes, he knows!” I huffed, crossing my arms and turning away from him as I stepped towards the door. “So can I go get him?”

He composed himself rather quickly after that, shaking his head and unhooking the rope that blocked off the door. “Please do. If I have to hear one more fact about Ancient Rome, I might quit.”

With the last obstacle gone, I happily skipped through the door, the excitement returning in a bubbling wave through my chest. “Thanks, Tom!” I chirped, barely giving him a glance as I raced through the door.

The only person more surprised to see me than Tom was Spencer. Although, to his credit, I did practically launch myself at his side. We both nearly toppled to the ground thanks to our lack of coordination, but we were luckily stopped by the bar he was leaning against.

“Boo!” I shouted in his ear, hearing a small, surprised gasp from my boyfriend.

“(Y/n)?” He turned towards me now, stars quickly forming in his eyes as a big, goofy smile spread across his face. It took him a minute, but eventually he recognized me in the dim light.

“Hey old man.”

Hugging me back just a little too tightly, he began to gush, “Oh my gosh. What are you doing here?” Of course, before I could answer, he came to several other conclusions. “Wait! This is a bar. You can’t be here! You aren’t twenty one!”

He thought he was whispering, but he definitely, definitely was not.

“I’m here to pick you up, not party.” I actually whispered back, turning to see JJ practically hiding at the table. I’m guessing he hasn't wanted her to call me, although I was pretty sure he wouldn’t care at this point. He seemed pretty happy I was there.

“You can’t pick me up. You’re hurt.”

I didn’t even know where to start with that, so I just chuckled. “Smart as a whip, Dr. Reid.”

I ran my hands over his shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkled dress shirt he'd either had no time to iron, or had worn to bed the night before. I didn’t like either of those options. Spencer must have noticed me analyzing the fact, because his hand came up to stop me.

Trying to quickly change the subject, I blurted out over the terrible music, “Even when I’m hurt, I can probably still pick you up. You probably weigh the same as me.”

He scoffed, looking down at his lanky body compared to mine before shaking his head. “That’s hurtful, (y/n).” He attempted a puppy dog face, which only made laughter burst from my pursed lips.

Grabbing hold of his wrists and pulling him away from the bar, I turned and waved to the few team members I could spot among the crowd before returning to my drunken idiot of a boyfriend. “Come on, love. It’s time to take you home with me.”

When the cool autumn air hit him, I felt the goosebumps ripple over his arm. He leaned a bit closer, resting too much of his body weight on me for my comfort, but I wasn’t going to tell him to stop.

“How did you find me?” He mumbled, trying to touch me more than he currently was. Pushing him away from me was supposed to serve as a gentle reminder that we were in public, but he didn’t seem to care about that at all.

“JJ called me.”

“They all like you a lot. So do I.” His fast responses were a little less impressive considering how spontaneous they seemed, but I let it slide. As long as he was saying nice things, it was fine by me.

Guiding him as gently as possible, which is to say not gently at all considering he was essentially a human giraffe, I sighed. “I’m glad to hear it, Spencer. Maybe I can actually hang out with them one of these days.”

The guilt appeared before I could stop it, but it was the least of my worries at the moment. More concerning would be getting him into his house and in bed without either of us doing something stupid. After all, he was usually the one who stopped me from being stupid. And so far tonight, he’d already done something pretty damn stupid.

As I pulled the driver side door closed, a silence filled the car. Spencer was stuck between staring at me with a lovesick smile and looking away, probably because of his pink cheeks making him look a perfect combination of embarrassed and plastered.

“So what had you drinking, Spencer?”

“A case.” He shot back with that voice he usually reserved for the bedroom. It was the voice that told me not to press, to take his answer and let it die.

Unfortunately, I couldn't really do that this time, concerning this particular topic. . “Good thing or bad thing drinking?” I asked quietly.

I think he wanted to snap at me, to tell me that it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it, but he didn’t. The way my hands and words trembled told him that I was just as scared as he was that the answer might be the wrong one.

“I don’t know,” was what he said, instead.

“Okay.” I accepted that answer, understanding that it meant we could talk about it later, when his blood went back to normal and his mind was where it should be. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

And there we were, me sitting and staring at the indicators on the car as the engine turned, and him staring at me in the little light provided. After staring back at him for a moment, I had to ask the glaringly obvious question.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

That’s when Spencer Reid let out an honest to god giggle, his hands reaching out to massage my face that no longer showed any signs of the black eye I'd received a few weeks prior. “You’re sooo pretty.” He drawled, slumping over in his seat so he could rest his face against my shoulder.

I couldn’t help but laugh back, petting his hair for a second before returning my attention to the wheel. “Oooh, I like this.” I whispered, letting my heart skip a few beats as he nuzzled into the warmth that only I could provide him.

“I love you.” He mumbled against my shirt, letting out a deep breath before apparently trying to fill his lungs with the smell of my laundry detergent.

The sensation of his breath hot against my neck caused a familiar desire to stir in me, just barely beaten out by the even more powerful adoration I had for the puppy-like man who was already practically asleep on my shoulder.

“I love you, too, darling.”

He didn’t hear me, his soft breath indicating that he would be out for the drive. Taking my time to avoid the roads with potholes and curves, I managed to keep Spencer on me the whole way back to his apartment. Once we were there, though, I didn’t have any option but to wake him up. Unlike him, I definitely could not carry him out of the car.

It took him a surprisingly long period of time to realize that we were not, in fact, at my place. As soon as he did notice, he rubbed his eyes like it would transform the door in front of him. “Why didn’t you take me home?”

“This is your apartment, babe.” I explained, digging through his pockets to find his keys. He jumped at the contact before letting out a sound that was way too close to a moan for him to be making in the hallway.

“Yeah that’s not home.” He answered, swallowing down other noises that threatened to erupt by the time I withdrew my hand. “But home is–“ He hiccuped, patting his finger on my nose as he tried to stabilize his feet. “Home is where you are.”

“Mmm, so smooth.” I hummed, unlocking the door and shoving his drunk ass into the apartment before he could do something else that made me question whether I should just turn around and go home.

But he just looked so proud of himself, spinning around on his feet and crashing into the table beside the door. “Thank you!” He chirped, reaching forward to grab my hand and pull me closer.

When our bodies pressed together, the first thing I noticed was the fact he was clearly much more excited to be home with me than he was letting on. The thin fabric of his slacks left little to the imagination, and when my hand slid over the tent in his pants, there was nothing left to wonder.

“I brought you here... because I didn’t want to have to be quiet.” I purred, palming his erection over his clothes.

Through his broken moans, he still managed to ask the silliest question: “Why are you going to be loud?”

He was so fucking cute; so remarkably innocent in his drunken stupor, it was hard to remember that he was the same man that once finger fucked me on the metro.

“Why do you think?” I asked just as sweetly, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

Spencer still just stared, mesmerized by the way the buttons slipped from the fabric between my fingers. Once they were all open, I ran my hands over his chest before wrapping my arms around his neck.

He was the one to close the gap, coming down to deliver a feverish kiss against my lips. He tasted like honey and whiskey, and I wanted nothing more than to drown in him. His hands were on my lower back, sneaking under my shirt and spreading goosebumps all over my skin.

I moaned into his mouth with the utmost desperation, murmuring words against his lips. “Take me to bed, Spencer,” I begged.

The words awoke something in him, and suddenly, his hands were off of me and raised in the air.

“Wait— I can’t.” He concluded, drawing in heavy breaths.

“Why not?”

I wasn’t sure which part of this situation did him in, although I had my suspicions. As much as I wanted him, I would suppress those urges if he was really, truly uncomfortable. I almost felt bad for a second, but then he spoke again.

“I have a girlfriend.”

With a few slow blinks, I tried to figure out how the hell I was supposed to return a serious answer. Deciding that was impossible, I deadpan replied, “I am your girlfriend, you absolute idiot.”

I took his stunned silence to be permission enough to start leading him into his room. He honestly looked like I’d just told him all the answers to the universe, and he trailed after me like my hand was a leash. Still, once I sat on the bed and pulled his body against mine, he paused again.

“My girlfriend can’t— she’s hurt. She can’t have sex with me.”

I got the impression he was trying to reason with himself more so than with me, which explained the third person. But it was deeply unsettling, because I really needed to know he was here in this moment with me.

“Stop saying 'she'. It’s me, babe.” I gently reminded, and I watched it dawn on him again, his eyes lighting up in the darkness. Sliding my hand up his arm, I pulled him forward to hopefully convince him to climb into the bed with me. “And we don’t have to have sex.”

Funny enough, Spencer was the one who had enough sense to strip off most of his clothes before he stumbled onto the mattress after me. His lack of coordination was even worse with the alcohol, and it reminded me of the virginal teenager I’m certain he once was.

It was strange to consider, that if we’d met each other under different circumstances, at a different time, our roles might have been somewhat reversed. To picture him as an innocent little thing was... kind of exciting.

But he was anything but innocent now, his face hanging over mine while he helped me disrobe, trying to focus his analytical abilities on me in his haze. Finding no pain or hesitancy, he crashed his lips over mine with an energy I hadn’t seen in some time.

And it was so invigorating, to feel his skin against mine without him having to constantly worry about whether or not he was hurting me. It’d been far too long since we shared a bed together like this, and now that it was happening, I could hardly breathe.

“God, I love her.” He whispered against my skin, before quickly correcting himself, “I love you.”

I laughed, the kind that sputters from your lips when you try to hold it back. Pushing the hair from his face, I ran my fingers over his scalp. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk, I’m stupid.” He replied with a cheeky smirk, diving back down to kiss me again. I wasn’t going to argue with the brilliant Spencer Reid, even if the point he was making was that he was, in fact, stupid.

Maybe it was stupid, the two of us tangling up in his sheets despite the fact that I hadn’t been cleared for it yet by my doctor. I knew that it was coming soon – probably at my appointment in a couple weeks, actually – so why wait? I knew that Spencer would never hurt me. Even now, his hands were gentle in their insistence, raking over my hip and stopping just short of the place where I really wanted him.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He groaned, his hips rocking forward and pressing his erection against my leg.

“Touch me.” I ordered, louder and more forcefully than I intended. I was expecting an argument, but I didn’t get one. In fact, Spencer’s finger had already breached my folds before I even finished talking. Unwilling to let him be the only one to enjoy himself, I reached down to grab his cock.

“Shit.” He hissed, biting down on his lip while he rutted against my hand. “I just want to hold you down and fuck you until you cry.” The restraint was obvious in the fingers slowly sinking into me, his jaw clenched and his eyes barely able to stay open. “But I can’t.”

Through my heavy breaths, I panted out another request. “Tell me more about it.”

He immediately realized why I’d asked, and his fingers began to pump in and out of me faster and with more force, his lips trailing kisses over to my ear. While I tried to keep up the pace of my strokes, it became more complicated when his breath fanned over my ear.

“It’s been so long since I bent you over and had my way with you like I did that morning over your kitchen counter...” He moaned, and I could almost feel the sensations as he remembered them. Although his fingers would never be the same, just having him inside me in any capacity felt like pure bliss.

But he wasn’t done, continuing to speak his thoughts into my ear. “I just want to—fuck, I want to fill you up.” I went to respond, but I choked on a sob, instead. The lewd sounds between us only aided his descriptions.

“God, I love the way you feel. You’re always so wet for me.” He whispered, beginning to make small thrusts with his hips. The movement essentially allowed him to use my hand to stroke himself, and he let out another unsteady moan at the contact. “Think about what it feels like, little girl.”

“I-I am.” I could barely make the words come out; my body too sensitive to his touch after being starved of it for so long. And Spencer was ready to take full advantage of that.

“I still have so much planned for you. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that little stunt you pulled when you got all riled up.” He growled, using his free hand to grab a fistful of my hair. He yanked my head further to the side, laying sloppy kisses along my jaw. “I told you I’d give you triple the marks you left on me, and I can’t wait to cover you with me.”

“Fuck. Please, Spencer.” I hoarsely begged, my hand on his shoulder tightening so that my nails dug into his skin. If his grip on my hair wasn’t so tight, I would have thrown my head back. Instead, I just squirmed underneath him, crying out, “I’m so close, Spencer, please!”

He did not disappoint, his fingers curling inside of me with each thrust, and by some grace of God, he was able to coordinate his thumb over my clit. As if that wasn’t enough, he pulled back to look me in the eyes.

“I want to feel you come on my fingers.” It was more of a demand than a desire, as evidenced by the way his hand tugged on my hair. “Come on, little girl. Make daddy proud.”

Just like that, my body responded to his call, my muscles trembling from the tension as my orgasm hit me like a fucking freight train. It was such an overwhelming experience, to remember exactly how Spencer was capable of making me feel.

And he knew it, too. “Oh, good girl,” he cooed, continuing his kisses against my neck and murmuring the words as they came to him. “That’s my pretty little slut.”

After taking my time coming back to earth, I struggled from the overstimulation still burning between my legs. Spencer hadn’t stopped his fingers, which were diligently stroking inside of me while he continued to buck his hips against my hand.

“I want you to finish inside me.” I slurred in my delirium, withdrawing my hand from his dick while he whimpered.

“I-I can’t. I can’t fuck you.” He was asserting a necessary and understandable hard limit, and it was clear I wouldn’t be able to convince him to fuck me that night.

But that wasn’t the plan, anyway.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” I said between gasps, struggling against his fingers still inside me. “Come up here.” I whined, rubbing my hands on his shoulders while simultaneously trying to sit myself up.

The movement and the words made him withdraw completely. “(Y/n)...” He warned, running a hand through his hair while he sat up on his knees. “I could hurt you.”

“That’s always been a risk with us, Spencer.” My retort was both quick and persuasive, judging by the way he almost moved, but stopped himself yet again.

“Please. Please, do it. I want you to do it so fucking bad.” There was an obvious and deep desperation. I was literally begging him, to the point that I swore I almost cried. It felt stupid, but I needed him like I’d never needed anything in my life before. He’d spent months taking care of me, and I couldn’t do anything in return.

I just wanted to make him feel good, to give him something like we used to share.

Of course, I think those thoughts were also visible on my face, and they were obviously worrying him. With tender touches, Spencer’s fingers lightly trailed over the side of my face. The brief flashes of clarity alerted him of my struggle, and he let out a shaky breath at the war inside his own mind.

“I want to feel you inside me, and this is the only way.” I concluded, trying to lead him to the simplest conclusion. It was the safest, easiest way to solve both of our current problems. And although I could see how hard the decision was for him, my pleading eventually bested him.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, leaning forward to grab the headboard, staring down at me as I shimmied further up the wood.

“Fuck!” He repeated, rolling his head back with a light groan when both of my hands reached forward to grab his hips. “Fine. You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute.”

A giggle bubbled through my throat, and my body actually bounced in excitement as he slowly positioned himself in front of me. I wasn’t even sure which I was more excited for, my own orgasm or getting to finally give him one again.

As soon as my mouth closed around the head of his dick, I got my answer. Spencer’s moan filled the room, his hands holding so firmly on the headboard that the entire bed creaked. Although I figured he’d been taking care of himself in my absence, it appeared that wasn’t entirely the case. He seemed just as starved as I was.

“Holy shit.” He groaned, dropping a hand to the top of my head. I had to remind myself that he was drunk, which explained why he seemed so much more responsive than normal, with whimpers and pants flowing steadily through his mouth. He only got louder as he began to slowly push himself further into my mouth, stopping every few inches to retreat before pressing further.

“God, I need to do this more often. No back talk, no whining.” He said in a low tone under his breath, beginning to settle on a steady rhythm.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t think of anything except how fucking good it felt to be useful again, to feel him struggling to hold himself back as he started to more aggressively fuck my mouth. My eyes could barely stay open, but I needed them to. I needed to see him in the dim light of the streetlights that peered through the window.

He looked so beautiful, so perfect, and so mine. Feeling him slide back and forth against my tongue revived memories from long before and reignited my longstanding desire to do anything to please him. In all his caretaking, I was worried he might have forgotten how to control me.

But he hadn't. Thank god, he hadn’t.

“Come on, little girl. Earn your fill.” He whispered, burying himself in my throat and holding me against the headboard. I only lightly choked on the intrusion before my body complied, swallowing him further until my lips were pressed against the base of him.

Suddenly, Spencer withdrew, beginning a brutal, dizzying pace. Now, my eyes couldn’t stay open, rolling to the back of my head as I used my hands to steady myself against his thighs. The sobs trying to escape felt more like moans, and they shoved Spencer over the edge he’d been riding in his caution.

“That’s it. Take it.” He barked the instruction, looking down at me and smiling, “Don’t you dare spill any of it, do you hear me?”

My answer was stifled against him, just the way he wanted it to be. And with a few more rough thrusts, Spencer buried himself as deep as possible. I swore my heart synchronized with the pulsing against my tongue as his seed spilled down my throat.

I hollowed my cheeks, trying to drain every last drop from him as he finished. It had its desired effect, and Spencer grabbed my hair and forced himself deeper one more time with a growl. “Good girl.”

Once he had enough, he pulled out of me with a satisfied grunt, waiting just a second before clumsily falling onto the bed beside me. I laughed as he hit the pillows, obviously too tired to even reposition himself in the disastrous sheets.

“Thank you, daddy.” I spoke in the silence, gingerly cleaning the spit that had dripped down my chin.

“Fuck.” The curse was muffled in the pillow, but I understood it well enough. He seemed more concerned when I started to sink down into the sheets again, reaching a tentative hand out to him.

Finally rolling over, he grabbed my arm and guided me closer. “Come here.” He said with the tenderness I’d grown used to over the past few months. He turned towards me, apparently not ready for me to sleep on my side just yet.

He brushed my hair from my face, lifting the sheets to look at the now mostly healed wound. I hated it when he looked at it. It just reminded me that I’d never be the same girl he first met. Every time he saw it, he would remember that day. I didn’t want to think about it.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

But even with the insecurity and anger in my gut, I wasn’t lying when I answered. “No, I’m fine.” My heart was so full, my body relaxing for the first time in so long. I was just so unbelievably happy to be together again. Even if it wasn’t like last time, it was still just as wonderful.

“I’m a little better than fine, actually.” I admitted with a bright smile.

Spencer hummed something in thought, but then winced. “Do me a favor.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes and wiping a heavy hand over his face.

“Anything.”

“Kick my ass in the morning.”

He was caught off guard by my response, which was a full-hearted laugh that was too loud for how close the two of were. But I couldn’t help it, it was just so Spencer to still be punishing himself despite the fact that nothing bad had happened.

Once I calmed down enough to talk, I turned to him with a devilish grin. “I don’t wanna.”

Then were both laughing, and Spencer pulled me close to him until he could rest his chin on the top of my head, curling up against my side. “Spoiled brat.” He whined, running his hand through my hair and down my arm.

When I smelled the whiskey on his breath, the guilt hit me just as hard as any of the pleasure. I'd been so excited to get to experience this with him again, I almost forgot the reason he didn’t want to do it in the first place.

He just didn’t want to hurt me. He just wanted to make me happy.

“I just wanted to be with you again... I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” I whispered, pulling the covers up so that I could hide my shame beneath them.

“I wanted to be with you, too.” He reassured me, half asleep and barely able to talk but wanting to get the words out. “I know it’s important to you, but I need you to know I would be with you even if I never got to touch you again.”

“Please never stop touching me.” I quickly replied, a genuine worry in my eyes.

But when Spencer glanced over, he just laughed, “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

“No? Even when I get pregnant and have a big ol’ belly?” I playfully answered, bringing his hand to my stomach and pressing it against the side that still remained intact.

The familiar position caused a shift in Spencer’s body language, and suddenly he was even more insistent on being impossibly closer. “You’ll still be irresistible to me.” He said against my hair, running his fingers lightly over the unmarked skin of my lower stomach.

“We’ll see, I guess.” I mumbled, not realizing that I said it aloud until I heard his confused reply.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” The defensiveness in my voice was terrifyingly transparent, and I hoped that if his drinking made him forget anything, it would be this conversation. “Go to sleep, drunk ass.”

“I need hugs and kisses first.” He complained, rubbing his nose against me in a way that should have been irritating instead of adorable.

“Spoiled.” I grumbled, reaching a hand up to play with his hair. I turned to kiss his cheek through the smile that was plastered over my cheeks.

Already half snoring in his sleepy state, he got out one more cringe worthy joke before he succumbed to his exhaustion. “What’s good for the goose...”

“...is good for the gander.” I finished for him, before taking the advice and following him to sleep.

—————————————————

| Part 18 |

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

handmaid - 31

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: we’re going back to y/n’s 18th. so sorry for the 2 day delay. hope you enjoy this chapter x

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N felt dizzy whenever she was surrounded by too many people, it almost felt unsafe, as if people could hurt her better if she was surrounded by others. After all, it was a sea of people with extensive knowledge in hurting someone or making them disappear without ever being known and despite living in that environment, she had a paranoid unconscious fear of being in the middle of so many people belonging to the mob, specially higher up members.

She had managed to find herself a spot in the thousand of chairs speckled around the room, watching from afar as Gwen dazzled everyone in her new Ted Baker baby pink dress meanwhile Y/N was dressed in her high school dress uniform, not really having many dresses in her wardrobe that would suit the event or that would suit her. She continued with her nose stuck in her favourite book, her brain filtering out the loud partying sounds and focusing only on the sharp words of her pages. She would’ve continued this way had it not been for a strong coughing that came close to her. Y/N lowered her book to find the source landing on a man dressed like dandy, probably in his mid 60s, holding himself up on a dark walking stick and coughing onto a monogrammed handkerchief.

- Would you like to sit? - Y/N called out for his attention, immediately getting up from the chair.

- Please, darling, don’t bother. - he replied in an accent Y/N could maybe pin point to France or maybe Belgium. Nevertheless, she moved the chair closer to where he was, a small smile on her lips. - Are you sure you don’t want to sit?

- I have good legs, I can stand. - Y/N leaned against the wall, hand gesturing towards the chair.

- What’s your name? - he questioned as he took a seat on the cushioned chair, too tired to argue with the girl telling him to sit down. She was probably right, he probably should.

- Y/N.

- Michael. I’m Genevieve’s grandfather. Mother’s side.

- I’m Genevieve’s handmaid ... Or at least in training, Daniel says my true test will come up when we go to university.

- I’m assuming you got into Cambridge too then. - he admitted and Y/N nodded, very proud of her perfect scores and the letter that had come with the mail just a few days ago. - What are you taking?

- English Literature.

- My daughter used to love to read. Would devour a whole library if she could. French, English, German, Greek ... languages didn’t really stop her.

- It must be hard for you. - his eyes seemed to focus on her eyes hidden by some mascara she had put on for the ceremony but still couldn’t completely hide the sheer beauty they seemed to hold. - Are you alright?

- Yes, you just have some very familiar eyes. It’s uncanny.

- I just got told that today. - she played with her hair, a shy smile on her berry painted lips. - They’re not very remarkable really.

- They’re remarkable enough.

To say she had spent the rest of whatever was left of the morning in the bathroom either throwing up or urinating and whenever she wasn’t in the bathroom seemingly detoxing from whatever she had consumed last night which hadn’t sat well with her, she was exhausted, sleeping in her bed and swearing to herself never to eat anything from this hotel ever again.

She swore she didn’t remember seeing anyone this sick ever since Dan’s girlfriend became pregnant. Pregnant. That thought hit her like a freight train and as quickly as she had laid down to rest, she bolted from her bed and into her suitcase, reaching for her necessaire which showed her a full pack of pads. She was certain she had gotten the pack right after her last period which she was sure had been in November. She bite on her nails, getting up, eyes glued to the pack wishing that once she blinked it would be half empty.

Shivering, she rushed over to her door, opening it to see if Elias was around and luckily he was. She was probably overreacting, she convinced herself, yet it was better to be safe than sorry.

- Are you alright, miss? - he questioned, noticing her uncharacteristic unresting look which seemed to haunt all her features.

- We need to go to a pharmacy. - she almost whispered the last word, afraid someone would connect the dots despite the pharmacy having several other things which would cater towards her. - The furthest pharmacy you know. Outside the Upper East Side.

- That wouldn’t be safe, miss.

- Please.

The bodyguard could do little to nothing to convince the young woman to stay within the city. Instead of fighting with her, both of them just got inside the car and started to drive as far away from the watchful gaze of the Upper East. Her mind was going over her biology lessons. Nausea could be related to anything such as food poisoning, flu, migraines and so on. It was probably just food poisoning or maybe a very very bad case of PMS. Nevertheless she couldn’t help but panic as she saw the safe environment of the Upper East disappear. Y/N didn’t want anyone to even dream of her buying a pregnancy test and as she reached the furthest pharmacy a car could take her to, she rushed like a bullet to the pregnancy aisle pulling one of every single brand into her shopping trolley. After a few minutes, she had at least 10 in her trolley and after avoiding several dirty looks from the people standing with her in line and the employee serving her, the handmaid returned to the car, clutching to the paper bag like a precious gem.

Once she was back in her hotel suite, she dropped the bag on her bathroom floor, going through several and several tests, placing them away from her gaze as she convinced herself that this could be almost everything other than pregnancy. She wasn’t pregnant, she couldn’t be pregnant, she tried to convince herself once more as she looked at the first pregnancy test. Two lines. Well, it could be a faulty test. Another one, two lines and the same pattern applied to all of those following the one/two line system. The other ones all showed the word pregnant and as she read the last one, she could feel whatever resolve and structure she had within her slowly erode.

Pregnant. She was pregnant. Either that or more than twenty tests were giving her false positives which she found it to be not plausible. She slide down her bathroom wall, legs folded as she stared at the wall in front of her. She was pregnant from a soon to be married man. Mr. Williams words rang in her mind, mistress. She was the mistress pregnant with the bastard. At that thought, tears started to cloud her eyes and like a scared child, she hide her face in the middle of her thighs, hoping everything would go away, hoping all her mistakes and lack of judgments were nothing but a really, really bad dream.

- Angel? - she could hear his voice followed by knocking on her door. She cleaned her eyes with the back of her hand, grabbing every single stick and stuffing them in one of the bathroom doors. Elias had probably heard her crying and warned Sebastian about it. - Angel? Y/N? Open the door, please.

- I’m going. - Y/N turned on the tap, slapping her face with cold water hoping she would look less like a mess and more presentable. Raising her face to stare into the mirror, she told herself to calm down, she told herself to forget about the tests which were hiding in one of the bathroom drawers. She was fine, she was gonna be fine and as she convinced herself once more that she was fine, another knock took her off her mind.

With a strong will, Y/N gripped the knob of her bathroom, opening the door very slowly. Sebastian was standing behind it, dressed as poshly as he normally did however a bit more relaxed with the jacket being off and his dress shirt first buttons unbuttoned. A tense look seemed to dissipate as she held the door close to her collarbone, not having it fully opened.

- Are you still sick? - his hand raised to rest against her warm cheek, caressing it with her thumb. - Elias said he heard you crying. Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?

- I hate hospitals. - she lied, wishing nothing more than to go to the place which would confirm what she already knew. There was a great deal of worry and care in his baby blues, and she found herself avoiding them, afraid she would blurt out she was pregnant. - I’m fine, Sebastian, I really am.

- Okay, angel then look into my eyes and tell me you’re okay. - he picked her chin, softly pulling it up so her eyes looked into his. Even with that, she still managed to dodge his gaze. - Angel, what’s wrong?

- Nothing’s wrong, I’m just ... I’m just stressed. - she smiled tightly, hands moving from his shoulders to his elbows, letting out a breathe that seemed to have been held within her for ages. However, it came out shaky, one that made her want to return to her self wallowing state yet before she could, he had already wrapped his arms around her figure, holding her as if he was his whole entire universe which, in some way, she was. - You really needn’t worry. I’m sure you have other more important things to deal with.

- Wedding preparations will never be more important than you. - he kissed the crown of her head, getting lost in the scent of roses and lilies of her perfume. - Come on, lovely, whatever it is, it can be solved.

- No, I don’t think it can. - she mumbled against his crisp white cotton shirt, wondering if she closed her eyes tightly enough, things would seem to exist and she would wake up from the hell she had started to live in just a few minutes ago.

- Angel ... - he cupped her face. - It’s gonna be okay.

- It’s not. - she could feel her eyes water as her mind rushed through all they could do which was nothing. She was now just another pregnant mistress, the other woman. - It’s really not.

- Listen to me, angel. - he tried to remain calm but his resolve was quickly faltering as he stared at the tear tracks on her bountiful cheeks, so far from her soft and luminous smile. - We’re gonna be okay. Y/N, I ...

- Y/N! - Y/N took a step back, her head turning to the door where Gwen was standing, her gaze more on her phone than the two of them. With a sigh of relief, the handmaid let a small yes slip her lips. - Bridesmaids dress try out, come on. You’re late.

- I’m really sick today, Gwen. Can’t we just postpone it? - Y/N still was unsure if her stomach could hold anything and being forced inside a dress sounded more like modern torture than every other thing she had her do.

- You’re on your feet, clearly not sick enough besides we need to get it done today.

- Gwen, don’t be cruel. - Sebastian added.

- Shouldn’t you be trying your tux? - she fired back, almost like the whole conversation was a script only her had memorised and could now easily manipulate. - Or do you intend to look like a mess on my wedding day.

- Our wedding day. - he corrected which greatly upset Gwen. - I’m sure a few days delay won’t ruin it.

- She’s my handmaid, not yours. - Gwen gave him a sarcastic tight smile, shooting Y/N a look which made her immediately walk to her side. - Your tux better not be loose.

Y/N followed Gwen, head looking down but not before sharing an apologetic look with Sebastian. Instinctively, Y/N placed her hand in on her stomach as the two women walked into Gwen’s bedroom which seemed to have turned into an atelier with several women taking measurements and dressing other women in periwinkle dresses.

An older woman grabbed Y/N, shoving her the same periwinkle dress in her arms, ordering her to try it on. However, as Y/N pulled the zipper past her waist she found it didn’t completely zipped up. Oh no. She tried to bring both parts of the dress together so it would zip up but nothing. Her dress fit everywhere but her bust which was bigger than before.

- What’s wrong? - Gwen noticed Y/N struggling to pull the zipper up. - God, Y/N, I told you not to gain weight.

- It’s just my chest ... probably PMSing. - she lied, of course it wasn’t because she was PMSing. She wished she were, that would mean she had one less problem on her. - It’ll be fine in a week.

- It better be or you’re not attending.

Joke or no joke, she’d rather not attend it.

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btsqualityy · 4 years

Text

BTS Second Pregnancy Series #15: Labor and Delivery Part 1

Kim Seokjin

“How you feeling?” Jin asked as you stepped out of the bathroom that was connected to your hospital room. When you and Jin had gotten to the hospital, they checked you and found that you were 4 and a half, almost 5 centimeters dilated so they admitted you to the hospital based on that and how consistent your contractions were.

“Getting a little uncomfortable since they’re getting longer,” you replied, referring to the contractions. You walked over and sat down on the edge of the hospital bed, where a nurse immediately began to hook you up to the necessary machines in order to monitor both you and the baby. Once she was finished, you laid back against the bed and looked over at Jin. “Think this is the real deal?”

“Most likely,” Jin nodded, giving you a small smile. “We’ll see once your doctor comes to talk to us though.” About an hour later, your doctor walked into the hospital room with a wide grin.

“Y/N, Seokjin,” he said, nodding towards Jin. “I think you two are gonna be meeting your baby today.”

“Really?” You gasped in surprise.

“Yeah, your contractions have slowly gotten closer together since you’ve been here so I wouldn’t feel right sending you back home,” he told you.

“What about the baby? Are they handling the labor well?” Jin asked and you gave him a smile, happy that he already knew what you were thinking.

“The baby is handling it amazingly,” your doctor confirmed. “Since you’re past 38 weeks and given the fact that everything continues as is, you’ll be able to have that natural birth that you wanted Y/N.”

“Great,” you grinned.

“I’ll be back to check on you soon,” he said before turning and walking out of the room, and you let a loud rush of air out of your mouth.

“You ok Y/N-ah?” Jin wondered and you looked over at him as you bit your lip.

“I’m nervous,” you confessed. Jin stood up from the chair that he was in and walked over to the bed, sitting down next to your legs. “I didn’t think that I was actually gonna get to push, you know?”

“That’s understandable,” Jin nodded. “But you’ll be fine jagi. I’ll be right here, letting you crush my hand the entire time if you need to.”

“Thanks Jin,” you laughed and Jin leaned over, kissing your lips gently.

“You got this Y/N-ah,” he reminded you and you nodded your head.

Min Yoongi

Once your contractions had started to increase in frequency, you decided to do some work at home to make sure that they continued before heading to the hospital, just to make sure that these were the real deal and to ensure that you weren’t going to be sent back home by your doctor (because you don’t know if you’d be able to stop yourself from delivering Kamryn yourself if that happened).

You were sitting on top of a birthing ball, bouncing up and down lightly while Yoongi gently massaged your lower back.

“How’s that?” He asked you.

“Good,” you nodded, closing your eyes and inhaling and exhaling deeply as the contraction that you were having spread throughout your lower back. Just as the contraction ended and you opened your eyes again, you saw Kinsley walking into your bedroom.

“Why are you on a ball Mommy?” Kinsley questioned as she tilted her head to the side in confusion, making you smile at how much she looked liked her father.

“I’m trying to help Kammie come out,” you replied.

“Oh,” she whispered, thinking for a few seconds before speaking again. “Will bouncing up and down make her sick? Like uncle Hobi and uncle Jiminie?”

“No babygirl,” Yoongi laughed, while you bit your lip to stop yourself from cackling out loud. “Mommy isn’t bouncing too fast, so she’ll be ok.”

“Is she ready to come out now?” Kinsley asked.

“She should be by now,” you grumbled, making Yoongi snicker from behind you while you looked at Kinsley. “Hopefully sweetheart.”

“And god mommy is gonna come stay with me?” Kinsley wondered and both you and Yoongi nodded your heads.

“Just like we talked about babygirl,” he assured her. Your eyes widened as you felt the next contraction come, which was much more intense than your others had been. You shut your eyes and focused on breathing, vaguely aware of Yoongi’s hands rubbing harder at your hips and his lips touching the back of your head. Once it was over, you exhaled harshly as you looked over your shoulder at Yoongi.

“I think we should call Y/BF/N,” you told him. “I’m pretty sure she’s definitely coming today.”

Kim Namjoon

“God, these contractions are just as bad as Mase’s were,” you grumbled, letting your head fall back against the bed once the contraction that you were experiencing finally passed. Namjoon, who was sitting on the bed next to you, squeezed your hand and kissed the side of your head, trying to comfort you. Similar to your first pregnancy, once you and Namjoon got to the birthing center after having Namjoon’s mom come to your house to stay with Mason, your labor progressed relatively quickly.

“Did you still want a c-section?” Namjoon asked and you lifted your head again to look at him.

“I kind of wanted him to check me first, since I feel like it’s going pretty fast,” you said, referring to your doctor. “And I’ll decide after.”

“Ok, it’s completely up to you,” Namjoon nodded. About 15 minutes later, your doctor walked into the room to check your cervix. Once he was done, he felt around on your stomach and he apparently didn’t like what he felt because he immediately grabbed the ultrasound wand from the machine that was next to the bed, along with the gel. He quickly squirted some onto your bump and set the wand on your skin, moving it around slowly and you could tell by the frown on his face that something was wrong.

“What is it?” You asked him before he even got a chance to open his mouth.

“Your daughter is breech,” he revealed and your eyes widened.

“Wait, but Y/N-ah just had a doctor’s appointment like four days ago and Maia was fine,” Namjoon chuckled in disbelief. “She was head down and everything.”

“Well, she’s managed to flip herself back around,” your doctor shrugged. “Now, we could see if we can manage to encourage her to flip back around but in my medical opinion, I think it’s better if we do a c-section.”

“How many centimeters am I dilated?” You wondered.

“You’re almost to 6,” he replied. You looked up at Namjoon, who nodded his head towards you which you knew meant that he was letting you choose.

“Can we see how she handles the labor and if we can get her to turn?” You asked and your doctor nodded.

“Alright, but I’d like to keep a very close eye on her though,” he told you, and you nodded. Your doctor nodded and gave you a small smile before walking out of the room.

“Joon,” you whispered as you looked over at him and he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you, hugging you tightly.

“She’ll be fine,” he told you and you nodded as you held onto him.

Jung Hoseok

“I never thought that I’d say this while in labor, but I’m so bored,” you groaned as you paced around the hospital room. Hobi chuckled at you from his place in the hospital bed, where he was watching tv. After getting to the hospital and being admitted, it seemed like your contractions had stalled out and you were stuck at 5 centimeters dilated.

“I’d direct your complaints to Hendrix,” Hobi laughed. “Seems like he’s changed his mind about coming out.”

“Well, he doesn’t really have a choice because I’m ready at this point,” you giggled.

“Maybe he’s heard Len and Berk and their chaos and they made him change his mind.”

“Ah ah, if we have to deal with their crazy, then he does too,” you said. Your doctor walked into the room then, smiling when he saw you pacing around the room.

“Trying to get things going again?” He wondered and you nodded your head.

“Doesn’t seem to be working though,” you shrugged.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he said. “Since things seem to have tapered off, there is a medication that we can give you to jump start things again.”

“What medication?” Hobi wondered.

“It’s called pitocin,” your doctor told you. “It’s a form of oxycotin, which is a hormone that helps stimulate contractions.”

“How would you give it to me?” You questioned.

“We’d just give it to you through an IV, which will be easy and it’ll definitely get things started again,” your doctor explained.

“Well, I’m all for it,” you nodded before looking over at Hobi, “Babe?”

“If that’s what you want,” Hobi nodded and you smiled at him before confirming that you wanted the medication to your doctor. As your doctor walked out of the room again, you walked over to the bed and sat down next to Hobi, who reached down and grabbed your hand, squeezing it firmly in reassurance.

“He’ll be out soon,” Hobi assured you.

“Hopefully,” you nodded, smiling softly.

Park Jimin

“Come on baby, breathe,” Jimin encouraged you, but you just shook your head as the contraction literally knocked the wind out of you. After you and Jimin got to the hospital, you were admitted and your contractions had progressed to a point where they were almost overwhelmingly painful.

“I-I can’t,” you stammered, a loud groan escaping your throat once the contraction finally ended.

“Do you still want an epidural?” Jimin asked as you tried to catch your breath.

“Please,” you nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. “I don’t think I’d make it to 10 centimeters like this.”

“Whatever you want baby,” Jimin assured you, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before running off to find your doctor. Once your doctor came back and you told him that you wanted the epidural, he and the nurses set everything up while Jimin helped you sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the bed.

“I need to you to stay very still Y/N,” your doctor reminded you and you nodded stiffly. Jimin was squatting on the floor in front of you, his hands on your knees rubbing gently.

“You’re doing great jagi,” he told you, making you smile lightly.

“Doesn’t feel much like it,” you replied.

“Just because you’re struggling, that doesn’t mean that you’re not making progress,” he pointed out. You winced quietly as you felt the needle go into your back and Jimin immediately grabbed your hands, holding them tightly.

“You know, we never really discussed what we thought the baby would be,” he said, trying his best to distract you.

“At this point, I just want them out,” you chuckled, finally relaxing when your doctor announced that you were all set. Jimin stood up straight and helped you lay back in the bed, pulling the blanket over your legs for you once you were settled.

“Well, I think it’s a boy,” Jimin smiled and you giggled at him.

“Why, because you want another you?” You teased.

“You say that as if I don’t have good looks,” he scoffed, making you laugh.

“Hopefully we’ll find out soon,” you grimaced and Jimin took one of your hands in his, bringing it up to his lips and kissing the back of it softly.

Kim Taehyung

“Mommy, do I have to leave?” Spencer whined as Taehyung helped her put on her shoes. After leaving the Music Bank taping, the three of you headed home, meeting your midwife there. As your labor began to progress, you realized that you were definitely going to be giving birth within the next few hours so Taehyung called your parents to come get Spencer.

“Yeah, you do sweetie,” you nodded, giving her a small smile as you bounced on a birthing ball and rubbed your hands over your bump slowly.

“But I wanna stay and see Elijah,” she huffed, frowning at Taehyung as he pulled her coat onto her body.

“Come here Spence,” you called, opening your arms. Taehyung released her after zipping up her jacket and she walked over to you, leaning in between your open legs and you stopped bouncing as you hugged her to your chest.

“I wanna stay with you,” she whispered and you smiled softly.

“I know you do, but think about it like this,” you said and she lifted her head to look up at you. “When you come home, Elijah will be here and you’ll get to meet him.”

“Hold him too?” She asked and you nodded.

“And hold him too,” you promised, leaning down and kissing her nose. “But I need you to be my big girl and go with Grandma and Granpa, ok?”

“Ok Mommy,” Spencer nodded and you smiled widely, pressing a few more kisses to her cheek before letting her go. She walked back over to Taehyung, who kneeled down and cupped her cheeks.

“You know that you’ll always be my Munchkin right?” He reminded her and she nodded her head rapidly. “I love you.”

“Love you too Daddy,” Spencer replied before giving her Daddy a peck on the lips. Your parents arrived then, wishing you and Taehyung good luck before taking Spencer with them. Once they had left, Taehyung walked over to you and sat down on the floor in front of you.

“Ready to do this again?” He asked you and you shrugged, feeling a contraction start up.

“A little nervous about how bad the pain is gonna get,” you admitted quietly.

“You can do it, ok?” Taehyung stated firmly and you nodded. “I’ll be right here with you the whole time.”

“I know,” you smiled, humming contentedly as he pressed a kiss to your lips.

Jeon Jungkook

“Stop playing,” you scolded Jungkook, even though you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips. The two of you were walking down the hallway of the birthing center, trying to get your labor to progress a little more.

You were still hooked up to a machine that was monitoring the baby though, so Jungkook was pushing it for you as the two of you walked. However, Jungkook thought it was funny to try and play crossing guard, and he’d suddenly stop walking and stop pushing the machine, which in turn would make you have to stop as well.

“I hate you so much,” you grumbled playfully, making him laugh at you.

“Oh, it wouldn’t be Y/N giving birth if you didn’t say that to me at least once,” he chuckled. You used your elbow to hit him in the ribs, making him wince loudly. He then wrapped his free arm around your waist, rubbing your hip through the fabric of the hospital gown that you had on. “How are you feeling?”

“Feels like it’s finally starting to pick up a little more,” you reported.

“That’s good,” he nodded. “Think it’s gonna be easy, like Ava’s was?”

“I can’t really tell,” you replied honestly. “I really hope it is though.”

“Who do you think Aria’s gonna look like?” He wondered.

“I kind of think she’s gonna look more like you than me,” you told him.

“Really?” He said and you nodded your head. “Well, I think she’s gonna be like Ave. She’ll look like a mix of the both of us and have certain features from the both of us.”

“Well, hopefully we’ll find out soon,” you giggled. The two of you made it back down the hallway where your room was and the two of you went back inside. The next few contractions that you had were both longer and stronger, and you found yourself leaning on Jungkook more in order to get through them.

“You think you might wanna get in the tub now?” He asked and you nodded your head slowly. Jungkook then leaned over and kissed your forehead before leading you towards the bathroom.

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snowdice · 4 years

Text

Gaps in His Files (Part 10) [Relabeled; Refiled Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Patton

Characters:

Main: Logan, Patton

Appear: Remy, Virgil (but only in the epilogue)

Summary:

Logan Berry has learned many things the last 10 years: a lot of math and physics, a bit of humility, and how to be a hero being just a few. Through his education, his experience teaching, and his exploits as the superhero Bluebird, he’s changed in a lot of small and large ways. He has recorded these changes in well-organized documents and files. He’s even had to create two new file designations: a red one for files about his moonlighting at Bluebird, and a light blue one dedicated to his boyfriend, Patton.

When Bluebird is targeted by a memory device and all of those 10 years of progress suddenly disappear, Patton Sanders and Logan’s extensive files are left as his only resource to get those memories back. But what is Patton supposed to do when there are clear gaps in his files? And what does he do when he is one of them?

This is set 25 years before Sometimes Labels Fail though it’s story is completely independent of it and it is not necessary to read that one first.

Notes: Superhero AU, memory loss, past child abuse, past child neglect, unhealthy ideas about ones place in relationships, emotional suppression, self-deprecating thoughts, medical procedures mentioned, very brief unhealthy views of sex

I feel as though I should make a statement in Logan’s defense before you read this. There is a thing called unreliable narration and... our narrator is spiraling.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

“I have to go to work today,” Patton said Friday morning. “I am trusting you enough to not attempt to go to school like yesterday if for no other reason then so you don’t embarrass yourself.”

Logan nodded and Patton didn’t think he’d gotten his point totally across yesterday, but he thought Logan would probably not do anything today since on Fridays he only had to attend two classes and not teach or meet one-on-one with anyone.

“Good,” Patton said, biting his lip. Logan was distracted with one of his personal files and wasn’t looking at him. He’d been quiet yesterday after Patton had dragged him back from the college. He’d stopped asking Patton questions about himself or really talking to Patton at all, instead choosing to stew in his ire in silence. He read the book Patton got him and was civil when he needed something from Patton or when Patton asked something out of him, but his discontent with Patton’s presence was written all over his face. ‘Maybe I don’t want what I built’ echoed in the silence between them. It really sucked to know that Logan could so easily learn to hate him. “Bye then. I’ll see you later.” He shut the door to the apartment behind him.

He drove to the hospital in a daze of emotional numbness and sat in his car in the parking lot, staring at the tall building for almost 15 minutes with a tight feeling in his stomach before finally forcing himself into the building.

He had been hoping that having something to keep his mind busy with would help him feel better, but it just seemed to make things worse. It made the gaping hole in his chest widen and widen until it threatened to consume all of him. When he went to check on a patient’s wound, he felt like he could throw up despite the fact that he was long past being grossed out by medical things. It just kept getting worse and worse as Patton worked mechanically through the morning. Talk to patients, smile at coworkers, take vitals. Don’t rest. Don’t feel. Don’t break. Break and someone dies.

“Patton,” a voice called as the lunch hour crept closer. Patton turned to see Remy rushing down the hallway towards him. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I have a shift,” Patton replied blankly. He tried to turn away from him because a friendly face was the most dangerous thing right now, but Remy grabbed his arm. “What do you want Remy?” Patton asked, refusing to look at him. There was a pause before he was tugged on and yanked into a hall closet.

Patton rounded on him once the door closed behind them, a bit of it leaking, just not in any way that would actually help. Instead, it came out in a way that would likely just make it worse when the guilt hit later. “What?” he snapped harshly.

Remy didn’t respond for a long moment, just leaning against the opposite wall of the closet with a frown on his face. Patton bristled under the scrutiny.

“I heard Bluebird got beamed by a memory gun.”

“Yes, I’m sure everyone knows that by now,” Patton replied scathingly.

Remy again didn’t react to the harshness in his tone. He just nodded. “Bet that’s hard for people who know him personally,” he said.

“What do you want?” Patton said and this time it came out more wobbly than harsh.

Remy sighed. “Patton go home.”

Patton shook his head and could feel pressure building up behind his eyes.

“Patton this is not the place for you today. I’ll tell Bev you’re sick. Just leave.”

“I…” Patton stuttered. “I can’t. I…” he started to shake, bursting at the seams. “I can’t,” he gasped, and he didn’t think he was talking about how he couldn’t leave work anymore. Remy leaned forward to tug him into a hug and Patton shattered like a window in a hurricane.

He could hear Remy saying things to him, but he couldn’t make out anything of the words except the soft sympathetic tone.

“A little girl fell out of the window,” he blurted out, unable to keep it in anymore, “and she was so tiny and so hurt and I had to cut into her with a knife so I could try to put her bones back together right and if I did anything wrong she might not ever be able to move right again. She could’ve died on the operating table and it would have been my fault. I shouldn’t have been the one to do it. Why did they pick me to do it? I’m not any good at this. I shouldn’t be here. I’ve just gotten lucky and one day someone isn’t going to wake up that should have and they’re all going to know how much of a fuck up I am. I can’t do anything right. I pretend and pretend to be good at things and nice and perfect but it’s all just an act and eventually everyone’s going to see it and they’ll all hate me. No one loves me and no one should love me and everyone who thinks they love me will eventually find out the truth and leave me because I can never be good enough no matter how hard I try.”

“Woah, hey, that’s not true Patton,” Remy said looking alarm. He was trying to wipe the tears off his face with his sleeve, but more just replaced them the next moment. “That’s so very not true. You’re not a screw up. You’re a great doctor and you’re not faking anything. So many people love you for you including me.”

Patton just shook his head. “You don’t know me,” he cried. “You don’t know me at all. The only person who I’ve ever even let really known me is Logan and I love him so much, but he doesn’t love me back, because I’m not good enough. And now he hates me.”

“No, no, Pat,” Remy said. “I know you’ve probably had a rough couple of days, but that man absolutely adores you. He could never hate you no matter what. He’s a dork who’s afraid of his feelings sometimes and he gets all pissy with strangers, but I know he doesn’t have it in him to hate you. No version of him ever could.”

Patton just laughed. “No. He doesn’t love me. Not really.”

“He does, babe. I promise he does.”

“I proposed to him,” Patton said. He managed to steady his voice, but tears were still streaming down his face. “He said no.”

Remy blinked and his mouth gaped open for a moment. “When…?”

Patton sniffled. “Two months ago.” It had been a soul draining, humiliating experience.

“How do you feel about marriage?” Patton had asked one day in bed after staying in Logan’s apartment for the third time that week. He had been thinking about it for a while and that day he’d blinked open his eyes to see Logan staring at him with the softest expression he’d ever seen on the man’s face and then Patton had been slowly and thoroughly kissed the rest of the way awake. It hadn’t even led to sex that morning, but Patton had thought he wanted to wake up like that every day forever.

“Marriage?” Logan had asked in response with a lilt to his tone that had made Patton swallow.

“Yeah,” he’d replied, “uh, specifically you marrying me.”

“Are you saying you want to marry me?”

“I… yes,” he’d admitted, but felt the need to backtrack, “but only if you want to.”

There had been a long pause and Patton had felt his heart shatter in it. “Give me some time?” he’d asked, but Patton had known that meant no. They had been dating for three years and he knew Logan had likely already made his decision about Patton long ago. He didn’t need more time. He was quick at making decision and he rarely went back on them. Patton had known him saying that meant Logan didn’t think Patton was good enough. That he hadn’t loved him enough to want to wake up next to him every morning. Patton had felt tears prickling at his eyes which wasn’t fair to him, so he’d turned away.

“Of course, sweetie,” he’d said as steadily as possible and that had been the end of the conversation.

“So yeah,” Patton continued in the present. “There’s something wrong with me and I… I don’t know what. If I did, I’d change it, but I can’t figure it out. Maybe it’s just all of me. Maybe he’s too smart and can see through all of the acts and knows how horrible I really am inside.”

“Oh sweetheart,” Remy said and leaned forward to kiss him on the forehead. “You are wonderful. I promise. You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met. Want me to slap Logan for you? That might fix the problem.”

Patton chuckled darkly. “Which problem?” Remy grabbed his face and made him look him in the eyes.

“You need to go home,” he said firmly. “You need to take a bath and eat some ice cream and watch a sad movie so you can pretend you’re crying about that. Okay?”

Patton didn’t respond, just averted his eyes.

“Come on Pat,” Remy cajoled, “nurses orders.”

Patton smiled just a bit. “I’ll take the day off,” he conceded.

Remy frowned probably because he could tell that Patton was not going to follow the rest of his instructions because Patton was too rotted on the inside to listen to anyone’s advice.

He let Remy deal with telling people he’d be gone for the day and headed back to Logan’s apartment.

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 11

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #logicality #tsss #superhero au #memory loss #past child abuse #past child neglect #emotional suppression #self deprecation #gaps in his files #labeled universe #relabeled; refiled #adriana writes

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appalachianwiine · 3 years

Text

Swim - Chapter 6 - Soon You’ll Get Better

The buttons of my coat were tangled in my hair

In doctor's-office-lighting, I didn't tell you I was scared

That was the first time we were there

Holy orange bottles, each night I pray to you

Desperate people find faith, so now I pray to Jesus too

And I say to you

Ooh-ah, soon you'll get better

“Soon You’ll Get Better” by Taylor Swift

It’s another restless night for the both of them. The nurses are in and out a half dozen times, leaving little more then two hours stretches in which they can sleep. Lydia doesn’t seem terribly fussed by this, waking rather grumpily for vitals and then drifting back off to sleep as the nurse exited the room. Daryl on the other hand manages less than four hours of broken sleep.

By the time 7:30 rolls around Lydia is wide awake and asking for breakfast. Daryl, who had only gotten to dozing again a half hour before, sits up with a groan. He runs a hand over his face and rubs the sleep from his eyes, looking over at Lydia, who’s moved from the hospital bed to sit at the foot of the hide-away.

“Alrigh’.” He mutters. “I’ll go down an’ get us some breakfast.”

“Can I have pancakes?” Lydia asks eagerly. “And juice?”

“Sure kiddo.” Daryl sighs, swinging his legs off the side of the hide-away and into his boots. “Then you gotta take a bath okay?”

“A shower.” Lydia frowns.

“I don’ know ‘bout that.” He mutters, bending over to lace up the boots. “You ain supposed t’ get that PICC line wet, but I’ll ask the nurse.” Lord knew a shower would be easier on him. It would give him a good 15 minutes to think.

“Okay.”

“Good girl.” He yawns. “I’ll be back in 10 minutes. Behave.” He leans over to kiss the top of her head.

“I will.” Lydia promises.

When Daryl gets to the elevator he finds Ezekiel waiting. Yesterday’s buoyant, playful man was gone. The Ezekiel who stood next to him looked twice as tired as Daryl felt and as though all the joy had been sucked out of him.

“Daryl.” Ezekiel forces a strained smile. “You and Lydia sleep well?”

“Not really.” Daryl mutters. “Not that Lydia seems t’ have noticed. You an’ Henry?”

“No.” Ezekiel frowns, stepping into the elevator as the doors open. “Henry got his round of chemo yesterday evening. He was up most of the night being sick. I’m going to get him something to eat. I want him to at least try.”

“Sorry man.” Daryl follows him into the elevator, a knot settling in his stomach. Lydia’s first chemotherapy treatment was today.

“Oh he’ll get through it.” Ezekiel sighs. “I just hate seeing him like this. This is not my little boy.”

“Yeah.” Daryl licks his lips. He doesn’t much want to make conversation, but he’s stuck in the elevator with the other man and they’re going to the same place. “So uh, how y’all likin’ Atlanta?”

Ezekiel raises his eyebrows. “Given the circumstances it’s not my favorite city.”

“Ah.” Daryl mutters, he hadn’t thought of the reason they were in Atlanta. Stupid given Ezekiel had told him just yesterday. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Ezekiel shakes his head, stepping out of the elevator. “Lydia starts treatment today yes?”

“Yeah.” Daryl nods.

“I’m sorry.” Ezekiel whispers. “It’s… it’s not something I would wish on the worst of us.”

The air between them lingers heavily as they enter the cafeteria, it’s quiet this early in the morning, the staff shuffling about quietly, one or two tired parents clutching pagers and looking around nervously. Daryl follows Ezekiel to the counter, ordering after him and taking the number given to him. He finds himself once again standing next to Ezekiel, waiting for their orders to be ready.

“I uh - I saw Henry the other night.” Daryl says finally. “The night we were admitted.”

“You did?” Ezekiel frowns.

“Yeah um - he was hiding behind the nursing station and uh - you picked him up and he -”

“Was laughing.” Ezekiel finishes.

“Yeah.” Daryl nods. “It was ten o’clock at night on the cancer floor and he was laughing.”

“That’s Henry.” Ezekiel smiles. “He’s always made the best of the worst situations.”

“He's done this before?” Daryl asks.

“No - not this exactly.” Ezekiel says. “But um - when he was four he was in a very bad car accident.”

“Oh.” Daryl frowns. “Was he uh - was he -”

“Mine then?” Ezekiel finishes. Daryl feels his face grow hot. “No, he wasn’t. I was a newly licensed foster parent in Prince William County, and he was my first foster child. His brother and both parents were killed in the accident. The parents instantly, the brother after a few days.”

“Shit man.” Daryl mutters. “That’s rough.”

“Yeah.” Ezekiel says. “He’s had it harder then most, but he still laughs. He still makes the best of what he’s given. It’s a gift from God.”

“God.” Daryl monotones.

“You don’t believe in God?” Ezekiel offers a half smile.

“I do.” Daryl says. “But I don’ think he’s worth worshippin’.”

“Hm.” Ezekiel frowns.

“No speech?” Daryl chuckles.

“No speech.” Ezekiel says. “Your relationship with God is not my business, and mine is not yours. But God has helped my son. He’s given us this clinical trial. He’s given me a place at the zoo. He’s shown me Carol.”

“‘S a little preachy.”

“You asked.” Ezekiel smiles.

“Fair.” They linger in silence until Ezekiel’s number is called and Daryl’s shortly there after. As they’re walking back towards the elevator Ezekiel speaks again. “I hope Lydia handles her chemotherapy well.”

“Thanks.” Daryl nods, stepping into the elevator. “How - when will we know?”

“Well every child reacts differently.” Ezekiel says. “Henry handles some better then others. He does fine with the cisplatin but the vincristine is pretty hard on him. Thats the one he got last night, I expect we’ll be here for at least a week with the side effects.”

“Shit man.” Daryl mutters. Will it be like that for Lydia? She had a different kind of cancer, surely the treatment would be different?

“He’s a strong boy.” Ezekiel says. “He’ll get through it.”

“Yeah.”

They linger in silence until they get out of the elevator and make their way to their separate rooms. Lydia takes the pancakes and juice with glee, someone’s turned on the television for her while he was gone and the grating sound of Disney Channel ran through they room. Daryl took his coffee over to the pull out bed and sat down, sipping it gingerly. The disney jingle pierced his brain as one of the many formulaic shows started up. He needed sleep, but coffee would help for now.

The door pushes open, reminding Daryl for the millionth time that their world is completely different then it was two days ago.

“Hey Lydia.” Dr. Rhee says. “Sleep good?” “I guess.” Lydia nods, not really paying attention, her eyes focused on the TV as she ate.

“Good” Maggie grins. “Mind if I borrow daddy for a bit?”

“Okay.” Lydia shrugs,.

“Come with me Mr. Dixon?” Dr. Rhee motions him out of the room.

“Yeah.” Daryl nods, picking up his coffee and following her into the hall. His stomach twists into more knots. “Are her biopsy results bad or something?”

“They’re not back yet.” Dr. Rhee assures. “I just wanted to talk to you about the chemo she’ll be starting today and get the consent forms signed.”

“Oh.” Daryl nods. “ Yeah um, sure.”

Dr. Rhee leads him to the nurses station and picks up a clipboard and pen, holding them out to Daryl. He takes them. The form is thick, at least ten pages long and on the top page alone he see’s a bold heading ‘Vincristine effects and side effects.” The foreign word floats in front of his eyes,

V I N C R I S T I N E.

It sounds almost as bad as ‘Leukemia’ does.

“Just in here.” Daryl blinks, Dr. Rhee is standing across the room. He nods, and hurries to the door she indicates. The room is small, a little more personal then the other rooms. There’s a low table with a few toys, and a hot water heater and packets of tea and instant coffee by the wall. A couple of arm chairs sit against one wall and there’s a table with three chairs - one to one side, and the other two opposite - in the middle of the room. “Would you like a minute to go over the form?”

“Nah.” Daryl shakes his head. “Jus’ - tell me ‘bout the chemo yerself.” He figures she’ll be able to explain it better then the consent form can. That will be full of legal jargon and confusing terminology. Daryl wasn’t stupid, but he wasn’t going to attempt the consent form until he had a bit more time.

“Right.” Dr. Rhee smiles, taking a seat in one chair and motioning Daryl to the two opposite. He sits heavily in one, setting the clipboard down with a soft thud! “Today we’re going to give her a round of vincristine. It’s a type of chemotherapy, the most common used in treating most pediatric cancers but particularly leukemia’s. We’ll be using her PICC line to administer the drug, but because of the effects of vincristine on the kidneys we’re going to push fluids first. She’ll get fluids for 4 hours and then a half hour of chemotherapy followed by four more hours of fluids.”

Eight and a half hours of stuff going in her and only a half hour of it the medicine she’d need. Good lord what did that mean it would do to his little girl? He swallows hard and nods. “What um - what - when will stuff start happenin’?”

“Side effects or when will it start killing the cancer?” Dr. Rhee asks.

“Both I guess.”

“Well, it will start killing the cancer almost immediately, but right now there’s so much in her body we’re going to have to do quite a bit of it in conjunction with other therapies to get ahead of it.” Dr. Rhee explains. “Now the good thing is that vincristine is predictable. We’ve been using it for decades, so we know what to expect and how to balance it. Some effects take longer than others but she's probably going to be pretty nauseous not long after she gets the dose and we should expect this to increase. We can give zofran if things get too bad, but she probably won't be very interested in food. She might throw up, and diarrhea isn’t uncommon either. After about a week of treatments her blood counts will be at their lowest, that’s when we really need to be careful about infection. It’s likely she’ll get mouth sores and they’ll be pretty painful but we can manage them with morphine.”

“A - a week.” He mutters. “She’ll uh - won’t we have a treatment plan by then?”

“Yeah, we will, but vincristine is a staple in all leukemia treatment. It’s what we combine it with that changes.” Dr. Rhee says.

“And we - her hair?” Daryl mutters.

“It depends.” Dr. Rhee says. “Some kids want theirs shaved as soon as it starts falling out, but others want to wait until it falls out on its own. Child life came and talked to you?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Gave her a Barbie with uh - with wigs an’ hats an’ stuff. Seemed t’ like that.”

“Good.” Dr. Rhee sounds far away now, the knot in his stomach growing steadily as the words fill his mind. Her hair. A week. Vincristine. Leukemia. Cancer. The words run across his mind in bright flashing colors, filling the whole space and leaving room for little else. Words he’d never thought about before and feared were now front and center in his mind. “Mr. Dixon?”

“Huh?” His eyes snap up to hers. “Sorry did - can you repeat that?”

“I asked if you had any other questions.” Dr. Rhee frowns. “Do you need a minute?”

“No.” He says hurriedly. “But uh - are we gonna be here the whole week?”

“Probably more like 2 or 3.” Dr. Rhee says. “First admissions are usually long.”

“Oh.” Daryl mutters. “I uh - I didn’t really… prepare for that.”

He didn’t have another set of clothes and all of Lydia’s were mismatched, haphazardly grabbed out of the dryer in a panic. Then there was the dog. He couldn’t be left with Rick and Michonne indefinitely. And work. He’d have to talk to his captain about a leave of absence. It was something he hated to do, Dwight had already been so understanding of the situation with Lydia’s adoption.

“You met Carol?” Dr. Rhee asks. Daryl nods. “Well she can help you with some of that. She has a network of people that can help. You have her number?”

“Yeah. But I don’t want to be a bother.” Daryl says.

“You won’t be.” Dr. Rhee insists. “Even if it’s just coming to sit with Lydia for an hour so you can get your stuff she’ll be happy to help.”

“Yeah.” Daryl mutters. “I’ll give her a call I guess.” He won’t have much choice. It’s the start of the work week, everyone else will be working crazy hours but a teacher was predictable. “And uh - can Lydia have a shower?”

“A bath.” Dr. Rhee says. “She needs to keep her PICC line dry, but I can get her a cast cover so she can bathe more comfortably.”

Well he wasn’t going to get his few minutes of peace then.

“Thanks.” Daryl mutters. “Uh is there anything else I should know?”

“No.” Maggie shakes her head. “Just the consent forms. I’ll give you a minute to go over them.”

“No need.” Daryl mutters, reaching for the pen and signing his name at the back of the forms. “I ain’ got much choice if I wan’ her t’ be okay.”

“I understand.” Dr. Rhee nods, taking the form from his outstretched hands. “I’ll send the nurse in to start her fluids in a half an hour so you’ll have time for that bath.”

“Thanks.” Daryl mutters.

As predicted Lydia was not thrilled about the bath and not being able to use her arm. Daryl has to wash her hair himself, scooping water over her head with a cup in a fashion he hadn’t done since she was six year s old. It was something she clearly wasn’t thrilled about, fat crocodile tears rolling down her face and her voice a high pitched whine the entire time. Daryl does his best not to look at the bruises lacing her torso and legs as he washes, dries, and helps her dress. They’re turning yellow-green today, and he hates the sight of them, they make him angry.

The fluids go in surprisingly well, once the nurse explains to Lydia that it’s just like water she doesn’t have to drink she’s surprisingly compliant to them being attached. Within a half an hour however she’s up for the toilet. It’s a bit of an ordeal to drag the infection pump to the bathroom and back and it’s one they repeat every half an hour or forty five minutes. Dr. Rhee hadn’t been kidding about keeping her hydrated. He hadn’t seen her potty dance this much since she was much smaller, and it seems to frustrate her too. He expects relief for them when the fluids finally stop, but then Dr. Rhee enters the room holding a small yellow bag with a biohazard sticker on the front.

Jesus Christ he’d take her to the toilet a thousand more times to avoid that.

“Okay Lydia.” Dr. Rhee smiles. “Are you ready for your medicine?”

Lydia frowns warily at Dr. Rhee, and her eyes fix on the bag in her hands. “I have to take all of that? Does it taste bad?”

“Well you don’t swallow it.” Dr. Rhee says. “It goes in your PICC line just like your fluids, but some people say they taste it anyway but it just tastes like metal.”

“Does it taste a lot?” Lydia’s even more wary, he wishes Dr. Rhee hadn’t told her that.

“No.” Dr. Rhee promises.

“Can daddy sit with me?” Lydia asks, looking back over at Daryl as Dr. Rhee approaches the infusion pole and disconnects the fluids.

“Of course he can.” Dr. Rhee smiles, handing the empty bag of fluids to the nurse.

“Daddy.” Lydia whimpers, holding out her arms. Daryl climbs onto the bed and lets her crawl into his lap.

“‘s okay.” Daryl whispers, running a hand over Lydia’s hair and settling back against the pillows. She’s shaking in his arms, her face turned pointedly to the infusion pole. He kisses her hair and looks over at Dr. Rhee, the medication is connected now and he watches a thin stream of yellow fluid move down the line, into Lydia’s arm and up towards her heart. It makes him feel sick.

“There.” Dr. Rhee says. “All connected.”

Lydia doesn’t answer, and Daryl pulls away slightly to glance at her. Her eyes are glazed over and she's whispering very softly. “Lydia oh Lydia, oh have you seen Lydia.”

“Hey, hey,” Daryl whispers, holding her tighter and trying to get her to snap out of it. “”S okay.”

“She was singing that in the OR yesterday.” Dr. .Rhee says.

“Lydia oh Lydia, that encyclo-pidia”

“She did?” Daryl’s heart sinks. She had to have been utterly terrified to sing that.

4 years she’d worked her ass off to get to a place where she could express her emotion. Countless hours of therapies and difficult conversations and the constant reinforcing that it was safe to express herself, to not disappear like with her mother, and here she was regressing before his eyes. He wanted something different. He wanted better. She deserved better.

“Shh.” He whispers, kissing her hair. “It’s okay to cry. Jus’ cry.”

Lydia never does though, but she doesn’t let go either.

Towards the end of the infusion she drifts off to sleep, having been utterly worn out by the episode. He doesn’t move or put her down, in his arms she’s safe. In his arms he can protect her.

Please, he begs silently Please let her be okay.

#twd fanfic #Caryl fanfic #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead #daryl dixon #lydia twd #henry twd #ezekiel twd #king ezekiel #carol peletier #maggie greene #maggie rhee #fic; swim

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disneychannie · 4 years

Text

perpetually | k.junmyeon

pairings: junmyeon x reader

word count: 2.4k words

genre: fluff, slice of life au, non-idol au

warnings: mild swearing, mentions of subtle smut

summary: junmyeon knows for sure that he was going to mary you and make him your forever. though he was sure you were going to say ‘yes’ he still had doubt. i mean, who wouldn’t when he was dating the most prettiest girl on planet earth?

(capslock unintended)

to junmyeon, you were like a snowflake.

pure, soft, and most of all beautiful, inside and out. it was no doubt that one day he was going to propose to you. being together for almost 6 years pretty much seals the deal that he wants to be with you forever.

having to meet each other during your first years of uni till now, it was pretty shocking that the both of you managed to stay together for that long and keep loving each other even more every single day.

he loved the way you helped him go through law school with such ease and practically made everything easier for him despite you yourself having your own studies to worry over, you still chose to help junmyeon help whenever you could. thanks to you he was now one of the best new layers despite just having to get the job at a prestigious law firms two years ago. you on the other hand were a nurse at a hospital near his office which was easier for the both of you. which then evolves to the both of you going to work together (when you don’t have the late night shifts) and having quick lunch breaks at the local cafe nearby.

it was perfect.

the topic of getting married has been brought up a few times by him and he remembered how your eyes lit up at the idea of starting a big family with junmyeon with little cardboard copies of you running around your home. it was the future you could think of with junmyeon. but the both of you agreed to think about the whole marriage and kids stuff once you have stable jobs and is financially stable.

but what you didn’t know was that junmyeon has been saving up for a trip to paris where he planned on proposing to you there. he knew how cliché it sounds now that he think of It but he knows how much you love those kinds of things. sappy romance movies, dancing in the pouring rain, you were a sucker for those and junmyeon had to admit that he was too.

so what’s better than having to propose to you at the city of love in front of the infamous eiffel tower?

what's amazing about it is that he didn't exactly think twice about wanting to propose to you. he knew that you were ready and so was he, so fuck it why not just do it?

it did take him a lot of reassurance to actually muster up and go on with his plans from his best friend sehun. thought the younger knew how anxious his older friend could be, he knew that in the end this is still what he wanted and he wouldn’t change his mind.

though junmyeon at heart is sure that you will say yes, he is aware that things could go wrong and just the span of the trip and that got him all work up. the anxiousness costed him extra stress and two bottles of vodka.

“what if she says no sehun? i don’t know if I can move on with life anymore,” junmyeon slurred. even with the amount of alcohol in his system, he still managed to think about you rejecting his proposal.

sehun only managed to grab the vodka bottle from his hand and wrapped his arms around his hyung’s shoulder.

“stop saying nonsense, you and I know that she’s going to say yes, she loves you too much to say no hung and you’re conscious of that right? you guys are meant for each other it’s impossible for you two to be apart from eachother,”

“you’re right sehun,” junmyeon said bringing his head up from the bar table. “she’s going to say yes,”

so the next morning, he woke up to you probably at work already seemingly mostly on saturdays you still had to go to the hospital. he then saw the aspirin and the glass of water on his bedside table with a little note attached to it.

“to my junmyeon, you were pretty darn drunk last night and I can’t believe sehun told me you finished a bottle of vodka by yourself! that’s hot tbh take the pills and I'll see you tonight my love!”

- your sweet y/n :p

hell fucking yeah he was going to marry you

it was almost mid night when you came home and you were still in your dirty scrubs when you opened your apartment door to be met with junmyeon on the couch bundled up with your cat sleeping peacefully at at the other end of the sofa.

startled from the sound of the door being swung open, he looked up from his phone and saw that you’ve arrived already.

“myeon? why aren’t you asleep yet?” you questioned while shrugging your coat off from your cold body. though you weren’t complaining seemingly junmyeon was usually knocked out by 10.

standing up from his laying position on the cozy couch he watched as you dropped your back on the coffee table as you walked over to him.

“is everything okay? you look pretty pale, are you sick?” you started to ramble on with questions at his tired figure. even with your probably stained with blood scrubs and the evident dark circles under your eyes, you still looked beautiful to him.

junmyeon just laughed and held your small hands in his big ones.

“I just have a surprise for you, I wanted to tell you over dinner tomorrow but I’m too excited to wait that long,” he said, his palms starting to get pretty sweaty from being too nervous.

“what is it?” you said grinning suddenly excited over what his surprise could be.

“I was planning on taking you to a wonderful week in paris as a vacation and, before you could say anything, I already talked this over with the hospital and they agreed on giving one of their best nurses a well-deserved break,” he said.

you couldn’t contain your joy and started squealing as you jumped around from your spot obviously happy that you finally got to go to your dream vacation place. junmyeon just smiled at your excited figure.

you’re cute

“oh my god junmyeon is this for real? please don’t lie to me,” you said with a pleading look on your face.

“y/n,” junmyeon said as he laughed, “why would I be lying to you? after all these years you still think I would joke about this stuff?”

you then pulled his collar so that you could give him a loving kiss on the lips. by instinct, junmyeon then wrapped his arms around your small figure as your lips move in sync.

“thank you junmyeon, I really appreciate this so much,” you said as tears started to form in your eyes. you were definitely stressed from work and this one week vacation to a magical place seemed like a whole package for you.

“you know you deserve this right? I'm just being a good boyfriend,” he replied.

you then grinned and pulled him closer.

“let me show you how good you are then,” you whispered.

it was finally the day of the trip and it was hard to go throughout the weeks till the day of your departure without having to daydream about all the things you were bound to do with junmyeon there.

on the plane junmyeon know how you couldn’t control your excitement as you kept looking out the window of the airplane from your window seat with excitement in your eyes. the clouds looked the softest as you told junmyeon how you wanted to just flop and snuggle on the pillows. instead, you snuggled against his shoulders as you waited for your arrival.

the second you stepped of the airport you couldn’t stop squealing. you were finally here! all junmyeon could do was genuinely smile at your ethics. no doubt you’re cute when you’re excited.

the two of you opted on just sleeping as soon as you arrived at your hotel room because it was already past midnight and you needed every energy you needed to go touring around the city the next day.

that night you slept close to junmyeon as he held you tightly against his bigger figure. even with all the energy you had in the beginning, the second your head hit the pillows, you were a goner.

junmyeon couldn’t sleep that night, instead he thought about how the proposal would go. he was scared that you were gonna reject his proposal though he already knew you were gonna say yes. you’ll never know how things are going to go in the future.

the next few days were amazing as it could already. you tried so many new food and went to every cafe you passed by and tried the pastries and coffees there. you even visited the famous tourist attractions there and didn’t forget to take aesthetic pictures of each other. being the museum enthusiast you and junmyeon are, you visited the oh so famous Louvre Museum where you and even junmyeon were ecstatic about. having to only see them in television shows and pictures, you finally got to see it in real life.

and you couldn’t forget to visit the Eiffel Tower. where junmyeon planned on proposing to you. but he planned on doing it the night before you had to leave, in front of the shinning Eiffel Tower with the stars shining above you.

the second you saw the Eiffel Tower, the look on your face was as if a kid who had just gotten his favourite candy. you and junmyeon bought the warm churros and bagel from one of the many food trucks and two cups of hot chocolate as you both strolled along the park, talking about everything and anything with laughter filling the air.

things were going great just like he planned it to be and seeing you happy like this made his insides feel warm and made the butterflies in his stomach erupt. you looked beautiful with your hair dancing around with the wind, even if some stuck on your face, you still looked like an angel with that beautiful smile on your face and how your eyes would smile as you do.

finally, the last night strolled on by fairly quickly as the both of you are now walking hand in hand to the Eiffel Tower. the night was rather cold and junmyeon didn't forget to pack a few more hot packs with him knowing you might forget and get yourself sick from the cold.

“I'm sad now that it’s the last day,” you mumbled lowly as you finally made it to the Eiffel Tower, now just admiring how the tower sparkled that night. the stars seemed to shine brighter and it only brought more anxiousness to junmyeon.

he could feel his hand start to sweat as you got closer to the tower in hopes you didn't realise how clammy his hands felt. though the weather was cold, the sight of you was enough to make his face feel hot and he could feel the sweat slowly trickling down his neck.

turning to look at you, in fact you did look devastated at the thoughts of leaving this beautiful place but you still had a glimpse of smile plastered on your face and it made junmyeon felt wobbly, his legs about to give up on him.

“it is, but there’s something I have to do before we leave here,” he said, finally the courage he had before slowly seep through his veins.

confused you turned to him and you could see the softness of his eyes.

“what are you talking about myeon?” you said, totally unaware of the situation. which was a good thing about this whole thing since you were gullible yourself and he hoped you didn't instantly got caught on with what he was about to or it was going to ruin the whole plan.

taking your small hands in his large ones, he began to speak.

“y/n, you’re one of the greatest that had happen to me, though our encounter was rather embarrassing, I could never forget that day where I first laid my eyes on you. the day I fell in love with you. till today, my love for you isn’t only the same but it has grew bigger every single day. I seriously don’t know what I'll do if I didn’t have you by my side. the way you helped me get through law school even though you had your own course to deal with. you were there for every breakdown I had, every milestone I hit, and I'm glad I was there for you too. my love for you will never stop and it will remain that way till the day I die.”

tears started to prick in your eyes. you knew exactly where this was going.

“so y/n, y/l/n,” he started before pulling out a small velvet ring box out of his pocket and getting on one knee. opening the box to reveal a beautiful diamond ring.

this is it

“will you marry me?”

those were the words you’ve been waiting for since the day you’ve met.

a tear slipped down your cheeks and so did junmyeon’s. without hesitation you nodded before shakily replying,

“yes junmyeon, fuck yes of course,”

relief washed over junmyeon as he was smiling from ear to ear. slipping the ring on your finger, he stood up and kissed you for the first time as your fiancé.

the people around you were clapping and cheering at the sweet moment.

you pulled away and he cupped his hands on your cheeks, wiping the tears from eyes.

“I'm so glad you proposed here, very cliche, I like it,” you said.

“of course you do, I know how it works in the kdramas you watch,” he replied smirking.

“hey junmyeon?”

“yeah,” he replied, looking at you in the eye as if you were one of the shinning start at the sky that night.

“I love you.” with that you pulled him into a loving kiss again.

and you were glad that you could do it now every day of your life,

together.

#junmyeon #junmyeon imagines #kim junmyeon imagines #kim junmyeon #junmyeon scenarios #kim junmyeon scenarios #suho #suho imagines #suho scenarios #exo #exo imagines #exo obsession #exo scenarios #Kpop scenarios #kpop imagines

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kingofthereapers · 3 years

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Lincoln was going about his life, getting Brooklyn up and ready for the day. As things had gotten more serious between December and him, the two of them spent just about every night together. It was odd to call her his girlfriend, because she felt like so much more than that, but in all honesty, it was what December was to him. From time to time she even watched over Brooke when he had to go to work. It gave his mom a break every once in a while. Link knew that Brooklyn loved it too, because Dee not only gave her presents, but they played dress up and the clothes that were in his girlfriend’s closet weren’t anything like you would see on a daily basis in Amesbury. Suddenly, Lincoln heard the soft ringtone going off on his phone. The blond man padded around the house, trying to find just where he’d left that stupid cell phone.

By the time he’d found it there was a missed phone call from Hank Maddox. The two men worked together at the shop. To say that Hank was like a second father to the young man would have been an understatement. It wasn’t like there was anything wrong with the relationship that Link had with his own father, but Hank was the voice of reason that he needed sometimes. He called the number back and waited for an answer. When the line was picked up and he heard the older man’s voice on the other end Link smiled, some of the nerves in his stomach going away. Hank wasn’t getting any younger and sometimes he worried that something would happen to the man, despite him being in great shape. “Hey, I couldn’t find my cell.” Link admitted with a chuckle, because he was notorious for misplacing the thing.

“Son, you should come down to the hospital.” Hank’s deep voice sent chills down Lincoln’s spine and his brows furrowed. “What happened? Are you okay? Is Lula okay?” His mind went straight to the fateful night some years ago that he’d been in the hospital for his wife. The prayers didn’t work, because she didn’t survive. He tried pushing those nagging thoughts from his mind though as he focused on what Hank was saying. “Travis was in a bad accident.” Despite what had happened between the two men, Lincoln still didn’t want to see Travis hurt, or to be dead, but when he heard of the accident he half wondered if it was actually an accident after all. Travis had quite a long list of enemies that didn’t always pertain to the club. It always seemed like Travis had his hands in some kind of mischief. “I’m on my way.” Link muttered and hung up the phone without so much as another word.

Lincoln felt numb as he turned to walk down the hallway to the bedroom to find December. “Babe…” His voice sounded somewhat hollow, and different even in his own head. “I have to go, Travis is in the hospital.” He said simply, his greenish blue orbs slightly wide as he was still trying to process just what was going on. He took a deep breath and tried his best to fake a smile for her. “I’ll see you later, you have Brooklyn, right?” He checked before turning to go. It wasn’t often that Lincoln rode his motorcycle anymore, unless it was for club business, so without a thought he jumped into his little red pick up truck. The vehicle was perfect for lugging around tools and parts for the cars that he worked on both at the shop and at home. It wasn’t anything fancy as it chugged along, making a lot of noise, but not going so fast, but it worked for Lincoln.

His stomach began to tie in knots as he approached the hospital, because he hadn’t been there in a couple years. He could remember the feeling of hopelessness he’d felt as he walked up the sidewalk to the emergency room entrance, wondering if he would have to say goodbye to his wife in the next couple minutes. That was exactly what he had done, although she was just about gone by the time they’d let him in the room. “Can you tell me where Travis Davies’ room is?” Link asked at the front desk, surprised he didn’t vomit straight onto the woman glancing up at him as he spoke. “Room 54.” The nurse replied after a couple taps on the keyboard in front of her. “Thanks.” Link replied before he was off, wandering the halls and trying his best not to lose what little was in his stomach this early in the morning. As he found the rhythm of the rooms, with each step that drew him closer to Travis’ room, he felt more and more sick to his stomach.

A large 54 was written on the room just to his right and the blond man paused outside the door as he took a couple breaths and then pushed the door open. He’d half expected to see Travis and Lula in some inappropriate position on the bed, but before he could even see the bed he heard the beep beep beep of the machines. He caught sight of Lula hunched over in a chair beside the bed, sleeping probably and as Hank got up from his chair in the corner that also caught the attention of the blue eyed man. Only when his gaze fell on Travis in the bed did his brows furrow and the numbness went away, replaced by a bubbling feeling of anger.

Slowly the tall, lean man made his way over to the side of the bed opposite Lula to gaze down at the man he’d spent countless hours with for as long as he could remember. This had been his best friend growing up. They had gone hunting together, and Thomas Davies had taught Link how to skin and gut a deer when he was about 10 years old. That seemed a lifetime ago with the way things had gone as they’d grown into men. It was around that time in fact that Travis began to drift away from the kid he’d always called his closest friend. The fairer sex became just that much more important to the man that now was laid up in the hospital bed with tubes and wires all over the place. Even then, they’d go fishing and ride their bikes and go four wheeling for hours on end. Some nearly twenty years later, Lincoln couldn’t tell you who Travis spent most of his time with besides the ever present Lula Maddox.

Here he was though, standing over the man that had had an affair with his wife, then killed her when she found out she was knocked up with his kid. This kind of man didn’t deserve to live in Lincoln’s book, but all in the same one, it was his friend. There was some obvious torment going on with Lincoln as he stared down at the dark haired man and Hank woke Lula to see if she wanted anything from the cafeteria. Lincoln silently watched the interaction and then his gaze fell upon Lula as she realized that he was standing there silently. The three of them went back to when they were in diapers, so it hurt to see Lula crying, even if it was over a man that treated her like shit. He wasn’t expecting the words that came out of her mouth, but they stunned him to the point that his heart skipped a beat. “Bo….Walker?” Lincoln confirmed, his eyebrows knitting together even more, causing his head to ache. “How do you know?” Link’s mind was racing, one of his hands coming up to run through his hair to push it back from his face.

Bo was their enforcer. The man was obsessed with rules, and rightfully so. He was the one to make sure everyone was following those rules. For him to go as far as to try and kill their president was almost too far fetched to believe. There wasn’t time enough for Lincoln to stick around for the reasoning though, because he knew Bo would be on the run, at least for a while. Until he could explain himself to the club. With enough reason they would be forgiving after all. Lincoln began to step back slowly and then he turned to head for the door. “I love you, Lula.” He said softly to her, his eyes as clear and focused as they had ever been before he turned to go down the hall to retrace his steps. The blond man ended up back in his pick up, wishing he’d brought his bike this time around. Speed was not on his side, but he took the roads as quickly as he could until the paved roads ended about fifteen miles outside of town, and his truck crunched over the gravel path that took him up a rather steep incline that eventually flattened out into a large grassy field. His truck bounced across the greenery until he parked in front of a small cabin that was tucked between a grouping of pine trees.

The house was little more than a one bedroom cabin, perfect for camping, or hunting. That was exactly what the group of men linked to the Reapers used it for. Right in front of the steps that led to the front door was Ian “Bo” Walker’s bike. No one in town had a bike quite like Bo, and in fact many people could pair the two together in a lineup because it’s outrageous decor just suited the also outrageously tattooed man. Link gave the back tire of the bike a small kick as he passed it and went boldly into the cabin without so much as a knock on the door. Bo was sitting there, waiting for him, though his well groomed brows rose when he saw just who it was. Lincoln was the last person in the club he would have expected to come after him. The two men were not equally built either, so Bo settled into his seat with a bit of a smirk while he holstered the gun he’d had trailed on the door.

“Lincoln.” The man spoke through his large beard with his chocolate hues trailing the blonde man that paced in front of him. “You know it was a long time coming.” Boy, did Lincoln know those words to be true, but this wasn’t the way it was supposed to go down, and he showed his distaste for those words with a slow shake of his blond head while his boots thudded against the wooden floor of the cabin. “It’s not your place.” Link muttered, blue eyes trailing along the floor in front of him before he came to stop straight in front of the older man. “He is supposed to be mine.” Link growled, eyes narrowing before he began to pace again as that burning anger began to bubble up in the pit of his stomach. “He killed my fucking wife!!!” Lincoln then screamed, although he knew killing Travis wouldn’t make him feel even the slightest better, and it sure as hell wouldn’t bring back Bethany.

Bo stood up, trying to make himself look as big as possible because he didn’t appreciate getting yelled at, even if it was by his vice president. Lincoln glared at him. “You gonna try to kill me too?” He snapped to which Bo’s eyes grew wide. “Try? The fuck you talking about, man. There is no way he survived that.” Lincoln laughed, stepping further into the cabin, near the simple kitchen with little more than a spot for a propane fueled stove top. His oil stained hand reached out and he flicked on the switch to one of the burners and a small whoosh could be heard as the propane tank opened, though no flame showed up because Link didn’t hold his lighter up to ignite it. “You stupid idiot, he is still alive, barely, but he is alive and this lands on me now.” He explained to the other man standing behind him. “Our enforcer can’t be trusted, and who does it always fall to? I have to pick up the pieces.” Lincoln sounded like he might have been on the verge of tears now as he spoke, but in a movement Bo hadn’t been expecting, Lincoln turned and pulled out the handgun that was tucked in the back of his pants.

It wasn’t a fatal wound, but just one to disarm the other man almost completely, because he had little, if any use of his right arm. His left arm reaching across for his gun was a much slower movement, and Lincoln was an excellent shot. The younger man took a few steps towards the older man as he stumbled and sat back down in his chair. Blood was pouring from his arm and it wasn’t looking good if Lincoln just drew this out long enough. “You should have said something, Bo.” Link muttered softly, his brows furrowed again. This was the last thing he had wanted to do, but he couldn’t let the club see him as the weak one anymore. He’d been in this club damn near as long as Travis, and he had done nearly as much. This had to put him at least in the top rankings for the club. He held up the gun again, aimed straight between Bo’s eyes and the older man knew he wouldn’t miss. “Please….” Bo shifted, though he wasn’t reaching for a gun, or begging for his life, he was asking for a different method. The older man held out a small blade that he’d carved and sharpened himself as a young boy. “Use this.”

Link stepped forward and took the wooden handle of the blade that was offered and then he flipped the knife in his hand for a moment. “You’re a good guy, you know that Bo?” The older man gave a nod of his head and offered a sad smile. “I’m ready to see my sweetheart. I’ve missed her a lot.” Lincoln pursed his lips and gave a solemn nod of his head as he raised the blade above his head and slammed it down as hard as he could into Bo’s neck. The blade made a loud thud when the hilt connected with his skin and the blade wedged against his collar bone. Lincoln gazed down at the large man as the light slowly began to leave his eyes. It was a sight that wasn’t completely unfamiliar to Lincoln, because he’d been hunting his whole life, but this was the first time he’d watched the death of a person. He stepped back slowly, eyes filling with tears as he then turned back to that damn propane stove. It had been the bane of his existence when he’d been hunting as a kid, so he was going to be glad to see it go.

Link turned on the other three burners so the propane was being pumped right into the room as quickly as it could be. It was a decent sized tank that they had sitting under the counter too, so Link knew this would do some damage. The blond man took one last look at Bo sitting there in his chair with blood seeping from his neck and his shoulder. “I’m sorry, ol’ man.” Lincoln said softly as he stepped out into the early morning sunshine. He hadn’t realized just how much the cabin smelled like blood until he’d gone out into the fresh air. He took a deep breath and steadied himself against the railing on the porch as he finally hurled right into the well maintained bushes. After wiping his mouth on his shirt Link walked out to his truck and got in and looked around for some rope. There was a hank of rope just waiting for him underneath the passenger seat. The blond man snatched it up and began to untwine it until he had about enough to cover the field and lead right up to the door. That was exactly how Lincoln laid the rope out, tipping a bit of gasoline from the near empty gas can in the back of his truck onto the rope every couple feet.

From across the field, Lincoln looked at the old cabin. It had been a home away from home, and sometimes a haven when he just needed to get away as a teenager. He could even remember a time or two that he and Bethany had snuck in for a little action as teenagers. The thought made him laugh, but the joy didn’t linger on his face. Blue orbs trailed down to the end of the rope in his hand until he pulled his trusty lighter from his pocket. Times were changing and it was time for them all to grow up. The Reapers wasn’t just fun and games. They were serious about this shit, and Lincoln was on board for taking care of business in any way he saw fit. There wasn’t a way that anyone else was going to pull one over on him again. Not Travis, not Bo, not anyone. The flame popped up from his lighter and once it was close to the rope it took off, and faster than Lincoln had expected. The blond man jumped into his truck and began the bumpy ride back down the gravel road. Seeing that house go up in flames would have been the icing on the cake, but Lincoln didn’t have time for fun and games anymore.

#Lincoln Albrecht #TheReapers #Amesbury NC #creeping darkness

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tdatdroleplay · 3 years

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Hank & Lux - From the Beginning

This story was originally posted in May of 2020 from the Twitter accounts of @HisTeenDream and @RookByTheBook.

Lux: [She’d spent the last four years in Houston, attending Rice University. And it was at her graduation in May that her father let her in on a serious secret. He had lung cancer. And he was getting sicker despite the treatments. He didn’t want her to move home, but she didn’t feel right about staying in Houston like nothing was wrong. Besides, she’d graduated and could hopefully find herself a job in San Antonio. She’d spent the day at the hospital just...spending time with her father. She wished that things were different. She wished she had more time, that she hadn’t spent the past four years away from him. But it just wasn’t...in the cards. So instead, during his treatments, during the times when he was having serious issues, sickness and even depression, he stayed at the hospital. So she’d spend a decent amount of her days there too. In between, she tried to take care of the house and find herself a job. Which hadn’t been as easy as she hoped. On her way home, she decided to pick up a little takeout from Blanco Café. She went ahead and paid, got the bag, back in the car and headed to the house. Pulling up, she got her bags and headed to the door. She went to put her key in the lock and then paused when the door simply pushed open.] What…[She had a sinking feeling as she pushed the door open and saw all the lights on, the place ransacked, a lot was missing, and the window around the back of the house in the living room was busted out. She didn’t bother going inside any further just in case someone was still in there. Instead, she dug her cell phone out of her bag and called the police to report a break in.]

Hank: [He walked out of the office of the San Antonio Police Department’s psychologist. It wasn’t because he had any issues with discipline, or a head case...it was just part of his career path. There were three examinations an officer had to pass after he completed an initial interview if there was an aspiration to be a SWAT team member. And that was all he could think about. The first was the psychological exam. Then that was followed by the fitness testing and the skills examination. One on the books, two to go. He’d spent the last three years working as a beat cop for the SAPD and he was damn proud of that, but he wanted bigger and he wanted better. He was made for more than this. In the year before the academy he went through an accelerated degree program where he snatched up a degree in Criminal Justice. He had plans to apply for this from the minute he graduated high school. He had already certified himself in counter-sniper tactics, helicopter and armored vehicle insertion and was hoping to get himself enrolled into explosives, rope skills and crowd control if he passed his exams of course. But...that was the goal. And as he walked back through the hall toward the little station where he sat to file his reports, when he heard the Sergeant call over to him. “Page, get your ass back to your car.” He chuckled and nodded and grabbed up his keys.] You got it, sir. [He blew out a breath and headed back out. He knew they were gonna break his balls over this. Leaving the team to join another, but it’s just what he wanted. He spent a good hour patrolling his normal runs when dispatch sent out a call. “Possible 10-35. Subject location unknown.” His brow lifted, but when he heard the address, he grabbed the radio and responded.] Unit 8 is 10-76. My 10-77 is about fifteen minutes. [He set the radio down, flipped his lights on but not the sirens. His brow was furrowed. That was an address he knew all too well. It was the childhood home of a friend of his. And it was a place he visited often enough. He went there to help her father. Fix what needed fixing. Take care of the lawn, the flash ice storms in the Texas winter. And even he had to admit that things just seemed to be getting a little more worse for the wear. But still, he wondered how the man called if he wasn’t in the house and that troubled him enough to drive a little faster than was allowed through a residential district. And he had to wonder why he didn’t just call his cell. He cleared his throat as he pulled up at the side of the house and grabbed his radio again.] Unit 8 is 10-06. Standby. [He stepped out of the car, closing the door as he started to walk up the side of the walkway, the back of a woman with long blonde hair coming into view.] Ma’am?

Lux: [She was standing in the yard, arms wrapped around herself as she just stared at the house. How was she going to tell her dad that their house had been broken into, their things stolen? He would want to come home, and he needed to be in the hospital receiving his treatments. Her dark blue eyes were starting to water when she heard the sound of a man behind her. Turning around, she saw an officer.] Yes. Um...I haven’t been inside. [She looked back toward the house, but continued to speak.] The door was open when I got home. And I...just peeked inside. Didn’t see anybody, but the place is a mess. So I just called the police and waited out here in the yard. [Turning back toward the officer, she figured she needed to introduce herself.] I’m Lux Wilder. This is my father’s house. His name’s Eric Wilder.

Hank: [That was a shock he wasn’t expecting. There she was. Lux Wilder. The girl of his teenage dreams. They were friends then. And had a few classes together. But he was quiet. She was friendly. He kept to himself, she went to all the parties. She was smart and beautiful and he was skinny and pale and yeah. It was no wonder she didn’t know who the hell he was. He cleared his throat.] I’m familiar with who owns the house, Miss Wilder. I know your father well and...you for that matter. [He looked up at the house.] Wait here, I’ll go and check it out. [He started toward the house before he looked back at her again. She definitely grew up. Still just as beautiful. He walked up the steps and used his foot to push open the door as he pulled his black gloves on and opened the holster clasp before palming his weapon. It definitely was a damn mess. Someone did a number on it and that just pissed him off. He called out to anyone that may have still been in the house.] Police. If there’s anyone inside, come out now with your hands up. [He went from one room into the next. Where the hell was Mr. Wilder?]

Lux: [Her brow furrowed as he said he knew who owned the home, knew her father, and knew her. How the hell did he know her? She was pretty sure she’d remember someone who looked like a strip-a-gram cop. She was still looking up at him when he told her to stay there.] Uh...yeah, OK. [She had to figure out who this guy was. She tried to see the name on his uniform before he walked away, but she only saw a P before he was walking past her. She stood in the yard, watching him head into the house. He was a pretty big man, but shouldn’t he have waited for back up or had a partner? She bit the corner of her lip as she waited for him to come back out.]

Hank: [He cleared the entire house. If someone had been there, they were long gone now. He holstered his weapon and secured the clasp before he came back out, he had his radio up at his mouth this time.] Dispatch this is 8. I have a 10-24 with PD. Can we get someone out here for collection? I’m 10-75 with the caller. [He left the radio go and heard the confirmation. “10-4 Officer Page. I’m sending someone now.” He looked back at her and raised a brow.] I’m gonna need some information from ya and I’m having someone come out to collect evidence and process it since there’s so much damage. We’ll file the report and I’ll check with the neighbors to see if anyone’s heard anything. Where’s Mr. Wilder? [His brow furrowed.]

Lux: [She was standing there, staring at him. The radio said Officer Page. Page. She went to high school with a couple of Pages, but...this guy didn’t look like any of them. She was still in thought when he came over to speak to her. And it took her a minute to answer him.] Uh...yeah, sure, that’s fine. I don’t know how much information I can give. Can I go inside and see what’s missing? I…[She shook her head.] How do you know my dad? How do you know me? [She looked up at him, dark blue eyes studying his face. She had to admit there was something familiar about his warm hazel eyes.]

Hank: [He shook his head.] Not just yet, they need to clear it. I wouldn’t want some kind of evidence unknowingly get destroyed because we’re moving things around. [His brows lifted.] It’s me, Lux. Hank. [He moved his pen across his notepad before he looked back down at her.] I guess I do look a little different. [He smiled.] I...see him when I’m on patrol. This is my neighborhood. And obviously /he/ remembers me. But I haven’t seen him for a little while. Is he alright?

Lux: [Her full lips were parted as she just stared up at him. That wasn’t Hank Page. And then he made a crack about her dad remembering him.] No, I remember Hank Page, but Hank Page didn’t look like that. [She gestured to him.] Or...you. Uh...shit, I mean, Hank was small...er than you. And…[She snapped her mouth closed and shook her head, smiling at him.] It’s only been four years. The glow up is real. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. How’ve you been? [She would’ve hugged him, but he was a police officer and that might’ve been frowned upon especially since he was on duty.] My dad’s...well, a few months ago, he came to my graduation and afterward, he and I were out at dinner. He wasn’t trying to ruin the occasion or anything, but a few days prior, he’d gotten a pretty serious diagnosis. Lung cancer. He’s been in and out of the hospital lately. A lot of chemo. A lot of...problems. So I moved back home to try to help him. Not that I’m a ton of help. Unfortunately. And now I get to tell him that all our stuff’s gone, and he’s going to worry that his little girl’s staying in an unsafe place. And that’s the last thing he needs to worry about right now.

Hank: [He was about to make a comment about her when she said that her father got one hell of a diagnosis and his eyes went a little wide and that made more sense. He’d noticed the change in Eric and it was obvious now, but it wasn’t then. He just figured it was taking him some time to bounce back from a cold. He shifted his weight and shook his head.] Man, Lux...I’m sorry, that’s…[He was gonna have to process that too. He’d gotten close to her dad in the years of her absence. And it was no wonder he didn’t tell him. He didn’t want him to make a damn fuss over things. With that bomb being dropped, a few techs showed up to do some processing and he pointed them in the right direction.] When they leave, we’ll see what’s missing, yeah? We’ve had a bunch of kids running around causing problems. Vandalizing cars and stores and things like that, but it hasn’t been anything serious. So this most likely isn’t going to be anything close to unsafe. But we’ll go back in and assess and get an idea. But maybe just give it a little while for him to rest up before you break the news about the break in. When’s he getting discharged?

Lux: [She shook her head.] It’s been hard. But he’s having a hard time with the treatments, and he’s also getting depressed a lot lately. [She sighed softly.] Yeah, that’s fine. I just mean, he won’t want me staying in a place that’s been broken into. And I guess I don’t really want to either. [She pulled a face and her shoulders lifted a bit.] Maybe I’ll just stay at the hospital tonight. [She shook her head.] I don’t really know. When he goes in for treatments, they really take a toll. He usually stays for a few days afterward until he starts feeling a little better.

Hank: [He shook his head. Dammit, Eric.] Would you feel better if there were an officer outside tonight? [His brows lifted.] How long have you been back? Are you planning on staying or are you just here for what’s going on with your dad? [He tapped his pen to the page.] That’s not for the report. That’s all me. Being nosy.

Lux: [Her own brows lifted.] Oh, you guys...I mean I’m sure the police have better things to do than babysit a scaredy cat. I put the wheels in motion to move home as soon as daddy told me. I’d already graduated, so I just figured I’d move back here from Houston. Try to get a job. I’ve been back for almost two months I guess. And yeah, I’m gonna be staying. [She smiled when he said he was just being nosy, a soft laugh spilling out.]

Hank: [He paused on the personal talk for a minute, getting information from her, what he needed for the report that he was going to have to fill out and enter later, but he was glad when the tech team gave them the go ahead and check inside. He turned with her.] Don’t be ridiculous. The police enjoy getting the chance to sit outside of a house all night. We don’t get called for anything. We just...relax. Listen to music. Do rounds. Trust me. It’s a shift the boys love to get. [He winked at her then turned around toward the house.] Two months? Damn, Lux. That’s a long time. Didn’t wonder about your old buddy Hank at all? [His brows lifted as he pushed the door open for her.] Take your time walking through. Let me know if something significant jumps out at you as missing.

Lux: [She laughed.] Well, then if it’s a cakewalk, you should take it. I’ll, uh, give you…[She pulled a face.] can’t be beer cause you’re on the clock. So...lemonade? [She laughed a little and shook her head.] Alright, anyway...my good buddy Hank never even offered to come up to Houston and visit me. My good buddy Hank never even texted. Or emailed. Or anything. And you know what? Good buddy Hank...you should’ve. [She gave him a nudge with her hand and then stepped inside the house. She was dreading this. Seeing all the things that were taken.] Well, the television’s gone. Computers. [She headed toward the kitchen, seeing the drawers open.] Did they wanna steal the damn can opener?

Hank: [He chuckled and shook his head.] Hey, I won’t charge the city. I’ll take the beer and I’ll take it in a pair of jeans instead of the uniform. [He jotted down what she said was missing, getting types and how many.] Can opener? Are you serious? [He shook his head and then decided to full circle that conversation.] Well, how was I supposed to know you wanted to hear from your good buddy Hank? I mean, let’s be real here. The /only/ thing you were focused on besides getting out of town was Cameran Taylor. Quarterback. [He looked over at her and pulled a face.] Which...just in case you’re considering sending him a, “I’m back” text...just don’t. He’s doing three to five for armed burglary. Knocked off Mr. Henderson’s Hardware. [He grinned.] I had the pleasure of that collar. [He wet his lips. Might’ve said he resisted a few times during that arrest, but it was justified in his mind.]

Lux: Let’s just say you get the beer, but keep the uniform on. [She nodded with a bit of a grin.] It’s...well, we’ll say it makes me feel safer. [Was she seriously flirting over a burglary scene? She sighed.] No, can opener’s here, but they did take the Ninja coffee maker and the Instapot. Who the hell takes an Instapot, Hank? Who robbed my dad’s house? Betty Crocker? [She sighed, shaking her head and moving into the garage. She pulled open the door and shook her head.] All my dad’s tools…[She shook her head with yet another sigh. When Hank brought up Cameran Taylor, she rolled her eyes.] I haven’t spoken to him since my freshman year. He...well, I found out he was pretty focused on my best friend Megan. Needless to say, we’re not friends anymore, and Cameran...well, he hasn’t been a thought in a long time. [Her brows raised.] Really? He’s in jail? [She laughed softly, shaking her head.] What an idiot.

Hank: Idiot is an accurate description. He was “armed” with a flare gun. That’s why it’s only three to five. [He shook his head.] Tweekers. They’re looking for anything that runs. Anything that can get a few dollars resale. But that also means they’re less likely to come back. [He knew it sucked to be missing all of those things, but her dad didn’t really use those tools anymore. He brought his own when he came out to the house to fix something.] Megan? Really? I don’t know who that is. [He laughed and shrugged his shoulders.] Oh, the uniform’ll cost extra. [He lifted both brows and then stopped to look out the back window that was broken.] There’s no way to get this fixed tonight, but I’ll sheet it up for you. So none of the central gets out and keeps the damn bugs out.

Lux: [She couldn’t help but laugh at the flare gun bit.] He never was the brightest bulb in the shed. [She sighed when he said that it was more than likely tweekers looking for anything they might resale on the street.] Oh God…[She hurried out of the garage, making a beeline for her father’s bathroom. And sure enough, all of his medications were gone. She tried to remember them all so that Hank could list them.] And yes, Megan. Megan Calder. You remember her. If you remember me. [She shook her head with a smile as they moved out of her father’s bedroom, which...his .38 special was missing too.] What’ll it cost me? [She looked up at him and then pushed her own door open, her room still much like it had been when she left for college. Her laptop was gone. Obviously. Her television.] Thanks, I appreciate that. I…[She stopped, looking around frantically.] Wait...No…[She looked under her bed and everything. It was gone. She sat down on the edge of the bed and covered her face with her hands.] They took my cello. How’m I supposed to get a job here now? It was hard enough already. Now I can’t even audition.

‘Hank: I’m gonna need the permit information for the gun. I’m gonna have to make sure that’s specially noted in case it’s used in a crime. [He shook his head.] We’ll make sure to get the pharmacy to refill what he needs and...yeah…[He was gonna have do some work around here. Reinforcing doors, locks. Security system. If she was staying and bringing Eric home, they’d have to have something in place. When she bent down and then ended up on the bed, he crouched down in front of her, setting the notepad on the bed beside her. He remembered Megan. He just didn’t care about Megan. He put his hand on her knee.] In the basement...your old cello is down there. [He wet his lips. He moved it when Eric needed him to take a look at the furnace.] I know it’s probably not what you’re used to now, but it’s something, right?

Lux: [She pulled her hands away from her face when she felt Hank’s hand against her knee. She wiped under her eyes and then nearly bowled him over as she hugged him.] It is!? [She felt like she could take a breath. Yeah, it wasn’t the cello she’d been playing for the last four years, but it would work. Until she could get a new one. Or by chance the police found their things. She was just...wait...how did Hank know what was in her basement? She pulled back.] Hey, uh...good buddy Hank...how do you know what’s in my basement? I’m pretty sure you never came over and hung out in the basement when we were in high school.

Hank: [He felt her hug him and damn if that didn’t take him back to when she left for college. He wet his lips and then nodded his head when she pulled back.] Yeah, it’s down there. [He stayed crouched down for the time being, his elbows resting against his knees.] Well...that’s kind of a long story. Why don’t you get your things and grab the paperwork on the gun. I’ll take you down to the station, get that filed. My shift’ll be over by then and I can bring ya home and help...put things together here with ya. Sound alright? [He stood back up and looked down at her. He turned, pulling a tissue from the stand and passing it to her for her eyes.] After you left, I still kicked around the neighborhood. And since it was just your old man here, I checked in on him since I was still here. I helped him around the house. Mowed the lawn. Fixed the furnace. Cleaned out the garage. Did you know...that man is a bit of a hoarder? He kept /all/ of your grade school artwork. It’s...a bit of a problem.

Lux: [She nodded as he said he’d take her to the station and then back to the house to help with the broken window and making sure everything was OK in the house.] Yeah, that’s fine. [She took the tissue from his and dabbed beneath her eyes. When he stood up, she went ahead and did the same. She listened to him talk about how he knew the cello was in the basement.] That’s sweet. You were always a real good guy, Hank. [She smiled when he said her father had kept all her grade school artwork.] Yeah, I can believe that. Dad’s sentimental. [She blew out a breath, not wanting to cry again.] Let me put my dinner in the fridge. [She walked to the kitchen, sticking the bag from Blanco’s into the refrigerator before she went to search for the paperwork in her dad’s room.]

Hank: [He resisted the urge to say not good enough. She had enough going on and he didn’t need to add the butthurt boy from high school to the mix. But he wasn’t that boy anymore either. He’d grown up. And he’d gained a sense of confidence he completely lacked so many years ago.] Well, he’s a good man. And I enjoyed getting to hang out with him. He wrote me a letter of recommendation for the academy. [He chuckled.] He didn’t need to, but I appreciated it. [He walked her toward the door.] Lock up what you can. I’ve got tools in my trunk. I’ll take a look at what I can tonight. And I’m gonna have to grab something to eat on the way back. Definitely Paolo’s Pizza. For old time’s sake.

Lux: [She was digging in her dad’s closet, trying to find the permit information for the gun that was stolen, and it took her about fifteen minutes before she could find it. Once she had, she gave it over to Hank and walked with him to the door. Making sure the garage door was down, the inside door was locked, and then the front door was locked, she followed him outside.] Should I take my car? [She looked up at him when he mentioned the pizza place.] Yeah, I’ve missed that place. [She stopped in the driveway.] Hey, Hank...I’m sorry. I should’ve kept in contact with you. I just...I guess I was just selfish. You were always such a good friend to me. And when I left, it wasn’t that I left to get away from every part of my life. So why didn’t you ever...you know...text me or anything? I mean I know we weren’t like...super close or anything, but we were friends.

Hank: [He shook his head.] You can ride in the front with me. It’ll be alright. You’re coming down to file a report on a missing firearm. It’s not going to take long. [He walked over, opening the door for her and closing it once she was in. He blew out a breath as he walked around to get into the driver’s seat. This wasn’t the conversation he thought he’d be having today, but he wasn’t minding who he was having it with.] It’s alright, Lux. You were doing big things. You needed to go. [He started the car and shook his head, checking before he pulled out.] Honestly, I just thought...you were gonna make other friends. And some boy ya knew in high school just wasn’t up on that college level, ya know? My whole life, I had one dream. And I’m doing it. But that took me in one direction and you were in another. I just didn’t want to insert myself in the new life you were trying to carve out. And...I didn’t have much to offer then either.

Lux: [She got into the front seat of the cruiser and then looked at him when he was in the driver’s seat.] I’ve never ridden in a police car before. [She smiled.] That isn’t true. You were a good guy. You were smart. And you were always the sweetest. I just thought maybe you didn’t wanna stay friends when I left. It’s hard to stay friends with someone who isn’t around, you know? But you could’ve come up and visited me at Rice. I had quite a few concerts too. I should’ve invited more people to those. [She laughed a little.] I did make friends. But...well, they’re not around now, are they? Nope. They were around for the fun stuff. Not the tough stuff like my dad having cancer. Dad never told me that you were around. Then again...I didn’t...talk...to him much while I was in school. I regret that now.

Hank: Hey, don’t regret it. You talked. Probably more than other people that went off to college spoke to their parents. [He shook his head.] I should’ve. You’re right. But then...you would’ve seriously missed out on the big reveal of your good buddy Hank. [He looked over at her with a smile.] There’s all different kinds of friends, Luxie. People that come into your life at the right time for a little while, people that come into your life at the wrong time for far too long and people that don’t ever really stay away, but come when they’re needed. But no, he didn’t say anything. Then again...he didn’t tell me about having cancer the last time I met with him. So he and I have a conversation coming. I also didn’t know you’ve been back this long. And that’s probably because these past few weeks I’ve been putting in for a promotion. I was gonna surprise the old man if I got good news and now I guess...yeah. Does he have a prognosis? [He looked over at her and shook his head.] I’m sorry.

Lux: That’s true. I didn’t even /recognize/ you. You look great, by the way. Hair cut. Muscles cut. [She laughed and then shook her head.] I felt that bicep. That is one serious bicep. [She looked down at her hands when he called her Luxie. No one had called her that in a /long/ time. She nodded.] Yeah, I guess that’s true. You know dad. He’s tightlipped about that sorta thing. Doesn’t really wanna let on how serious it is I think. But I think they’ve...well, it isn’t like a six month prognosis or anything. So that’s good. And yeah, you need to rake him over the coals for not telling you. A promotion, huh? What’s that about?

Hank: Yeah, I traded in my spaghetti arms for /man/icotti. [He laughed at his own stupid joke, but he knew it would make Lux laugh too. He could always make her laugh. That much he enjoyed. And it didn’t matter what he looked like, she liked his sense of dad joke humor.] Well, you’ll have to feel the other one. It’s just not fair to only get the chance to touch one. [He looked over at her and smiled.] Oh, I’m gonna. I would’ve been there more if he told me. [He shook his head.] Yeah. I’ve got all my ducks in a row. I’m starting my exams in the next few weeks. I’m really hoping I get accepted into SWAT.

Lux: [She laughed at his corny joke, thinking it was pretty clever.] That you did. [She nodded as he talked about feeling the other arm.] Yeah, I’ll definitely do that. But you know...that’s just gonna lead to more questions. Like...are there pecs and abs under that vest or...I mean...who knows what’s going on under there? [She smiled, shaking her head and looking out the window.] Well, you definitely are the one who changed more out of high school. I mean maybe...no, definitely. [She laughed, but then raised her brows.] SWAT? Wow, that’s serious. That’s pretty intense. But that’s awesome. I mean...living the dream, huh? That’s what you wanted to do. Law enforcement. I remember how crazy Shane thought you were. He said no way Hank’s gonna be a cop. And I always told him to stuff it. That if I could play the cello for a living, you could do whatever you wanted too.

Hank: [He looked over at her, with his brows raised. And that was a side of Lux that wasn’t ever there when they were kids. That flirty little smile, the way she wanted to know more about his body. Not that he was minding one bit. He was more than happy to let her see whatever she wanted. Once again...high school dream girl. And seeing her now, that didn’t seem to change. Well, maybe the girl part. He’d definitely replace that with woman.] Hey, you’re the one that wanted me in the uniform. I’d be /more/ than happy to let you do some investigating of your own. [He grinned and then shook his head.] Jesus...Shane. Yeah, he’s still doing alright. Wife and a kid now. Yeah...SWAT. I’ve worked my ass off to get the opportunity. And if I’m cleared, it’s back to training, but it’s worth it.

Lux: Hank...you’re making me blush. [She laughed, her hand touching her warm cheek.] The uniform’s nice. Accentuates all the right...areas. [She lifted her brows and then looked out the front.] Pretty sure it’s totally inappropriate to be flirting with the officer who’s...you know...investigating...filing....working...this case. [She dragged her words out with a smile on her lips.] I’m sure you’re gonna be plenty busy training and all that.

Hank: Well, then I’m doing my job, ma’am. [He chuckled and looked over at her. It felt damn good to put a blush on her face for the right reasons.] Why’s that? I’m a man, Luxie. Who happens to be a cop. This would be inappropriate if I said, give me a kiss and I’ll let you out of a ticket. [He grinned over at her.] Got any tickets? [He bounced his brows before he started down the road to the station.] Well, it’s a lot of training, but unlike going through the police academy which was 30 weeks of in-house training, this is shorter and I’m not required to live on campus. So it’s more of a nine to five that I get paid to do. A stipend actually.

Lux: [Oh, a man he definitely was. And she felt ridiculous for even entertaining that idea. She shook her head with a smile, that flirting just spilling out before she could even stop it.] Well no, but you could write me one, right? [She made a little eep sound and then laughed. She tried to focus on what he’d said about his job.] That’s good. You know, not having to live on campus. You can kind of continue with your regular life. So...Shane’s got a wife and kid? I didn’t see a ring so...or maybe you can’t wear a ring and do what you do? I don’t know. Are you...married? Engaged? Girlfriended?

Hank: The point is to not write the ticket. The kisses get you /out/ of them, remember? We don’t want a papertrail. [He chuckled and then wet his lips.] Didn’t see a ring on Shane? Oh..you mean me? Yeah...no. I mean, if you’re married, you’re allowed to wear it. Most guys opt for the silicone bands now. But I’m not one of them. I’m not married. Or engaged. No girlfriend either. I just never know if they want me for me, or they’re just using me for a get out of jail free card. [He chuckled.] I’m just kidding. Not about the girlfriend. Or wife. Or fiancee.

Lux: [Her brows raised as she stared at him.] Listen to you, Mr. Dirty Cop! [She laughed and then shoved his arm with her hand.] Oh...is that assaulting an officer? You may have to frisk and cuff me, Officer Page. [She ended up laughing and shaking her head.] No! Not Shane! [She pursed her lips and shook her head.] I’m sure they wouldn’t be looking for a get out of jail free card, unless...who are you dating? [She arched a brow and then smiled at him.] Well, I hope you get all the things you want. SWAT. And any other promotion or thing your heart desires. You deserve that.

Hank: Yeah, that’s exactly what that means. I think I’ll bring the cuffs and use the night stick. [He chuckled and wet his lips again. He was gonna have to reel it in. You couldn’t hide much in a uniform.] Hey, you know I don’t like bad girls. [He grinned.] I’ve always been different. So those good girls, that get good grades and grow up to be hot cello players. [He grinned and nodded his head.] Well, there’s a lot of desire in my heart, but...we’ll get to that later. [He put the cruiser in park and pulled out the keys.] We’re here. [He chuckled and got out, walking over to open her door.]

Lux: The night stick? [She looked at him with raised brows.] Is that what you call your…[She covered her mouth as a laugh tumbled out.] I...wow, this conversation has gone completely off the rails. [She shook her head and then turned to look at him.] So...my good buddy Hank thinks I’m hot, huh? That’s cute. [She had to admit that she was curious about the desire he had in his heart, but they were at the police station. She wet her lips as he got out and came around to open her door. Getting out of the car, she looked around.] Lead the way, officer.

Hank: [He nodded his head.] Follow me, ma’am. [He winked at her.] And for the record...no. That’s not what I call it. [He grinned as he held the door open for her to walk through it.] Who needs rails? Cute? [He reached up and clutched his chest.] That’s the kiss of death right there. [He walked up to the front and pulled out the papers she’d given him.] Gimme a sec. [He walked around behind the glass and spoke with the Desk Sergeant. He was behind there about four or five minutes before he came back out.] Alright, they’re gonna get that in the system and you’ll need to sign it, get a copy. I’m gonna head down and change and grab my bag. Wait for me here, yeah?

Lux: Don’t you dare call me ma’am. No? Well, it’d be a good name for it. Just saying. [She shook her head.] No, not cute like that. Not like a baby holding a puppy or something. So no...it isn’t a kiss of death, but you sure are bringing up the word kiss a lot tonight, aren’t you? [She smiled when he turned to look back at her.] What? I’m not objecting or anything. Just pointing it out. Must be your subconscious. [She nodded when he told her to give him a second. She stood out there and waited, and when he said that they were going to get her a copy and she’d need to sign it, she nodded again.] Alright. I’ll be here.

#TDATD RolePlay Stories Fiction NotEllaRavenscroft NotKenBradley HankAndLux

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fizzingwizard · 4 years

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very long very personal

of course it’s okay, I wouldn’t have left this public if it were a big deal, but I’d still prefer no comments on this.

So my mom messaged me the other day asking if we could chat because she “had some questions.” So I already figured something was up, because usually she doesn’t give a reason for wanting to chat, just wanting to talk is enough. I was trying to guess if “some questions” meant something very serious was going on or if she had questions about whether I’ll be able to go back to the US for Christmas this year, since last time we talked I said probably not because of covid-19.

So I felt like I didn’t want to put this off, but also did? lol. So I couldn’t make myself call last night, so I called this morning when it’s night for them. ” It seemed casual, but I could see a stack of boxes behind her. My first thought was “are my parents moving?” And at first my mom’s like, “Yeah, we decided to sell the house, so I wanted to ask you about some things of yours I found. I’m like oh, okay, probably anything left there is trash because I haven’t looked at it in 10 years (uh, though there were a couple things I wanted to keep >_>; also a mountain of books >_____>;)

and then she goes, “So yeah, the reason we’re selling is because your dad and I are splitting up.”

and I’m like, THERE IT IS.

she said it soooo casual-like and several minutes into chatting. I’m sure because it’s an awkward thing to suddenly bring up. The thing is, before I called, I was planning to tell her that if there ever was some big news to share, I’d rather she warn me in a text message first. Like, “I’ve got some news that may be difficult to hear,” some such, doesn’t need to explain anything, just tip me off to be prepared, because that’s what I’m like. At work I never fully accept compliments because the feeling of reassurance that I’m doing well leads to me being blindsided when something goes wrong. So I try to always keep a mental balance, like “I’m glad X went well but that doesn’t mean everything is good” or “Too bad Y didn’t work out, but that doesn’t meant everything is shitty.” This is what helps me not go crazy and feel a bit in control. I wish I were a happy go lucky person for whom bad stuff rolls right off, but it doesn’t, at all, so I try to manage it the best way I can. I never feel truly happy but I never feel truly sad.

And the reason I felt like I needed to say something to my mom is, this isn’t the first time something like this happened. When I was in college, both of my parents got into a car accident - the same accident, but separate cars. They were both okay, but the cars were ruined. They didn’t tell me until weeks later. Same thing happened when my brother got sick and had to be hospitalized. He was there for weeks dealing with some pretty tough treatments and my parents were very stressed. And they didn’t tell me anything until it was all over with. I get that they didn’t want me to worry, I was in college and far away and couldn’t have done anything, and I also get that they were busy themselves, but I still want to know. For me, worry is not half as bad as being shocked afterward. Maybe my parents would prefer it the other way, but not me. I have told them this before but I guess it doesn’t stick. Every family is dysfunctional and I guess being bad at sharing bad news is my family’s dysfunction. Among many lol.

so I had basically just decided there was no real bad news to worry about and was preparing to let my mom know how I’d prefer she tell me if and when there is, when she drops this bomb on me. Like it’s no bomb at all. “Oh, you’re surprised? Your brother wasn’t surprised at all,” she said. Both my parents say the reason my bro’s not surprised is because he lives close by (and lived with them for many years until just recently) and I do not. While I’m sure there’s some truth to that, the real reason is totally that my brother Knows Everything and is Surprised By Nothing. And how I know that, is that I’m not surprised for the reason my parents think I am. They think I’m surprised because I didn’t know how far apart they’ve grown. But LOL. I know. I’ve known for a VERY long time.

The reason I’m surprised is BECAUSE I’ve known for a long time. I figured it out when I saw how other kids’ parents interact and compared it to mine. I figured it out when my mom started telling me things about her and my dad that probably she shouldn’t have told me, but I can’t be bothered to worry about it because my dad’s really provoked it, I mean REALLY provoked it. And my dad doesn’t dish dirt on my mom, but that’s because there isn’t any :P It’s a lopsided relationship in that way. What my dad has done is tell me how he really feels. How he’s so grateful that he has my mom and would be alone if not for her, and how he’s sorry for how he behaves when he’s upset and doesn’t want to lose what he’s got.

So, YEAH, I knew that my mom was not happy in her relationship, but any time she talked about it she always seemed anti-change. She wouldn’t lay down the law with my dad when he said things, she always followed him as the “head of the house,” and I couldn’t even blame her, I’ve seen both of the men in my family treat her pretty horribly for sticking up to herself so small wonder she doesn’t do it more. What I thought was, if she’s going to leave my dad, she’d have done it ten years ago, as soon as we kids were out of the house. She didn’t. So I’m mostly just surprised it’s finally happened!

And she says it’s all amicable, they’re staying friends, they’ll still see each other at holidays, etc. She said it all with a smile. In my head I was thinking, “I’m sure that’s true for mom, but what about dad?” Because Idk how much of the things my dad tells me he also tells my mom. I always got the feeling that dad felt I was his confidante in the family. Because I’m a good listener and I don’t tell secrets. There are things my mom dad and bro have all done that I have never told anyone in fifteen years.

And my dad has made it clear many many times that he does NOT want to live alone, does NOT want to be without my mom, etc. And I always complain about his super negative, “world is ending” politics which has just been getting worse - apparently he’s also been saying things like “I’m going to die and the world will end” etc stuff like that, and the talk about him dying is new. For me it’s an alarm bell, but no one else seems concerned. Not that I think my dad’s planning anything, but I mean more, he’s always been the depressive type, and it doesn’t seem to be getting better, and now having no one but himself for company... I think it’s going to make it even worse. Right now their reasoning is, they barely see each other anyway even while living in the same house, so what’s gonna change? But it’s completely different sharing a house with someone and not seeing them often and living completely alone. It doesn’t seem that different but it really is.

So my mom finishes telling me that everything’s fine and they both want this separation, and a little later my dad walks in and he says “Yeah, we’re splitting. I’m the type of person who should live alone. I don’t want it that way, but that’s how it is.” He said it casually too. My mom just went quiet. But the casualness was different from my mom’s. She seemed like “okay, I’m doing this now,” while he seems resigned. So yeah, basically I’m not worried about my mom, but I don’t think my dad totally realizes what this is gonna be like for him, and I’m really nervous about it. It gives me all sorts of bad feelings.

But to be clear, I don’t blame my mom for ANY of this. Not for wanting to separate, not for my dad’s depressive personality... none of it. Like I said, I thought she’d separate from him ten years ago. I love my dad, and he does have many good qualities, but he is difficult to live with. As a kid I overheard lots of arguments. Used to wonder if they’d divorce. Only reason I didn’t take it more seriously was because both of my parents come from bad homes, my mom’s parents divorced, my dad’s didn’t but he always said he wished they had because it was so toxic having them together. My parents seemed to value their relationship because of how shitty their own parents’ relationships were, so I thought that was what was keeping them afloat.

But on top of all that, my dad did some bad stuff with money. A few bad things. I don’t know all of it, mom says it’s between her and my dad, but my hope is that whenever I go home to visit at her new place, she’ll tell me. Of course I won’t push for it, but it’d be nice to have the whole story, because knowing what I do is already enough to be weird and confusing. Also my student loans appear involved (my parents are co-signers). Anyway, what I do know is that some bad money decisions were made and then my dad did a lot of lying and disrespectful stuff when my mom found out, and won’t apologize or admit he did anything wrong. My mom’s known about this for at least a month and he wouldn’t apologize the entire time. This seems to be the final straw for my mom. She seized control of the finances and though she didn’t say so, there’s no doubt in my mind that she’s the one who decided on the separation. She says she doesn’t get paying for a house she feels like she’s living alone in, when she doesn’t need such a big place just for herself, so she might as well sell and move somewhere cheaper.

Again my mom is not responsible for my dad’s metal health. She’s spent pretty much her whole adult life supporting him and not gotten all that much in return. For her, I think this is the right move and she’s going to be happier. For my dad, it’s a huge change and not a good one. Still nothing like my mom’s fault - if anything he brought it on himself - but I just feel like I’m looking into a crystal ball and it’s just my dad sitting alone in his trailer watching right wing political videos and eating junk food. Maybe forgetting to take his diabetes medicine, etc. He doesn’t even have a job so I’m not sure how that’s gonna work out. In your old age you hope you have someone who cares about you and helps look after you. At the very least you hope you have someone to talk to when you come home. I’m glad he’s supposedly going to be close to his best friend, and his best friend is a really nice guy who... may need to prepare for seeing my dad every day now? idk. But I’m grateful for that at least.

My mom will be a free bird, but it’s hard to imagine this being anything like freeing for my dad. Maybe I will turn out to be wrong. Idk. My dad’s sister is also a divorcee and has been living by herself for decades. She has a lot of loner type quirks because of that, but that’s alright. So maybe it will be okay, it will turn out my dad is really comfortable living alone after all... I wouldn’t have doubted that because he does like to be alone, it’s just the other stuff - the money, the jobs, the food, the medicine, etc - that kind of stuff I’m worried about. My aunt also fills her home with animal companions. Oh, just realized I forgot who’s going to keep the dog. Probably my dad... though of the two of them, the dog’s def better off with my mom, who actually takes her for actual walks. But my mom’s never really wanted a dog and only had one because my dad wanted it.

I mean story of my life right??? My mom doesn’t want a thing, but does it because it’s what my dad wants, he doesn’t take care of it, so she does! Rinse and repeat. For years and years and years.

When my mom told me about all this I said “Okay, I don’t want to talk about it right now but I’m glad you’re both happy.” And she was like why don’t you want to talk about it? Well for all these reasons that I could never say to their faces.

for them it’s been their marriage, for me it’s been my lifetime. There are so many things we did together. Even when my dad made his stupid music CD with the god awful cover he designed himself, and wouldn’t accept my mom’s input even though she’s a graphic designer, ya know, she does it for a living... Those kinds of memories. I know I’m sentimental as fuck. I just told my mom to throw out all my old drawings and notebooks that I was keeping from when I was a kid because it doesn’t mean a thing to me anymore. Life changes, things change, and as much as we want to carry it on with us, we just run out of space.

haha now im crying, how stupid

there’s another reason as well but I just deleted it because I’m secretive lol.

time changes and we change, and we can survive any change... but we may not like it. it may not feel worth it. idk. i don’t know if my existence is worth it. I know my parents love me and I’m personally happy on a daily basis, I’ve been lucky that while I’m hardly a peppy cheerful type, I don’t seem prone to depressive episodes like my dad and brother. So it’s not about “I shouldn’t have been born!” or nonsense. But maybe in a wiser world, my parents would not have married each other. Maybe they could have been happier. Idk.

this would all be a breath of fresh air if I could feel like it’ll be as good for my dad as it will be for my mom.

anyway I really needed to get this off my chest. again I don’t really want “aw dont worry my parents are separated too” comments. I respect what everyone’s been through and I know I’m hardly suffering here relatively speaking. but I’ve always been a melodramatic journaling type so I just had to write it down.

#personal

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melanieratford · 4 years

Text

Bloody Mary

@retailhell, @retail-hell, @retail-retales, @fuck-customers, @retail-problems, @retail-truestory, Ya’ll will find this very interesting.

Backstory: I work as a courtesy clerk/cart pusher at a local grocery store. My emotions have been shot for over a month because on December 28th, my mother was admitted into a hospital in my aunt’s city with respiratory failure and since then, my aunt and I have taken over my family’s finances. As of 01/25, my stress levels have been so high that my immune system is down and my body is now trying to catch a cold. Not to mention how I have blood sugar issues (they haven’t been confirmed by a doctor, but I know I have them.)... Basically, when my blood sugar drops too low, I faint, vomit, or both. I can usually feel this coming on, so usually, I go to my backpack and scarf down a snack. My store also has a laundry counter so people can pick up and drop off their dry cleaning.

Now to the hell...

About a year ago, a cashier named Mary was given the position of Store Trainer. As a cashier, she was sweetness and light, but since her promotion, it’s easy to tell that the “power” has gone to her head.

Over the past year, she has begun to nitpick EVERYTHING. She especially enjoys doing this with me. And I mean EVERYTHING. She has told me that I’m not allowed to wear a green jacket (despite the fact that the only jacket colors I’ve ever worn during her time at my store have been black and white. And I stopped wearing the white jacket when the Store Director said I couldn’t wear it anymore). She has told me that I’m not allowed to wear my Slytherin hat and scarf, and gave me a dirty look when I got permission from the Store Director to wear them (my customers love them, btw). She’s yelled at me in front of customers about how I sack groceries wrong (despite the fact that I’ve been at this job nearly 4 years). You name it, she’s yelled at me about it.

Now, when mom was admitted to the hospital, I thought she had gotten a cold and let it turn into Bronchitis, or Pneumonia... She was admitted on Saturday... It was Sunday night that I was told that her lungs were approximately 50% failed and the doctors were working their asses off to save her. I had work the next day.

I go to work completely distraught. So, I begin looking for the “higher ups” so that I can notify them of the situation and explain that my emotions are shot because of it. I see Mary and a cashier first. The cashier is awestruck and she runs off to find the Store Director so she can tell him that he needs to talk to me asap. Mary yells at me “I’M NOT YOUR BOSS. Find Mr. C (the Store Director) and tell him!”. I eventually get around to telling all of the managers what was up. Mr. C. and the office manager tell me to let them know if I need to leave early, and thank me for notifying them of the situation.

The cashiers all end up getting wind of why I was upset. At one point, it was dead, so I was explaining to 2 cashiers that I’m not going to give the hospital the D.N.R (Do Not Resuscitate) unless mom is a vegetable and can’t be saved. Mary walks up and tells me that I need to give the hospital the D.N.R and to prepare to let my mother go (die)...

Needless to say, what Mary said about my mother has kept me in a constant state of pissed off towards her for a month... And my family is so angry that my grandmother has talked about seeing if we have grounds to sue her... Not to mention how all my friends are pissed off at Mary.

Then Friday (01/24) happens.

So, my stress is firing on all cylinders. Mom has bounced back so well that the hospital is preparing to send her to a rehab facility for physical therapy, but my aunt and I are still trying to make sure the finances are taken care of. This particular day, I had an important, financial, family, meeting to attend to after work. I was supposed to work from 7 a.m. to 1:30 p.m. Mr. C is on vacation, Stan (the manager in the store at the time) is in the back dealing with a truck, and the office manager had to leave early to care for her husband and children (who all have the flu).... Leaving Mary with free reign over the front end.

Now, I don’t know if I’ve told ya’ll about Paula (a religious nutter/preacher’s wife) and Dwayne (a very bitchy, extremely demanding, mentally handicapped man (seriously, this guy is an asshole)). But, Paula was the primary cashier I was dealing with, and Dwayne is usually the second courtesy clerk to come in (after me). These 2 are key players on this day.

Mary starts in on me. I was refilling the spray bottles with cleaning solution for the cashiers, I got told there was someone at the laundry counter, and I decide that I’m gonna kill 2 birds with 1 stone by bringing the bottles to the counter so that I don’t have to go back for them. Too late, Mary is taking care of the customer. A couple of minutes later, while I’m with a customer, she gives me the death glare and yells “YOU KNOW YOU HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF THAT TOO!”. I raise my hands and say “Hands up! Don’t shoot!” and my customer asks what Mary’s deal is.

My emotions flare and I accidentally lose my tact while I was with a couple of customers. I meant no malice towards the customers, I was simply really stressed and upset.

Dwayne clocks in, and we have no customers, so I go to the Laundry Counter and begin doing book work. At 9:45, Mary pops up and orders me to go to break, and yells at me to be nicer to the customers when I get back. I tried to explain myself, and say that I meant no harm when she cuts me off by yelling “YES YOU DID!”. Keep in mind, a 7 to 1:30 shift means that I shouldn’t have gotten a break until around 10:30 (the halfway point of the shift). As I walked off, I muttered “My animosity isn’t towards the customers, It’s towards you.”.

I come back and in an effort to keep Mary from yelling at me, I just refrain from talking. I keep my responses to my customers’ small talk extremely short...

However, that doesn’t work.

Throughout the time, my blood sugar begins to dip. Mary is circling the front end like a vulture, so I was afraid to get the chocolate to boost it and keep it from bottoming out... Only when my body said “If you don’t help me, you will suffer!” did I sneak away to scarf down some chocolate. This happens at least 3 times. Luckily, Stan was up front and Mary was elsewhere when I had to sneak away. At one point, I felt my phone vibrate. Now, usually, I walk off and check my phone... Because it could be my aunt, my grandmother, or the hospital, calling me to tell me that something has happened with my mother (who is working on her breathing and getting dialysis) or my grandfather (who has recently spent time in a hospital and a rehab facility). With Mary circling the front end, I was afraid to check it, which made me worry even more that something could be wrong.

Then 1 o-clock happens. Dwayne is told to go to lunch, and I have told him “I need you to get back on time, because they’re not gonna let me leave until I get back. And I can’t stay late because of an important, financial, family, meeting.”. Dwayne is the type of guy who clocks out, buys his lunch, then takes 30 minutes from the time he buys his lunch to come back... Despite the fact that he’s supposed to come back 30 minutes from the time he clocks out. It was 1:13 when he bought his lunch.

2 other courtesy clerks have clocked in since Dwayne has gone to lunch, meaning there are 3 of us running the front end. Everyone knows that I can’t stay late.

1:30 arrives, no Dwayne. Mary yells at me to fill the drinks. 1:45 arrives, Mary and Paula are riding my ass, while I begin to panic about being late for my meeting. 1:50 arrives, I run to the back, find Dwayne and beg him “PLEASE! Please clock back in so I can leave! I have an important family meeting to get to!”, to which he responds by yelling at me “YOU DON’T HAVE A MEETING! YOU JUST DON’T WANNA WORK!”. 1:55 arrives, Dwayne FINALLY clocks in, I clock out and bolt to where my backpack is.

As I take out my phone, discover it was my grandmother who called me, and begin taking my earbuds out so I can talk on the phone hands free while I drive, Mary corners me and screams “YOU’RE NOT THE ONLY ONE WITH A FAMILY TO WORRY ABOUT!” several times, ending the rant with “I’M SICK OF YOU!”.

Keep in mind, Murph (another manager) has clocked in, and neither him, nor Stan are in the area during the times that Mary yells and screams at me. She NEVER takes me into the office with a manager and lays out the problems... Instead, she aims to publicly humiliate me.

My fight or flight reflex is firing at maximum capacity at this point. Hell, by the time I clocked out, my desire to leave has shifted from worrying about the meeting to wanting to get away from Mary. My brain is telling me to stand up, fight and tell her off. My body is telling me “Get the fuck out of here and away from her!”. I listened to my body.

As I leave the building, I say “Mary P, more like Bloody Mary.”.

I got my grandmother on the phone while I was in the parking lot walking to my truck. She called to say that my neighbor took her to the meeting earlier in the day and that it was dealt with. As soon as she stops talking, I burst into tears. I was BAWLING. I went ahead and drove to my favorite coffee shop, because I really needed a boost.

I get to the coffee shop, end the phone call with my grandmother, and order my drink. It’s easy to tell that I’ve been crying my eyes out. After I order, Jennifer and John (the people who run the shop), ask me what’s up. As John begins making my drink, I begin explaining what had happened. I tried to pay, but Jennifer stuffed my money back in my hand saying “This one’s on me.”. John hands me my drink and Jennifer sits me down on a couch and listens to my woes. She then tells me that I need to report Mary to H.R. and that Mary was severely out of line. She also states that, because I came into the shop in tears, she and John both thought that something had happened to my mom. I love this shop so much that I frequent it enough that I tell Jennifer, Bridget and John about my family and friends (especially considering my friends like this shop as well). One of my friends (who happens to work in the Deli at my work) is in the shop, and as soon as Jennifer stands up from the couch, he sits down and asks me what’s up. I explain what had happened and he was awestruck, but not entirely surprised...

Apparently, Mary likes going into the departments and screaming at them as well. So, there are department members, cashiers, and courtesy clerks who all call her “Bloody Mary”.

I sent a very detailed report to H.R. on Saturday morning... My friends, family, and I are all hoping Mary gets fired. As it is, I’m afraid to go to work this week, because, if she’s there, that bright, neon, flashing, target will be back on my back.

#retail hell #retail #retail worker #Retail problems #retail employee

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irrrationalfangirl · 5 years

Note

The reader is Mena’s wife but it’s a secret. They were supposed to tell the press but you got pregnant and the two of you decided that stress would not be good for the baby. Will knows because he is the would-be godfather of the child. One day, Mena is in a press conference in your hometown when your mom texts him and Will that you’re in labor. Mena and Will leaves leaving the press and cast confused.Next day the announcement of your baby girl and you is made and the world loves it.Thanks, love!

(not my gif)

You bounced your leg up and down as you sat on the toliet seat in your bathroom. You held a pregnancy stick in your hand. Positive. The test was positive. You had just assumed you were sick for the past couple days, but the stick in your hand said otherwise. You couldn’t believe it. You had only been married to the love of your life, Mena, for a year and a half. Maybe you two had fooled around too much. You paced back and forth in the bathroom. How were you going to tell Mena? Sure, you wanted kids, but not this early in your marriage. You placed your hand on your stomach and leaned against the toilet as your mind wandered. This continued on until you heard the door to your house open and close. He was home.

“Y/n? I’m home!,” your husband said as he walked upstairs. You exited the bathroom and waited for him. Once he saw you, his face lit up. “Hey. Guess what? I’m getting to work on ADR for Aladdin tomorrow with Will!,” he exclaimed. “I’m so excited. I’ve never done this ADR thing before!,”he said with a huge smile on his face. You smiled,but it was obvious you weren’t paying much attention. His smile dropped and he noticed you were outside the bathroom. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you feeling better? I hope you haven’t stayed in the bathroom all day,” he said as he went to embrace you. “I’m fine...I think, but I’m sure I don’t have the flu or anything,” you replied. “That’s great. Maybe it’s just a stomach bug. It’ll pass,” he said, smiling at you. You leaned your head down and stared at the floor. “It’s going to last longer than that,” you said, cracking a smile. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’ll go away,” he said. “I mean. It’s not like you’re pregnant,” he said, laughing. Your eyes shot open and he noticed it. “Honey...you’re not pregnant, right?,” he asked. You looked up at him and nodded. He opened to bathroom door to find the positive pregnancy stick lying on the sink. “I’m going to be a dad?,” he whispered to himself. He held it in his hands as he looked back at you. “You’re pregnant!,” he exclaimed, running at you and picking you up, spinning you around in the air. “Hey. Be careful. Current fetus forming in here,” you told him, as you started to laugh. He sat you back on the ground. “Sorry, I’m just so excited!,” he told you. “Me too...actually. I was scared you weren’t going to like having kids this early, especially since that movie keeps you so busy,” you admitted. “Hey, it may have happened earlier than we expected, but we were always going to have kids someday. In our case, that someday just happens to be today,” he said, taking your hand in his and planting a kiss on your lips. You smiled. He was right. Maybe it was a good thing this happened already.

That night, as you both layed in bed, Mena pulled up your shirt and started tracing around your bare stomach. “When do you think this happened?,” he asked you. “Well, it couldn’t be from the wedding night. That was too long ago,” you replied. He immediately looked up at you. “The kitchen,” he said. You were confused for a second, but then you understood what he meant. Mena was making dinner in the kitchen a few weeks ago when you decided to “distract” him which led to you two fooling around in the kitchen. “Oh my goodness. I can’t believe that is where our first child was potentially created,” you said, starting to laugh. “Well I’m not the one who started us fooling around,” he said, sticking his tongue out at you. “Oh, shut up,” you replied. He placed a kiss on your stomach and then your cheek. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close and you both fell asleep like that.

The next day, Mena was in the studio working on recording ADR with his costar and good friend, Will Smith. As the hours went on, Will noticed a difference in Mena’s demeanor.He was more quiet, but didn’t seem sad. When the executives were reviewing the recordings in the booth, they told them to just take a small break. Will took this opportunity to lean over to Mena and talk to him. “Hey,man. You good?,” he asked. “Oh, yeah. My wife’s having a baby so I’m still dumbfounded about it you know,” Mena replied. “You and y/n are having a kid?! And you’re just now telling me this,” he said, pushing his shoulder. “Sorry, we are keeping it a secret for press reasons to not stress y/n and the baby out. So, I’m trying not to bring it up,” Mena replied. “Oh. That’s amazing though, man. Congratulations,” Will told him. “Thanks,man,” Mena replied. A few seconds passed before Will spoke up again. “Can I ask you a serious question?,” he asked Mena. “Sure,” Mena replied.

“You did what now?!,” you yelled at Mena as he stood in the bedroom doorway. He dropped his head and clasped his hands together. “I told Will he could be the godfather...” “Of our child!,” you finished for him. He walked over to the bed and sat next to you. “Yes, but what could it hurt?,” he asked. You scoffed. “Just promise me you won’t go out assigning any more parental figures to our baby without letting me know beforehand,” you told him. He placed his hand on yours and pressed a kiss on your forehead. “I promise,” he replied. You rolled your eyes at him. “I can’t believe Will Smith is the godfather of my child,” you said, almost laughing. Mena laughed before kissing your tummy and getting up to get ready for bed.

About 8 1/2 months later:

Aladdin had finished post-production and press was starting. During one week of press, Mena received news the cast would be getting interviewed about 10 minutes from where you and him lived. Gosh, he hadn’t seen you in weeks because he had stayed busy promoting the film, he missed you and the baby so much. It was only in the past month that he had finally felt the baby kick when he caressed your stomach, but of course you had felt the baby kick much earlier. Your belly was the size of a large watermelon and Mena wondered if it hadn’t gotten any bigger. As soon as he saw the ultrasound of his future child, he wouldn’t stop talking to the baby through your stomach. You both decided to let the gender be a surprise. The night before the press conference near your house, he got home late, but still made time to talk to you and the baby. “Hey, sweetie,” he said, placing a kiss on your head as you woke up from your sleepy state. “Has the baby been keeping you up?,” he asked. “He/she’s been extra annoying this week. I only got to sleep around an hour ago,” you replied. He laid in bed next to you. “I’m sorry, honey. Just a little bit longer,” he said, placing a hand on your stomach. He moved to where your stomach was and pulled up your shirt. “You have to stop annoying mommy now. Be patient baby Massoud,” he said to your stomach. You laughed at him and pulled at his shirt. “Let’s go to sleep. You need to be well rested for tomorrow,” you told him. “Alright,” he said, moving under the covers.

The next morning, Mena kissed you goodbye as he left for the conference. “I’ll be back later today. I love you,” he said. “I love you too. Good luck,” you told him. As the front door closed behind him, you leaned over and winced in pain. The baby was causing you so much pain that you nearly fell over. You called your mom and asked for her to come over for comfort. You were so ready to have this baby. A few minutes passed before your mom entered the house. She walked through the door to find you sitting on the kitchen floor in a puddle of water. She immediately picked you up and rushed you to her car.

“I have a question for Mena. What was it like filming the scenes with Abu?,” an interviewer asked. Mena felt a vibration in his back pocket,but ignored it. “It was interesting. They had this animatronic they would place on my shoulder for his scenes and honestly it’s amazing how the people in production brought him to life. He looks like a real monkey!,” he exclaimed, making the audience laugh. Mena heard the vibration again, but this time it came from Will’s phone. Mena noticed Will read the notification on his phone and immediately pop up from his seat. “Ah!,” Will exclaimed. He tapped Mena on the back and told him to get up. “What is it?,” Mena asked. “Y/n’s water broke. We have to go now,” Will whispered to him. Mena felt like he was going to pass out. The baby was coming already? He stood there silent for a few seconds. “Is everything alright?,” Naomi whispered to the two. “It’s y/n,” Will replied. Naomi shook Mena’s arm, bringing him back to reality and he stared at the crowd. “I’m sorry, everyone. Family emergency,” he told them. They rushed out of the room with Will practically pulling a dazed Mena through the doors.

“Ok,man. We’re here,” Will said, pulling up to the hospital. Mena and Will practically ran into the hospital. “My wife’s in labor! Uh..y/n Massoud!!,” Mena told the person at the desk. “She’s level 2 in room 107,” the person replied. “Ok. Thank you,” Mena replied. He looked at Will and smiled. “Come on, man. I’m having a kid!,” Mena exclaimed, running towards the elevator. As they reached the second level, Mena heard your screams. He raced to your room. “Honey, I’m here,” he said, coming to your bedside. “You’re the father?,” a nurse asked, stopping him. “Yes!,” he replied. “Here. Put on these scrubs,” the nurse told him. They had told Will to stay outside since he wasn’t a relative. When Mena finished getting dressed, he grasped your hand in his and squeezed it. “It’s going to be ok,” Mena said, calmly. “Mena!!,” you said, in between screams. “Why did you do this to me?! You’re awful. Why?! Why?!!!!,” you screamed. “I know. I’m sorry, but it’ll be over soon,” he said to you. The nurses kept telling you to push and you did. You pushed and pushed so hard that if you had been any stronger you probably would’ve broken Mena’s right hand. “You’re doing great,” Mena reassured you. You couldn’t stand the sound of his voice right now. “The baby’s crowning. Push harder, y/n,” the doctor told you. You screamed even louder and Mena leaned over you to see the baby. He saw a head, a neck, and the shoulders. “The baby’s almost here. Just push!,” Mena told you. You screamed bloody murder and felt like you had no more energy. That was when the doctor had finally told you that the baby was here. “It’s a girl!,” the doctor told you. The small baby was placed on your chest and you smiled in relief. You looked at Mena and he looked at you. “She’s finally here,” you told him. He smiled and leaned down to the baby. “We’ve been waiting for you forever,” he said in a baby voice. You laughed and started caressing the baby’s head. “Will’s here. I’m going to tell him the news,” Mena said. As Mena entered the waiting room, your mom and Will stood up from their chairs. “It’s a girl!,” he exclaimed. Will embraced Mena in a hug. “Congratulations, man!,” Will told him. He shook Mena’s shoulders. “You’re a dad!,” he continued. They all walked back in the room to find you smiling at every movement the baby made. “Look at my godchild!,” Will yelled, making you roll your eyes. “She has your smile, babe,” you told your husband. Mena looked glanced down at the baby. “And your pretty eyes,” he replied. “She’s beautiful, you guys,” Will said, calmly. Later that night, after the nurses examined the baby girl, they gave her back to Mena as you slept. He craddled her in his arms and hummed to her. “You’re daddy’s little girl. Yes, you are,” he said leaning down to nuzzle her nose with his. “I’m so happy you’re here,” he told the sleeping child.

Weeks later, as you three rested at home, the press learned of the baby news. Mena noticed an article in almost every magazine. It was insane.

“ALADDIN’S MENA MASSOUD HAS BABY GIRL WITH SECRET WIFE!!”

“MENA MASSOUD OF ALADDIN HAS HIS OWN JASMINE?!!”

“ALADDIN ACTOR HAS A SURPRISE BABY!! PICTURES INSIDE ARTICLE!!”

#mena massoud #mena massoud x reader #disney #aladdin #aladdin 2019 #aladdin remake #imagine #headcanon #oneshot #anon #ask #will smith #pregnancy oneshot #aladdin cast

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ahtohallan-calling · 4 years

Text

chapter 10 of love is the only thing we can carry with us (kristanna slowburn/angsty but cute/no magic au, rated t) is up!

next chapter // all chapters

She knew he only saw her as a friend; he had made that clear. That’s okay, she told herself, I can live with that. Just as long as he’s still around, that’s enough.

Then again, she saw the way he looked at her, not even trying to hide it anymore; like she was something precious, something to be cherished. It sent shivers down her spine, made her breathe a little faster, long after he had looked away.

chapter 10: three sugars

Dear Anna

Your Majesty

To Her Lady, the Princess Anna

Feistypants

Dearest Anna

Anna,

I’m not really sure how to be friends with a princess. So I just wanted to apologize if I overstepped. Please feel free to ignore this letter if you want, or tell me to piss off.

(I don’t know if princesses are allowed to say that, but I won’t tell anyone if you do.)

Sincerely,

Kristoff

“Olaf!”

The boy groaned. “Kris, you’re really going to make me walk all the way up there again?”

“Weren’t you begging to go with me a couple of days ago?”

“Well, I’m busy today.”

“I happen to have inside knowledge that Anna was planning to bake cookies today.”

That did the trick. Olaf grabbed the letter and was out the door faster than Kristoff could remind him not to peek at it.

---

“Olaf?”

“Hmm?” the boy asked, midway through taking a bite of a warm cookie.

“Was my sister at your house yesterday?”

“You mean that blonde lady with the fancy dress? Yeah, why?”

“Did she talk to Kristoff?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Thought so,” Anna muttered, rifling through her desk for another piece of paper. She was running low; she’d have to pick up another stack next time they went into town. As much as she loved talking with Kristoff in person, there was something about getting letters from him that made her heart flutter. She loved reading them over and over again, tracing the letters with the tips of her fingers and knowing his had been there, too.

For a while now, she had found herself thinking of Kristoff more often than not, wondering what he was doing when they were apart, whether his heart thudded like hers did with each new letter, how it would feel if he held her close and let her linger in his arms.

She had gotten her answer the day before yesterday, when he’d come back to take her on the promised adventure, and her heart had felt so full she couldn’t help but throw herself at him-- and he had caught her, wrapped his arms so tightly around her and whispered that he had missed her. It had felt even better than she had imagined.

She knew he only saw her as a friend; he had made that clear. That’s okay, she told herself, I can live with that. Just as long as he’s still around, that’s enough.

Kristoff,

For someone who doesn’t know how to be friends with a princess, you’re doing an excellent job.

Olaf leaned over her shoulder. “What do you guys put in these letters, anyway?”

She snatched the paper away from his prying eyes. “Olaf! It’s not polite to read over people’s shoulders.”

“Being polite is boring. You should ask him to take you to the summer festival.”

“What’s that?”

The little boy rolled his eyes. “The summer festival, duh.”

She laughed and ruffled his hair. “I mean, well, what do you all do to celebrate it? When is it? In Arendelle, we just have a ceremony on the longest day of the year. We do more for the harvest season.”

“We do dancing and eat a lot of food and stuff. It’s in a few weeks, I think, but Grandpapa told me I have to go ahead and start deciding what stuff to bring from our garden. And I have to practice my dancing.” He wrinkled his nose. “I’m not a very good dancer. Last year Kris said I broke all eleven of his toes.”

“It sounds wonderful.”

Olaf nodded vigorously, mouth full once more thanks to his second cookie. Anna laughed and returned to her letter.

But you have neglected to tell me about this summer festival, so thank goodness for Olaf keeping me in the loop. I insist you come up here straightaway and tell me more about it. I’ve never been to a village festival; I’d like to go if that would be alright.

Yours,

Anna

PS-- you don’t really have to come straightaway, unless you want to, in which case I would be very pleased.

---

When they had first met, Anna had asked him why people from the mountains were so tall. Now it was Kristoff’s turn to wonder how someone could be so small and still be so full of life. Then again, maybe it did make sense; she was overflowing with it, with joy, with wonder, with a fearlessness that took his breath away.

He’d come as soon as possible, only delaying to ask for his grandfather’s approval to take Anna to the festival; as much as Anna had improved, beneath the surface was the constant fear that something might prove to be too much, and then--

He couldn’t bear thinking about it. Luckily, though, his grandfather had reassured him that, so long as she didn’t push herself too hard, Anna would be able to attend. Grandpapa had still looked at him with worry in his eyes, but even he had had to admit that Anna was doing better than they had dared to expect.

Kristoff was reminded of that now as he held her tiny hand in his own, carefully holding her fingers so she could practice twirling. Her eyes were alight with joy, and her flushed cheeks were round and pink, a far cry from the gaunt girl she had been when she first arrived. Her green dress didn’t hang so loosely off her shoulders anymore; instead, it fit the curve of her waist and flare of her hips so perfectly that Kristoff was having a hard time not staring.

“Okay, that one was perfect,” he said, grinning as she twirled under his arm and stood in front of him, awaiting his next instructions. “Now do that while we move.”

“These mountain dances are a lot trickier than what we do in Arendelle,” she complained, though her eyes were bright with mischief. “Haven’t you ever heard of a good old-fashioned waltz?”

“Afraid not,” he teased. “You’ll have to teach me that one next.”

He led her through the next steps of the dance, trying not to wince when she misstepped and landed on his toes. He realized after a while that it helped when he hummed the tunes, and before much longer she had mastered the dance, the one he knew would be most popular at the festival. “Let’s do it again, faster,” she exclaimed.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and she nodded furiously.

“Come on, let’s do it!”

And so they did, sweeping around the backyard of the cottage as if they were floating on air. This time, she didn’t step on his shoes even once.

“That was amazing, Anna, you-- are you alright?”

One of her hands was still in his, but the other was pressed flat against her chest as she struggled to catch her breath. She managed to nod weakly, her face suddenly white. Terrified, Kristoff guided her to sit down beside him on the grass.

He cupped her face in his palms. “You’re okay, Anna,” he said quietly, his thumbs softly caressing her cheekbones.

She reached up, clinging to his wrists, her slim fingers cold against his skin. Her eyes were wide and frightened, but she held him steadily in her gaze. “I’m here,” he said, years of practice kicking in and helping him remain calm. “I’ve got you.”

Long minutes passed agonizingly slowly as they clung to each other; at last, the color returned to her cheeks, and she let out a heavy sigh, her eyelids drooping as she leaned forward, letting her forehead drop against the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms around her, a sigh of relief escaping him.

“Sorry,” she murmured, her breath warm against his collarbone. “Guess I’m pretty out of shape.”

He almost told her then, wanting to let her know it wasn’t her fault, but Elsa’s words came back to him: the shock of it might kill her. Just watching her go through this had been terrifying enough; he couldn’t imagine--

He shook his head emphatically, banishing the thought. “No, Anna, you’re just...you were pretty sick. And it’s okay to still be getting better. That dance wears me out, too.”

“You’re not the one who--”

“Don’t,” he said firmly. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s not your fault. I’m just glad you’re okay now.”

She nodded, just barely. “Maybe-- maybe no more dancing today. But...you don’t have to go home. Unless you want to.”

“I don’t want to.”

For a few minutes longer, they sat together on the grass, until the terror of the moment faded away in the sun, and she stood and took him by the hand and led him inside.

---

“Tea?” she asked, already putting the kettle on without waiting for an answer. Whether he wanted any or not, she needed some right then, not only to calm her shaking nerves but to give her a chance to collect herself.

It bothered her sometimes that this was all she had to offer him or any other guests. In the castle, Elsa could greet every guest according to the fanfare they deserved, could meet their every need; entire banquets, ceremonies, parades could be thrown together in a day if she felt a particularly honored visitor deserved such a thing.

Kristoff deserved all of that and more, but all she could give him was yet another cup of tea. At least by now, she knew the way he liked it; three heaping spoonfuls of sugar, so sweet it was like drinking candy. She heard him come into the kitchen to stand behind her as she stirred, wrinkling her nose.

“I don’t know how you can stand to drink this,” she teased half-heartedly. “You’re worse than Olaf.”

He accepted the mug gladly, blowing on it to cool it. “At least there’s actual tea in mine. Don’t know why you bother putting the kettle on for him when he’s just having milk.”

“It’s part of the...the...hospitality,” she said, waving a hand. “Part of welcoming a guest. Plus it makes him feel grown-up.”

He was still looking at her with worry in those big brown eyes, so she plastered on a big smile as she blew on her own. She hadn’t had an attack like that in months, not since last fall, when her horse had been spooked as she led it to its stable, and on instinct, she had chased after it. She’d collapsed halfway across the yard and been swarmed by guards and servants, all shouting for a doctor. Afterward, Elsa had made her stay in bed for two days, posting a guard at the door to make sure she didn’t try and sneak out.

She’d welcomed the rest for the first day, but by the second she was itching to escape. Instead she’d been forced to visit with a stream of doctors, explaining to them over and over again what had happened, how it had felt, how she felt now, and how she must never dare to do such a thing again.

“Trust me, I didn’t exactly enjoy it,” she had snapped at one particularly stern man with a mustache that bounced in time with his finger as he lectured her. “Not trying to make it happen again.”

It had happened a few different times over the years, sometimes worse than others, usually when she had pushed herself too hard, tried to do a little too much. It would feel suddenly like something heavy was on her chest, like it was hard to catch her breath; by then it was too late to stop it, and she would have to ride out the waves of pain that crashed through her chest like blows from a hammer until they subsided, leaving her feeling winded and sore. She’d never found an answer for why it happened; the doctors always claimed she could do nothing but avoid exercise as much as possible. Elsa was no help, either; she simply told Anna some things couldn’t be explained and to get back to resting.

It was terrifying when it happened; sometimes she felt the edges of her vision fade and knew she was close to fainting. Once, when she was little, she had. That had almost happened today, but focusing on Kristoff’s eyes looking into hers, on his hands cradling her face, the comforting words he murmured-- all of it had kept her steady, helped her push through.

That was what Elsa failed to understand; it didn’t matter that Kristoff was lowborn, that he was “just some man from the mountains”. He saw her in a way that no one else had before, knew what she needed sometimes when even she didn’t.

She had dreaded coming back up to the mountain; now, she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving.

Kristoff took a sip of tea and cleared his throat. “Um, you don’t have to dance at the festival. Just so you know. I mean, you were doing well. But I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I know. I’ll decide the day of. And next time, I’ll tell you if I start feeling winded.”

He simply nodded in return, and she felt a sudden great rush of affection for him, grateful that he left the choice of what to do in her hands. She wasn’t stupid; she knew trying to dance like that at the festival was a recipe for disaster, but still-- it was nice to not be treated like a useless fool for once.

She leaned back against the countertop. “Where did you learn to dance like that, anyway?”

“From my mom. It was one of the first things she started teaching me when she took me in. She knew it would make me feel like I belonged if I could jump right in with the others.”

Anna mulled this over for a minute, debating whether or not to ask the next questions that rose in her mind. “So you…”

“Yes, she adopted me. She died a few years back.”

She put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. She was lovely. I...I still remember her from the first time I was here.”

He smiled softly at her. “Thanks. Your, uh, your parents…”

“Yes, they passed away when I was younger. Which is why Elsa is queen. Obviously.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry.”

Anna looked down, rubbing the toe of her boot against the floor. “Let’s, uh, let’s talk about...nicer things. I don’t feel like making myself sad today.”

“Like what?”

“Like...well, now that I think about it, I don’t actually know that much about you,” she mused, tapping her fingers against her chin. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Green. Like the forest.”

“What’s your favorite season?”

“Spring.”

“Favorite food?”

“Anything.”

“Favorite…hmm...favorite story? Your mom used to tell me the best ones.”

“The one about the polar bear king.”

Anna tilted her head. “I don’t know if she ever told me that one.”

He grinned. “Want to hear it? It’s kind of long, you might want to sit down.”

She nodded excitedly, already making her way into the sitting room. Kristoff followed, his smile broadening when she curled up on the sofa, pulling the plaid blanket into her lap, and patted the space next to her. “But you have to tell me yours next,” he said solemnly. “Story for a story, those are the rules.”

“Shh. Story first, then rules.”

He laughed, sitting at the other end of the sofa. “Okay, okay. Once upon a time…”

---

“And then they see each other across the ballroom for the first time in forever, and their eyes meet, and they-- they--”

She yawned again, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. Sitting on opposite ends of the sofa hadn’t lasted long; as he had told his story she had scooted closer and closer to him. He told himself it was just because she’d gotten invested in the story, but he couldn’t help but feel a little smug when after it had ended she was still pressed up against him. He had shifted so she could lay down and rest her head on his chest as she told her own story, and he’d spent the last several minutes fighting the temptation to stroke her hair, let the coppery strands run through his fingers, softer than silk.

“You can finish the story another night,” he said, and she mumbled something incoherent in response.

“What was that, sleepyhead?” he teased, but no response came; she was already asleep.

He eased himself out from beneath her, carefully placing a pillow under her head. She nuzzled into it, and something in his chest warmed at the sight. He couldn’t help it; he leaned down and brushed a kiss against her temple.

“Sweet dreams, Anna,” he murmured. “See you tomorrow.”

#hahahahahahaha this is like. peak fluff but also peak D:#hope u enjoy it!#also yes i realize that at this point it is basically just an ad for twinings but uhh #i literally drink tea this often too i cant help but put it in all the time LMAO #my fics #litotwccwu #cw: chronic illness

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prorevenge · 5 years

Text

Sergeant DGAF 'Bout Your Emergency

So this started more than a decade ago, but I remember (most of) it like yesterday. It is my own story, and I tell this from my perspective. This is a long story, but I promise you will be staring at the screen, thinking “dafuq?” by midway through.

Background

Early 2000s. I was in the military, mid 20s, stationed somewhere in Europe. Rank E-4. It’s a bit different when you’re stationed overseas, and your squadron basically becomes your extended family. The Mission is always priority #1, but everyone tries to go the extra mile to make sure their people are taken care of. This was my second assignment, and my second overseas assignment.

I had just gotten married when I was on an extended leave back in the States, during my PCS (Permanent Change of Station; officially changing your assigned base) to this new location. I became an instant father overnight, now having a wife and a 3-year-old (step) daughter when I had none before. My wife became pregnant with our son about 5 months later.

My new supervisor was a Master Sergeant, who I will call Bastar(d) Sergeant [sic], or BS, for the rest of this. Bastar-Sergeant the Master Sergeant.

BS was a family man, married for a while (about ~15 years or so) and had two kids with his wife, as well as two kids of his own from a previous marriage, with his wife ALSO having two kids from a previous marriage. This is relevant because BS, being a family man with six kids ages 4 to 17, often would have stuff going on with his family and need to cut out early, miss morning briefings, and so on.

It was no big deal if we weren’t working on mission critical stuff. It’s rough when the nearest military hospital is 30-45 mins away at another military facility and you can only depend on your own immediate family and fellow military members. Just about everyone, BS especially with his larger family, had to cut in and out of work fairly frequently when we didn’t have big things going on. But hey, take care of your people, they’ll take care of the mission.

Now, BS and I got along really well at first. He and his wife were both quite the “socialites” and would constantly – damn near every weekend – have parties at their house and invite people over. It was fun at first, but it really grew tiresome. Being a new family man myself, and really just starting to figuring it all out (translated: how to keep your wife happy and not both be miserable, while still trying to be a functional adult in the military), and I just could NOT keep up with the party-every-weekend lifestyle.

BS and Mrs. BS drank a lot at those parties, too. You could tell it took a toll on their health. I guess that might be tempting with that many kids, and a 17-turning-18 daughter that had just gotten pregnant with her foreign boyfriend, but I digress…

Like I said, I just couldn’t keep up, not every weekend. I slowly fell out of favor with BS and his “Good ol’ Boys Club.” He wasn’t hostile per-se, but there were times he would just get mean, and with increasing frequency. He would call me into his office for tiny things, like thinking I had shown up to work late, when I could prove that I had been logged in on my terminal 10 minutes before start time – meaning I was at least 15-20 mins early due to walking times, putting my coat and stuff in lockers, etc. But my terminal’s clock, synched with the atomic clock, didn’t matter compared to his clock on the wall.

I was also called out for attending big medical appointments for my wife’s pregnancy, like being there when they determined my son was a boy – I was called out specifically when everyone else was doing the same thing.

The assignment was slowly turning into hell. Meanwhile, the members of the Good ol’ Boys Club would often be very late (without phoning), constantly going to appointments, and so on. There was definitely some favoritism going on. But in such a small unit, overseas, what can you do? The guy was even buddy-buddy with the First Sergeant, and they had been friends since bootcamp.

Anyway, enough background. Onward!

The Main Event

This is where things got crazy. My son had just been born, healthy and at a good weight, not even two weeks earlier. I came home from work after a very long day, about 13 hours on a normal 8 hour shift, due to some stuff breaking.

My wife was exhausted because she was still healing from the birth, and our son had gotten really, really cranky and irritable through the day. He was non-stop fussing and feeling slightly warmer, but not quite running a fever.

I let her go to sleep, and to give her peace, I tried to sleep in the chair downstairs with the kiddo bundled up on me. He got worse and worse through the night, and at about 0300 hrs, I noticed that his diaper smelt really strange (sorry to gross you out), with just pee. It was a sickly smell, not at all what anything from a human body should ever smell like. He seemed hot, so I went to take his temperature. He had risen to 103.5 F – VERY dangerous for an infant.

Fuck.

I immediately wake up my wife and rush him to the hospital. She stays behind at home with our daughter, since the ER is no place to keep a young kid and we didn’t know anyone that could watch her at that late of an hour.

Since it would have taken longer to wait on an ambulance out in the countryside, I sped to get him to the military hospital’s ER in about 20 mins. They immediately put him on fluids and call in the on-call pediatrician. They move him to the ICU, and after a few long hours, I get told that they believe he has a urinary tract and kidney infection, and while they had gotten his temperature down to a safer spot, we weren’t out of the woods yet.

While waiting, knowing that my regular work day was coming up, I tried calling everyone’s phone number I had, but nobody answered. At the gym probably. After leaving some voicemails, I gave up and decided to wait until people roll in at 0700 hrs. I kept trying to call the unit phone number, but no one answered until 0720. I get asked by one of the guys where I was, I let him know I’m at the hospital due to an emergency with my newborn, and he gets BS over to the phone.

BS: OP, where you at?

Me: I’m at the hospital. My son is in the ICU, had a fever of 104 and a serious infection. I’ve been up all night and haven’t slept.

BS: Well you should be at work. You missed PT, and you’re late.

Me: *pausing, because, WTF?* … I need to come into work? My son had to go to the ER, he’s in the ICU…

BS: I don’t want to hear it. You’ve already been late multiple times. [but not really, as I mention above] *angrily* Get your ass down here!

Me: … Uh, well I’m not in uniform. I will have to stop by my house. One parent is required to be here, so I need to see if one of my neighbors can give my wife a ride to the hospital, and our daughter has to be dropped off at school because children can’t be in the ICU.

BS: Just get here. *hangs up*

I was completely floored. What. The. Actual. Fuck.

At no point in my entire military career, before and since then, have I EVER heard of anyone being forced to come in to work when an immediate family member was in the hospital for an emergency. I was half confused, half outraged, and wholly beside myself.

My wife shows up, I take the car home after updating her and making plans to take care of our daughter while we rotate shifts at the hospital. I did a very quick SSS – shit, shower, shave – and drive over to the shop.

BS ignored me when I arrive, other than a sidelong disapproving look. I start my usual routine, but I am exhausted, worried sick, and pretty fucking angry all at once. Some of my coworkers heard what happen and are concerned, but BS the tyrant seems to be angry himself and no one wants to approach him.

Revenge, Part 1

A few hours went by, with me keeping in touch with my wife on the status of our son. I tried approaching BS a few times, but he was having none of it.

One of the other Master Sergeants in the squadron, part of a different unit, but whom I had worked with before, came by and noticed me probably looking distraught. We’ll call her Hero Sergeant, or HS. She pulls me aside to one of the quiet corners of the shop.

HS: OP, are you okay? You look terrible?! Is something wrong?

Me: [I tell her about my son being sick and in the ICU – I was barely able to hold my composure in at this point, I was so angry yet so worried and downtrodden about my son, and I’m fighting to keep it together through the exhaustion and lack of sleep.]

HS: WHAT?! Why the hell are you here?!

Me: I’m not sure. BS ordered me to come in when I tried to explain. He won’t talk to me.

HS: Fuck that. Hang tight.

HS then quickly walks off. Now, our unit is on the other side of the base from the main squadron: about 15 minutes later, just enough time to drive to the squadron and back, HS appears – along with our unit Captain, and the squadron’s Major (XO to our Lt. Colonel CO).

The Major storms toward the unit office section, pauses and looks right at me, and says in an obviously angry but soft voice…

Major: OP, get out of here. Your place of duty is the hospital until your son is discharged. Don’t step foot in one of these buildings until then, I don’t care how long it takes. Take care of your family. Are we clear?

Me: *as I start to scramble* Yes, sir.

Major: *yelling* BS, GET YOUR ASS IN THIS OFFICE RIGHT NOW!

I proceed to quickly gather my shit together, all while seeing BS head toward that same office door and he gives me a glowering look on his way in.

As I leave, there is no possible way to doubt that everyone in the area, probably the whole building, could hear BS get absolutely reamed and raked over the coals by the Major as I departed. The Major was always a quiet and fair man, I had never seen him anywhere even approaching angry, so it was absolutely terrifying to behold.

I have to admit, it felt good to know that he was getting some of what he deserved.

My son did clear up eventually and was discharged from the hospital 5 days later, healthy and no harm done, thank God!

I know this first part’s “revenge” isn’t quite revenge, but it was sweet, sweet karma to see that asshole put in his place. Still, as good as it was, it made things worse between BS and I much, much worse.

Fallout

Well after all that, BS hated my guts. Obviously, it would be career suicide to openly retaliate against me, so he found little ways to do so at every opportunity. That wasn’t to say I didn’t have my faults, I certainly did, and I made mistakes no doubt, but what he did was particularly underhanded.

You see, it wasn’t until he PCS’ed to his new assignment that I learned what he had done. My new Sergeant (NS) was awesome, highly relatable, and knew BS from previous deployments together - he indicated on more than a few occasions that he wasn’t exactly fond of BS.

In the meantime, I had gone to training to become a Sergeant myself and graduated at the top of my class with honors. I then went on to another deployment to the “sandbox” and came back with some major kudos from leadership there, working my butt off every day wanting to prove I was more than what BS tried to paint me as. It was after my return to home station that I learned what BS had been up to - completely behind the scenes.

Remember how even the First Sergeant was buddy-buddy with BS? Well the FS had also PCS’ed while I was deployed. Our new FS went through everyone’s Personnel Information Files (PIFs) and discovered that I had a massive - and I mean massive - stack of Letters of Counseling (basically, you got a “talking to,” and the LOC is documentation proving it) and even a Letter of Admonishment (LOA), a more serious version just under a Reprimand.

I found out from NS that when he and his boss were talking with FS, he was wondering how the hell I hadn’t been kicked out of the service with such a track record. But then he also noted how suspicious it was that every single one of the LOCs and the LOA lacked my signature - something that is required by regulations, acknowledging your reception of it (though not admitting guilt).

I had never been shown these, nor had any idea they existed. The majority of them were very minor infractions, almost none of which I had committed in any fashion. Even more strange, NS caught onto details that there were four of them dated for the same time I was in training (at a different base / different country), and one during a short deployment I had gone on earlier. It didn’t add up, and all three sergeants found it rather confusing and shady.

Thankfully, my performance once I was out of the shadow of BS was more than enough to convince all three sergeants that I was not the dirtbag that BS was trying to paint me as. I don’t know the details, but I do know that his pseudo-forgeries (he could just claim they were “incomplete” and not meant to be filed) caught up to him and he caught some flak for it. He retired not long later, and I hope that it was a black mark on his record.

Revenge, Part Two

So this is where it gets interesting again. Fast forward about four more years. I had gotten out of the service by then, finishing my second enlistment, and I moved back to the States to take advantage of the GI Bill.

It’s also worth mentioning that I’m an IT guy, and I’ve always got at least a dozen boxes of parts, tools, and hard drives. It’s also what I was in college for at the time.

I’m going through a stack of old ATA hard drives to see what I could salvage for a lab projects (we basically needed a bunch of “victim” machines to test against, and a few of us had old ATA motherboards hanging around). I’m checking them before I scramble/wipe the drives to make sure they’re working fine, and to make sure I’m not deleting wanted files/archives.

I’m flipping through this drive’s old files, nothing much beyond typical Windows folders, until I hit a buried directory with a bunch of images in it. I can tell they’re of the X-rated kind from thumbnails - not surprising, I’m a guy, and who didn’t have a sizeable porn stash in their single days, right?

But then I realized… these weren’t porn shots. These were homemade. It definitely wasn’t anything I had ever done. But I recognized something almost immediately - a unique lower back “tramp stamp” on the woman in the photos (faces were never shown). A tattoo I remember clearly: one of the wives of a guy in my old unit was showing it off after she had gotten it.

And the guy she’s on top of? Far, far too pasty of a skin tone to be her husband. It was then that I realized that this was one of the drives I had salvaged from a broken old PC that BS had given me for parts, back when we were still on good terms.

BS had been cheating on his wife with one of his subordinate's wife. Looking at the background of the photos, it was obvious that this was in the home of BS, too - if you remember, we had all been there many times.

Time to extract some revenge. I would like to tell you that I did some cool scene out of Mr. Computer or some crap like that, but really, simple efficiency won out here.

I knew BS, Mrs. BS, and the other couple were all on Facebook (they’d often come up as recommended friends-of-friends). I created an account that vaguely sounded like someone we could all know, and had military work history to match the assignment, in order to protect my own privacy/identity. I sent a few messages each to Mrs. BS and the husband of the tattooed wife. Once I got responses asking, basically, “Who is this?” I just pasted a number of select photos from the private photo shoot.

Mrs. BS, obviously recognizing her husband’s body and their old home in Europe, kept saying “WHAT THE FUCK?” - I said I was just the messenger, and to do with the photos what she pleased.

The husband of the tattooed wife first thought my new identity was the man in the photos and started to threaten me, until I told him to pay special attention to the background. He realized who the man in the photos was, having also been in that house countless times, and thanked me for telling him the truth. While we weren’t close, I do feel really bad for him. :(

(I didn’t feel too bad for Mrs. BS because she turned into a snob when BS got mean.)

I heard through my buddies from the unit that both couples were divorced, roughly a year later. All the old crew knew exactly who had cheated with who. I also heard that the divorce of BS and Mrs. BS was particularly bad. Nobody knows who leaked the photos, though.

Closing

This is the first time I have admitted to what I did, just for the sake of revenge and getting back at the bastard who did so much to personally attack me, even in a time of need, and who very nearly ruined my military career. Part of the reason I decided to get out of the service was because of him - I never wanted one person to have that much control over my life again.

I hope you enjoyed my story, sorry it was so long, but there was just so much that happened. I could add even more crap that he did, too.

And to Bastar-Sergeant, if you ever read this someday, I’m sure you will have realized who I am. I only have one thing to say to you: Fuck you - you deserved it.

(source) story by (/u/Celesae)

#prorevenge #by /u/Celesae #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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dalamjisung · 5 years

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natural progression ❀ kim woojin

genre: slight angst, fluff, friends to lovers!au

word count: 3686

pairing: reader x kim woojin

description: college tore you guys apart. is it fixable?

You guys were best friends. That was the most important part of the whole fucking story; you guys were best friends and suddenly you weren’t. High school came and left and your friendship was maintained– sleepovers at his house, movie marathons at yours, and picnics at the park in between the two. It was so perfect that you actually thought nothing could ruin it. You blame naive you for all this pain, you blame her and her stupid fantasies of a future in which you guys would forever be best friends. If she hadn’t cultivated those fairytales in her head, maybe you’d be feeling a little better by now.

College was the guilty factor in all of this, and you started hating every second of it. You could still remember– if you really wanted to– the day you guys took the college entrance exams. He was way smarter than you, and till this day you swear he must’ve downplayed a lot in the exam, because you both go into the same college. Not in the top 3 ones, but still a part of the top 10. After the test you guys went to your house and snuggled up under your covers, whispering dreams and fears about college. You never voiced it out loud, but this was your biggest one– losing him. Losing your best friend, Kim Woojin.

Freshman year was the first mistake. Keeping in touch was not enough, you guys tried your best to go out for coffee once a week and go to parties together. However, it wasn’t quite like that; once you started making new friends, and he started meeting new people, and you two started seeing that the world went beyond just the two of you, in your bubble, under the covers. It was all fresh and new, meeting new people that had the same interest you did, and you feel as if you got lost in that. Woojin tried inviting you to go to the bar with his friends and come over, but you were always busy, so he just smiled and watched you have fun. He was happy you were happy; that was all that mattered.

Sophomore year was his only mistake, and it lasted until the middle of Junior year, when he tried to make up for it, but you weren’t having it. You felt hurt and betrayed and you wished you could delete that image from your mind. His hands on her waist, his mouth on hers, his words. Y/N is not important, just forget about her. But you were– at least that day, you were important. It was the one day in the year that you allowed yourself to be top priority for those whom you love and love you back. Your birthday had always been very important to you because all of your best memories are tied to it; simpler times, when your parents wouldn’t pressure you, when Woojin would text you everyday because he had just gotten his first cellphone, when everyone was still together. You allowed him to explain, but he only made it worse.

“You’re just never here anymore,” He shouted, eyebrows furrowed and you had forgotten how scare Woojin could get. “Why am I the only one having to make an effort?”

“Making an effort?” You whispered, tears accumulated in your eyes; you saw him soften as soon as the first droplet fell from your eyes. “If it’s that hard, just forget it. There was a time when it was simple and easy and… and natural. But if it’s hard, please don’t even bother.”

You admit it was stupid of you to blow up on him like that, but it hurt. A lot. It was true, though– what he said. You guys had been fighting, something you never did before, all the time. And it was getting tiring, and it was wearing both of you down. By the end of Junior year, both of you stopped trying.

It was now Senior year of college and you missed him. Dearly. Your birthday was by the end of the week and you wished you still had your best friend, your teddy bear, close to you, under the covers, rewatching Korean dramas like there was no tomorrow. But he was busy now, with new friends to call and new places to go, while you moped in your dorm for various reasons. One of them was obviously him, but the other ones was the fact that this was your only free day during the entire week, and you’d be damned if you didn’t use it to do whatever you wanted to do.

It was already 10PM, but you could swear your stomach didn’t care, and suddenly the craving from spicy ramen rushed through your whole body. You waddled to the kitchen but you were all out, resulting in one simple, yet undesired, solution: going to the store to buy it. Grumbling, you through over a large grey hoodie and put your shoes on. It wasn’t like the walk was a long way away, but you didn’t feel like braving the cold, snowy night all alone. Woojin would always be with me during snow nights, you thought sighing, and closing the door behind you. You get it, what happened between you two, and you even admit your fair share of fault in it all, but it was just impossible to forget. He was impossible to forget.

“This is such a stupid fight…” You mumble to yourself as you kick a stray rock. “But it’s been so long, almost two months without speaking.”

The ultimate question was: is it fixable?

———————————————————————————

1st time

The first time was that same night. You were grumbling through the streets, food in hand, on your way back to warmth, when you feel the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. Looking behind, you noticed a shadow, tall and large, creeping up, slowly and steady, and in your mind, the flight or fight alarm was activated. With your blood pumping, you ran as fast as you could, to closest known location– an apartment complex you knew as if it was home.

You type in the password– thanking the gods for Woojin being a creature of habit and setting all his passwords the same since high school– and you get in, choosing to stay in the lobby, by the elevator. You could kids of still see the shadow outside, and as the adrenaline started to fade, you could feel your legs give out. Hands shaking, legs weak, and nauseous; you had no clue how’d you get home. In the midst of it all, you barely heard the elevator opening behind you.

“… are you alright?” Someone asks behind you.

“No.” You whisper.

“Do you live here?”

“No.”

“How did you get in?” He asks, and now he is crouched in front of you, face soft and yet, cautious.

“I know one of the residents.” You say, trying to stabilize your voice. “Kim Woojin, 4th floor.”

“Oh, do you want me to call him?” And out of habit and despair, you nod your head. You weren’t going to lie, you were terrified. Nothing like this had ever happened to you before. “Okay. We can wait for him in my place, if you want? My name is Bambam, Woojin and I have been friends for a while.”

“Sure,” You gulp and try to stand up, grabbing the kind hand that Bambam offered you. “Thank you so much.”

“Hey it’s fine,” He chuckled. “Come on, let’s go up.”

Turned out Bambam also lived in the 4th floor, right next to Woojin and his roommate, Chan. As you warmed up with a nice cup of tea, you could hear the boy on the phone.

“Woojin, you need to come home. No, I know you’re busy and all, but I think it’s an emergency… no, a girl; she says she knows you. She looks really sick dude. Oh wait… what’s your name, again?”

He was talking to you now. “Y/N…”

“Y/-“ And then Bambam made a face. “Hello? Woojin? Did he hang up?”

You sigh, finally realizing what was happening. You messed up, yet again. Woojin would be so angry when he got home; you probably just pulled him away from a party or a dinner with friends, and you felt horrible.

“Hey, thanks for everything Bambam, but I think I should get going.” You mumble. To be honest, the thought of going outside alone terrified you to the bones, but the thought of facing Woojin wasn’t that much better.

“No way,” He scoffed. “You look like you’re about to pass out, Y/N. Just sit down and wait for him. He’s on his way, I am sure. 10 minutes, okay? Give him 10 minutes. He just went to the store to buy some ramen, so I’m sure he’ll be here in no time.”

He still loves ramen on a snowy day, you thought with a fond smile on your lips. You looked to your own plastic bag with ramen and wondered if he would want to eat together.

“What happened?”

The door opens so suddenly you can’t help but scream in shock. And there he is. Hair messy, out of breath, and with melting traces of snow on his shoulders. You’d be lying if you said that the sight of your best friend– and yes, you guys fought, but he would never not be your best friend– wasn’t the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks frantically, walking to you, eyes looking for inexistent wounds. “What happened?”

“A guy was following me from the market.” You mumble, suddenly so tense. “I got really scared and didn’t know where to go, so I ran here because it was the closest place I could think of.”

You hear both men in the room inhale. And exhale.

“Holy shit,” Woojin says, eyes wide, hands on your shoulder. “You did good.”

“Did you call the police?” Bambam asked, already pulling out his phone again.

“And say what?” You snort. “That I saw a guy following me, but that I don’t know what he looks like?”

And they know how right you are, which makes it sadder. You say goodbye to Bambam and let Woojin guide you to his place, and then into his room. With not a word said, he offers you tea and sits you down on his bed; and then he takes your mug, rests it on the table, and hugs you. He hugs you like he did years ago when he got a phone call from the hospital about his mom, when in reality she was just there for blood tests. A scared hug; relieved, too.

“You did so well,” He whispers into your hair, patting your back. “You are safe, okay?”

You nod, but you can’t stop shaking.

Both of you fall asleep like that; warm in each other’s embrace and ramen forgotten.

You leave in the early morning because you are late for a class. He wakes up in the afternoon, confused as to why there is now a packet of spicy ramen where your body laid hours before.

———————————————————————————

2nd time

The second time is on him, and it happens because of the simplest, most cliché reason: he got drunk.

You were up late trying to finish a report on the latest novel you read in class, arguing that the main character was actually an idiot, when you notice your phone ringing. It was a habit– a bad one, Woojin would insist– to leave it on silent; the constant buzzing and dinging always bothering you.

The light goes off and you go back to your essay, focusing on the literary movements that could support your thesis of how stupid that narrative was when your phone goes off again, basically illuminating the dark room in its own.

“Woojin?” You ask frowning. Was he in trouble? Is that why he is calling?

“Y/N,” He sings on the other side, voice mellow and raspy, and he only got like that either when he just woke up, or when he was drunk. “Where are you? I miss you!”

You chuckle. “I miss you too, bubs. But I’m home, where else would I be?”

“Here with me!” He exclaims happily.

“And where exactly is here?” You ask already getting up and putting some shoes on. “I’ll go there right now, yeah?”

“Yay!” He shouts and you have to take the phone off your ear. “Bambam, Y/N’s coming here!”

A weird sound of static comes from the other side and then another person is on the phone.

“Y/N, this is Bambam,” He says and it is a little slurred, but not as bad as your friend. “You don’t have to come, I can bring him to you.”

“It’s fine,” You sigh, already out the door. “I’ll just take him home. From what I’ve heard, he is way too drunk…”

“He is,” Bambam chuckles. “Well, we’re at the bar just outside of campus, the one where the swim team celebrated last year, you know?”

Everyone on campus knew. They managed to drink all the soju in the place, making the owner a very angry man.

“Yeah, I’m on my way.”

Your pace was fast simply because you still weren’t comfortable walking alone at night, and because you know how Woojin got when he was drunk– overall happy, but one word and he could get aggressive. You heard the commotion before you saw it; Bambam with some girl laughing out loud, some other people you knew from being them in classes dancing around, and Woojin and Chan and Felix stumbling near the bar.

“Ya, Kim Woojin!” You shout, trying to make yourself be heard over everyone else.

“Y/N, you came!” He smiles his bear smile and you physically softens. “Let’s drink!”

“No no no,” You laugh. “Why don’t we go home, huh? You look tired.”

Woojin leans closer, eyes wide open, and finger on his mouth, asking you to be quiet. “It’s a secret,” he whispers. “But I am really tired.”

“Then why don’t we sneak out and go home?” You whisper back, wishing you could forever remember his face at that moment; so innocent looking.

“Can we?” He asks whining. “I want to sleep.”

“Yeah, let’s go!” You grab his arm and pull him away from his friends, waving goodbye to the laughing pair that watched you guys with amused smiles. They knew all about you, Woojin made sure of that, and they were really happy that you came back into their friend’s life. You made Woojin happier.

You guys were almost at the door, carefully dodging groups of people with their overflowing drinks, and you were so sure this would be a peaceful night after you put Woojin to sleep. That was until one of the guys on a table nearby made a comment.

“Hello, gorgeous.” He said. You hated how every Friday night college students would get themselves stupid drunk, but this man didn’t seem to mean anything by it, so you ignored him and tried to keep walking. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”

“I have to go.” You mumbled still trying to pass through their table, but he made sure your way was blocked.

“Bitch.” He spatted and finally got out of your way.

You were so ready to go home and ignore that spiteful comment, but Woojin wouldn’t move, no matter how hard you pulled his hand.

“What did you call her?” He asked in a low voice, and it was almost as if the whole bar went silent. “Say it again.”

“I said,” The band got up and faced your drunk friend. “Bitch.”

Woojin chuckled, and to the untrained eye it seemed like and innocent, drunk laugh. But you were an expert on the subject Kim Woojin. You saw the glint in his eyes, and you knew there was nothing much you could do but step aside.

Bambam and the others came running as soon a a body hit the floor. Woojin walks towards the guy as if he owned the place; his knuckles were a little raw, and with a few more blows, it could get bad. You didn’t want it to get bad. You block the way with your own body.

“Woojin,” You say firmly, looking into his eyes. “Let’s go. He learned his lesson, now let’s go home.”

“No.” He shook his head. “No one talks about you like that.”

“Listen to your girl, man,” Bambam says and you blush. You’ve never thought of yourself as ‘Woojin’s girl,’ but you admit that it has a nice ring to it. “Go. You’re drunk and angry. Go sleep.”

“You’ll take care of this for me?” Woojin asks, almost as if he is in mafia.

“Of course, dude.” And with a handshake, you guys are on your way.

Woojin arms around your shoulders, his head hung low. For a second, you thought it was because he was too drunk to walk, but you noticed, as people passed by, he would tighten his grip on you, and hide your body with his.

Getting home was quick, and getting Woojin to sleep was quicker. As soon as his head was on the pillow, he was out. You smile and cover him up with the blankets, getting ready for another snow night. You left him in your bed and went to the living room; you still had a report to finish after all.

———————————————————————————

3rd time

You know what they say; the third time is the charm. But does it count when it’s basically a continuation of the second time?

Woojin wakes up the next morning with a headache that would render him useless for the day, and a burning sensation on the top of his hands. Closing his eyes, he tries to remember everything, and he pretty much does, smiling when he remembers you coming to get him, with your messy hair and sweatpants, and he frowns when he replays the scene of that man trying to get your attention. What he doesn’t remember though, is what happened after you both got to home. He knew he was in your room, he could basically smell you in the air, and yet, you were nowhere in sight.

He drags his body to the kitchen, eyes squinting because of the soft light, and he finds you, sitting on an armchair that clearly didn’t belong there, in front of the window, coffee in hands, and a blanket on your shoulders. You were facing the window, watching the snow accumulate on the fire escape. You didn’t sleep that night, insomnia hitting you hard; but it was okay, you had your favorite entertainment right there.

“You still do this,” He muses. His raspy voice sends a chill over your whole body and you turn to face him.

“Yeah, I always loved watching the snowfall.” You yawn and snuggle deeper into the blanket.

And it was that moment; that single image of you sitting with a coffee mug in hands and snuggling with the blanket that made him realize that he wanted to see that every morning, even nights, if possible. He wanted to crawl under the heavy layer covering you, and hold you close, maybe even take a nap with you right there.

“I know.” He mumbles. “I remember.”

“Yeah…” An awkward silence falls in the apartment and you shake yourself out of it. “Do you want some coffee? I have some done already and I can pour you so-“

“I’m not a fan of coffee…” He says.

“Oh.” You get startle. “Yeah, I forgot, I’m sorry… Tea, then?”

He sighs. “What happened to us?”

“What?”

“What happened to us, Y/N?” He walks to you and pulls on the blanket, removing it from you. He slides behind you, and you tense up. Now, your back is laying on his chest, his arms around your waist, and, before he settles, he lays the blanket on top of both of you. His forehead is resting on your shoulders, and you feel the vibrations of his voice when he speaks again. “I missed you so much these months… so much happened that I wanted to call you, but it felt weird doing do. I didn’t know if I was being stubborn, of if it was you, but it’s fine, I’ll apologize if that’s what it takes.”

“Woojin, no yo-“

“I’m sorry. Come back. Please.”

His voice sounded so vulnerable and small and you wanted to cry.

“I never left, you idiot,” You mumble, rubbing your hands on the arms that encircled you. “I’ve been right here, also being stubborn, but here nonetheless. Always waiting for when you came home.”

“You’re home.” He says bashfully. “I missed this.”

“I missed this too,” You sigh in relief. Everything would be okay.

“I love you.” He chuckles, hiding his face on your neck. “It’s so funny to me that I just noticed it.”

“Just now?” You chuckle. “Funny. It was yesterday for me.”

“When I punched that guy?” His arms tense around you and you roll your eyes at your over protective bear.

“No,” You whisper softly. “It was when you told me you were tired; your face was so adorably innocent…”

He hums. “It was bound to happen, really,” He mumbles. “It was the natural progression from where we left off.”

“It really was,” You say and shifts so that you are sitting across his lap, facing him. “I love you, too.”

He smiles and follows the flow, allowing the next natural progression take over.

Here’s a fact about Kim Woojin that you, the expert, didn’t know: when he kisses, he takes it all. His lips pull you in, coaching you, guiding you, taking you. It’ll all you, and him, and both of you together. His hands are firm and tense, but and his lips soft, gentle, and demanding. You liked it. You liked surrendering to him like that; giggling in the middle, and nibbling. It was only natural, after all.

“I think I kind of like coffee, now.”

#skz #skz imagines #stray kids #stray kids imagines #kim woojin #bang chan #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #imagines #one shot #stay

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hymn2000 · 5 years

Text

Chiquitita - MCU AU fanfic - C31

Story summary: Something strange is happening. Someone from space has made their way to Earth, armed with a strange weapon. Targeting teenagers, their ray gun, when fired, turns the victim into a toddler. The Avengers set out to stop this, and find a way to reverse the effects. However, they don’t all come out of the battle unscathed.

Previous chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30

Part of my Frostiron and Spiderson series.

Warnings/themes: de-aging, family stuff, corporal punishment (early chapters only), mental health stuff, hurt/comfort, hospital/medical stuff

Chapter 31 - Tell Me What’s Wrong

Peter wasn’t happy. It had been two days. He was still getting his head around what had happened, and his body still seemed to be adjusting. He cried a lot and he got upset a lot, and he fell over a lot. To make matters worse, Tony was still acting the attentive, over-protective, over-affectionate father. He’d taken him to the doctors for a full medical and check-up, and Peter had gotten into trouble for telling the doctor to - and I quote - ‘get his filthy fucking old man hands off his fucking face’. He’d also gotten into trouble for swearing at Tony’s press manager, and swearing at Happy, and Rhodey, and Pepper, and just about anyone else who tried to ask him about Kindsprengen’s gun and the subsequent reversal.

To make matters even worse, Loki hadn’t spoken to Peter at all. In fact, he’d hardly seen him: Loki had taken on extra shifts at the hospital, and spent his off-shift time reclused in the reading nook or his room, and Tony wouldn’t let Peter near him.

All in all, it wasn’t a great combination.

Day Three.

Tony ruffled Peter’s hair.

“Hey kiddo, wanna come and help me in the lab? I’ve started working on this new-”

“No thanks” Peter said.

“Oh. Uh, just so you know, the school rang yesterday, wanting to know when you’d be back. I’m not gonna rush you; you can go back whenever you feel ready. Have you been in touch with anyone yet? The Bunnies, maybe?”

“Mind your own business”

Tony sighed. “You need to stop acting so much like me on a bad day, chunk. You’ve been really naughty these past couple of days. Like the way you spoke to the doctor? You’re lucky he just thought it was funny”

“When are you gonna let me see daddy?”

“When he’s ready” Tony said. “He’s upset”

“Why? Why won’t you tell me anything about it?”

“It’s not my place to say. If daddy decides to tell you, that’s up to him. Not me”

“Is he sick? Is it because of the crash?”

Tony looked at him. “What crash?”

“He had a motorbike crash, didn’t he?”

“That was a while ago now, chick. He’s pretty much recovered from that now”

“Physically, maybe”

Tony sighed. “It’s nothing to do with the crash, son”

“He loved that bike”

“...How much of that night do you remember?”

“I remember us going to the hospital, and seeing him and Jo Jo. Uncle Clint came and took me home and looked after me”

“Yeah, that’s right”

“You haven’t replaced his bike yet”

“Are you gonna help in the lab or not?”

Peter shook his head.

“Well, you need to come down with me anyway. You can’t stay up here on your own”

“Why not? I’m fifteen”

“You’re very accident prone right now; you’re still adjusting. I need to be able to see that you’re safe” Tony said. “Besides, I don’t trust you not to go and disturb your father”

Peter scowled.

“You know I’ll pick you up and carry you if you don’t come with me like a good boy”

Peter sighed. He didn’t want to go down to the lab. Even worse, Tony always took his hand when they went down the stairs. Loki hadn’t removed the seal from the top of the stairs yet, so Peter wasn’t able to get downstairs on his own. It was incredibly annoying for someone who didn’t even want to be around his father, let alone touch him. But he supposed he didn’t have a choice. Reluctantly, he stood up from the breakfast bar and followed Tony.

Peter lounged on the sofa in the lab. Tony had given him a small abacus coaster bead maze, so he held it above him, manoeuvring the beads across their tracks. There was something oddly enticing about it. It wasn’t too unusual: Peter had found himself distracted by simple things very easily since the reversal. He hadn’t even kicked up a fuss when Carol left the morning after, because she’d distracted him with a groan tube. By the time he’d grown bored of it, she was long gone. He’d got a bit upset with himself when he realised what had happened, but there was nothing he could do about it. He cried a bit, and Tony set up his marble run for him, and that distracted him and kept him occupied for a while afterwards. It all felt very strange.

Peter fell asleep for a bit. He woke up and stayed still for a while, listening to the sound of Tony’s tools working away. There was something quite comforting about that. After a while, he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Hey kiddo” Tony said, not looking up from his work. “How are you doing?”

Peter didn’t say anything. He stood up slowly, holding onto the sofa to support himself. His legs shook, and he took a few moments to steady himself before gingerly letting go of the sofa and standing on his own. He stumbled over to the work bench and leant against it, peering at what Tony was doing.

“You’re shaking, son” Tony said. “You should sit down”

“I’m fine here” Peter lied.

“Peter, do as you’re told, please”

Peter scowled but did so, admitting defeat. His legs hurt too much for him to be defiant.

“You know, you didn’t really talk much at the doctors, aside from your little sweary outburst” Tony said. “Can you talk to me a bit?”

“What about?”

“Everything. Anything” Tony said. “I’m worried about you. I think there’s something more than just the confusion of what happened going on with you”

“Mumma left too soon”

Tony sighed. “Maria was ill. You can’t really blame her for putting her first”

“No... But I’m still kinda sad about it. But I’m more sad about other things”

“Oh?”

“I want daddy” he picked up a nearby soldering iron, but when he held it poised, his grip suddenly slackened and it slipped in his hand so that he burnt his fingertips on the metal. “Ow!!”

“Peter! Oh, darling. You silly thing! Come on; let’s get that poor hand under the tap”

Tony picked Peter up and plonked him down next to the sink, sticking his hand under the cold tap.

“Ouch, looks like you’re gonna get a bit of a blister there” Tony sucked his breath. “Poor Peter... Oh sweetheart, are you crying?”

Peter turned his head away in a futile attempt to hide his tears.

“Oh Peter, sweetheart! Hey, it’s ok, don’t cry! We’ve all hurt ourselves down here before. Soldering irons hurt, I know. It’ll be better in a minute”

“I’m such an idiot..!”

“No you’re not! It was an accident, chick”

“It was just me being an idiot! My stupid hands don’t work properly anymore! I could even hold it!!”

“Oh honey. You’re still adjusting. Remember what the doctor said? You just need to give it a little bit of time and it’ll be back to normal. Kinda like how daddy was when he was in hospital”

“You’re hearing me but you’re not listening!” Peter whimpered. “No one’s listened to me properly since I got big again! I’m sick of it”

Tony put an arm round Peter’s shoulders. “I’m listening”

Peter just cried harder. “I’m sick of it! My hands won’t always grip properly and I keep dropping things and doing things wrong and I can’t do things properly, and my stupid legs keep giving out on me and I can’t walk for long and they get all shaky and they hurt so much sometimes, and I keep falling over and I have to hold onto things and then daddy won’t speak to me and you won’t let me near him and everyone keeps asking questions about the whole toddler thing and I don’t have the answers and I still don’t get what happened and I-”

“Hey, hey, slow down, chick” Tony said. “It’s ok”

“No it’s not!” Peter cried. “None of it is ok! I want my daddy!”

“Peter-”

“I WANT MY DADDY!” Peter howled.

Tony watched him for a moment, his heart thumping. This was all on Loki. He’d been doing his best since the reversal, but Peter asked after his other parent so much, and he needed him. He needed Loki’s side of the story, and more than that, he needed him to hug him. Slowly, Tony turned off the tap.

“Right, that’s it” he said, and he lifted Peter into his arms.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you to see daddy”

Loki was sat on the bed, and it made him jump when the door opened. He looked at Tony, and at Peter, who was crying in his husbands arms.

“I’ll call you back” Loki said, and lowered his phone. “Anthony, this isn’t a good time”

“I don’t care. You’ve spent the last three days in here; you’ve had enough time on your own”

“What are you doing here?”

“Your son needs you”

“He’s got you”

“He wants YOU!” Tony sat down on the bed, Peter still cradled in his arms. “You’ve had your sulk-”

“I haven’t been sulking” Loki interrupted. “Go away; I’m busy”

Peter cried harder, clinging to Tony. He didn’t especially want him, but if Loki wasn’t going to pay attention to him, Tony was the best he had.

“Remember that first week, the way I acted? Well you’re getting really close to being that way yourself, and we can’t let that happen” Tony said. “Our little boy needs both of us, and right now, he really needs you. So sort yourself out and give him a cuddle”

Loki kept his mouth closed, and he didn’t move. Tony scowled and decided to try a different tactic.

“Peter’s hurt his hand, and he says his legs have been hurting, alongside that whole dexterity thing I told you about. Can you have a look at him?”

“What happened?”

“Soldering iron. I put his hand under the tap, but he’s upset about a whole bunch of stuff. He was asking after you”

“I thought you said the doctor said it would all sort itself out”

“Yeah, but he’d never told us about the pain. Loki please, just give him a cuddle. Look at him” he glanced down at Peter, nestled against him, whimpering softly. “He needs his daddy”

Loki slowly swung his legs off the bed and sat beside Tony, leaving just a small gap between them. Tony loosened his grip, and Peter sat up a little. He couldn’t quite bring himself to look at either men. Loki took a deep breath and put his hands under Peter’s arms. He paused a moment before pulling the boy onto his lap. Peter clung to Loki, burying his face in his chest and crying harder still when Loki wound his arms round him. Loki held him tight and rested his head against Peter’s.

“Daddy..! Daddy!”

“Hello, darling” he said gently. “Shush now”

Tony watched them, surprised at how readily Loki had hugged the boy. He’d expected much more resistance than this. He was hugging him properly too; not at all as though he was being forced. It was as though he needed him. It was like he’d been waiting for the right moment to do it.

Eventually Peter calmed down, and he sat back, holding Loki’s hand and snivelling.

“Are you sick?”

Loki looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“Dad wouldn’t let me near you, and you haven’t come anywhere near me. You’ve been working all the time, and you’ve been ignoring me”

Loki sighed. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been very mixed up and upset about what happened”

Peter looked at him. “What do you mean?”

He glanced at Tony for a moment before looking back at Loki. Loki stroked the boys hair gently.

“I won’t lie to you” he said. “I don’t think we should have turned you back”

Peter blinked at him. “You mean... you mean you wanted me to stay a toddler forever?”

Loki swallowed, and nodded. “You were so happy. You really deserved to be happy”

Peter looked at him for a moment. He looked at Tony. Tony nodded slightly.

“Daddy was quite... open and adamant about his wants and wishes. We were kinda on other sides of the table with this one, chick”

“I always want what’s best for you” Loki said. “You were so happy as a toddler. You didn’t have any troubles or anything to worry about or anything like that. You had a good life, and-”

“I’ve got a good life now” Peter said.

“You weren’t poorly as a toddler”

Peter didn’t know what to say to that, or what to think. What if Loki had had his way? He could still be a toddler. In fact, he could have been a toddler forever. And he never would have known any different.

“I didn’t remember being big while I was a toddler” Peter said. “But I remember all of being a toddler now that I’m me again”

Loki sighed. “I see”

“I think I’m gonna go and lay down for a bit”

He struggled off Loki’s lap and pushed himself to his feet. He wobbled and Loki grabbed his arm, steadying him.

“Ok?”

Peter clung to him, willing his legs to stop shaking. He tried to make them go stiff, and his right knee gave out and he fell. Fortunately he was standing close enough that he simply flopped against the bed instead of crashing to the floor.

“Woah there” Tony said, pulling Peter onto his lap. “Are you ok?”

“No” Peter burst into tears and buried his face in Tony’s chest. “I wanna go to bed!”

“Oh darling” Tony sighed. “Ok darling. I’ll take you”

Peter felt a bit better when he woke up. He sat up slowly. He looked round the room, focusing mostly on all of his kids things that were still there. He rubbed the backs of his aching knees and slowly stood up, tucking his rocket under his arm and clinging to the headboard for support. Once he was sure his legs would hold, he carefully made his way towards the door, utilising the furniture for support.

He found his parents in the kitchen, as expected.

“Hey kiddo” Tony said. “Do you want a drink? Kettle’s just boiled”

Peter shook his head.

“Do you wanna sit down? You’re all shaky”

Peter nodded and went over to them, sitting in his usual seat beside Loki at the breakfast bar. Loki took his hand. Peter didn’t pull away, but he held tighter to his rocket.

“I know it’s a shock for you. Maybe you should talk to Steve. He’ll probably understand better than the rest of us” Loki said.

Peter looked at Tony. “My legs hurt”

“They’re still shaking, aren’t they?”

Peter nodded. “What if they never get better?”

“They will. You’ve just gotta adjust a bit first”

“It’s been like, three days, dad” Peter said sadly. “What happened? I mean, my powers...”

“Sweetheart, your healing powers have been a bit, uh, well, a bit less effective ever since the accident. Plus, I don’t think it’s really an injury; just that your body has had a bit of a shock”

“But I could walk and do stuff alright when I was a toddler, right?”

“As well as any other toddler, yeah. I guess turning back is a little different”

“Did all the others get this problem?”

Tony shrugged. “I’ve not really looked into it. I don’t think they really said much about the physical side in their interviews”

“Where does it hurt?” Loki asked.

“Mainly the backs of my knees” Peter said. “It’s really bad sometimes, especially like, if I’ve been kneeling”

“And the shaking?”

“It usually stops when I’m sat down. My knees keep giving out too”

“You should have told the doctor about it” Loki said.

“Um, well, I was cross. I didn’t really feel like talking, especially after I got told off”

“Yes, I was told about what you said to him”

“When are you next at work?”

“I don’t know” Loki said. “I haven’t scheduled anything yet”

“When are you getting a new motorbike?”

“I don’t know”

“Were you really gonna keep me as a toddler?”

“I wanted to” Loki said. “I thought it was the best option. You had a good life, you were happy, you were healthy, and I thought it was best to keep you that way. Unfortunately I was the only one who did”

Peter looked at Tony. “Is that why I was the last to get changed back?”

Tony nodded. “We had a bit of a fight about it. Well, uh, quite a big one. It took us a while to get to a point where daddy would let us use the reversal on you. And even then, he tried to stop it at the last minute”

“It still doesn’t feel right”

Peter looked at him. “You preferred me as a toddler, didn’t you?”

“We could have given you a better life as a toddler”

“It’s because of my PTSD and stuff, isn’t it?”

Loki paused, and then he had to nod. “In part, yes”

“Can we go and watch a film?”

Loki blinked a bit. “At the pictures?”

“No, just here. Please?”

Loki looked at Tony. Tony smiled at him.

“I think I know a good one to watch”

Tony put on Bolt. Peter started off curled up at his side with his rocket, but somewhere along the way, he ended up on Loki’s lap. Loki cradled him close and closed his eyes.

At first he thought about all of the time he’d spent with little Peter, and how close he’d felt to him. After a while he shook his head slightly and tried to shift his thoughts. He held Peter tighter, feeling his skin and touching his soft hair. He thought about the first time he met him. He thought about everything that had happened that first summer, and how hot and cold they’d been with each other. He thought about everything that happened afterwards, in the years that followed. He thought about how close he’d grown to Peter, and how their friendship had stabilised, and he’d grown to think of him as a son. He thought about everything that happened after they lost May. He thought about the first time he’d been called dad. He thought about the adoption. He thought about everything in between, all those nice evenings and holiday moments and conversations. He thought about watching him compete and seeing him in his spiderman suit and reading to him and soothing his nightmares and listening to his problems. He thought about all the times he’d turned up to A&E to find him, and how scared he’d been. He thought about all the times he’d stayed up all night to look after him when he was sick. He thought about cooking for him and holding him close and tending his wounds and kissing his nose and wiping the tears from his face.

“I love you, darling” he said softly.

Peter tore his eyes away from the telly and looked at Loki. Loki opened his eyes and looked at Peter.

“I’m sorry”

“You’re stuck with the regular me” Peter said.

Loki kissed him on the cheek. “I love you”

“I love you too”

Tony smiled, watching them.

“Anyway, you’ll have a toddler again at some point” Peter said.

“What do you mean?”

“The three-person baby” Peter said. “That’s not gonna be a baby forever”

“Oh yes...” Loki said. “Let’s not talk about that right now. I want to focus on you. You’re my baby boy. Nothing’s going to change that. We’ll work everything out”

“I get what you wanted from keeping me little” Peter said. “Dad once told me that people who think they’re right when they’re wrong are dangerous. But people always just do what they think is right, right?”

“I always want to do right by you”

“I was happy as a toddler, but I’m happy now too” Peter said. “Well, not right at this exact minute, but like, before I got turned into a baby. Even though I’ve got the PTSD and all that stuff. Still happy. You have done right by me. We’re happy, right? We’ve got a good life, haven’t we? Even after everything that happened with May and all the stuff after that?”

Loki looked at Tony.

“Don’t look at me” Tony said. “He asked you”

Loki looked back at Peter. “You didn’t have nightmares when you were a toddler. You’ve had one every night since you were changed back”

“I had a nightmare every night when we went on holiday with Liz and Flo too” Peter said. “I still had a great time. I have nightmares for no reason all the time”

“And why do you think that is?”

Peter scowled at him. “I used to have nightmares before the accident too, you know. Not as much, granted, but still”

“Mmm”

“I am happy the way I am. I know horrible things happened before, but so what? Horrible things happened to you, too, and you’re still happy with your life, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“So why do you think I can’t be happy just because of my past? Dad’s happy despite everything too”

“I suppose he is”

Peter buried his face in Loki’s chest, nuzzling into him. “I’m still yours. I’ve been yours this way, way more than I was as a toddler. Nothing’s gonna change that either”

“You’re far too serious for such a little boy” Loki said. “I adore you whether you’re a toddler or a teenager. But I stand by what I said, and I still feel like I’ve lost something by turning you back”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I feel like I’ve lost stuff too. I wasn’t me for four months really” Peter said. “I didn’t remember anything from being big. So I was just tiny Peter instead of like, you know, me. But now I remember everything again, and I remember being little, but it’s weird. Most people who remember being three, it’s distant, right? Whereas I have toddler memories from last week. I’m still getting my head round it all. It’s weird”

Loki kissed him firmly on the cheek. “I can only imagine”

“A bunch of my baby stuff is still around”

“I haven’t gotten round to putting things away yet” Tony said. “We could sort it out together. We should get a charity box sorted”

Peter looked at him. “I don’t wanna give my stuff away! I love all these toys and stuff. I’ve still been playing with some stuff these last few days”

“Have you?” Loki said.

“Yeah, he has” Tony said. He sighed. “Peter, sweetheart, I get it, I really do - whether you want to believe me or not. But there’s no reason for you to keep everything. All your little artworks and stuff, yeah, we can box and keep those. But the clothes? Those have definitely gotta go to charity. It’s not like you can wear any of that stuff again. As for the rest of it, all your toys and stuff, uh... Look, darling. We’ll sort it out together”

“I like all my toys”

“Bambino” Tony sighed. “Ok, chick. Look, my love, I’m not going to force you to give away anything. But I still think we should sit down and go through everything together. After that, if you decide there’s anything you wanna give away, we can stick it in the charity bag. But it’s all up to you. Ok?”

Peter nodded slowly. He might still be getting his head round having been turned into a toddler, but somehow he didn’t feel ready to let go of it. Not yet. Not until he understood.

#my writing #fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #frostiron #irondad and spiderson

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