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queensunshinee · 4 months

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Time Of Our Lives || Part 11

Part 11:

Liana could easily say she would pay thousands of dollars to fly home on another day. But obviously she didn't have thousands of spare dollars, and the ones who bought her the plane tickets were her parents, along with Art's parents. Of course, seating them side by side the entire way from Stanford home.

Most of the semester she managed to avoid him. From time to time she would feel a scrutinizing gaze on her and knew it was Art, but every time she looked up to tell him to go fuck himself, their eyes didn't meet.

Now she has to spend several hours on the plane next to him, with both of them remembering the last time they flew together and she fell asleep on his shoulder. Both know she doesn’t plan on sleeping a single moment on this flight. There’s no way that in a moment of weakness, she will touch Art Donaldson by choice ever again.

Liana's leg shook uncontrollably, causing Art to sigh. He wanted to pull out one of her earbuds and tell her she could relax and that he wouldn’t bite her (no matter how much he wanted to). At this stage, he already thought it was ridiculous. Months have passed, and she acted as if he didn’t exist when they both knew that if they just talked about it, this horrible period would be behind them.

"I bought the snack you like with the jam." He couldn’t resist and pulled out one of her earbuds. His hand brushed her cheek for a second. If he were a stronger man, he wouldn’t have done it. But even if Art Donaldson is strong in most areas of life, he is very weak when it comes to Liana Levy.

"Can I have it back, please?" She asked with a coldness that never characterized her. Even before Stanford, when they were younger, and she tried to make him think she didn’t want any connection to him, she wasn’t cold. She would roll her eyes, go into tantrums, and distance herself as much as she could. She was never indifferent to him. He feared this indifference like a sheep fears a lion.

He put the earbud in her hand and left his hand on hers. She let him for a moment, and he closed his eyes, relishing the touch that lasted exactly three seconds until she recovered and moved away from him as much as she could. As if he might infect her with an incurable disease.

She took the snack he bought for her. Because if there’s one thing to say about Liana, it's that she can't give up her manners, and even when she’s furious with him to the core, she will do this small act to please him. It made his heart ache and kept him silent for the rest of the flight.

Again, like in a déjà vu feeling, her father was waiting for them, and they got into the car. "Liana, even if Mom acts coldly, it's not because she's angry. Okay?" Her father suddenly said, and Liana blushed. Art examined her as she shrank into her seat. "Can we talk about this at home?" She asked quietly, embarrassed by the direction of the conversation. "No, because Mom is at home, and Art is practically family. Right, kiddo?" Her father smiled at him through the mirror. God, how he loved her father and the small window he opened for him into her life. "Anyway, she almost completely fine with everything, and she even wanted to call a few days ago to ask how you were doing." Her father continued. Art didn’t know something had happened between Liana and her mother. "How long has it been like this?" He suddenly asked, his voice much more confident when her father was in the car because he knew Liana wouldn’t complicate the situation. Especially if she’s already in some kind of fight with her mother. "Since the day we talked about London, probably. The day Li flew back to Stanford." If her father could, he would give Art her entire life story at any given moment. He really loved Art as if he were the son he never had.

Art started connecting the dots; That’s the reason she came to him as soon as she landed that day. That’s the reason she seemed so shaken, and that’s the reason he thought she had been crying. She and her mother fought that day. A fight big enough not to speak again for months. And instead of supporting her and insisting on knowing what happened, Art made that day even worse. The thought that Patrick was going to erase him from her life sharpened at that moment. He knows Patrick would’ve read the situation better. He knows Patrick wouldn’t have acted the way he did that night. Art knows Patrick is selfish in every aspect of his life, except for Liana. While Art happens to be the most selfish when it comes to Liana.

Despite Art’s grandmother ruining all her birthdays throughout her life, Liana loved her as if she were her own grandmother. That’s how she found herself in a car with Art Donaldson, on the way to her nursing home. Because she couldn’t leave the country without seeing her, and Art... well, he heard about it from his parents and said he would drive her because he also wanted to see his grandmother. And once again, only Liana knew that Art was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

"Are we really not going to talk the whole drive?" Art asked. He was dressed nicer than usual and smiling more than usual. On another day, Liana would have found his smile charming, but the last two weeks at home had been filled with silent fights between her and her mother, who probably wouldn’t forgive her in her lifetime. Right now, Liana wanted to wipe the smug smile off Art's face with a slap. But she wasn’t a violent person, so she simply turned up the radio and looked out the window. "Are you planning anything for your birthday?" Art asked, turning the radio back down to its original volume.

"Tell me, is this a mental illness? Are you bipolar or something?" she retorted, only causing his dimple to become more pronounced. "These are really concerning mood swings, I recommend you check it out and really shut up for the rest of this trip that I don’t even know why you joined. You can visit your grandma literally any other day and not with me like a psychopath." She mumbled the last part, causing Art to chuckle.

"Is it amusing to you, Arthur?" she asked, genuinely unable to read the person in front of her. A person whom just a few months ago her instincts betrayed her and made her think she knew all about him.

"It amuses me that you're trying so hard to hate me, Li, instead of taking a moment and talking to me." He said with feigned calmness. Art knew he was getting close to the point where Liana wouldn’t be able to resist and would just spill everything that was on her mind. He knew that from the moment it happened, it would be easier for him to deal with her. He knew that from the moment she started showing him she was angry at him and not ignoring him as if he didn’t exist, he would be able to turn things back.

Maybe not to Christmas when she was completely his, but before, when she looked at him and really saw him. When she cared for him because he was sick. When she came to some of his practices. When she was an inseparable part of his day. If she'll leave when she was at that point again, maybe Patrick won’t be able to take over what remained of her feelings for him. Maybe he'd have a chance to be in her life.

"You’re delusional." She muttered, turning up the radio again. "You look beautiful today. All this to impress my grandmother? You know she already loves you." He turned it down again, still amused. Liana sighed and rolled her eyes. This was going to be a very long drive.

"Jessica, you look amazing!" Liana said and hugged Art’s grandmother. His heart filled in a way he didn’t know it could. How did he never notice? How did he not notice how much attention Liana paid to such an important figure in his life? And so for a few hours, they sat and played cards and Scrabble with his grandmother and her two friends, and they listened to gossip about the seniors at the nursing home. Liana was so good. So attentive. So present.

"Lia," his grandmother started when the three of them were left alone, "at your wedding, I won't be there, but say a few words about me so that Art’s grandfather hears from his grave and gets jealous." She tossed it out casually. As if everything in this scenario was self-evident; It was clear to her they would get married, it was clear to her she wouldn't be there, and it was clear to her that her deceased husband would hear.

Art chuckled quietly, watching Liana and seeing how red she was. Even her ears had changed color.

"Don’t worry, Grandma. We’ll talk about you the whole event." If he had been less smug about everything, he would have shut up. But he couldn’t stop himself. He had to see if he could make her blush even more. If there was another button he could press to make her release what she had against him, so eventually he could get back into her life.

"When Art gets married, Jessica, you’ll be there and hold his hand. And at my wedding, you’ll be the guest of honor." Liana said, trying to steady her voice. Art chuckled. The shameless bastard just chuckled. The look Liana shot at him would have killed any sane person. But Art didn’t consider himself very sane at that moment, and certainly not someone who feared an angry look from Liana Levy.

"She’s dismissing you, Arthur. What are you doing about it?" His grandmother looked amused by Liana’s embarrassment and Art’s feigned indifference. "Don’t worry, Grandma, I’m on it," he smiled and hugged her.

"Lia, promise me you’ll keep calling me even when you’re far away and fall in love in Europe," Jessica looked at her with a penetrating gaze. "Yes, Lia, promise her." Art said, causing her to look at him for a moment. At this stage, he wasn’t sure he would survive the day, but it would probably be a sweet way to die. "Jessica. If until now I’ve called once a week, without missing, nothing will change that." Liana hugged her again, and they moved towards the car.

"You're calling my grandma once a week?" Art didn’t know this. Why didn’t anyone tell him this? He wanted to scream. Since they were kids, Art was sure he wanted to be much closer to Liana than she wanted to be. And that was fine, he got used to the piercing looks, sarcastic words, and eye rolls. Stanford changed that. Stanford made them equals. They saw each other in the same way. They wanted to be close in the same way. They were in each other’s space. For him, Liana's change happened at Stanford. The change happened this year. And then he discovered things like this. He discovered that Liana was calling his dying grandma once a week and helping her pass the time.

"Can you fucking answer me?!" He raised his voice. He didn’t want to raise his voice. But his patience for the silent treatment, his punishment, had run out. He felt like a little boy who was told to stand in the corner for four months and expected not to explode.

"Arthur-" she sounded bored when he cut her off. "Art." He said firmly and made a sharp U-turn on the highway, driving in the opposite direction of their home. "What the fuck?! Art! Where are you going?" she asked, a bit scared by his change in approach. He didn’t answer her and continued driving until he stopped in a place empty of people, surrounded by sand with no building in sight.

"Where are we, Art?!" she asked for the umpteenth time.

Art got out of the car and closed his eyes, breathing heavily, hearing her get out too. "I'm not joking with you. Take me home. Now!" She crossed her arms under her chest, and he approached her, invading her personal space.

Liana managed to see his eyes up close for the first time in months. They were filled with tears. Her initial instinct was to reach out a hand to his cheek, but she restrained herself from moving. Their breathing was heavy as they examined each other. Art's first tear fell on his cheek.

Every bone in Liana's body screamed at her to hug him. Every internal and external limb of hers burned with the need to ease his pain. But she knew he didn’t deserve it. She knew that whatever was happening now, Art deserved to feel it.

"Please, Liana." He mumbled. His voice was broken. This wasn’t how Art planned this day. He planned to dress nicely, drive to his grandma’s, remind Liana of all the things he was good at. Remind her that he was much more kind than he was mean. Instead, he was crying. Instead, he was looking at her and realizing that in a few days she would leave, and maybe he would never feel the same way for anyone else. Maybe he didn’t want to feel all these emotions for anyone else. Maybe only with Liana could he feel so much.

Art slowly dropped to his knees. Not taking his eyes off Liana. Her breathing became even heavier, and her eyes filled with tears too. She had never seen such a thing. A person willing in the middle of the street to drop to their knees before another person, while in tears.

"Art, get up..." she mumbled, wanting to look around to see that no one was coming, but afraid to take her eyes off the scene before her. Her instinct won this time, and she placed both her hands on the sides of his face, wiping away the endless tears, while Art, like an addict to the feeling, leaned into the warm and gentle touch with his eyes closed.

"Do you even know what you did to me?" she asked, and he opened his eyes, looking at her with longing. With a desire to absorb everything she had to say to him. "You ruined me, Art Donaldson. You broke me." She said, and he stood up slowly. "I'm sorr-" he started, and her hand found his cheek with force. Liana wasn’t a violent person. Liana is not a violent person. "You have no right to ask for forgiveness." She stated. "That was the first time I slept with someone, Art." Her voice sounded like the cry of a wounded animal. "Did you think about what such a formative experience would do to my sex life? Did you think about the trust issues I would have? That I would never be able to trust anyone like I trusted you?" She cried so hard she couldn’t resist his embrace while his crying intensified.

"I will never be able to behave the way I behaved with you. You used me to get back at Patrick. You used me to win a competition only you participated in." She pushed him a bit away from her, and they stood facing each other again, both trying to breathe. After a few minutes of this, silence and piercing looks, Art dropped to his knees again, and Liana looked everywhere but at him. With the last of her strength, she tried to resist the magnetic pull Art Donaldson has on her. "Li, look at me." His broken voice commanded her without commanding, he couldn’t command anything for anyone. He was on his knees for her. "You're pathetic." She said. Without blinking. She never talked like that to anyone. All he could do was nod and hug her leg while she looked up at the sky, again with tears in her eyes, running a finger through one of his curls. "I will be good. I promise." He said what he demanded from her every time they were intimate with each other. Their gazes crossed once more, "I will be good even when you’re not here. I will be good for you."

HEYYYYYYYYY How are we doing with that gap of 2 days? I hope it was worth the wait. I hope that you're not getting tired of this story yet 'cause I'm still obsessed with them all, but I don't want you guys to feel like I'm dragging the entire thing. Patrick and Liana are going to London in the next part. Who's excited??? You're always welcome to the comments or the ask box and have a chat with me. also, taglist is open if you want :)

taglist: @marley1773 @ruyaas-world @apolloscastellan @primlovesdilfs @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

#art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig #challengers fic #the time of our lives

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ghoulie-67-baby · 8 months

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Tally- Doctor Who.

Summary: You’re running from the silence. You’ve been separated from the doctor and the Ponds and life seems to be slowly coming to an end. What if the madman doesn’t come to save you?

Warnings: Fear, pain, mentions of death, dehydration, exhaustion, pet names, mentions of hallucinations, crying.

Pairing: Eleventh Doctor x GN!reader. (Platonic or otherwise.)

Word count: 1,151.

The rushing of blood echoed in my ears and my limbs ached with exhaustion. I had been running for god knows how long and I just seemed to get more lost. I allowed myself a break, falling to my knees in the fine, desert sand, chest heaving as I caught my breath. Dizzying pain ripped through my ribs from the stitch I had; I knew I couldn't stop for long. I didn't know what I was running from, but the fear that had acclimated forced me to run. Whatever it was, my body was in fight or flight and my senses told me it was something life-threatening.

An assortment of tally marks stained my skin, and though I knew I was the one who put them there, I couldn't remember why and that chilled me to the bone. The marker pen in my pocket seemed to dig into my flesh as my ears caught a gurgling sound behind me. My head turned slowly to face the noise as my hand grappled to pull the pen from my jeans as the creature came into view. My body felt as though it was sinking into the ground as I scrambled against the ground.

The wind seemed to pick up out of nowhere as it lumbered closer to me, kicking sand into the air around us. I groaned in pain as it blew into my eyes, blinking furiously.

My mind felt fuzzy as the sand finally cleared and I sat up, shaking my head to clear it before standing. My heart was beating a million miles an hour, but I didn't understand why. Fresh markings littered my skin and I stared at them, questions and fears rolling around in my head. My eyes watered as I scraped through my mind to work out what was happening but all I could work out was I was terrified and whatever I was terrified of was causing me to lose my memory.

I let out a few sobs as I fought off my panic before huffing out a long sigh. Now wasn't the time to break down, now was the time I needed to run and find someone who knew what was happening. I had to keep moving. I was in a desert with no food or water and was constantly moving. I wasn't stupid, I knew I had days to live in this condition and I didn't know how long I had been running for.

In the past hour, I had gained a total of 11 extra tallies despite the empty desert around me. My legs were barely holding me up, knees trembling with exertion but I forced myself to keep going. I longed for the wheezing of that beautiful blue box to fill the dry air, desperate to feel the cold metal of her interior on my scorched flesh. And that madman's voice to just tell me everything was okay, that he had fixed everything and I was safe but I had slowed to a stumble.

I didn't have the energy to run anymore and soon I would collapse, the sand would cover me and I would be forgotten to the world. There was no TARDIS on the horizon, no Doctor to save me and no Ponds to make me feel better.

Precious tears streamed down my face as my body gasped for breath, pain flaring through my body as my knees buckled beneath me. I didn't want to die, not like this and not in such a beautifully dangerous place but as hope drained from my body, I was slowly coming to terms with it.

"Y/N!" My head snapped up at the voice and my eyes zeroed in on the gorgeous blue monument ahead of me. "Don't give up, keep going," I scoffed at the hallucination of the Doctor, of course, it was him my dying brain would imagine. "You're nearly there now, Love." I clambered to my feet unsteadily, if I was going out then I might as well use every ounce of energy.

The sun glared into my eyes as I trudged along, feet slipping against mounds of sand. The TARDIS seemed to get closer and I had a horrible feeling that as soon as I reached her, I was going to die. She was like my light that people warned you not to walk into. So be it, I'd die happy if they were my afterlife.

"Nearly there, come on, you can do it." He coaxed me closer, holding open the door as I kicked up sand in my fight to reach him. I held my hand out towards the Timelord, his hallucination blurred by tears as I closed my eyes to welcome death.

But death never came. Instead, my hand was met with the calloused skin of another as fingers curled around my own. He was never a hallucination.

My eyes shot open as the hand pulled me forward, the familiar creaking of the TARDIS door behind me, as I all but fell into the police box and into waiting arms. The pen in my pocket clattered to the floor as I gripped the tweed jacket and buried my head against the time lord.

"I know, you're safe, Love, just breathe." My sobs echoed through the console as my body became overwhelmed with relief and pain, dragging me through a tidal wave of emotion.

I gasped as we sunk to the floor; pain, exhaustion, confusion, fear, relief, and happiness all at once. The chest beneath my head vibrated as softly spoken words carried me through the feelings.

"I've got you, you're safe," he whispered into my ear, my gasps settling to shuddering breaths. "I'm so sorry Y/N," my body leant against him bonelessly as his hand smoothed over my hair, the other rubbing gentle circles into my back. "That's it, good job, Love." Silence followed as I clung to him, the ambience of the TARDIS comforting me. After a few minutes, I tilted my head to look into those beautifully old eyes and smiled weakly.

"Knew you'd find me," I whispered, ignoring my hoarse throat. "Cutting a bit short weren't you." I teased, his green eyes glazed with tears as he smiled down at me, wiping my cheeks gently.

"We had some trouble," he chuckled, "Someone didn't want us to find you but I couldn't let that slide now could I? Not for one of my favourite humans eh?" I forced my arms to wrap around him, gripping the back of his jacket in a hug and buried my head in his neck as the past few days caught up with me.

I was safe now, my body had clocked on to that fact. I couldn't help how my eyes slipped closed as I relaxed into the Timelord's grip, finally letting my body and mind shut down to recover from the ordeal.

He would always save me, no matter what.

#doctor who #11th doctor #eleventh doctor #eleven #dr who #amy pond #rory williams #doctor who x reader #doctor who x y/n #x reader #reader imagine #reader insert #doctor who imagine #doctor who fic

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fandomgirlz01 · 4 months

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By Your Side

(CSI: NY) Reed Garrett X Reader

Imagine on my fandom Instagram?: No

Prompt or Request or Requested Prompt?: No

Style of Writing: Fic (Potential Future Series)

Edited: Yes

Word count: 5,204

Ko-fi

Masterlist

Warnings here

Listen to the story be read out loud here {coming soon}.

Post Date & Time: May 20th 2024 at 11:14 PM

Summary: When Reed accidentally gets involved in something his friend died for the reader (his girlfriend) comes home to a very scary situation. Later they each help each other through forms of grief.

Authors Note: There will be a lot of time skips and it mostly follows Reed’s story line in the show with just a few minor (very minor) changes to it. This will be part of a future Reed series, for now though please just enjoy this part as a little sneak peek to the future series.

Reed’s Pov:

“Did you talk to Mac like you wanted to, babe?” Y/n, my girlfriend, asks as I talk with her on the phone while walking up to our campus dorm room building.

“Yeah, I did. Told him everything I knew,” I answer her and she sighs, making me imagine her frowning.

“Reed, baby. Are you sure you should be getting involved with this?” she queries in worry as I open the door to the building.

“I’ll be fine, babe. It’s for Brian. You know he’d do the same for us,” I beg her to understand and she sighs.

“I just don’t want you getting hurt,” she tells me in a sad tone and I stop walking up the stairs for a moment.

“Babe. Mac won’t let me get hurt. I’ll be okay,” I calmly inform her in hopes of calming her anxiety.

“How’d you even get into the lab, isn’t it hard to get into?” she asks and I smirk as I start walking up the flight of stairs again.

“I told them I was family and they let me in,” I inform her and she giggles.

“And they let you in?” she parrots in disbelief and I smile even more as I let out a chuckle.

“That they did,” I reply to her in a smug tone and she laughs as I imagine her shaking her head in disbelief.

“That’s crazy. It’s the top forensics building in New York and they just let you in if you say you’re family? Shouldn’t their security be a little better than that?” she asks in an amused tone that makes me chuckle and shake my head.

“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” I ask and we both laugh.

“Now I’m second guessing my future line of work…” she jokes and I shake my head.

“Awe, don’t do that, sweetheart. It’s all you’ve wanted growing up. I’m sure not much actually happens where they need hard core security there anyway,” I comfort to the best of my ability and she laughs.

“Oh. Okay… I guess I won’t drop out of class,” she jokes and I chuckle, shaking my head at our playfulness.

“Anyways… When will you be home?” I ask her and she hums.

“I’ll be home in about a half hour, tops, honey. I promise,” she swears to me and I smile, shaking my head as I continue my walk up the stairs to our dorm room.

“It’s okay, babe. I know work is demanding sometimes. We’ve talked about this. All I care about is that you come home safe,” I inform her and she giggles, making me smile.

“Ok. Well, I’ll see you in half an hour babe. I love you,” she tells me and my grin grows as I unlock the front door.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” I respond and before I know it, she’s hanging up.

I chuckle, shaking my head as I pocket my phone and finish unlocking the door before going into our room. I walk in and pull my bag over my head as I close the door, but I’m immediately in defense mode as the room feels off. I look over at my computer and find a sticky note stuck to it.

At first I’m relieved, thinking y/n had just left me a cute note like she always does, but when I get closer it’s clear my laptop screen has been broken and as I read the note my stomach drops: keep your story quiet.

I walk up a little closer as fear now courses through me and next thing I know, I feel a presence behind me. I quickly turn to look at what it is, but as soon as I do I’m punched, making me fall back to the floor. The person keeps kicking and punching me, but I can’t make out who it is because they wear a solid white mask.

I try my hardest to fight back, but after a few hits to the head everything becomes blurry so I try to curl into myself and hide away. The person keeps kicking and I keep trying to move away, but to no avail. Soon before I know it, the person stops and I look up at them as black spots slowly fill my vision. The last thing I see is the person leaving the dorm room before finally my eyes close.

Reader’s Pov:

I smile as I walk up to our dorm room building, glad that my manager let me go home earlier than I was supposed to. I tiredly but happily drag myself up the stairs to surprise my boyfriend. Once I get closer, my smile falls as I see the door is cracked open. I immediately start to worry, seeing as Reed never leaves it open and I carefully push it the rest of the way open.

“Reed,” I gasp out when I see him crumpled up on the floor.

“Reed. Baby?” I call him again as I drop my bag aside before getting down onto my knees next to him.

I shake him and he doesn’t respond so I turn him over. I gasp as I see his face clearly beaten and bruised up. Immediately I stand back up and at first I feel a little dizzy, but I push it off to walk over to the desk. Quickly I search for the card I know Reed has. It takes a few minutes, but I find it and hold it up. I quickly dial the number and it rings for a few minutes.

“Hello? How can I help you?” A voice asks through the phone and I pause.

“Hello?” The voice asks again and I blink.

“H-h-hi, is this Mac Taylor?” I stutter out into the phone and he pauses for a moment.

“Yes. This is he. May I ask who you are?” he asks and I look over at Reed.

“I’m Reed’s girlfriend. He, uhh… said this morning that if anything happened to call you,” I quickly explain in a panicked tone.

“Is Reed okay? Are you?” he asks me and I pause as I look down at Reed, now getting choked up.

“I’m okay. I came home to our door open and him on the floor,” I explain as I hold my tears back so he can understand me.

“Okay, listen to me. I’ll be there as quickly as I can and I’ll bring some others with me. Is he unconscious?” he asks me and I hold back another sob.

“He is. I tried calling out to him and even shaking him, yet no response,” I inform him as I bite my lip, staring down at Reed with tears constantly welling up in my eyes.

“Ok. Just stay with him. Me and a couple officers will be there in a few minutes, okay?” he calmly tells me and I continue to stare at Reed, not responding.

“Can you do that?” Mac asks me again and I quickly straighten my back.

“Y…yeah. Please get here quickly,” I reply as I now get onto the floor next to Reed.

“Of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he quickly promises before we both hang up.

I sit against the side of our bed and lightly pick Reed’s head up to lay it in my lap. I hug his head close before leaving a light kiss on his forehead as I finally let the tears fall.

“Reed. Come on, baby,” I gently coo to him in hopes he’ll start to stir awake.

“Come on Reed. Please open your eyes for me,” I gently plead with him as I rub his hair back from his forehead.

I sit with him for a few more minutes before suddenly he lets out a low groan. I perk up and gently shush him as I continue to rub his hair back.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m here. You’re okay,” I coo softly to him as he slowly comes to.

It takes him a bit, but finally he fully comes to and when his eyes are fully open, he starts to squirm in my arms. He freaks out for a minute, but calms when I hold his head so he can see it’s only me.

“Shh. It’s only me, babe. You’re okay… you’re safe. I’m right here,” I calmly murmur to him as I rock us back and forth lightly.

“No. You can’t be here. Th- they might come back…” he fights me again and I shake my head.

“No one is coming back, Reed. You're okay and I’m okay. Mac’s on his way,” I inform him as I continue to play with his hair and he immediately calms again.

“I’m sorry you came home to me like this, babe,” he groans out and I shake my head.

“It’s okay, honey. I’m with you through anything, you know that,” I promise him and he smiles sadly up at me.

“Reed,” a voice calls out, making me look up to see a man standing at our door.

“Hi, Mac,” Reed replies with a sheepish smile.

“He’s in here, guys,” Mac calls down the hall before walking into the room.

“Hi. I’m Mac,” introduces himself to me and I smile lightly at him.

“I’m y/n. It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from Reed,” I explain and Mac smiles.

“It’s nice to meet you too, although I wish it was over lunch or breakfast instead of this,” Mac comments and Reed laughs lightly.

“Yeah, that’s my fault,” Reed comments with a sheepish smile that also seems to be full of pain.

“Do you wanna get up?” I ask Reed and he gives me a light nod.

“Ok. Come on,” I nod back before standing by myself and getting ready to help him up.

I help him until he stands with Mac helping from Reed’s other side. Once he’s standing, he staggers ever so slightly and I hold onto him tighter before he moves to sit on the bed. One of the paramedics that came with Mac walks over. Once Reed sits, the dizzy feeling starts to creep up again and now I stagger a bit.

“Whoa. Babe, sit,” Reed tells me as he holds onto my hand.

“Hold that thought,” I reply before rushing to the bathroom on the other side of our room.

“Babe?” Reed questions as he gets up and rushes in after me.

I drop down onto my knees in front of the toilet and my stomach releases the dinner I had before work. Reed quickly rushes to hold my hair back and rubs my back soothingly. It takes a few minutes, but soon I finish and sit back against Reed.

“Babe. Are you doing okay?” he asks me with a furrowed brow.

“I’m fine, honey. I think I’m just in shock mode. You know me. Let’s go back out,” I tell him as I wipe at my lips before standing and cupping some water into my mouth.

“Are you sure?” he asks me and I nod.

“Let’s go,” I reply before pulling him back out to the bed.

“Babe. Sit,” Reed commands as he pulls me down next to him.

“Okay. Let’s take a look at the injuries,” the paramedic comments as he pulls out a few things from his bag.

The paramedic quickly looks him over, checking his eyes and has him follow the light. Then he checks Reed’s ribs for any that may be broken. Soon the paramedic packs his stuff back up and stands.

“Okay, son. I think you are okay. Nothing major, just a few bruises, a concussion, and a few broken ribs. All should heal within the next month,” the paramedic informs Reed who nods and sniffles.

“Make sure to put something cold on that forehead bruise and maybe that eye,” the paramedic finishes off before nodding to Mac.

“Wait…” Reed calls out before the paramedic can leave.

“Yes?” The paramedic questions as he turns back to Reed.

“Can you please look over my girlfriend? She’s been having throw up episodes and dizzy spells,” Reed explains and I quickly try to hide the widening of my eyes by looking towards the fridge.

“Reed, baby. I’m okay. I told you it’s just the shock, it’ll wear off. Really, I’m fine,” I tell him before turning around with a soda.

“Are you sure, ma’am? I don’t mind giving you a look,” the paramedic butts in and I fight the huff I want to let out.

“Oh. Thank you, sir, but really, I’m fine,” I deflect and the paramedic seems to get the clue.

“Ok. Have a good rest of your night then,” the paramedic bids his goodbye, leaving before Reed can say anything.

“Here, babe, put this on your face,” I tell Reed as I hand him a can and he gives me a look of disbelief.

“What?” I ask when he doesn’t take the can.

“You should have gotten checked out,” he tells me and I sigh, shaking my head.

“Reed. How many times do I have to tell you? I’m okay. A little shaken from finding you unconscious on the floor? Hell yeah. Other than that, I’m fine. I have a doctor's appointment set up tomorrow, remember?” I tell him and he sighs, shaking his head.

“I just want you to be okay,” he whispers out and I smile softly as I sit down next to him.

“And I am. So let’s get you in the same boat, okay?” I ask him as I reach forward and squeeze his hand.

“Okay…” he agrees softly before pulling me into his side.

“Here, baby. Put this on your face,” I almost command as I put the soda into his other hand and he chuckles.

“Okay. Okay,” he agrees as he wraps his fingers around it and pulls the can up to his face.

“Are you two sure you're alright?” Mac asks and we both look up at him.

“Yeah. I think we are,” Reed tells him before putting the soda back on his face.

“Reed. I want you and this beautiful girl of yours to stay at your parents’ house tonight,” Mac tells him, pointing at him.

“Yeah. I’m keeping y/n safe,” Reed comments as he takes the can from his face and stands.

“This is my first Geraldo, you know. Beat up for a story. Making my girlfriend have a freak out when she just wanted to come home and sleep,” he explains as he looks at himself in the mirror next to our bed. He rubs at his face before I stand just a bit to smack his hand away from his face.

“What’s this about?” Mac asks him as he leans over the desk and uses tweezers to take the note off the broken screen.

“I have no idea. You know, I’m not even writing on the Kings and shadows. My piece is about students paying other students to take their exams for them,” Reed explains as he sits back down next to me and I cuddle into his side when he puts his arm around me.

“Brian Miller know this?” Mac asks as he closes up the yellow envelope he holds.

“I told him as soon as he told me what he was writing about,” Reed replies with a head nod and Mac pauses as he looks at our floor.

He soon moves and bends down to it. He uses the tweezers to pick up what looks like a crumb of some kind and lifts it up to his face.

“Let me see the bottom of both your shoes,” Mac tells us and Reed nods.

“Yeah… ow,” Reed winces as he lifts his leg and I rub his chest lightly before lifting my own.

“See, Brian and I, we were pretty competitive,” Reed explains and I scoff.

“Pretty, baby you were more than competitive, admit it. You know I’m right,” I jump in and Reed looks at me before laughing.

“I mean, she’s got a point… anyway, like I told him I wouldn’t mention him in my piece if he quit,” Reed goes on with his explanation again, wincing as he switches legs for Mac to look at.

“But he said he’d already agreed to take two more exams. Then he was out,” Reed ends his explanation as now both his feet are down again.

Mac looks over my first foot real quick, then I switch to the other and he looks at that one too before letting me put them back down.

“Eddie Williams and Thomas Brighton were Brian’s last two clients,” Mac starts and Reed puts his head down, letting out a low ‘Yeah,’ as he does.

“But only one of them had reason to want both stories killed,” Mac ominously comments as he stands up and puts the envelope in his pocket.

After Mac and the rest of the CSIs left our apartment, we quickly packed our bags before heading to Reed’s parents’ house. Now we lay on his childhood bed together and Reed rubs my back lightly.

“I’m thinking of going to Brian’s funeral…” he comments out loud and I move my head so I can look at him, letting my chin rest on his chest.

“If you want to go, baby, we’ll go. When is it?” I inform him and he smiles softly at me.

“How did I get so lucky?” he asks me as he rubs my arm ever so lightly and I smile.

“I think I’m the lucky one,” I inform him and he smiles again, shaking his head in disbelief.

“How about we’re both lucky?” he asks in a cheeky tone and I grin, giggling.

“Agreed. Now, when’s Brian’s funeral?” I ask him and he pauses.

“Tomorrow afternoon…” he admits, almost like it’s a bad thing.

“Why do you say that like it’s bad, babe?” I ask him and he shrugs.

“I mean… you have your appointment tomorrow, right?” he asks me and I perk up, sitting up fast.

“Babe? What’s wrong?” he asks me with confusion and worry written all over his face.

“I have something for you. I was going to give it to you tonight, but then everything happened,” I quickly explain as I dig around in my bag for the small gift I have for him and his face relaxes.

“Babe, you didn’t have to,” he denies, shaking his head as I finally pull the small gift bag out of my bag.

“Oh, but I did. Open it. I think you’ll be plenty surprised. I know I was,” I tell him as I sit on the bed with my legs curled up behind me and bite my lip.

He starts to open it and soon before I know it, he’s pulling the little onesie out. He pauses to read it before looking up at me. I smile a shy, worried smile as he looks at me in awe.

“Babe, is this real?” he asks and I giggle, nodding as tears well up in my eyes.

“I had the same reaction. I know we said we’d wait till after marriage, but I know you’re the only one for me and I’ve known that since 4th Grade,” I ramble as I play with a loose string on his blanket.

“Babe-” he starts, but I quickly cut him off.

“That’s what the appointment tomorrow is for. First scan…” I trail off before I let out a gasp as he uses his finger to guide my face up to look at him.

“Honey, I’m not mad. I’m elated, like you said I’ve seen us together since forever,” he tells me softly as he rubs my cheek ever so slightly and the tears start to fall.

“I love you Reed, so, so much,” I inform him softly as his eyes fill with tears too and he wipes at one that falls down my cheek.

“I love you too, so, so much pretty girl, always,” he replies, rubbing my cheek and I grin.

He sets the onsie and its bag aside before turning back to me. He pulls me back into the hug and kisses my forehead before slowly laying both of us back down onto the bed. He lightly rubs my arm that lays across his stomach along with my lower back. We lay there for a few minutes, both grinning ear to ear as he now rubs light circles on my stomach, making me laugh every few minutes when it tickles a little. Soon he leaves another kiss on my forehead as he moves back to just rubbing my arm.

“I was also thinking of asking Mac where mom was buried,” he mumbles out, breaking the serene silence as I draw shapes against his covered stomach.

“If you want to, honey. I think it’d be nice to know,” I agree with him and he sighs.

“It’s just… I wanted you to meet her just as bad as I did myself. It might… be the only way for me to introduce you and myself to her,” he explains and I shake my head.

“Reed, baby. That’s very sweet, but you don’t have to explain to me. I get it, I know you,” I softly tell him as I lay my chin on his chest to look at him again.

“And I’d love to meet her, although I’m very sure she’s looking down on you and watching over you,” I tell him softly as I reach up and caress his face.

He leans into it before kissing my palm and a tear falls from his eye. I quickly catch it and wipe it away. He shakes his head and I smile softly at him.

“What?” I ask him as he just stares at me like I hung the stars just for him.

“I think she sent me you, knowing I’d need you. So she sent your stubborn little self my way…” he tells me softly and I huff.

“I wasn’t that stubborn…” I fight back with a roll of my eyes.

“Oh yes, you were. Still are. I remember your little first grade self marching up next to me and little Hero Mckinley telling him he should laugh at someone who clearly needs help and pushing him,” he jokes with a smirk and I roll my eyes.

“Well he was making fun of you! I wasn’t just going to stand by and let my best friend get made fun of. Plus, he’s the one that egged me on,” I grunt as I cross my arms and Reed chuckles.

“And who the hell names their kid Hero then teaches him to be an absolute asshat? Like that’s just stupid. Heroes are supposed to be the one saving the day, not the villain. I mean it’s literally in the name,” I complain and Reed laughs, making me slap his shoulder.

“I mean, I can’t say I don’t agree with you, baby. He was the absolute worst,” he adds with a dramatic eye roll before shaking his head and I sigh.

“Really, he didn’t wanna be pushed, he shouldn't have been bullying you and other kids, let alone tell me to fight someone my own size,” I add on and Reed laughs again.

“Really, he shouldn’t have. You’ve always been good at taking down people half your size…” he agrees though his laughter and I shake my head.

“Damn right you are, baby. He should have known not to mess with you,” I tell him and he grins as his laugh dies off.

“See I told you, she must have sent you my way. Must have known that little me would be a sissy pants,” he jokes, wiggling his eyebrows and I sigh.

“Reed, you weren’t a sissy pants. You were an only child and you were seven years old,” I deadpan and he chuckles.

“So were you!” he fights back and I shake my head.

“Yeah… but I had two brothers… who still like to kick my butt when they see me. I literally had to learn to fight back,” I humorlessly tell him with a raised eyebrow and he pauses.

“Yeah, I guess that changes things a bit…” he comments and he chuckles when I smack him again.

“Ya think?!” I playfully ask him as if he’s stupid only making him laugh again.

“I really do think mom sent me you though,” he seriously informs me when he’s done laughing.

“Well, maybe she knew we were made for each other, then. I know myself that we are,” I tell him and he smiles.

“I love you, you know that?” he asks me and I smile softly.

“Yes, I know that, and I also happen to know that I love you just as much,” I reply to him and he smiles before stretching his neck just a little bit to kiss my nose.

I giggle and scrunch up my nose, but kiss him back when he kisses my lips next. He then lays back and I cuddle in a little closer.

“Sleep honey, sleep, we’ve had a very long day,” he informs me and I nod sleepily against his chest.

“Very, very long indeed. You sleep too, Reed,” I tell him in the most stern tone I can manage though my sleepiness and he chuckles.

“I promise, baby. I will,” he replies and it makes me grin before my eyes slowly close as sleep soon takes over.

I hold onto Reed’s arm as we walk out of the church behind the family and the pallbearers. He stops at the top of the stairs and puts his hands in his pockets as he lightly kicks the ground with the tip of his shoe. I squeeze his arm and he takes his opposite hand out of his pocket. He grabs my arm lightly and squeezes it back as I lean against him. I nuzzle into his side and turns to me, giving my forehead a kiss before leaning his cheek against of my head as I close my eyes.

I open my eyes again and see he’s tearing up again as he watches them put the coffin in the hearse. I rub his arms for a few minutes before he gives a small nod of his head.

“Mac’s over there,” he comments and I look up at where he nodded.

“You wanna go talk to him?” I ask and he nods solemnly.

Reed takes his hand out of his pocket and reaches down to mine, gripping it softly as we walk down the steps.

“Hey, Mac,” Reed greets his somewhat surrogate dad as we come to a stop.

Mac spares a look over at the casket as the pallbearers push it the rest of the way into the hearse. Reed chokes up again as he too watches and I start to choke up as well. I rub my cheek lightly against his shoulder while holding his hand a little closer for comfort. He pulls his hand away from mine so he can put his arm around my shoulder. I nuzzle into his neck as I try to hide my face and he squeezes my shoulder.

“I wanted you kids to know that we’re going to make an arrest,” Mac informs us and Reed lets out a long sigh.

“Good. I’m glad,” Reed comments, squeezing my side lightly as he lets more tears flow.

“Maybe I should have just turned Brian in for cheating, you know?” Reed adds on as he starts to cry even more and I squeeze his side with the arm I have wrapped around his stomach.

“He would have been kicked out of the university, but he never would have been in that hedge maze,” Reed finishes his thought with even more tears running down his face and I kiss his cheek lightly.

“You’re taking a lot of responsibility, Reed,” Mac comments and Reed shakes his head.

“It’s ‘cause I feel bad… I feel I shoulda stopped him. I feel like I shoulda done something, but…” Reed trails off as he looks down for a moment and I hug him a little tighter.

“I’m gonna miss him,” Reed comments and I finally let out a broken sob.

“Goodness, Reed. I’m gonna miss him too,” I add and Reed hugs me closer as I cry into his shoulder.

“I know, babe. I’m so sorry,” Reed tells me as he rubs my lower back and I shake my head.

“Don’t you dare say that. It’s not you who should be sorry. It’s whoever killed Brian who needs to be sorry,” I sternly tell him, hoping it’ll change the way he’s thinking.

“I’d listen to your girlfriend. She speaks the truth,” Mac tells Reed and he lazily points at me.

“She always does… look, we gotta go,” Reed tells him. “We’re gonna head over to the cemetery before y/n’s doctor's appointment,” Reed informs him and he nods solemnly.

“Reed, if there’s anything I can do for you two…” Mac sympathetically promises us, Reed looks at me for a moment and I nod at him. He looks down for a second, thinking it over before looking up.

“I’d like to know where my mom’s buried,” Reed finally asks and Mac looks away, sighing for a moment.

“She wasn’t…” Mac somberly states and Reed sighs before turning to me to lean his forehead against me.

“Her body was never found. No trace at all…” Mac explains in a tone of melancholy before pausing.

“But they’re…” he tries to continue, but stops to sigh. “We’re still looking,” he finishes, looking away as his own grief hits him.

Reed sighs before letting go of me and taking a few steps forward. He reaches out and pulls Mac into a hug. It takes Mac a second before he hugs back and squeezes him a bit with both hands. Reed sniffles as he and Mac hold each other in the hug for a few minutes before hesitantly parting. Reed steps back and puts his arm back around my waist, pulling me into his side.

“Thanks for everything,” Reed gives Mac his appreciation and Mac nods.

“Ok. Then we gotta get going. Ready, babe?” Reed comments as he turns to me and I raise an eyebrow at him.

“Oh! Can we, ahh, do lunch or breakfast tomorrow?” Reed asks and Mac smiles softly.

“Yeah. Of course. Just text me the time and place,” Mac agrees with a smile and Reed nods happily.

“Ok then, we’ll see you tomorrow, Mac,” Reed promises with a smile and Mac nods.

“See you tomorrow, kids,” Mac replies and Reed gives him one last nod before starting to walk away.

After leaving Mac we quickly head to the subway and get on. We ride it all the way to the street my doctor’s office is on before getting off.

“Are you excited, babe?” I ask Reed, who squeezes my hand.

“Of course I am. What kind of question is that?” he jokingly asks and I playfully roll my eyes.

“Oh of course, I’m so sorry,” I reply with a grin as he opens the door and holds it open for me.

“Let’s go see our baby,” he tells me with his own grin as I walk through the door.

The end…

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wiseatom · 2 years

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hello !! byler with prompt 11 for kisses prompts maybe :)??

thank you for the prompt!!! this super got away from me, but i hope that you enjoy, and that it fits the prompt in a way you had in mind!!

kisses prompts #11: welcome home kisses

Objectively, nine hours is not a long time. Will knows this.

He’s tried to rationalize it every which way, every day of the week: it’s a single-digit number, he reminds himself, when he wiggles out of Mike’s arms in the morning and forces himself out of bed. It’s not even half of the hours that make up a day, he thinks, every time he glances impatiently at the clock on the studio wall and finds it’s still ticking that same, steady speed. You are being a giant baby, he chastises himself, out loud, when the traffic on the way home turns nine hours into nine and a half and makes him want to tear his hair out.

Subjectively, nine hours is the longest amount of time in the world when every other hour of your day is spent with Mike Wheeler, and nearly every one of your days has been spent that way since kindergarten.

(So he’s kind of dramatic. Will knows this, too.)

It’s Saturday, which is Will’s Friday, and Mike’s everyday, because when you have the luxury of (kind of) being your own boss and (kind of) working out of your own home, you (kind of) get to set your own schedule. Will is both (kind of) jealous at the flexibility and (very) grateful that it allows for a more instantaneous reunion when he finally arrives home every day, nine hours of work and traffic behind him. It’s the promise of that instantaneous reunion that gets him up both flights of stairs to their apartment, feet (kind of) dragging and (very) tired and his heart (kind of, very) aching because he’s dumb and misses his boyfriend after nine hours.

(Nine and a half.)

It’s fine. It’s fine. He’s at their front door, and he’s already got his keys out, and he sticks the right one in the lock on his first try, and he opens the door and he’s ready to be greeted by his boyfriend when–

Said boyfriend nowhere in sight.

Will frowns, toeing his shoes off and setting his keys down in the dish they have on the hallway table, a clatter ringing out as they settle into the glass. The lights are off, but the entire apartment is bright with the yellow-orange glow of the setting sun, streaming through the window with such intensity that it looks like streaks of fire tear through the room, patches of it setting the carpet and the empty couch and coffee table ablaze. He steps further inside, and the cat comes to greet him, rubbing her face up against his leg and purring loudly. At least someone cares that he’s home. He stops where he stands, letting her do a few figure-eights between his legs before he reaches down to pick her up, cradling her against his chest. She lets out a happy meow and nuzzles into him, and he scratches behind her ear as he wanders into the kitchen, just as Mike-less as everything else in his line of sight.

Objectively: this is fine. Mike does not need to wait by the door for him. Mike doesn’t need to drop whatever he’s doing to greet him the moment he gets home. Nine hours is not a long time.

Subjectively: this is not fine. Mike should be waiting by the door for him. Mike should be dropping whatever he’s doing to greet him the moment that he gets home. Nine hours is too long to be apart, and Will is going to lose it.

“Your dad sucks, Carrie,” Will says scornfully to the cat, flipping the kitchen light on and then glaring down the hallway to the office door, where he assumes Mike is holed up typing away at the computer, careless to the fact that his boyfriend is withering away in their very own kitchen from attention and affection deficit.

Carrie, who does not care that her dad sucks, rubs her head against his chest, which does not solve the her dad sucking problem, but does serve to make him wither just a bit less.

Whatever. Whatever. Who needs Mike, anyway? Not Will, who has very bravely survived the last nine and a half hours without him. He has a cat who adores him. He has a hand that’s cramped from drawing animation cels all day. He has… a box of Kraft mac and cheese in the pantry, he’s pretty sure. He can make this work.

He goes to put Carrie down, but she promptly screams the moment she’s within three inches of the floor, so it looks like he’ll be cooking one-handed, then. Thankfully, his instinct about the mac and cheese is correct – there are actually two boxes, which is great, because then Mike can make his own damn food once he finally decides that Will is important enough for his time. The thought makes him scowl again, and when he retrieves a pot from one of the lower cabinets, he makes sure to clang and bang it into every other pot beside it, making as much noise as possible.

The ruckus makes Carrie dig her claws into his shoulder, but even after waiting a minute, Mike doesn’t poke his stupid head out of his stupid office.

Stupid, Will thinks, slamming the pot into the sink and startling Carrie enough that she launches herself out of his arms, pushing off and away from his chest with all the force her little body can muster. All twelve pounds of her momentarily wind him anyway, and the sound of the bell on her collar jingles cheerily as she darts away from him. “Shit,” he mutters, pressing his hand to his chest where her claws dug into his skin through his sweater. He turns the tap on with more force than he intends to, scowling some more as water begins to fill the pot.

“Stupid,” he says out loud, under his breath, once the pot is full enough. He transfers it to the stove, flicking on one of the burners and reaching for the salt. He glances back to the hallway, where the door to the office is still closed. He nearly empties half of the salt into the water with how aggressively he’s shaking it. It has been nine hours and forty minutes, but he’s not counting. “Stupid,” he mutters again, and turns his attention back to the pot.

His mother’s voice comes to him, soft and kind: a watched pot never boils. Will huffs, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter opposite the stove. He sneaks a glance back to the office door, still closed, still no signs of life from beyond. A watched door never opens, his mother adds gently. That’s not even a saying, he shoots back, and then, quieter: sorry, Mom. I love you.

She doesn’t respond. The water isn’t even simmering yet. A teeny, tiny bell jingles somewhere in the distance. The office door stays closed.

Objectively, Will is going insane.

(Subjectively, Will is going insane.)

The thing is – yeah, he could march right down the hallway, bust down the door, and demand that Mike pay attention to him. He knows this, because he has done it before, and at that, often, and he has a 100% success rate of immediately distracting Mike from whatever it is that he’s doing and getting his undivided attention. It’s not at all a matter of whether or not he can.

It’s that he shouldn’t have to, because he was the one who sat in traffic, and he was the one who had to interact with other people, and he was the one who had to draw the same stupid lion over and over and over again, and he was the one who had to be away from home for nine hours, give or take. He worked all day. He shouldn’t have to work again just to get Mike to welcome him home.

“Stupid,” he says very neutrally, not at all mad, and the loudest he has yet, speaking in the direction of the hallway, ringing out through the kitchen. Carrie sneezes twice. The water starts letting out a hissing sound from where it sits on the stovetop. A minute passes, bringing his running total up to nine hours and forty five minutes.

Why would the office door ever even consider opening?

“So much for honey, I’m home,” Will mumbles, scathing, under his breath. The water finally rises to a boil, and he tears the top off of the Kraft box, flinging the torn cardboard somewhere on the counter. He does the same with the little packet of cheese flavor, though this toss is more careful, since he’ll actually need it later. Then he’s pouring the macaroni into the pot, and the office door still hasn’t opened, and he grabs a spoon from the pot they keep next to the stove, and every door in the apartment is still closed, and he starts to stir the noodles around, and there are still no doorknobs turning and hinges creaking and boyfriends leaving their fucking offices.

It’s fine, it’s whatever. Seriously. He’s not even mad, really. Nine hours and forty eight minutes without seeing his boyfriend, but what does it matter, right? Fucking objectively, that’s not even a long time, something most people wouldn’t even blink at–

The office door opens. Several more jingles ring out, timed with every little step Carrie takes to go greet her stupid, sucky dad. Will focuses every ounce of attention into stirring the noodles, and resolutely does not glance in the direction of the hallway.

Mike coos at the cat. Seriously? Will thinks.

“You’re home,” Mike says, as if this has not been the case for the last, like, eighteen minutes. And it’s like – okay, Will doesn’t know exactly what time it was when he got home, but eighteen minutes feels super right, and either way, it doesn’t matter, because there were at least nine entire hours before those eighteen minutes where they were forced to be apart by the cruel twist of fate. It’s certainly not Will’s fault that Mike decided to be crueler and twistier by enforcing an additional eighteen minutes onto their sentence.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Yup,” Will answers, clipped, mouthing popping on the p.

If Mike notices that Will is absolutely-not-at-all-pissed, he doesn’t care. “I missed you,” he says, all soft and sweet, and before Will can tell him to fuck off, because if he really missed Will, he would have been out here eighteen – nineteen – minutes ago, he’s coming up behind him, stepping into his space. His palms come to rest on Will’s lower back, sliding up and over his hips and stomach as his arms come to wrap around Will’s entire middle, pulling him back into Mike’s chest. He hooks his chin over Will’s shoulder, nuzzling into Will’s neck. “What are you making?” he asks, breath puffing out over the exposed skin at his collar.

Oh, right. This is why he was so mad – the closed door meant he didn’t get this, Mike touching him and talking to him all sweet and lighting up at seeing him. Objectively, it’s a nice thing, to be wanted like this, held like this, loved like this.

Subjectively, he’s still pissed that he could have had this twenty minutes ago.

“Mac and cheese,” he replies. He is horrified to hear that his own voice mirrors Mike’s, subtle and fond, that harsh edge Mike sidestepped smoothed over just with one touch.

You’re better than this, he chides, trying desperately to channel the annoyance that has been by his side since he stepped in the door.

“Gourmet,” Mike teases, swaying them back and forth, still hunched over him from behind. The comment should stoke the flames of his anger, but it’s hard to focus on that blaze when everywhere Mike is touching him feels like a thousand tiny fires of their own, burning and bright and scorching, just like the sunlight earlier. It is hard to be anything but delighted in their warmth. “Enough for both of us?”

You’re not, he reminds himself, all of the madness from earlier starting to scorch itself away. You’re really, really not.

“‘Course,” says Will, light and easy, stirring the noodles. They might almost be done, by now. It doesn’t matter, because they are less interesting than they were thirty seconds ago. He sets the spoon aside and twists in Mike’s arms, lifting both arms up and wrapping them around Mike’s neck. One hand comes up to his nape, thumb brushing through the hair that curls there, while the other hangs off his shoulder, ready to go back to stirring if needed. He allows himself a moment to stare, studying Mike’s face for new freckles or signs of aging that may have happened in their awful, arduous nine hours and forty eight minutes apart. Then, because he has to, he says: “I’ve been home for twenty minutes, you know.”

Mike hums. “Have you, now?” he asks, and there’s a quiver in his lips that is just this side of too amused, and Will hates him, hates him, hates him.

“Yes,” Will replies, haughty, swiftly reminded of how much Mike sucks, and is the worst, and doesn’t deserve any of the covers tonight. Not even a scrap. “And where were you?”

“I already answered that,” Mike says. His voice has dropped, still soft, but a little rough around the edges. Carrie lets out a mewl by their feet. Will should probably stir the noodles. He doesn’t move, except for his thumb, still tracing a path through Mike’s hair – back and forth, back and forth.

Will wracks his brain for the answer Mike claims he’s already spoken, but his thoughts are sluggish, gone slow from the exchange of heady oxygen between their faces. He can’t recall anything.

“When?” he asks, dazed.

Mike lets his smile run loose. “When I said I missed you,” he responds. He runs his own thumb along the dip in the small of Will’s back, the movement searing, even though the wool of his sweater. “That’s where I was. Missing you.”

Objectively, that doesn’t make sense. If he were missing Will, then he would have greeted him at the door, waiting there for Will to get home just the way Will had been hoping he would be from the moment he cut the engine in the parking lot. If he were missing Will, he wouldn’t have let the cat be the first to greet him, wouldn’t have let Will stomp around the kitchen and bang pots around and say the word stupid so many times that it stopped feeling like a word.

Subjectively, Will stopped caring about the details of it all the moment Mike wrapped his arms around him.

“Stupid,” Will mutters a final time, just for good measure, before pulling Mike’s face down to meet his.

When their lips brush, every single minute of their nine hours and forty eight minutes apart suddenly becomes worth it – the exile from bed that morning, the repetition of drawing the same cel over and over again, the ticking of the studio clock, the frustrating, non-movement of the traffic on the way home. They were all worth it, because here is Mike, with his chapped lips and his warm hands ready to reward Will for it all, to welcome him home without punctuality, but with a whole lot of personality. His mother’s voice floats back into his head, still soft, still kind: absence makes the heart grow fonder. Will laughs, right into Mike’s mouth, the kiss breaking with it, and thinks, go away, Mom, please, before pressing back into Mike with intention, insistent. Mike lets out a little giggle of his own, breaking it apart a second time.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, mumbling, muffled only because he won’t dismantle the kiss fully, and Will’s own lips are stopping the words before they can get all the way out.

Will blows out a puff of air, which makes Mike pull back, a bigger laugh spilling out of him. “Stirring the macaroni,” Will answers, because he’s not about to tell Mike that he was thinking about his mom while they were kissing. Before Mike can answer – or call him on his bullshit – Will swivels back around, retrieving the spoon from the counter and giving the macaroni one last, halfhearted stir before he’s moving it off the burner entirely and turning the stovetop off.

“Very mindful of you,” Mike comments. He stays attached while Will grabs the pot and turns around towards the sink, both of them somehow sidestepping Carrie, who is still hovering by their feet.

“One of us should be,” Will bites back, but it’s a playful thing, and Mike knows it. Will reaches up to the pot rack that hangs above the sink to grab the strainer, and makes quick work of letting the water wash down the drain. Normally, he’d carry on, would move to grab the butter and milk from the fridge and the abandoned cheese flavor packet from the counter, but Mike is (kind of, very) preventing that, so he leaves the strainer with the noodles in the sink and turns back in his arms, smiling up at him.

“Yeah?” Mike asks, also clearly not caring about the mac and cheese anymore. He lifts one of his hands to Will’s face and runs his thumb over Will’s upper lip, smoothing over the hair there. “You gonna shave this off, then?”

Will actually does scowl at him, now. “You like the mustache,” he says, and it is meant to be a defense, but it comes out as a demand.

Mike laughs again. “I like you,” he corrects. His thumb does another pass, sweeping over the hair again before trailing down to Will’s bottom lip. Will shudders.

“You love me,” Will revises, more correct than Mike’s correction. Mike’s thumb stays on his lip as it moves with the words.

“I love you very much,” Mike confirms. He brings his other hand up to cup at Will’s face, and he cradles it in his hands as he tilts it back so that he can kiss Will again, dry and warm and just as much his home as the walls around them and the cat with her belled collar dancing at their feet and the macaroni sitting in the strainer behind them. He pulls away too soon, but it’s to plant a kiss at the corner the corner of his mouth, the apple of each cheek; to trail them along his jaw, behind his left ear, and then along and behind his right; and all the way, between each one, two words: “Welcome home.”

Objectively, he’s a little late with the sentiment.Objectively, the macaroni is getting cold, and it’s going to be hard to mix in the cheese flavor. Objectively, just like one of her fathers, Carrie is quickly approaching the point where she is not going to take kindly to getting ignored much longer.

Subjectively, Will doesn’t care, and pulls Mike’s mouth back to his.

#byler #byler ficlet #byler fic #byler fanfiction #wiseatom minis #i did NOT fucking edit this so please ignore any typos or grammar mistakes i will fix them in the morning #i have to be up for work in 4 hours hahahee #btw their cat's name is carrie fisher lol but i think it's funny when cats have ppl names and so i kept her on a first name basis #also fun fact this is 3k and mike doesn't even show up until halfway thru <3 #silence mike wheeler 2k23 (jokes)#if you enjoyed you are free to send me more prompts from tht list!

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bellaxgiornata · 1 year

Text

Safe Haven [Chapter Ten]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5.9k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains violence, drug use, domestic abuse, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, mutual pining, friends to lovers

a/n: Okay I didn't intend to get this written and edited so fast, but here it is. Please do not expect chapter 11 so soon because I know it won't be ready by tomorrow. BUT I hope y'all enjoy this one and I expect y'all will be screaming about something when you're done with it.... Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @loveroftoomanyfandoms @farfromstrange @rotscinema @1988-fiend @shouldbestudying41 @shiorimakibawrites @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattmurdocksstarlight @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @theetherealbloom @24hflower @mattmurdocksscars @schneeflocky

Leaning against the kitchen table, your two packed bags of luggage sat at your feet. Your eyes were focused out of the window, waiting for the car you’d called to come bring you to Dublin Airport. It wasn’t even that long ago that you’d left that very same airport to come here, moving into your sister’s house. It certainly hadn’t taken you long to fuck this all up. This was the shortest stay you’d had anywhere, not even making it two whole weeks before you’d had to run.

Megan had no idea what was going on, either. You’d gotten up when she did early this morning to her surprise. You’d wanted to have a coffee with her one last time. Spend every last minute you could with her before she’d inevitably had to get ready and leave for her shift at the hospital. She’d left about a half an hour ago and you had called the car shortly after.

Eventually you spotted the black sedan rolling to a stop in the street just before Megan’s driveway. You sucked in a deep breath, holding it a moment before you sharply blew it out. Pushing off of the table, you turned and grabbed the handles of both of your bags. You dragged them both behind you as you made your way over to the front door, pausing to eye the house one last time. You could feel something clawing in your chest, begging you to stay, to send that car away, but you shoved it deep down.

You were doing this to keep everyone safe. There was no other way.

You unlocked the door, pulling it open and setting your bags just outside of it. The driver of the car stepped out, calling out a greeting to you. You sent him a wave and a tight smile before you closed Megan’s front door, locking it and hiding the key under a potted plant just beside it. Grabbing the handles of your luggage, you dragged them down the paved driveway towards the car. You wondered if Birdy was somewhere in her house right now, watching you with some sort of triumphant smile on her face.

“Beautiful day today, isn’ it?” the driver said as you neared.

It was a fucking awful day, actually.

Forcing another polite smile onto your face, you simply nodded. You pulled the bags around the front of the car, making your way to the trunk. The driver stepped towards you though, the movement causing you to pause.

“I can get those for ya, if ya’d like, miss?” he offered.

“It’s fine,” you answered. “Thank you, though.”

“Ahh, American, are ya?” he asked, his eyes lighting up at the realization.

“Yeah,” you replied.

You began dragging your luggage to the trunk, stepping aside as the driver hurried over to open it for you.

“Were ya just here on holiday then?” he asked.

You knew he was only trying to make polite conversation, but you truly were not in the mood to talk. All you wanted was to get this flight over with, settle into that little cottage in that small English town, and maybe get incredibly drunk on some wine to forget about literally everything.

“Something like that,” you muttered.

You bent down and picked up your first bag, hefting it up and into the trunk. Taking a moment, you situated it in the small space so that you’d have room for the second bag.

“Are ya sure ya don’t need some help?” the driver pressed again.

You paused, shooting him a look over your shoulder. “I’m going to be honest with you,” you began, tone flat. “I’m having a shitty day and I’m not really a chatter. I’m quite content to toss my own shit into the trunk of your car and have a quiet ride to the airport. Unless, of course, you want to watch me cry or scream? Because mentally that’s about where I’m at right now.”

The man stood there, his mouth gaping open at your words as he stared back at you. After the shock of your bluntness wore off, he quickly nodded.

“S-sorry,” he muttered.

You shrugged. “Just being honest,” you replied.

He gestured back towards the front of the car. “I’ll uh, I’ll just be waitin’ in the car then, when you’re ready,” he said.

You sent him a tense smile. “That’d be great, thanks.”

The driver scurried off and you turned, bending down to pick up your second bag. You felt a little bad for your rudeness, but really, you didn’t think you could take the entire duration of this ride listening to him prattle on about the sun shining this morning and wonderful holiday memories. With a grunt you managed to get the second bag in, but it didn’t fully fit quite right. Groaning, you realized you’d need to take a minute to adjust both of the bags to fit into the smaller trunk of this car. Vaguely you were aware of the sound of a car pulling up a little ways behind you, but you were too busy fighting to maneuver both of your damn pieces of luggage around in the trunk to pay any attention. Not until you heard your name.

“Grace?”

Your hands instantly stopped what they were doing, your eyes going wide at the familiar deep Irish accented voice behind you.

But that wasn’t possible because he was at the Garda station after having been arrested last night. He shouldn’t have been out.

“Grace what–are ya leavin' ?”

Your mouth felt like it had gone dry. This isn’t how you planned things to go. He wasn’t supposed to have been here for this.

Slowly you spun around, turning to face Michael behind you. He was standing there, his eyes focused on your bags in the trunk of the car. Soon they slid back up to your face, his brows pulling together as a deep crease formed on his forehead.

“What’re ya doin’?” he breathed out.

Your mouth opened and closed, tears forming in your eyes as you looked at the fear and the hurt quickly washing over his face.

“I thought–thought ya were stayin’ here? Talkin’ to me?” he continued, the sound of a car door closing behind him briefly registering in your ears. “Thought ya were waitin’ for me? Why’re ya leavin’?”

Movement over his shoulder caught your attention and you tensed. Birdy was stalking her way over towards the pair of you, a pleased look on her face.

“Let her go, Mikey, love,” she called out. “She shouldn’ be here.”

His face tightened in confusion as he turned, focusing on Birdy as she approached. She eventually came to a stop just a few feet behind him, her arms crossed over her chest.

“What d’ya mean she shouldn’ be here?” he asked her.

“I mean she’s a liar, Mikey,” Birdy told him, her eyes shifting to you. “Aren’t ya dear? Your name isn’ Grace, for starters.”

Michael’s brows somehow furrowed even further, the confusion only growing on his face as he looked back at you. “What’s she on ‘bout, Grace?” he asked.

Your palms began to sweat, your breath coming in short. She was going to feed him lies and he was going to believe every word of it, wasn’t he? Not only would you have to leave, you’d be leaving him with the wrong impression of yourself.

“That’s not my name,” you answered nervously. Licking your lips, you uttered your actual name, noticing the way the corner of Michael’s lips twitched. “I–I couldn’t use my real name because–”

“Because she’s tryin’ to help that bloody Serpent biker gang in Cork get close to Eamon, that’s why,” Birdy said, cutting you off. Her eyes flickered towards the driver in the car before they returned to Michael, her voice lowering. “They need a supplier. Apparently thinkin’ they can send someone to fuck a Kinsella and get in close.”

Michael instantly was shaking his head at her. “No, you’re wrong, Birdy,” he told her.

Birdy shrugged, her cold stare landing back on you. “If I’m wrong then why is she leavin’, pet?”

You sucked in a breath when both of them focused on you, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. This was your chance to tell them the truth. Maybe they wouldn’t believe you, but if you didn’t just get it out there you’d never know.

“Because you threatened to reach out to Victor,” you blurted, your focus on Birdy. “To tell him where I am. Lead him straight to my fucking door.”

Birdy’s eyes instantly narrowed back at you, her head tilting a little to the side. “Your fiance?” she asked.

“What?” Michael gasped.

“Ex -fiance,” you said firmly, eyes still focused on Birdy. “We haven’t been together in almost two years. I left him because he was–” your eyes closed, your voice quivering as you tried to continue “–violent. Outside of the Club.”

Neither Michael or Birdy spoke immediately. Your arms wrapped around yourself, gaze dropping down to your feet.

“You–you threatened to alert the Serpents to me being here if I didn’t leave,” you continued, feeling tears well up in your eyes. “And if you’d done that, he’d have shown up and killed me. And my sister. And probably Michael for ever spending any amount of time with me. And if any of the rest of you got in his way, he’d have gone after you all, too.” Your watery gaze flew up to meet Birdy’s quickly softening expression. “You didn’t exactly give me a choice. I had to leave to keep everyone else safe. Because I sure as shit didn’t expect you to hear me out.”

“Oh, dear, I didn’–”

Michael’s hands balled into fists at his sides, a sharp exhale falling from his nose that somehow alone managed to cut Birdy clean off. He abruptly turned towards her, his body tense and his eyes hard. You swore you saw Birdy visibly shrink back under the weight of his stare.

“Ya threatened her?” he asked, voice dangerously low.

“I was only lookin’ out for the family, pet,” she explained quickly. “I knew somethin’ was off the moment she arrived. I noticed she was spendin’ time with ya. Gettin’ close. I wanted to make sure ya were safe, Mikey, love.”

Michael took a step towards her, his shoulders squared and his jaw tight. “I can take care of myself, Birdy,” he growled. “I don’ need ya watchin’ my moves and who I’m spendin’ my time with. D’ya hear me?”

“Of course, pet,” Birdy said, a nervous smile on her mouth. “Ya know I’d never do anythin’ to hurt ya.”

Michael took another intimidating step towards Birdy, your eyes catching the slight half step she took backwards. He looked terrifying, all calm and angry like he was, a fire raging just beneath the surface of that calm exterior. Not that you felt afraid of him, no. If anything you felt like the man before you could hold his own against Victor if he ever came around. Michael had often come across as quiet and a little awkward when the pair of you had been together. He’d been sweet and gentle with you, even lowering his guard and letting you see just a glimpse of that vulnerable interior he kept locked up. But seeing him like this was something else. He was fearsome. Formidable. Someone quite obviously not meant to be fucked with.

And here he was defending you to his own family.

“I hope to fuckin’ hell ya didn’ reach out to her ex, Birdy,” Michael snarled, posture still rigid and tense as he stared her down. “Because so help me if ya did.”

“I didn’!” she exclaimed, her eyes darting over his shoulder to you. “I didn’ contact anyone. I–I was goin’ to, yes, if ya gave me reason. But I didn’ know he was… hurtin’ ya, dear. I’d have never made threats if I’d known what was really goin’ on.” Her eyes flew back to Michael, something vulnerable shining in them back at him. “And ya know I wouldn’, Mikey. Ya know that’s the truth.”

He exhaled a long breath, some of the tension easing out of his body with it. Turning over his shoulder, he eyed you for a long moment, his expression slowly becoming more subdued. His attention quickly snapped back to Birdy moments later, a firm finger pointing at her chest.

“Go back home, Birdy,” he ordered. “Don’t tell the others anymore ‘bout this shite story. Or ‘bout her. Ya hear me? I don’t need the others pokin’ around her, either. Not right now. There’s enough we’re dealin’ with.”

Birdy opened her mouth to say more, but Michael immediately leaned in closer towards her, cutting her off before she could begin.

“Now, Birdy,” he growled. “Ya made enough of a mess already.”

Her eyes slowly slid back to you, an apologetic look crossing her features. “I’m sorry, dear,” she said softly. “I had no idea.”

She made her way back towards her still idling car with less zeal in her steps than before. Michael turned on the spot, briskly walking back towards you without a word. He reached into the car behind you, effortlessly pulling both of your bags out of the trunk at the same time. He set them down on the street before roughly closing the trunk. Then he pulled the handles of your luggage back up before his eyes finally landed on you.

“Ya aren’t leavin’,” he stated simply.

You watched in surprise as he rolled the bags around to the driver’s side of the car, pausing beside the now very timid driver. He reached into the pocket of his dark brown jacket, pulling out a wallet. After a second he pulled out a few bills and then pushed them at the driver through the open window.

“Ya aren’t needed,” he said gruffly, gesturing down the street with his head.

You stood there stunned and speechless, watching as the driver quickly accepted the cash and then drove off. Your eyes were on the headlights until the car turned the corner and left the street. Slowly your attention shifted back to Michael. He was staring back at you, the handle of one of your bags in each of his hands. He looked vastly less angry now that it was just the two of you.

“Let’s get your stuff back inside,” he said. “Then we can talk.”

You nodded, making your way back up the driveway to Megan’s house, Michael pulling your bags behind him. Bending down, you retrieved the key back from underneath the pot and then rose to your feet, unlocking the door. You swung it open and stepped inside, Michael following in behind you. He made his way straight down the hall to the sitting room with your bags in tow as you shut and locked the front door. Then nervously you made your way down the hall after him.

You found him standing awkwardly beside Megan’s sofa, his jacket tossed over the armrest and a timid expression on his face. Something almost nervous. You stopped just in the entryway of the room yourself, your arms awkwardly crossing over your chest.

“Ya were just goin’ to leave without a word?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“I tried to talk to you last night,” you began, the words just pouring out of you. “I didn’t know you were going to be getting arrested. I was planning to stay up the whole night waiting for you to come back from whatever it was you were out doing if that’s what it took to talk to you. But then I saw you in cuffs being put in the back of a Garda car and figured I didn’t have a choice but to run. It’s not like I wanted to do this.”

Michael ran a hand through his hair, his eyes focused on the sofa. “That’s why I hadn’ heard from ya in a few days, yeah?” he asked, still not looking at you. “Because ya were plannin’ to disappear on me?”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, tears yet again threatening to fall.

At the sound of your voice breaking on the words, Michael’s attention returned to you. Everything about his expression and his body language immediately softened in response. He crossed the space between you, drawing you straight into him without hesitation. Your arms eagerly encircled him in return, burying your face into his blue sweater.

“I’ve felt like an asshole all week,” you said, tears already falling down your cheeks. “I was going to leave Megan without a goodbye. And I’d been ignoring you– hurting you–and you didn’t deserve it. Especially not with everything you’ve had happening already.”

Michael’s arms held you tighter, his hands splayed wide over your back. He lowered himself to rest his chin along the top of your head.

“Ya were scared,” he murmured. “I understand why ya were goin’ to do it.”

“I wanted to talk to you last night,” you assured him. “I really wanted to. But then you had to leave, and you were arrested before I could have a chance after that.”

“Detained,” Michael muttered. “I wasn’ arrested. Was detained for questionin’ ‘bout a shootin’ last night.”

“Why’d they let you go so soon?” you asked softly. “Thought they would hold you the full twenty-four hours at least.”

Michael let out an amused snort, the sound taking you off guard and drawing the corner of your lips upwards.

“Barely been here that long and already know how the guards operate in Ireland, yeah?” he replied in amusement.

You shrugged, turning to rest your cheek against his chest. He still smelled like that smokey cinnamon scent and it was quickly relaxing you.

“Pretty sure they’re like that everywhere,” you answered. “So how’d you get released so soon? Or…am I not allowed to know that?”

“Seizure,” he said softly. “Or so they’re thinkin’. Guess ya were right ‘bout that the first night I met ya.” His hands began to soothingly run along your back as he spoke. “Need to see a GP to find out if that’s what’s goin’ on. But apparently they can’t question me after havin’ one, so I was released this mornin’. Have to reschedule their questionin’.”

“Mmm,” you hummed out, eyelids slowly lowering.

Despite the stress and fear of the past few days, and especially this morning, you found yourself feeling oddly content wrapped in Michael’s embrace right now. All you wanted was to stay like this, nothing more.

“Can we finally talk about what’s goin’ on with ya?” he asked gently. “‘Bout your ex-fiance and the fake name you’re usin’?”

A sigh fell out of you, your fingers tightening against the material of his sweater. You knew this was coming but you really didn’t want to delve into it.

“Ya don’ have to tell me everythin’ if you’re not ready,” he whispered, drawing his chin from off the top of your head and looking down at you. “But if ya have some sort of dangerous ex chasin’ ya down, I should probably know somethin’ to make sure I can help keep Megan and ya safe.”

You drew back from him, shaking your head at his words. “Michael, you don’t need–”

“Ya think I’m just goin’ to let some arsehole scare ya and keep ya in hidin’?” he shot back, eyes narrowed. “Not sayin’ I’m goin’ to be a reckless arsehole myself, but I’m not leavin’ ya to deal with him. Not while I’m still here.” His head gestured to the sofa. “So can we talk?”

Drawing your bottom lip between your teeth, you chewed it nervously for a moment before you nodded. Your arms released their hold around his waist, his own falling down to his sides as the pair of you made your way to the sofa. You sat down beside each other, your thigh brushing up against his as you focused on your fidgeting hands in your lap.

“I uh, I need to keep using the fake name still,” you began, nervously glancing up at him. “I can’t have Victor finding out I’m here so I can’t exactly risk using my real name.”

Michael nodded, a solemn expression on his face. "Who is he?" he asked.

"He's uh, what they call the Sergeant at Arms for the Serpents of Hell. For the Mother Charter–the founding charter," you explained. "They’re an outlaw MC. Running illegal drugs and guns across the US, but apparently they have a charter here that I didn't know about. Over in Cork."

"What's a…Sergeant at Arms?" he asked curiously.

Your eyes dropped back down to your hands where they were fidgeting in your lap. "It's a higher ranking position in the Club. There's the President and a Vice President. Then the Sergeant at Arms. He's like a bodyguard to the President and an enforcer of the Club rules." You swallowed hard, your focus still intensely on your hands. "Oftentimes a triggerman. President gives a name, he kills."

"How'd ya get involved with all of that?" he asked carefully. "With him?"

"That's…sort of a long story," you admitted, looking back up at him. "Maybe one for another day?"

Michael nodded, a gentle smile spreading on his lips. "Why's he after ya then? Can ya tell me that?"

"We–we were engaged," you admitted awkwardly. "Like Birdy said. He wasn't–wasn't like that with me. In the beginning, of course. But he eventually became possessive." Your hands curled into fists in your lap, fighting to keep the memories down. "Easily made jealous. And his temper eventually came to the surface. Especially when he drank."

You saw the way Michael’s jaw clenched at your words, the muscles twitching in his cheeks. He looked like he was barely containing his rage beneath the surface the more you told him. Just like when he’d been telling Birdy off a bit ago. You wondered what it would look like when he wasn’t containing it.

Eyes falling back down to your lap, you continued. "He took things too far one day and I–I ran the first chance I got. But he–he eventually caught me and dragged me back with him. A few times. And now I think I've finally pissed him off enough that he doesn't want to drag me back anymore." Your nails dug into your palms again, the cuts on your hands stinging in response. "I'm certain he's planning to kill me if he finds me again."

A shudder of fear ran through your spine, your eyes snapping shut. You were afraid of what might happen if you were to encounter Victor again, often having nightmares about it. You were certain you’d pushed him one too many times.

Michael's hand grabbed onto one of yours, tenderness in his touch. Your hands shifted until you were clinging to his hand like a lifeline in return, eyes still tightly closed.

"I won't let that happen," he promised. "I want ya to know that, Grace. I will not let him hurt ya."

You felt his other hand suddenly gripping your chin, carefully turning your face towards his. Eyelids fluttering open, you took in the warm and compassionate expression on his face as he gazed back at you. His hand slid up to cradle your cheek in his palm, holding you so gently like he was afraid one wrong move might scare you off. His thumb lightly stroked back and forth along your cheekbone as he held your gaze.

"And I want ya to know that I would never lay a hand on ya like that," he said firmly. "I'd never hurt ya. Never would want ya to be scared o' me."

"I'm not afraid of you, Michael," you replied firmly.

You saw a handful of emotions flash across his face so quickly it was almost impossible to catch each one. Eventually a frown was pulling his lips downward, something like guilt lingering in his eyes.

"Ya know what I did last night, don't ya?" he whispered.

You did, actually. You'd seen the news this morning. Someone by the name of Caolon Moore had been shot when he'd been out at a bar last night. A man had walked in and shot him five times before fleeing the scene. Garda apparently assumed it was gangland activity.

You weren't an idiot. You'd been around this sort of life enough. You knew it was Michael who'd shot him in retaliation for killing his son–though after the brief interaction you saw between him and Jimmy and Amanda last night before he had gone, you had a strong feeling he'd been guilted into doing the shooting.

"Yeah," you answered.

The muscles jumped in his cheeks as Michael ground his teeth together. His lips were pressed into a thin line but you saw something hopeful flickering in his eyes that he was clearly struggling to fight back.

"I did it," he admitted.

"I know," you whispered.

His lips were visibly trembling, his palm pressing further into your cheek. You leant into his touch, your eyes still locked on his.

"I didn't want to," he breathed out.

A sad smile slid onto your mouth, your own hand coming to rest over the top of his. "I know," you repeated.

He swallowed hard at your words. You saw that hope mix with something else in his eyes as he held your gaze. There was something softer in them now, something affectionate, and it was taking over his entire face the longer you looked.

“And ya still aren’ afraid of me?” he asked, voice barely audible with how quietly he’d spoken. “Don’t think I’m a monster?”

You shook your head slowly. “No,” you admitted.

There was a moment that passed between you both, one that felt like it lasted far longer than it truly had. Michael’s eyes were watering with unshed tears, his calloused thumb still brushing back and forth against your cheek. But there was a small smile slowly forming on his lips, one that was gradually spreading up to his eyes. You could feel the pounding of your heart in your chest as if his eyes alone were igniting some sort of fire in you.

Slowly he leaned in towards you, his hand on your cheek drawing you in towards him as he did. You let him, your body willingly being drawn to him like a magnet. Michael lowered his forehead to yours, his eyes closing. Your eyes dropped down to his lips, aware of how close they were to yours now, closer than they’d ever been before. It took every ounce of willpower in you to refrain from leaning up and just kissing him, your pulse quickening in anticipation at the thought alone.

“What ‘bout Saturday mornin’?” he whispered, your eyes still focused on his mouth as he spoke. “At nine?”

Brows drawing together in confusion, you quickly tried to backpedal and make sense of the question. But the question didn’t make sense with the previous topic of conversation.

“For–for what?” you asked.

Michael huffed out a laugh, his warm breath hitting your lips and raising goosebumps on your skin beneath your sweater. His nose gently nudged your own and you felt like you were about to lose that battle with your willpower.

“For that coffee, pet,” he murmured. “Can I take ya for coffee Saturday mornin’ at nine?”

“Yes,” you whispered.

His nose nudged yours again and your eyelids lowered partially. His lips were parted now, his breath falling into your own mouth with each exhale. The sensation was making you lightheaded, especially with the way your breath had started to come in shallower.

“Can I finally kiss ya?” he asked.

Your heart was slamming violently against its confines now, the anticipation of his mouth on yours feeling like a slow death in itself.

“I wish you would,” you breathed out.

Michael didn’t waste another moment, his head shifting just a bit so his lips could gently capture your own. They were softer than you’d have imagined. Gentle and warm as he carefully and hesitantly kissed you. Seconds later his lips released yours, but your mouth instantly chased after his, craving more of him.

His hand slid back from your cheek, making its way to hold the back of your head and pulling you more firmly towards him the moment your lips reconnected. Your own hand slid down his arm until you were grasping at his broad shoulders with both of your hands. Your fingers dug into his sweater as you held him, desperate not to let him slip through your own hands.

You were struggling to catch your breath between the increasing flurry of his lips on yours, gasping for air each time his mouth briefly left yours. The sound seemed to only further spur Michael onward, his hand soon lightly gripping the back of your neck and pressing you closer to him. Your arms wrapped around him in response, pulling yourself halfway onto him on the couch until your chests were pressed together. Fleetingly you wondered if it was your heartbeat thundering in your chest or his.

Michael’s tongue soon swiped along your bottom lip, wet and warm, and you eagerly allowed him to slide it into your mouth. Your own tongue greeted his, one of your hands snaking upwards to grip a handful of his dark hair. A moan slipped from your mouth straight into his own as you felt yourself quickly getting lost in him. His other hand suddenly grabbed your hip roughly at the sound, his fingertips brushing a bit of skin just beneath your sweater.

The scent of him was filling your nose as his tongue continued to lap so sensuously against your own. Everything about him was driving you wild, and fuck how you wanted him right here and now. To tear that sweater straight off of him and take things further on that very fucking couch, especially with how you’d almost fled and thought you’d never see him again barely minutes ago. You just wanted to feel his hands and his lips roaming every inch of your body. Wanted to memorize every inch of his.

But this wasn’t the time. Especially considering how long it had been since you'd last had sex with anyone. And now feelings were involved. You didn't want to do the wrong thing, to act before thinking things through.

Your hand slid down from his shoulder, pressing lightly against his chest. Reluctantly you broke your mouth away from his, gasping for air when you did. Michael’s shoulders were heaving as he tried to catch his own breath, his dark brows pulling together as he eyed you nervously.

"Did I do somethin' wrong?" he asked.

You shook your head, one hand still fisting his hair and the other still splayed over his chest. "No," you answered. "We just–maybe now isn't the time for… that ."

It was a moment before your meaning registered, your eyes watching his expression shift as it did. He was grinning back at you, his hand playfully squeezing your hip.

"Wasn’t plannin' to let things go that far with ya right now," he said cheekily. "But I understand."

You cleared your throat, heat warming your cheeks at his words as your hands gradually released their hold on him.

"Why don't I let ya unpack?" he suggested. Shooting you a sheepish smile, one hand coming to rub the back of his neck, he continued, "Because honestly I could use some sleep after yesterday and this mornin'. And I have a feelin’ once Jimmy is out I’ll be in a heap o’ shite with the family. So maybe we can continue this another time?”

You shot him a coy smile yourself. “The conversation or the other part?” you asked.

He chuckled as he rose to his feet. You followed after him, noticing the way his eyes followed your every moment, that delighted smile on his face only drawing one onto your own.

“How ‘bout I leave that up to you to decide, yeah?” he replied.

Nervously tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear, you ducked your head at his words. You definitely wanted to continue the other part later.

“How about I walk you out then?” you offered.

“That’d be grand, pet,” he said, his hand reaching out and grasping onto yours.

Fingers entwined together, Michael grabbed his jacket from the couch before you led him down the short hallway, passing the kitchen on the way to the front door. When you reached it, you came to a stop and turned towards him. He was grinning down at you already, that dimple visible just beneath his beard. You could feel your nerves swirling in your stomach as if a handful of butterflies had been released into it.

“I’ll see ya later, then?” he asked. “Ya aren’t goin’ to run off on me?”

You shook your head, smiling back up at him. “I’m not going anywhere now,” you told him. “So I’ll see you later to pick up where we left off.”

“Mmm,” he hummed out, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And I’ll be curious to know what part of that you’re talkin’ ‘bout resumin’ later.”

You shrugged a shoulder innocently. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and find out,” you replied.

He laughed lightly, leaning down towards you and placing a simple, sweet peck to your lips. As he pulled away he whispered, “I’d happily wait to find out.”

He released your hand and opened the front door, your heart skipping excitedly in your chest as you watched him make his way down the front drive. When he neared the stone fence he turned, pausing to glance over at you. You smiled, leaning against the doorframe and shooting him a wave. The biggest smile you’d yet to see on his face spread across his lips, his hand returning the wave before he rounded the fence and made his way home.

With a sigh you closed the front door, making your way down the short hallway and back to the sitting room. You grabbed one of your suitcases and hefted it up into your arms, carrying it up the stairs and back to your bedroom. You set it down near the closet, wiping a hand across your forehead. Movement outside of your bedroom window caught your eye and your head darted in that direction.

Michael was standing at his bedroom window now, one hand on his curtains as if he’d been about to close them. But now he was smiling at you through the window. You grinned, taking a few steps towards your own window and shooting him a wave. He nodded his head at you before his hand released the curtains. You watched as both of his hands came to grip the hem of his sweater before he lifted it up over his head, tossing it somewhere in the room behind him.

Your brows rose up onto your forehead, lips parting in surprise as you took in the shirtless sight of him, the bit of chest hair covering his lightly muscled torso. When your eyes darted back up to his face, he shot you a wink before he laughed, and then his hand reached up and closed his curtains.

“I am so fucking glad I did not get in that car,” you whispered to yourself. “Fucking hell.”

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella x female reader #michael kinsella #kin (amc)#kin fanficiton

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depressedbagpipe · 1 year

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Ka-Chaow (Charles Leclerc x female!reader)

Chapter two

Words: 3902 Warnings: google-translated italian, more mentions of alcohol, poor writing, me not knowing how the ferrari factory works A/N: alright so this has been long overdue so i apologize for that. also, i haven't been to maranello so everything i mention is basically from google maps. everything about the publishing industry i got from a random blog so just to be safe, don't trust anything i say about it ♥️ A/N (II): italics are phone calls, bold and italics are messages, just bold is the location, and (parenthesis) the translation for the Italian ;) Taglist: @heavengirls111, @roseamongthorns13, @mishaandthebrits, @charlesswife, @silscintilla

Series Masterlist Previous chapter <> Next chapter

Chapter two

Maranello, December 2nd, 2022

‘Wait, wait, wait, so then you’re attending the races?’

‘Yep.’

‘And you’re getting double passes if you ask for them?’

‘Affirmative.’

‘And you know you’re my favorite daughter?’

‘I’m your only daughter.’

‘Still.’

‘I’ll take you to Monaco.’

‘Dio, ti amo.’ (God, I love you)

‘Of course, you do,’ I giggled at my dad.

‘And how’s the trip so far?’

‘It’s… fine, I guess,’ I cringed, looking out the window.

The only sight I could catch from my balcony was the Ferrari factory in the distance, and the hotel’s parking lot on the other side. The views I had caught from the car ride from Bologna’s airport had been beautiful, but we hadn’t had any time to stop to look around.

‘Just fine?’ my dad wondered.

‘It’s not a holiday, papà, I’m technically working,’ I said with a sigh.

I walked back and dropped on my bed, staring at the fancy ceiling of my hotel room. Although the flight to Bologna had been short, the lunch with Maurizio Arrivabene had been exhausting. Too many bottles of wine and too little discussion about the job, besides the promise of all the paddock access we wanted, as well as the finest wine bottles per Mr. Williamson’s request.

‘Still, you’re going to the track tomorrow, right?’ my dad asked again.

I moved my phone to my other ear, gently rubbing the sore nub after almost an hour of my dad’s nonstop gushing.

‘Yeah.’

‘What time?’

‘We get there at 11 am, I think. I don’t know if the tour will be before or after the meeting with the execs, though,’ I bit my lip, checking the time on my wristwatch.

‘Mio dio, everything is so early here compared to home,’ my dad groaned, and I couldn’t help but laugh at his antics. (My God)

‘Well, not my fault you moved to London for love,’ I answered back.

‘Now you have to move to Italy in return so that we can complete the circle.’

‘Dad!’ I laughed loudly, despite my hand covering my mouth. It was a bit early in the evening, but I knew several guests at the hotel would not appreciate my yelling. ‘Alright, I’ll take you up on that.’

‘You better, chicken pie.’

‘Anyways, I think I’m gonna go. I’m actually exhausted.’

‘Too many emotions today?’

‘Yeah, and I gotta be up early for tomorrow.’

‘Wasn’t the meeting at 11 am?’

I frowned. ‘Yeah. But I still need to finish editing a couple of manuscripts. Do you happen to know anything about the types and uses of the cross symbol in Ethiopian religion?’

My dad took a couple of seconds to answer. ‘... No?’

‘Yeah, me either. Gotta learn a bunch of stuff for tomorrow.’

‘Well, call me when you know something.’

‘Will do,’ I laughed softly. ‘Buona notte, papà. Ti amo.’ (Goodnight, Dad, I love you.)

‘Ti amo di più, Principessa,’ with that, our conversation ended. (I love you more, princess.)

I stayed sprawled on my bed after throwing my phone on the comforter, closing my eyes for a few seconds. I knew I still had to unpack some clothes for tomorrow, recharge my laptop and work on the manuscripts, order dinner, make sure Mr. Williamson got the entire schedule right for the rest of the trip, eat dinner, and get a decent amount of sleep for the following day’s events. Despite my nerves, exhaustion was getting the best of me, and as soon as I felt myself drifting off, I willed my eyelids to open and my legs to move, standing up with a groan at my tired muscles.

A couple of hours later I was already in bed, my fingers expertly typing away while my eyes begged me to finally close them and sleep. My laptop felt hot on my legs even over the sheets, but I couldn’t stop. Deadlines were approaching, and even though I willingly signed up for the trip, I still found the huge workload that still needed to be done frankly overwhelming, especially since I was working double during Mr. Williamson’s secret and unauthorized gap year. With a sigh, I kept typing until my eyes closed on their own accord.

I didn’t even know at what time I fell asleep. It only felt like a few minutes until my phone was blasting the alarm as loud as possible. I carelessly reached for it with my eyes closed, hoping my fingers would find it early enough to turn the horrible sound off, but I only managed to slightly push the laptop away. Opening my eyes in a panic, I sighed in relief when I found no crack on the screen, the object still on my bed and not broken on the floor, but the alarm kept going, and not only that, but the hotel phone on my bedside table was also now ringing loudly.

Despite feeling like crying at that very moment, for not only was I not a morning person, but the extreme trauma of waking up mixed with the incessant noise coming from both sides of my bed was enough to almost send me into cardiac arrest. Grabbing my phone and quickly pressing the orange alert, I answered the call.

‘Hello?’ I asked, a yawn escaping my lips as I waited for the answer.

‘Good morning, Miss, this is Francesco speaking, from the front desk. Yesterday you asked us to please wake you up at 7 am,’ the worker spoke in perfect English.

I frowned, not remembering at all having done that, but then again, I didn’t remember most of the evening once I tried to recall how I fell asleep.

‘Oh, grazie, Francesco,’ I replied with another yawn. (Thank you.)

‘Would you like to have your complimentary breakfast sent to your room?’

I paused, enjoying the sound of that. ‘Sure, why not. What were the options, then?’

And that’s how I found myself having breakfast on the balcony, overlooking the blue horizon thanks to the lack of tall buildings around the hotel. I certainly missed the sky back in my London apartment, and it almost felt weird to have the sun shining so brightly on me so late in the year, but nonetheless, it brought some color to my cheeks as I feasted on the delicious biscuits I was offered. I allowed myself to calm down and enjoy the food, forgetting about my job and the likely still sleeping Mr. Williamson on the other side of the wall. As I waited for the breakfast to be brought, I had already taken a shower and gotten ready for the day and was simply enjoying the rather quiet life that the hotel’s location could offer. I did miss the people and the nightlife, but I already got a lot of it in London.

Taking slow sips of my coffee, I finally got my phone out. I took a couple of pictures to send my mom, knowing she would be calling me in no time to check up on me and make sure I hadn’t caught a bug while I slept. Switching to Instagram, Alec’s face was the first thing that showed up. He had posted a video singing a new song, but I couldn’t will myself to listen to it just yet. His music was what brought us together in the first place, and for weeks I hadn’t been able to listen to his voice again. It was just too painful.

‘Did you listen to his new song?’ I quickly texted Angela.

‘You won’t like it, though,’ she quickly responded.

I bit my lip. ‘Is it about me?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Is it bad?’ my fingers trembled slightly as I typed, suddenly feeling nervous.

‘I mean, it’s not good.’

‘You’re so helpful,’ I groaned, shivering slightly all of a sudden.

A cloud had passed directly over the sun, taking the warmth with it. I stood up and walked back inside.

‘Text me when you listen to it. But wait until you’re back in London.’

‘Why?’

‘Don’t let it ruin your trip.’

‘Alright,’ I sighed and ended the conversation.

I shook my arms slightly, trying to find some physical way to let go of those thoughts, and swiftly got my laptop and sat down on the small desk by the window, and typed away my anxiety.

I wasn’t a big fan of editing manuscripts, especially those about subjects I completely abhorred, but in the grand scheme of things, it somehow helped to leave my mind completely blank, making the time pass by even faster.

Before I knew it, it was 9:45 am. Another alarm went off, and with a final sigh, I saved my progress, put on some shoes, and left my room, only to go to the next door and promptly open the door with Mr. Williamson’s extra card.

The sight did not surprise me in the slightest. He was still fast asleep on his bed, with the covers half-dangling from the sides and the mini bar half-empty. The room was completely dark save for the light coming from the open door.

I had to take a big deep breath before closing the door behind me and walking decisively towards the blinds, opening them wide, as well as his own balcony’s door, not even caring that the cold and wind could potentially make him sick. I was beyond the point of caring about his health when he clearly didn’t care about his.

‘Rise and shine, Stephen,’ I clapped loudly.

Mr. Williamson woke up with a start, groaning loudly.

‘It’s too early,’ he mumbled, flipping on the bed and pulling the covers over his head.

‘Hell, no,’ I said, grabbing the sheets and pulling them off from his body completely. ‘You’ve got an hour before the car arrives, so chop chop!’ I said as I opened his suitcase and started taking his belongings out, looking for some decent clothes.

The night before coming to Italy, I had forced him to send me a picture of his luggage, knowing that, if it were up to him, he would show up in Crocs and Bermudas. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had a meeting with him dressed like that.

Thankfully, Mr. Williamson listened to me and sat down in bed, still half-asleep, but at least I could work with that. I threw him his toilet bag.

‘Take a shower, God, you stink,’ I complained, grabbing him from one of his arms and pulling him up.

I slightly pushed him in the direction of the bathroom, and he followed without another word.

‘If you don’t come out in ten minutes, I’m getting in. And I’ll bring my phone!’ I warned him, hoping the warning would be enough for me not to see him naked.

‘Jesus, you sound like my wife,’ he mumbled just before closing the door behind him.

I looked around his room, and opted for taking the remaining alcohol from the mini bar with me, just to be safe. Even though the bottles were tiny, I didn’t trust my boss to somehow get wasted. I wasn’t about to risk my job and my career, especially in a foreign country. Out of habit, I checked my emails again, hoping to see Rosanna’s name somewhere with a publishing vacancy, but as usual, no new emails had been sent since that morning.

My feet moved by themselves across Mr. Williamson’s room, putting his clothes on the bed, and even going as far as to call some room service for him. I was hoping the sleep and the shower would sober him up because I was anxious as hell about the meeting.

Not only was I a huge sports car fan, but the fact that we had been invited by Piero Ferrari himself to visit the factory, which I could now see from my room, and talk to all those developers who worked there with the same passion my father and I had, was completely mind-blowing. And I didn’t want anything to screw it up.

—

‘So that’s our proposal. Ink’n’Paper and Scuderia Ferrari, together, writing about the history and fame of our car. And we want you, Stephen, to write it,’ Benedetto Vigna finished his speech with a looming voice, staring directly at my boss with a light smirk.

Ferrari’s own CEO had welcomed us into the factory, walking us through the many impressive facilities, and showing us every detail of the place. To say I was awestruck would be an understatement. The museum was absolutely incredible, and the curators had even allowed me to take dozens of videos to send to my dad, which I knew was probably screaming and crying at the sight of them.

The meeting had started an hour later under the pretext of getting down to business as soon as possible and with the promise of trying the Driving Simulator after lunch.

‘Well, certainly, I can’t say that I didn’t see this coming,’ Mr. Williamson replied, taking his glasses off. ‘And how were you thinking about doing this, Benedetto?’

‘We had a couple of ideas in mind, but I think it’ll be easier right now if you stay in Monaco with the team.’

‘Monaco?’ I blurted. ‘Sorry,’ I apologized in embarrassment, but thankfully Mr. Vigna didn’t seem to care.

‘It’s alright. No, we’re opening a new office in Monaco for the new season, and given that it’s certainly closer to Maranello than London, we think that the writing would be faster.’

‘What deadlines are we talking about here, then?’ Mr. Williamson asked.

Not an ounce of alcohol was in his system, at least that I knew of, and he was magically back to being the professional editor I had known him to be what felt like an eternity ago.

Mr. Vigna looked at his colleagues, all of them nodding amongst themselves. ‘Hopefully, we could have it by the winter break. You know, from a marketing point of view, every Ferrari fan out there would be definitely getting it for Christmas.’

Mr. Williamson took a sip of his espresso, carefully considering his options. Then, he looked at me. ‘What do you think?’

I widened my eyes. ‘Me?’

He nodded. ‘Yeah, you. You also work here, I want to know what you think.’

Any thought left my mind as soon as he said those words. Despite being used to taking over his meetings due to his many inebriated states, I was feeling rather intimidated by the situation. And, unlike Mr. Williamson, I had never published anything before.

‘Well, uh, technically December is a bit of a dead zone in the publishing industry.’

I spoke with a low voice, feeling anxious about debunking Mr. Vigna’s theory.

‘Is that so?’ he asked, but his tone was more curious than annoyed.

That only encouraged me further. ‘Yeah. It’s usually September when we get all the workload. December kinds of get those less-interesting manuscripts from the bottom of the submissions box, and many workers just leave on vacation. We usually just… publish more volumes of the already best-selling ones, because those are the ones that get sold. The marketing would have to be insane if we want this book to make figures on Christmas.’

My comment was met with utter silence. I stared at all the people in the room, silently hoping for someone to talk because the embarrassment was already too high.

Mr. Williamson gratefully came to my aid, as weird as it sounded.

‘She’s right,’ he said, taking one final sip. ‘Either we push the deadline forward to September, or we spend a couple of millions on the marketing.’

Mr. Vigna seemed to consider our words after that. ‘Right, I certainly didn’t know that. Won’t September be too much of a short time for you?’ he looked back at Mr. Williamson, who quickly shook his head.

‘I don’t see why it’d be a problem. As long as we start as early as possible and are provided with all the materials we need…’ he looked up in deep thought.

‘And what do you need?’ one of the women at the other end of the desk spoke, pen already in hand, waiting to write anything down.

‘Certainly, we need access to any source of information about Ferrari. Whether is it the cars, the history, even the drivers, literally anything with the word “Ferrari” in it,’ he spoke. ‘Now, I got a tight schedule when writing biographies, and I need at least two months just to do the research. After that, the writing comes smoothly.’

‘Don’t forget the editing…’ I whispered loud enough for him to hear.

He waved me off. ‘It will take some time, though. You know I’m not that much of a Formula 1 enthusiast. I much rather prefer cricket,’ he said, standing up from his chair and buttoning his shirt.

With his clean suit and combed hair, he looked unrecognizable from the man I had found in his bed that morning. He looked put-together for the first time in months, and it brought me back to the first meetings of my internship, where everything he did was graceful and calculated. I felt oddly safe for the first time in months, knowing that, no matter how the meeting went, I had Mr. Williamson to guide us through the rubble and exit the building with an even straighter back and untouched dignity. I so wished every day at work felt the same.

‘But my assistant over here is, in fact, a remarkable connoisseur of the sport. What did you call it? Tifosi?’ he quickly looked at me, looking for confirmation. ‘She’s half Italian, in fact. I might have to delegate some of the work to her.’

I widened my eyes even more, his words leaving a huge pit in my stomach. My head felt suddenly numb, and my pulse increased as I recited his intentions.

‘In that case, Stephen, if you trust her to do the job, so do we. Obviously, if she agrees.’

I felt more eyes on me, and I gulped. I nodded slowly. ‘Yeah, I do.’

Benedetto Vigna smiled and brought his palms together. ‘Great! I’m sure you’ll be fine in Monaco,’ he stood up from his chair, signaling everybody to do the same.

Mr. Williamson offered me his arm, given I was still in shock at Mr. Vigna’s words. Everybody started filing out.

‘Wait, what?’ I asked no one in particular.

‘I guess you’re going to Monaco,’ Mr. Williamson said as he lightly pushed me out of the room, pretty much in the same way I had done that morning to get him in the shower.

‘But… what about work?’

He frowned at me. ‘This is work.’

I didn’t have time to reply, for Mr. Vigna’s loud voice reverberated around the hall.

‘Now, I believed I promised you lunch and a Fiorano tour. Oh, and the Driving Simulator, too.’

—

Despite being a huge Formula 1 fan, I had never been to a race track. The only person I really wanted to attend a race with was my dad, and he was always a bit too busy, and the tickets were always a bit too expensive. Not coming from a large income family had definitely shut a few dreams down, hence why I had immediately started crying at the sight of the Fiorano track, where Ferrari tested their cars. Even though it was empty, the sheer sight of the huge lane was enough to bring tears to my eyes. Thankfully, the sun was shining down on us, and my eyes were hidden by my sunglasses, but I knew my face would soon become a bit too red for other people to notice.

Lunch had been fine, yet I was still thinking about Mr. Vigna’s words. Not only was I part of the project, but I had also been tasked with recollecting all information about the red Scuderia and its cars and history, all of it while I lived by myself in Monaco. I was dreading the conversation with my parents, knowing my mom would definitely not approve, as well as the high chances of me getting homesick as soon as I arrived at the small principality.

But then again, maybe getting some time away from my life in London would do me good. Away from work, and Mr. Williamson, and Alec. I didn’t want to be the type of person that fled the country when they broke up with their partner, but I also knew that distance was my biggest ally at the time. I wasn’t completely sure how Mr. Williamson was gonna manage on his own while I lived elsewhere, but the thought of a quiet life for a few months in the quaint country was becoming more appealing by the second.

I completely tuned out Mr. Vigna’s speech about the dimensions and characteristics of the track (not that I needed them, my father had made sure from a young age that I knew my blood was Ferrari red and Tifosi my middle name, although it certainly never was and it got us a very weird meeting with my elementary school headmaster after having written Tifosi as my middle name on several exams). If I had been paying more attention, I certainly would’ve noticed two familiar figures dressed in red polos walking toward us.

‘Charles! Carlos! Che bello che sei venuto!’ Mr. Vigna signaled the two men forward, and they quickly introduced themselves. (How nice that you came!)

‘¡Hola! Sono Carlos,’ Carlos Sainz Jr. extended his hand towards Mr. Williamson. (Hi! I’m Carlos.)

‘Nice to meet you,’ replied my boss, shaking his hand.

‘Hi,’ I smiled at him, trying to contain the excitement.

‘Hello,’ he gave me two kisses on both cheeks, and I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped my lips.

‘Sorry, I’m a big fan,’ my face felt even warmer, but I still didn’t take my sunglasses off, the big black crystals at least hiding part of my cheeks.

Carlos laughed. ‘It’s alright, usually everyone that comes to Fiorano is,’ he winked, and moved aside.

I would be lying if I said I didn’t have favorites. I would also be lying if I said Charles Leclerc wasn’t one of them.

The slightly taller man stood right in front of me, smiling brightly. His head blocked the sun, allowing me to look at him in more detail as the rays fell around him, giving him an even bigger heavenly glow.

‘Ciao, I’m Charles,’ he too pressed two soft kisses on my cheeks, and I swear my heart stopped for a second when he came closer. (Hi.)

I took off my glasses and quickly introduced myself, hoping I didn’t sound like a lunatic gushing over her biggest celebrity crush standing right in front of her.

‘Ragazzi, l'intervistatore vi sta aspettando,’ a shorter woman came up behind the two drivers with a stressed look on her face. (Guys, the interviewer’s waiting for you.)

I frowned slightly, having the meeting cut short, but in hindsight, my heart was beating loudly in my ribcage out of nerves, and I didn’t want to make an even bigger fool of myself by standing there completely starstruck.

They sadly left our group with a warm goodbye, and the rest of the day passed in a blur.

Next thing I knew, I was on my bed, staring at the ceiling, failing to fall asleep due to the image of a pair of green eyes glistening in the sun embedded in my mind.

Next chapter

General taglist: @angiewhoohooo, @azaleaniath, @mishaandthebrits, @celestialcharles

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female!reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

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chompisatheatrekid · 5 months

Text

first starkid fic! pretty happy w it.

jason x richie (aka weeball), chatfic, slightly angsty, 1052 word

*10/21/21 , 4:07 pm*

*DMS with @jsnjepson and @weeaborichie*

jsnjepson: hi

jsnjepson: did u get home safe?

weeaboorichie: I’m omw home right now

weeaboorichie: ╥﹏╥

jsnjepson: okay !!

jsnjepson: you have food yeah?

jsnjepson: for the plane tomorrow

weeaboorichie: yeah

weeaboorichie: I have like everything

weeaboorichie: I’m still so pissed abt it tbh (¬､¬)

weeaboorichie: god my eyes hurt

weeaboorichie: from crying o(TヘTo)

jsnjepson: I’m so sorry love

jsnjepson: it’s so unfair I’m sorry you have to go through this

jsnjepson: you wanna call?

weeaboorichie: that would be nice

weeaboorichie: I’m sorry about all of this

jsnjepson: it’s not your fault

jsnjepson: I’ll text you every day

jsnjepson: I promise

*@jsnjepson started a call that lasted 4 hours, 21 minutes and 8 seconds.*

*10/22/21 , 10:35 AM”

*DMS with @jsnjepson and @weeaborichie*

jsnjepson: what are u doing rn? <3

weeaboorichie: we just got in the place

weeaboorichie: haven’t taken off yet

weeaboorichie: when we do my wifi will probably get so shitty too

weeaboorichie: idk if I can talk to you then (ノ﹏ヽ)

jsnjepson: that’s fine, don’t worry about it please love

jsnjepson: how do you feel?

weeaboorichie: physically or mentally

weeaboorichie: physically fine , I took advil

weeaboorichie: but mentally. god. so shit

weeaboorichie: jace I’m gonna miss you so so much

weeaboorichie: and pete

weeaboorichie: and ruth

weeaboorichie: I don’t wanna leave

weeaboorichie: I’ve never even met this woman

weeaboorichie: uncle paul hasn’t met her since he was like. a baby

weeaboorichie: I have no clue why we’re MOVING. to like buttfuck nowhere texas

weeaboorichie: neither of us care abt her

weeaboorichie: but we gotta uproot our whole fucking lives to take care of her

weeaboorichie: I DONT KNOW WHY WE CAN’T MOVE BACK WHEN SHE KICKS THE BUCKET TOO

weeaboorichie: god I just. he won’t tell me much and

weeaboorichie: I love you guys too much to. never see you again

weeaboorichie: god I can’t think about that

jsnjepson: that’s so shitty

jsnjepson: I’m so sorry love

jsnjepson: I love you so so so much okay prince?

weeaboorichie: I love you too

weeaboorichie: thank you

weeaboorichie: I love you

weeaboorichie: fuck fuck fuck we’re taking off

jsnjepson: have a good flight love

jsnjepson: text me when you land please?

weeaboorichie: will do

weeaboorichie: I love you

weeaboorichie: bye bye

jsnjepson: bye love <3

*11/02/21, 12:43 am*

*DMS with @IAMJAGERMAN-IAMGOD and @jsnjepson*

jsnjepson: dude I just fucking

jsnjepson: I miss him so god damn much

jsnjepson: I don’t want to get out of bed

jsnjepson: ever

jsnjepson: my eyes hurt from crying

IAMJAGERMAN-IAMGOD: you’re like

IAMJAGERMAN-IAMGOD: so down bad man

IAMJAGERMAN-IAMGOD: you wanna

IAMJAGERMAN-IAMGOD: come over to my house or something

IAMJAGERMAN-IAMGOD: later

jsnjepson: not really

jsnjepson: I don’t wanna do anything

jsnjepson: but thanks bro

jsnjepson: for asking

*11/04/21, 3:14 pm*

*GROUPCHAT with @micropeter, @flemwad and @weeaboorichie*

weeaboorichie: i want to go HOME

weeaboorichie: this SUCKS

weeaboorichie: I don’t know ANYONE HERE!!!

weeaboorichie: I still get bullied

weeaboorichie: I miss you guys so so much

weeaboorichie: I’d do anything for a movie night with you two

weeaboorichie: and Jason

weeaboorichie: oh god Jason

weeaboorichie: I miss him so so much

weeaboorichie: it like actually hurts

weeaboorichie: we text and call like every day but

weeaboorichie: it’s not the same

micropeter: Sorry Richie :(

micropeter: We miss you a lot here too.

micropeter: Study sessions are so so much more boring without you.

flemwad: YES THEY ARE

flemwad: godddd I’d even watch one of ur weird ass animes w you I miss you so much

flemwad: and not for the sexy anime girls !!!

flemwad: not just for the sexy anime girls

weeaboorichie: thanks guys

weeaboorichie: I love you two

weeaboorichie: I’m gonna go eat dinner now

*11/07/21, 2:21 PM.*

*DMS with @jsnjepson and @weeaborichie*

jsnjepson: hi love!!

jsnjepson: how’s it going? everything sorta ok over there?

weeaboorichie: actually. pretty good!

weeaboorichie: I met this kid at my new school

weeaboorichie: his name is Ethan

weeaboorichie: he’s so cool

weeaboorichie: he likes anime and stuff!! he’s all caught up on Naruto too!!!

weeaboorichie: he lets me borrow his manga alllll the time

jsnjepson: woaaa!!!

jsnjepson: that’s so cool! I’m so happy for you!!!

jsnjepson: you wanna have a movie night tonight? online? we can watch the movie for that anime you like

weeaboorichie: maybe sometime

weeaboorichie: I’m hanging out w Ethan tonight

weeaboorichie: okay okay I gotta go!!

weeaboorichie: I love you so much

jsnjepson: okay!! I love you prince

jsnjepson: have fun

*11/11/21, 6:58 PM*

*DMS with @jsnjepson and @weeaboorichie*

weeaboorichie: hey jace!! sorry it’s been so long

weeaboorichie: I’ve been busy with my new school and Ethan and everything

*11/11/21, 8:43 PM*

weeaboorichie: jace?

weeaboorichie: sorry if ur busy I totally get it

jsnjepson: SORRY SORRY I’m so so sorry I’m sorry I was at Max’s house

jsnjepson: that’s fine that’s fine!! I’m glad you’re settling into things!!

jsnjepson: how’s everything going ?? how are you?

*12/02/21, 9:32 AM*

weeaboorichie: fine

weeaboorichie: school is nice!

weeaboorichie: me and Ethan have an anime club now and it’s so cool we watch two episodes every Friday and it’s like book club but for anime

weeaboorichie: he’s so cool he got me a jujitsu kaisen hoodie for my birthday!!!

*12/02/21, 12:59 AM*

jsnjepson: that’s cool

jsnjepson: a bunch of scouts came to the last game at hfhs and talked to me and max

jsnjepson: we might get to go to a really good collage for this

jsnjepson: college

jsnjepson: what college are you going too?

weeaboorichie: uh idk

weeaboorichie: I think the same one as Ethan he has it figured out and stuff

weeaboorichie: I want to at least

weeaboorichie: you could send me whatever college u wanna go too

weeaboorichie: I guess I could look into them

*01/01/22, 1:00 AM.*

weeaboorichie: happy new years

jsnjepson: happy new years

*02/16/22, 9:30 AM*

weeaboorichie: sry it’s been awhile since I checked in

weeaboorichie: hru?

*02/17/22, 2:54 AM*

jsnjepson: good

jsnjepson: wbu?

weeaboorichie: fine

*02/20/22*

*03/05/22*

*03/15/22*

*03/20/22*

*03/29/22, 12:43*

jsnjepson: I dont think i’m in love with you any more

*Read*

#jason x richie #weeball #fanfic #fanfiction #gay fanfic #chatfic #chat fic #starkid #jason jepson #richie lipshitz #hatchetfield

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luvyuki0 · 1 month

Text

Amber ── .✦02.

✦ Summary: In which Esme and Hoseok fall in love but of course with love comes trouble especially when you're dating an idol.

Series masterlist| previous| next

"BEEP BEEP!" I hear my phone alarming me to get up.

I groan sitting up straight while rubbing my eyes taking in all my surroundings, I stretch my body and grab my phone from its charging pad. I check the time "5:04" it read; I unlock my phone responding to any missed texts from people then go on checking my socials eventually watching a few TikTok's during the process.

"Lemme get up" I speak to myself getting up off my bed and heading to my bathroom to take a shower and do my skincare once I'm done, I go into my closet to pick my airport outfit, wanting to wear something comfy but won't get me overheated.

After choosing what to where I put on the clothes, put my boho braid in a wrapped bun, and do light makeup.

Once I'm dressed and ready I decide to go Jasmine's room to make sure she's awake and ready. As I get closer I hear sexyy red blasting, "LANCEY LANCEY I'M GHETTO AND I'M FANCY."

"Jaz what time is Yoongi picking us up?" I yell over her music.

"6:30, oh shit we have to go." She checks her phone.

"Ight get ya stuff so we can head out," I say as I make sure that I have everything on me.

Jaz meets me at the door and we head downstairs to the front of the apartment complex to meet up with Yoongi.

"Hey baby, hey Esme get in" he greets me and Jaz, kissing her on the cheek in the process. I noticed that the other dude he mentioned that would be joining us wasn't in the car.

"We're meeting up with my friend at the airport," Yoongi says taking notice of me looking around.

TIME SKIP

"Ok guys we finally go to the airport and we already did all the procedures and stuff, so now we're just waiting for our flight to be called". I say as I hold my camera in front of me.

"That boy over there is fine" I look to where Jaz is looking, and I see it's Yoongi.

"Girl that's Yoongi," I say looking at her with a deadpan expression.

"I know that's why I said sum, LORD my man is so fine!!" I look at her with disgust and as I'm about to say something I hear Yoongi's voice.

"Esme this is Hoseok the friend I said was coming on the trip with us". I look over to see a tall guy in a black hoodie and sweatpants with a mask on.

"Nice to meet you" his deep voice fills my ears, and before I can respond the airport announcement of our flight is being heard.

We grab our things and head our way to the boarding area, I look at my ticket trying to find my seat, and as I make my way over to my seat I see that it's Hoseok, yoongi's friend sitting on the seat next to mine.

I say excuse me to him as I make my way to my window seat. once seated I take out my blanket, neck pillow, laptop, and AirPods trying to get as comfortable as possible so I can edit the video from yesterday, but before I begin I turn and tap Hoseok's shoulder. He looks at me taking one of his earbuds out.

"I didn't get to greet you back so I just wanted to say it's nice to meet you too! And um, also I have a quick question um I'm a YouTuber and I'm gonna be recording some clips I just wanted to ask if that's ok with you?" I awkwardly ask.

A smile forms and his face. "Yeah of course as long as my face is censored or not In the frame, I'm cool with it!"

"Oh okay, great i hope we can become friends during the trip!" As soon as I got his approval I take out my camera to update my fans on what had happened so far.

"Okay, guys so we boarded the plane already and we all met up and since it's a 10-11 hour layover plane flight I might get airplane food before I go to the next one, I might record if I feel like it, but other than that I have my little set up to edit the video yall probably gon see uploaded already and yes I'm in business class cus I wasn't gon pay for no first class this trip already cost an arm and a leg but yeah that's it for the update, BYEE!" As I finished talking I felt a pair of eyes watching me so I glimpsed to see where it was coming from and I saw that it was Hoseok staring at me. I ignore it continuing to act natural.

I get comfy in my blanket, put my Air Pods in, and take my laptop out so I can edit yesterday's video and post it by today.

HOSEOK'S POV

I watched her talk to her camera just admiring her beauty, I stared for so long that I didn't even realize she had finished talking and had already put her camera away. I know Yoongi said he was bringing one of Jaz's friends along but I didn’t think she would be this gorgeous.

I open my phone to text yoongi.

Gramps#2👴🏻

Hoseok: BROO

Yoongi: What happened??

Yoongi: and hurry up I'm tryna enjoy my time in first class with Jaz

↳Hoseok: y'all in first class??

Yoongi: Yea, you thought I wasn't gonna treat ME and MY girlfriend to first class on a trip that was originally for USSS??😀

Hoseok: ok see ntm she invited me and I accepted cus who the fuck do I look like declining a trip to Hawaii??😒

Yoongi: ...

Hoseok: yeah oh ok ANYWAYS why you ain't tell me jaz friend was fine??

Yoongi: Cause I have a girlfriend, and I don't even look at esme in that way

Hoseok: But anywas she asked me if I minded that she was recording for her YouTube😛

Yoongi: That's it ..?

Yoongi: go kys .😐

3RD PERSON POV

Hoseok chuckled a little after reading the last message Yoongi sent before closing his phone and deciding to sleep till the flight was over.

ESME'S POV

"Now Landing!" I hear the second flight intercom say. I stretch my arms Waking up from the nap I took after I finally finished editing my video and posting it because I procrastinated on the first flight.

I grab my things and get up from my seat waiting for people to pass so I can leave.

I see a text from Jaz that Yoongi and her are waiting at the food court for me and hoseok so we can all eat a quick little meal before heading to our hotel. I notice everybody's left the plane by now and I look down to see Hoseok still sleeping which was crazy to me because he slept the whole time during the first flight, I shake him a little to wake him up and he jumps up a little.

"Hey get up everybody left," I tell him.

"Oh my bad." he apologizes.

"It's alright, I didn't wanna just leave you here for the flight attendants to wake" I respond doing one last check to make sure I have everything, then we make our way out to meet Jaz and Yoongi at the food courts.

"What took y'all so long?" Jaz says looking up from her phone.

"Hoseok was sitting next to me and fell asleep so I had to wake him up" I explained to her.

"Yall were sitting together?" Jaz asks slyly with a smirk on her face.

"don't evenn," I say not even entertaining Jaz because once you give her an inch she turns it into a mile.

"what should we get?" yoongi asks as he and Hoseok make their way back from wherever they were.

"Wing stop!" Jaz and Hoseok shout.

"Ok let's go" I responded as we made our way to the restaurant and then got into the line.

As we get in the line waiting for our turn Jaz whispers to me, "Think it was a coincidence that his seat was next to yours for BOTH flights?"

"Yes..? Jaz I know what you tryna hint and I'm not falling for it."

"Girl he's probably single and think about it we could be best friends dating BESTFRIENDS like that would be so cute." she gushes.

"That would lowkey be cute-"

"SEE I CAN ALREADY SEE IT!!"

"girl I'm not even ready for a relationship" I roll my eyes at her.

yeah, I'm not ready for a relationship last thing I need is a 2.0 version of him...

By the time Jaz was done gushing to me how cute it would be if I and Hoseok dated before I knew it, it was our turn to order, we took turns saying our turns telling our orders, and eventually, it was my turn and I say what I want.

"Will that be all?" the cashier asks me. "Yeah that's all let me just get my wallet," I say as I look for my wallet but I can't seem to find it which would be embarrassing, I panic a little looking over at Jazmine who purposely didn't bring her card knowing that yoongi would pay for all her expenses.

As I was about to speak I heard a voice speak up before me. "I'll pay for her." I look over at Hoseok with a shocked expression. He hands over his card to the lady and he looks at me and I whisper a small "thank you" feeling a little embarrassed that a guy I barely know is already paying for my meal.

We all go and make our way to a cleared table and sit down and wait for our order.

Yoongi and Jaz start conversing between themselves, leaving me and Hoseok in an awkward silence.

"Thanks for paying for me you didn't have to. I decide to break the silence by thanking him.

"It's alright your order wasn't even that much anyways, but if you really want to thank me, thank me by giving me your number so if I'm ever in a situation I know who to call," He says with a smirk

I can see what he's trying to do but I exchange my phone with him anyway putting his contact name as "Future sugar daddy🤪"

As this whole exchange is going on jaz and Yoongi are silently watching which is never good.

"Here's your order" We look up seeing the lady bring all of our orders handing each one to their person. Immediately jaz takes out her iPad that Yoongi bought for her to watch a show on Netflix, and Yoongi joins her shortly after. I look to my right seeing Hoseok texting someone, and I decide to take my camera out trying to get as much footage as I can.

"Ok guys we just got off our last flight its late as fuck but we decided to eat cause were hungry and now we're eating, oh and this's what I got." I turned my camera showing hoseoks face a little before quickly putting my camera down to show my food.

when I'm done recording, I put a mental note to edit an emoji over his face.

HOSEOK'S POV

OT7

Hoseok: I GOT HER NUMBERRRR😍

Taehyung: who's number??

Hoseok: oh I ain't tell yall BUT I'm talking about yoongis girlfriends friend

Hoseok: when I tell y'all she is so fineee wait till I find her socials matter of fact yoongi send over that @

Jin: why I ain't get invited to y'all vacay🥲

Hoseok: Your literally in Korea??

A/N: I combined this chapter and chapter 3 just because the ending on this chap felt chopped 😁 and don't forget to like and comment!! (Ignore the corny tweets💀😭) Words:2108

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yorutsuki · 15 days

Text

「 ✦ Hogwarts' Archon Pt. 1 ✦ 」 Headcannons

↳ Simple: You were brought into Hogwarts. Your origin is Teyvat yet somehow you were summoned into this...other world? Sheesh.

Tags:

──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────

You didn't even know how you ended up here.

Just a week ago you were fighting off some high ranked fatui, though in midst of battle you were struct by one of them.

Within the week you took the time to figure out where the hell you were.

No longer were there fields of endless grass and hills, mountains and clear skies—there was only dreadful dull colors, metals and woods, and dark skies.

During your forced stay, you found out that everyone was visionless and your norms such as weapons, guilds and such's use were non-existant.

On the bright side you didn't need to worry about demons or fatui.

That was until you found out about wizardy and witchy magic and the news about this hotshot boy who survived a lethal attack

(For Morax's sake, you js wanted to be sent back 💀🙏)

After a few weeks more, you recieved a letter via..owl?? Opening it you found some gray powder, which you later learn is traveling dust known as floo powder. (Now who in Morax's green earth named that sh-)

It took a few hours to try getting everything on the list, and while doing so ran into a giant fat man, you couldn't defer between the two and the 'boy who lived'. (Honestly you didn't understand why it was such a big deal, he lived, hooray?)

Finally at the last shop, you picked up a wand, unfortunately non of them came to you so you just settled with a random stick you found on the ground, and with a little help from your divine archon powers, you managed to make it look like a wand.

You were thankful you blended in with 11-12 year olds as being an archon allows you to shape shift. (It was a bit weird but hey, you're not tied to Celestia anymore so free will 🦅)

Getting on the train you were greeted with a glare from a greasy platinum haired boy and his goons. He said something about his name being Drago Melatone or something.

On the train ride, you sat in a compartment away from people, during that time you reminisced about your life, slowly missing it. You started to hate it here — it was different...too different.

Finally arriving, you were greeted with the same man you bumped into from before at the shops, who guided you all to some boats.

You were a bit surprised of them moving on they're own but it wasn't anything too special. (You may or may not have used some power to quicken up the boat)

The closer you neared to the school, the more in aw of a trance you were in. The place looked regal and magical, you were impressed with it's designing.

Finally arriving at the castle, you were guided flights of stairs before a elderly woman in fine deep green velvet robes stood before you all, starting to explain houses and how they worked.

you found it amusing how someone picked up a frog from the front, earning a look from the professor.

Afterwards, the greasy boy from the train started yapping on who you found to be a Weasley and the chosen one before being tapped by the professor.

The inside dining hall was quite magical, floating candles and starry skies above.

"It's not real you see...-" And thats when you blanked out, not wanting to ruin the magic.

A old wizard with a long fluffy beard gave a speech, introducing Filch, a care taker who looked quite the opposite.

Finally it was sorting time, first was the same girl from a few moments ago who you learned to be Hermoine Granger, then Draco Molfoy, Susan Bones, Ron Weasely, Harry Potter and then you.

"Hmm..not quite from here..?" "intelligent, resourceful and quiet, yet courageous but mindful."

"I must say, you are a tricky one Ms. (L/n)...Gryffendor!"

This is one hell of a school...

A/N: Holy sheez, I haven't posted in MONTHS! But don't worry, i'm getting my lick back 🙏, and this is one of the many random thoughts.

#scenerios #x reader #oneshot #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #genshin impact #genshin imagines #xiao #harry potter #draco malfoy #hp fanfic #hogwarts #wtf I haven't posted in months #archon reader

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philomenie · 6 months

Text

Once in a lifetime

This is my first story to be published, so I'm very nervous.

i hope i've put all the content warnings, if i've forgotten anything, please let me know.

I would like to mention that English is not my mother tongue.

CN fluff, smut, anxiety, trauma, relationship anxiety, difficult situations, mention of betrayal of trust, cheating, 18+

@valiantroeagleangel

THREE

Mina

After blow-drying your hair and putting on your pyjamas, you grab your cell phone to see who has answered. Nothing!

Disappointment spreads through you.

You were absolutely expecting an answer, precisely because he behaved the way he did, his hug, the fact that he saved his number, your conversations, the closeness, all that can't be your imagination?

You are totally confused.

Then your cell phone vibrates and you check it excitedly.

Disappointed again, you see that it's just your brother Simon wanting to know if you've arrived safely.

Yes, everything's fine, I'm at the hotel in Willamette, tomorrow at noon I'm meeting Ella for lunch in a little café on campus!

Sounds good! Give her my love, also from Alva, Johan and Tilda!

I will, say hello back and kiss the 2 little ones for me!

They already miss their favorite aunt,

That's sweet, tell them I'll be back in 4 weeks!

See you soon sis, I love you!

I love you too Simon, kiss!

Your short conversation has distracted you a little, you check your messages again, then you switch to flight mode to sink quickly into Morpheus' arms.

Your alarm clock wakes you up far too early and you sleepily check the time.

Oh damn, really 11 o'clock already? You want to meet Ella in an hour.

Tired, you crawl out of bed and slip out of your clothes to take a quick shower and brush your teeth.

For your outfit, you choose your blue, ripped boyfriend jeans, a tight black top and your black cardigan with a hole pattern, your black ankle-high Docs and your obligatory cream-colored Birkin bag complete your outfit.

Your usual jewelry in silver, earrings, rings, today additionally your crown of thorns necklace, handmade according to your wishes. Something you gave yourself for your last birthday,

A little make-up, mascara and a light rose-colored lip gloss and you're done.

In the elevator, you check your messages again... nothing. You're sad and angry at the same time.

Angry at him for not getting in touch, for triggering such feelings in you and angry at yourself for allowing these feelings, this closeness.

Before the tears can fall, you throw your head back, stow your cell phone in your pocket and put on your aviator-style sunglasses.

Men.... Only problems with this species. Let that be a lesson to you once again. You're better off on your own!

And with that in mind, you leave your hotel.

When you arrive at the café, you spot Ella from the door, she jumps up happily and runs towards you, you fall into each other's arms, laughing and crying.

It's so good to see and feel her again. It's been far too long since you last saw each other!

You sit down at a table for two by the window and the waitress brings you the menu.

Ella opts for pancakes with syrup and a chai latte with oat milk, you take a normal coffee with milk, no sugar, plus scrambled eggs, bacon and French toast. You realize you're ravenous, the last time you ate was on the plane to Portland.

"Go on, tell me, how was Sweden? How are Simon and Alva? How are the little ones?"

"Sweden is great, Simon and Alva are incredible and the kids are just adorable!"

"Did you see David, Klara and Elsa during that time?"

"Yes, they came to Stockholm for Christmas, only you were missing...."

"Yes, I know.... It was too complicated for me, I had so much to do here, the study requirements are a lot heavier than at home"

"Hmm yeah, sure...."

You are silent for a moment, Ella avoids your gaze. You know exactly why, and why she didn't fly to Sweden, let alone back home.

You realize that she still hasn't come to terms with what happened a year ago in August.

You were able to come to terms with it yourself, the nightmares had stopped, thanks to your fantastic psychologist who guided you sensitively through the horror.

Ella rejected it all and is still visibly struggling with it.

You sigh, knowing that it's no good trying to get inside her, to confront her, she has to want help on her own and that might take some time.

Luckily, your food arrives and you pounce on it.

"So, how are you doing here? How's your roommate? Anshu? Or?"

"She's great, she's introduced me to Indian cuisine, we cook almost every day now, a real enrichment to the canteen food!"

"I'll take your word for it!"

"Then there's Lucas, Claire and Haru, who are also exchange students from the Netherlands, France and Japan. We're together almost all the time, doing things."

Ella continues to talk about her new friends, her activities and all the things she has planned for you.

You listen with a smile, but you can't stop thinking about him... damn him!!!

Joakim

"JOLLY, I'm sorry, but did you even hear what I said?"

Noah is a little annoyed that Joakim is just staring at his phone and not responding to his questions or the songs for the new album.

"What, did you say something?" Joakim is startled out of his thoughts.

"Yes, I was trying to get through to you! What the hell is wrong with you man? I don't know you like this at all?"

"Nahh nothing else," Joakim tries to divert from the topic, but Noah's skeptical look shows that he won't have any further success with this.

"Spit it out, what's bothering you!"

"It's about Mina.... She still hasn't contacted me" sighs Joakim.

"So Mina, still? I mean it's been almost a week now..."

"Yes, Mina, yes still" he growls indignantly and gets up from his chair to wander restlessly up and down the studio.

"I don't know why she's not contacting me and it's just driving me completely crazy! I mean, if you'd seen her, heard our conversations, the hug, everything... I don't get it!!!"

"Jolly.... I'm probably the worst counselor when it comes to that... I don't know how a relationship works myself"

"What about Amber? I thought that was something else? At least that's what it looks like to me!"

"Yaaaa Amber, I honestly like her, she's fantastic, the sex is amazing, I like having her around, she's not annoying, she's great... but I just don't know.…"

"Noah, honestly, don't blow it again just because you're thinking about it too much. She's honestly great and just lovely, everyone likes her, and I think Jesse has a crush on her friend Jules..."

"Jesse and Jules? Honestly?"

"Yeah man, didn't you realize that?"

"No, it slipped my mind."

"I'm just glad Rainy didn't show up here again!"

"Yeah, she could be quite pushy, Michael wanted to kick her out before you arrived...."

"If only he'd done that" growls Joakim

Then he tries to concentrate on the new songs.

Back in his room, he opens his laptop to google hotels in Willamette. 551 hits... Damn, he didn't expect there to be so many.

Frustrated, he closes the laptop and lies down on his bed, his gaze fixed upwards.

Mina.... Fuck, why don't you get in touch?

He jumps up, he needs answers, so he opens the laptop again with the search results. Ok, they had talked about destinations, what kind of accommodation you prefer, that should narrow down the hits a bit.

You said you prefer small, family-run hotels, fine, just 260.

Then the location, more on the outskirts, in the countryside, again a few less, only 120 hotels.

Ok, what else, remember Joakim!

Yes, exactly, pool is something you like to have with you so you can go swimming. 56 hotels. That's a manageable number.

He takes a deep breath, suddenly unsure whether he really...

Then he starts typing, a dial tone sounds

"The Allison In & Spa, Ashley Miller, what can I do for you?"

"Lamberts, Joak... DAVID Lamberts, I was wondering if you could deliver a message for my sister Mina Lamberts, who is staying at your hotel, I haven't been able to reach her for days...." Joakim is miserable at the lie, but how else could he find out which hotel you are staying in?

Meanwhile, the lady on the phone is typing data into her computer.

"Mr. Lamberts? I'm sorry, there is no Mina Lamberts among our guests! Are you sure she's here in our hotel?"

"Um, I thought so, excuse me, I'll check again and get back to you, thanks for your trouble!" and with that he quickly hangs up.

His heart is racing, should he really keep doing this? Pretend to be your brother? I'm sure you have reasons for not getting in touch, he's acting like a crazy stalker right now.

Damn!

Joakim paces up and down, rubbing his sweaty hands on his jeans. Damn, fuck, fuck, fuck.

The situation is driving him crazy, he can't think about anything else but you, he can still feel you in his arms, he remembers your scent.

No, he needs answers!

Determined, he reaches for his cell phone again and dials the nearest hotel number.

After 23 more unsuccessful attempts, he is more frustrated than ever before in his life. He gives himself an ultimatum: he will call 5 more hotels today, then that's half of the hotels that come into question. The rest tomorrow.

If none of them are a match.... He doesn't want to worry about that right now.

The 5 other hotels are also a miss. Then his gaze falls on a hotel that he had actually ruled out, Franziska Haus Bed and Breakfast. Franziska? A name from XY, your home country?

Maybe.... Excited, he dials the number!

"Franziska Haus Bed and Breakfast, Franziska Smithers, what can I do for you?" The voice has the same slight accent as you, Joakim's heart races, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Yes, uhm, David Lamberts here, I wanted to leave a message for my sister Mina Lamberts!"

"Mina Lamberts did you say?"

"Yes, Mina Lamberts, Mina Katharina Lamberts....."

"One moment please...."

Joakim has the feeling that time is standing still.

"Mr. Lamberts? A Mina Lamberts is currently a guest here with us. What message do you wish to convey?"

"Mina is with you?"

"Yes, as I said, a Mina Lamberts is our guest!"

Joakim exhales with relief.

"Thank you, thank you so much!" he says, before quickly hanging up without further explanation.

Joakim's legs tremble, he suddenly feels sick and has to sit down. He stares at the black display for a long time, unable to move.

A thought drills through his head, you've found her...

He now knows what he is doing, he hastily packs clothes and toiletries in a bag, takes his acoustic guitar from the wall and stows it in the case provided for it.

He quickly changes his clothes, pulls his hair into a half messy bun and grabs his sunglasses.

Then he runs downstairs, where astonished faces stare at him.

Noah and Amber are in the living room, Jesse and Jules (he knew it!!) are on the other couch, deep in conversation, Orie is rubbing Harper's back, sitting in the armchair.

All eyes are on him and his bags!

Noah is the first to break out of his stupor.

"What the hell are you up to now?"

"I'm going to see her, I know which hotel she's staying in!"

"JOLLY, YOU'RE NOT FUCKING SERIOUS!"

"But Noah, I've never been more serious, I need to see her, I need to sort this out, I need to know why, I need clarity, clarity as to whether I've imagined it all or not. Please understand, I MUST know!"

Noah shakes his head speechlessly, Amber looks at him in confusion and swallows.

Then she straightens her shoulders, "I think Jolly should drive! If he needs certainty, that's the only way he'll get it!"

Noah turns to her, shaking his head, "Have you gone mad too? There's this brilliant invention called a TELEPHONE!!!"

"Yes" Amber replies, now sharper, "But what if she doesn't answer? Then what smarty pants?"

Noah gasps

"I think it's totally romantic if you want to be specific!" she hisses.

"Romantic? You could also call it STALKING," growls Noah.

"You're impossible Noah Sebastian Davis!" and with that she jumps up angrily.

Walks up to Joakim, hugs him "You're doing the right thing, trust me! What you told me about Mina, go to her, sort it out in person, that's always best!"

And with one last angry look at Noah, Amber takes her bag and leaves the house.

"What was that about?" Orie asks, confused.

"I don't know," Noah is stunned.

"Oh Noah, you still have a lot to learn about women!" laughs Jules, turning to Joakim and saying "Go to her Joakim, no matter how it turns out, you'll know, I'll keep my fingers crossed that everything turns out okay!"

"Yeah, man, me too," smiles Jesse.

"Nobody listens to me here anyway," sulks Noah, "Then I guess I have no choice but to wish you luck!" and with that he hugs Joakim.

"Come back safely, we need you here!"

"Thanks man, and if I may give you some advice, go after Amber, she's worth it!"

"Uhum... maybe you're right..." Noah concedes.

Joakim stows his luggage in his car, an Audi R8, another luxury he has afforded himself, gets in and drives off.

Mina

The first week almost flies by, when Ella has lectures and seminars, you explore the city and the surrounding area. You've discovered a second-hand bookshop and various antique stores where you can spend hours.

You would love to stock up on books, furniture and home accessories there.

Just today you're standing in front of a shelf full of old signs and milk churns. You can think of a thousand things you could do with them.

Sighing, you turn away to look at the jewelry.

The rings catch your eye, one in particular, a wide rose gold hoop with a transparent stone, a diamond?

Rose gold would look wonderful on Ella's fair skin. Unlike you, Ella has a lighter skin tone and medium blonde curls, a spitting image of your deceased father, whereas you could be your mother's twin sister.

The thought of your parents still makes you sad, you wish you could have gone to your mother for advice. About so many things, but currently about Joakim.

He still hasn't responded to your message.

You shoo the thought of him aside and ask the sales assistant to take the ring from the display. When you try it on, it fits perfectly. You smile and decide to buy it for Ella.

You choose an antique pair of silver dangle earrings with a garnet stone for yourself.

Elated, you leave the store to meet up with Ella in what has become your favorite café.

She's already there, waiting for you, and when she sees you come in, her eyes light up in anticipation. You suspect she has something planned...

"Hey Ella, sorry, I forgot the time in that one store, if I'm not careful I'll spend all my money in there!" you laugh at her.

"It's okay, I've only just arrived, I had a quick chat with my lecturer after my psychology class, the one I told you about..."

"Um, the young, handsome lecturer?" you tease her

"Yes, exactly him!" grins Ella

"I told him about you" she suddenly blurts out.

"You did what????" you blurt out in horror.

"He told me about you, that you have a degree in psychology, worked in a renowned psychotherapy practice and then set up your own practice, he was quite interested, at least that's what I thought...."

You have to swallow and look at her open-mouthed. Stunned, you want to start when she continues.

"I've invited him to dinner tonight, one more person really doesn't matter! And besides, distraction is the best thing for lovesickness!"

You're even more speechless than before, which hardly ever happens, and just stare at Ella.

"Have you taken leave of your senses? I mean are you out of your mind? You can't just invite a guy I don't even know! What's more, he's your lecturer! Are you still in your right mind? And what do you mean by heartbreak? It was a flirtation with Joakim, nothing more!"

"Yeah, go on lying to yourself about your guitarist!" Ella snaps sourly "You keep checking your messages to see if he hasn't replied after all, you look sad when you think I can't see it, I'm neither stupid nor blind! You've fallen for this musician and you've really fallen for him! I can't remember it being as bad with Christopher..."

"Please don't mention that huge asshole in this context!" you growl bitterly "He can rot somewhere else for all I care!"

Ella leans back "Right, not another word about the giant asshole! Then what should I call the other one?"

"Who?" you ask, confused.

"Well Joakim," grins Ella.

You roll your eyes, annoyed.

"What do Anshu and the others say about you inviting your lecturer to dinner? I mean, you want to cook together at Kelly's house, don't you?"

Ella grins even more "Well, to be honest, the idea came from Anshu and Claire.... I was just the executor, because I get on best with Ethan…"

Your eyebrows go up, "ETHAN? You're on first-name terms with your lecturer?"

"Chill, everyone calls him that, he offered at the beginning of the semester. Ethan Turnbull, to be precise. He's also published a few books, by the way, so you can see if you know anything about him," explains Ella.

You take a deep breath and sort yourself out, even though you'd like to strangle your little sister!

"Ella, dear, please, unload him again, I don't want to and I can't, ok?! Besides, I don't HAVE my own practice anymore, as you know very well!"

Ella's gaze darkens, she swallows, sits up straight in her chair and looks you straight in the eye "I know that very well Mina, you certainly don't have to remind me, I was there.... As.... As.... You know what I mean, I know why you gave up the practice!"

You sigh, realizing that this is the worst possible time to start dealing with this issue.

"Ella, please, tell him no, make up what I know, I don't want this!" you beg her.

"Mina, I can't possibly cancel on him, I don't even have his number or home address!"

"You're not fucking serious!" you choke out.

"But I'm fucking serious, or do you think I'm going to ask my LECTURER for his number or address?" Ella is outraged.

"I'd trust you with anything," you growl in frustration.

"Pfffff" is all you hear from Ella.

Damn, how do I get out of this number, your mind is racing. The last thing you want to do is have dinner with that psychology lecturer. You just wanted to cook with Ella and her friends and then eat, have fun, maybe go out afterwards.

Now this is completely inconvenient for you, because.... Because.... Yes, damn it, because your heart is still with this impossible, attractive, unreliable, charming, incredible man, with him.

And you could slap yourself for that.

"He's really not ugly, if that makes you feel better," Ella interrupts your thoughts.

"Who?"

"Ethan, he's tall, blond, longer hair and athletic, he plays rugby and coaches a kids' team. And he has a dog, Spot, a husky mongrel, totally cute! Spot is often at the seminar with us!" explains Ella.

"Dog sounds good," you agree.

"Well, that's a plus for Ethan! Joakim certainly doesn't have a dog!" grins Ella.

"I don't know, I don't think so!" you sigh and admit defeat for now.

Okay then, dinner with the lecturer on top of everything else.

What else can go wrong today?

"Great, then you'll come by at 7 pm? You know where, you have Kelly's address, don't you? And put on something nice!"

"ELLA KONSTANZE LAMBERTS IT'S ENOUGH NOW," you get indignant, "Who are you? Our mother?"

"No, your sister, she wants you to laugh again!" comes the simple reply.

You can't add anything to that.

"And when will you be happy again?" you ask her cautiously.

Her eyes darken again "I'm not unhappy, you know. I just don't want to talk about it, not now, not here. I just want to forget about it and go on living normally, as if nothing ever happened, you know?"

You nod at her.

"I can't go through that again, I was afraid of losing you too Mina, I didn't care that I could have died then, I was just afraid that he would kill you, like, like ....." her voice trails off.

You lean over to her and hug her tightly, comforting her, stroking her back as you hear her quiet sobs.

"Shhhhh Ella, it's all right, it's over, I'm here, it's all right, I'm not going anywhere, I promised you, I'll stay with you!"

"Always? Promise?" comes quietly from Ella's mouth.

"Always, I promise, as long as you can put up with me!" you smile.

"Good, because I can still put up with you!" Ella smiles again.

"Well then, everything's perfect! Come on, let's finish eating, I've found a little something for you!"

"Ohhhhh what is it?" Ella is delighted, she is still like a little child bursting with curiosity when it comes to surprises and presents.

Smiling, you reach into your Birkin bag and hand her the small dark blue velvet-covered box.

Ella happily takes it and opens it.

"Ohhhh Mina, how beautiful! THANK YOU!"

"You're welcome little mouse!"

At the mention of her nickname, Ella makes a face and tries on the ring, which fits like a glove.

"Okay, I won't take it off, it looks fantastic!" she gushes.

You smile lovingly at her.

After dinner, Ella heads off to her duties again, not bothering to ask you to be punctual first, she knows you're usually late, one of your little mistakes.

You roll your eyes and promise to be on time, in "appropriate" attire, as requested, no band shirts or ripped jeans, your favorite outfits.

You slowly stroll towards the hotel, when you arrive you decide to take a hot shower and wash your hair. Then you want to take care of your outfit.

Your long dark green skirt with small cream-colored flowers, the dark green top and a short cream-colored cardigan should be suitable enough.

You mainly want to do Ella a favor, you don't care about Ethan.

You sigh at the thought of spending the evening looking after a psychologist who is a complete stranger to you.... So far, all the male psychologists you've met have been complicated in their own way. And the last thing you need is a complicated man!

Or a man in your life at all.

The story with Joakim has shown you again that it's better not to trust anyone, not to let your feelings get in the way.

You only get hurt and you never want to be hurt again, by anyone, you never want to feel helplessly at the mercy of a situation or feelings, ever again!!!

Joakim

After about 16 hours of driving, with short breaks, he finally reaches Willamette.

He is tired and excited at the same time.

How will you react?

Do you even want to see him?

What if you don't feel the same as he does....

Joakim becomes uncertain, what if Noah was right? It's stalking, he found out about your hotel through lies and now he's standing outside the hotel.

Creep!!! it goes through his head.

What if you're thinking the same thing?

Unsure, he puts his head on the steering wheel and stares ahead of him.

He no longer knows whether it was right to drive here. Shouldn't he go straight back?

Just forget everything?

But there is this tugging in his chest.... Longing?

He looks up, suddenly he sees you coming out of the hotel, at first he thinks he's going to die on the spot, then he quickly ducks away so that you don't recognize him.

He peers cautiously out of his side window, sees you make your way to the parking lot and open a Ford Fiesta, get in and drive off towards the city center.

Joakim is hot and cold and nauseous at the same time, God he's nauseous and dizzy, he has to open the door and breathe in and out deeply, otherwise he feels like he's either going to pass out or throw up.

He feels like a teenager in love for the first time, not a grown man of 35!

Pull yourself together and make a decision Karlsson, he tells himself.

Easier said than done, he still has pudding legs and feels sick as a dog.

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and decides to take a room in the hotel for now, he can make a decision there too.

Hopefully they still have rooms available, he thinks.

A friendly looking middle-aged lady stands at the reception desk

"Welcome to Fanziska Haus, what can I do for you?"

"Karlsson, Joakim Karlsson, I haven't booked, a spontaneous trip, I wanted to ask if you have a room available?"

"Oh, just a moment please, I'll have a quick look!"

The lady, whose name tag reads Sarah, types quickly on her keyboard and looks intently at the screen.

"Ahh, you're in luck, I can offer you room no. 14. How long are you planning to stay?"

"Uhmm, that depends on certain circumstances..." Joakim squirms.

Sarah smiles at him questioningly.

"Yeah, so for one night, I guess? Maybe longer... like one, two, three weeks?" he stutters.

"Oh, a little more specific would be good, Mr. Karlsson! One night is no problem at all, but several weeks is, because the room is booked elsewhere. You could then, or rather would have to, move to another room. Would that be a solution for you?" Sarah offers in a friendly manner.

"Yes, that sounds good, yes, that would be brilliant if you could arrange it that way!" Joakim beams.

"Good Mr. Karlsson, then I would need your personal details for the registration, how do you want to pay? By credit card?"

"Yes, credit card!"

Once everything is settled, Sarah hands him the key card for his room and wishes him a pleasant stay.

Joakim is glad to finally be able to lie down for a while. Once in the room, he leaves his luggage in his bag and throws himself tiredly onto the bed, only to fall asleep a little later.

When he wakes up again, it's late afternoon, FUCK, how long has he been asleep?

He looks frantically at his cell phone, 4 pm and 3 messages from Noah, 5 from Vincent...

Joakim rolls his eyes in annoyance and opens one after the other.

They both want to know where he is, whether he's arrived, how you reacted, whether you reacted, or whether he found you at all, when he's coming back to LA, whether he's still alive....

Idiots he thinks lovingly and types the same message for both of them:

Am at the same hotel as Mina

I saw her briefly, she's really here, but she didn't see me, I checked into the hotel first and am now in my room.

I'm not sure what I'm going to do next, I still have to think about it. I'll be in touch, you don't need to send me any more messages!

Jolly

What am I going to do, how am I going to meet her? Wait in the lobby?

"Hey Mina, how are you? You haven't contacted me yet, so I've been spying on you to find out exactly where you are, and tadaa here I am!"

Oh God, CREEEEEEEEEP!!! it roars in his head

Joakim sighs in frustration, he can't possibly do that!

His brain rattles, suddenly he has an idea.

He quickly searches his cell phone to see if there is a flower store or something similar in Willamette. Zack, hit. He grins with satisfaction and taps select.

"Willamette Flower Delivery Serving, Ava speaking, what can I do for you?"

"Karlsson here, I need a bouquet of flowers that can be delivered today!"

"Within Willamette that's no problem, Mr. Karlsson, what bouquet would you like and where, to whom, would you like it delivered? The bouquets can be found on our homepage."

Joakim quickly scrolls through the offer and spontaneously decides on the Garden Bouquet with white hydrangeas, pink and pink roses, rose-colored lilies, light pink button flowers and white margarites, plus various grasses and leaves.

He hopes you like the flowers, that he has met your taste.

"The Garden Bouquet, please deliver this to Mina Lamberts, M-I-N-A L-A-M-B-E-R-T-S," he quickly spells out, "Currently at Franziska Haus Bed and Breaktfast, here in Willamette!"

"Ok, I've written everything down, how do you want to pay?"

"Credit card, I'll put the card number through......!"

"All right Mr. Karlsson, I'll see to it that the bouquet is delivered today!"

"Can you tell me roughly when that will be?" he asks.

"Uhm, we have another big order here, in about 2 to 3 hours? By the way, would you like to add a greetings card?"

Joakim thinks about it

"No greeting card directly, but do you have a card with a guitar?"

"No, unfortunately, but I could print a guitar on the card if that would help you!"

"Yes, it does, thank you very much!" Joakim is relieved.

Now he just has to sit down in the lobby in 2 hours and wait for the flower delivery man... Just because it's all so easy!

In the meantime, he unpacks his things, showers, puts on fresh clothes and sets off in search of somewhere to eat.

The hotel itself only serves breakfast, and Sarah, the nice receptionist, tells him where he can get something to eat in the city.

With this information, he drives into town and stops in front of a nice-looking restaurant. The menu on the sign outside the restaurant promises a variety of burgers, just what he's in the mood for.

After he has eaten, the world looks a little more confident again. He decides to take a stroll through the city, keeping an eye on the time - he doesn't want to be back too late, that would ruin his whole plan!!!

A small antique store catches his attention, he looks curiously into the shop window, only to freeze shortly afterwards. YOU are in the store, bent over the sales counter. You take out various pieces of jewelry and look at them.

Joakim's mouth is suddenly completely dry again, he can't move, he watches spellbound as you decide on a ring and a pair of earrings and pay. You turn towards the exit and walk towards it...

He finally breaks out of his stupor and quickly disappears around the corner. From there, he looks after you as you walk down the street towards the university.

Damn him? No, he has a plan, this would have been chaotic and unplanned, it would have suddenly overwhelmed him.

He sees that you're going to a café near the campus.

Should he?

No, not that you'll discover him when he's looking for you at the window.

He's breathing heavily, fuck, he's going to have a heart attack!

Shortly before 6 p.m., Joakim walks into the hotel lobby and, with a quick glance, decides on a seating area in a corner of the lobby with a good view of the entrance and reception.

Now he just has to wait.... He can do that perfectly by now, he remarks sarcastically.

Time passes, no flower delivery man in sight, Joakim gets nervous, he taps his foot, taps his fingers rhythmically on the table, checks the time again and again.

He has been waiting for almost an hour....

Suddenly a young man enters the lobby with a bouquet of flowers wrapped in tissue paper and Joakim stands up tensely.

The young man is talking to Sarah at reception.

Joakim steps closer to overhear the conversation.

He comes within earshot just in time, right when Sarah calls your room number, 23!

You have room number 23, Yess!

The flower messenger heads for the elevator and Joakim hurries to the stairwell, where he hastily sprints to the second floor to arrive before the messenger.

His plan works, he has made it before him.

The messenger steps out of the elevator and looks around, Joakim watches him closely.

Then he heads towards room no. 23, just before he can knock, Joakim is at his side.

"Excuse me, but are these the flowers for Mina Lamberts?" he asks innocently.

The messenger is confused, but confirms the question.

"Wonderful!" Joakim beams, "I've given the order, you can leave the flowers to me, I'll deliver them myself!"

The messenger looks at him in disgust, "Uhh, yes, no, that's not possible, I have to deliver the flowers, otherwise my boss will give me hell, and I don't even know if her details are correct!"

"Ok, I can show you my ID," Joakim offers, "that should confirm my identity, and there's a guitar on the greeting card! Who would know that if not me, the client?"

The messenger becomes uncertain and opens the card to make sure.

"Yes well, then....." he stammers!

"Perfect!" grins Joakim, takes the flowers and slips the messenger a tip.

He grins, nods at Joakim and disappears towards the elevator.

Joakim waits until he is alone in the hotel corridor.

Heart pounding, he unwraps the flowers, positions himself in front of your door, lifts the flowers so that his face is not immediately recognizable and clears his throat several times.

Sweat breaks out from every pore, dizziness and nausea set in again.

If not now, then when, he thinks to himself, death-defyingly, and knocks energetically on your door!

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