#but i mean it would make sense. ten is the doctor who regrets eleven is the doctor who forgets. eleven never protests when people imply he

[many-gay-magpies]

thing in doctor who that absolutely destroys me: whenever some character is talking about a war or losing a loved one and says something to the doctor along the lines of "how could YOU understand?" or "you'd never understand, doctor" and then it flips to a shot of the doctor just looking so. sad and knowing. rips me apart every time it's just excellent

[multific]

Small Steps

Vinent de Gramont x Reader

Warnings: Talks about blood and mention of smut at the end

Summary: You and your husband have a conversation about your future.

"I want five." you nearly choked on your food as he said that.

"F-five?!"

"Exactly. Or more." the way he said it with such confidence, made you a little nervous.

"More?! What am I a machine?!" you now regretted bringing up the topic.

"Is five children a lot?" he finally looked up at you, finding your eyes as he looked confused.

"Yes! When you are the one who has to carry them and give birth! Yes, five is a lot."

"I never thought it would be, well, since you brought it up, how many would you want?"

"Two? Maybe three?" you were now nervous to answer him. Sure, you have known him for a long time, married him almost four years ago and you were rather surprised that the topic of children was never truly brought up until today.

"Okay, we could agree on three." he said turning back to his food.

"Okay."

"When?"

"Sorry?"

"When can we start trying? Do you feel ready to be a mom?"

"Oh, I think I am ready. I mean we have been together for almost seven years now, married for four and I didn't even know you wanted children." you looked at him then took a sip from your wine for courage.

"I do want children. I just never wanted to bring up the topic because I didn't want to make you feel like you have to do it for me. With my line of work, you must understand it is difficult but I'm in a much higher position now. I am at a point where I feel like we are ready and no one would hurt you or them. But if you don't feel ready, I understand."

"I will talk with my doctor, stop taking pills and we can go from there. I feel ready to have a baby." you nodded, happy that you two came to a conclusion.

"Small steps, I like that. I will go with you to the doctor."

"I mean I know he reports you every time I'm there, so you would know everything either way." you smiled and he smirked.

"Clever girl."

"I'm also pretty sure the cashier at the convenience store is one of your men."

"Paid him so he would only sell the best stuff for you."

"That explains why he wouldn't sell those bananas for me. He spent five minutes at the back looking for strawberries instead and he made sure they are ripe. It was suspicious."

"You know I just want the best for you."

"I do. And I love you for it." you returned to your pasta as he looked at you still.

"Are we really going to have a baby?" he asked, you sensed in his voice something that he never showed to others, anxiety.

"Yes. We will start trying and see when... it takes." you cringed at your own words but he found it rather amusing, judging by the smile on his face.

"I'll do some research."

"Research?"

"Of course. I never go into something without a plan."

"You don't have to plan for this." you said but you already knew he probably had ten plans ready in his head. Much like when you were engaged. He let you believe that you were the one planning things but he was behind it all from the start.

"But I do, we might need a bigger house and we have to set up their room."

"I'm not even pregnant yet. And I'm on birth control at the moment still! Also bigger house?! We live in a mansion, Vincent. What could be bigger than that?"

"A palace? A castle?" you looked at him, unamused but you could tell he was joking.

"We have twelve bedrooms."

"Then we can have eleven children." he smirked and you wanted to groan but you also found it amusing.

You hoped he was joking, the fire in his eyes did make you take a step back.

"Not my point."

"I was thinking a house which is safer. Not like our current one isn't."

"We have eight houses."

"How many rooms are there? We could fill all with a child."

"Vincent." you giggled but you did mean it as a warning.

"Okay, okay, I was thinking a slightly smaller house. So the baby can be...closer to us."

"Oh, that's sweet. We will look something up, I'm sure we can find a nice safe home."

"How about Versailles?" he suddenly looked at you, pleased with his idea.

"Y-You are NOT buying the Palace of Versailles! Also, it would be so obvious! Everyone knows where it is."

"That's the beauty in it! It's so obvious that it isn't."

"Vincent, please can we just focus on the doctor and my pills first?"

"Small steps." he nodded and soon you were having dessert.

You looked at him as he was eating his cake, he looked so calm and so incredibly handsome.

His eyes caught yours as he noticed you staring. He had a questioning look.

"Maybe... maybe five isn't that many after all. If they all look like you."

"I had the exact same thought. I was watching you at our wedding, dancing with your friends, you looked so stunning. That's when I decided that I would want as many children with you as you would like. Even if you didn't want children, I would have been okay with that." you smiled at his sweet words as his hand reached out and you gave him yours immediately.

"You sound like a love-sick teenager."

"More like a poet, you are my muse."

"Your art is death, Vincent."

"Indeed. And you would look stunning covered in blood." you smirked as you watched his eyes change. His gaze became more predatory, it excited you.

"I think we should go home." he nodded.

Maybe you were supposed to take things slow. Maybe you were supposed to take it step by step.

But as his gaze turned darker by the second all you could think about was him filling you up and whispering the dirtiest things into your ear.

Small steps can wait.

More Vincent

Taglist: @fleursirvart​ @greenarrowhead​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06 @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa​ @spilledinkindumpster​ @capsiclesdoll​ @puknow​ @alwayshave-faith​ @alex12948​ @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​ @praline357​ @trshngyn​ @avengers-r-us​ @violet-19999​ @top1bbgloak​   @manduse​   @jacalineiscomingforyou​  

Vincent Taglist: @l4venderia​

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, PLAGIARISE, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[definitelyseven]

liability | eighteen - final

summary: reporter meets mafia boss, Park Jinyoung

one | two | three | four | five | six (m) | seven (m) | eight | nine (m) | ten | eleven | twelve | thirteen | fourteen (m) | fifteen | sixteen (m) | seventeen | eighteen - final |

It’s been six months since your wedding; since that night. You remembered your white dress being covered in his blood. No matter how many times you called for him, he didn’t respond.

Without Mark, you don’t know how you could’ve survived these past six months. He trained you to take over the clean side of Jinyoung’s business while he took over the dirty side. He didn’t want you to get your hands dirty. Jinyoung wouldn’t have wanted that either.

“Jinyoung, baby. It’s been six months. Please wake up,” you begged by his bed side. The doctor said the surgery was successful but they didn’t know when he’ll wake up. You rubbed the wet towel on his face. “Who could’ve done this?” you whispered to him. 

“I’m looking into some people,” Mark responded. “But I don’t want you to worry about it right now. You need to take care of yourself and the baby.”

You instinctively rub your belly. While Jinyoung was in a coma, you also found out you were pregnant. His mother has been ecstatic and has been nicer to you ever since.

“Baby, please wake up soon. I could really use your help with the baby names. Your mother has some interesting ideas,” you joked. “Ow!” you winced in pain.

“What’s wrong?” Mark asked, rushing to your side. 

“The baby is kicking,” you whined as you held onto your stomach.

“Deep breaths,” he instructed. You inhaled and exhaled as taught in your baby classes. You grabbed Jinyoung’s hand and placed it on your stomach. 

“Do you feel that Jinyoung?” you asked him. “The baby is kicking me.” You watched as Jinyoung’s fingertips slightly move against your stomach. “Mark!”

“He’s moving his fingers,” Mark cheered before running out to get the doctor. 

“Jinyoung, honey?” you called again.

You waited patiently outside as the doctor checked up on Jinyoung. 

“How’s my Jinyoung?” his mother asked as she rushed towards you.

“He’s awake. Mark and the doctor is in there right now,” you explained to her.

“Mrs. Park,” the doctor called. “He’s awake. Everything seems to be alright with him considering how long he’s been in a coma-”

“Oh thank God,” his mother exclaimed. 

“But his memory may be foggy,” the doctor continued to explain.

“W-what?” 

“He might not remember you,” Mark continued to explain. You rushed inside Jinyoung’s room. He can’t forget you - he can’t.

“Jinyoung,” you called with tears in your eyes. He looked at you as if he didn’t know who you were. “No...” you whispered.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” he asked.

“I’m your wife,” you revealed, making your way closer to his bed.

“No, she’s not. She’s not your wife,” a voice from behind you said. “Get away from his bed,” his mother said. “Sweetheart, you remember me, right?”

“Yes of course, Mother.”

“This women is not your wife,” she explained. “Your wife, Irene, is on her way.”

“What? No. I’m your wife,” you argued. “Mark?”

“Jinyoung, she’s your wife. Not Irene,” he agreed with you.

“It’s me,” you whimpered. 

You stood outside his room as you watched Irene and Jinyoung talked. He was smiling at her like she was the love of his life. It made your heart ache. How could he not remember you but remember Irene?

“Don’t worry. He’ll remember you. He has too,” Mark comforted. 

“Y/N let’s have a chat,” his mother demanded as she pulled you to the side. Mark quickly followed behind. 

“How could you?” you asked her with tears in your eyes. “How could you say I’m not Jinyoung’s wife?”

“Now that he’s lost all his memories, I want him to have the perfect wife he deserves and that’s not you,” she revealed. “We’ll keep the baby after you give birth. Irene will raise it as her own.”

“You can’t do that,” you sobbed. “I won’t let you. Jinyoung won’t let that happen.”

“He has no reason to protect you anymore. He doesn’t remember you and I want it to stay that way. You killed his father.”

“I am legally his wife,” you reasoned.

“No papers were signed - saying I do is just part of it.”

She was right. You and Jinyoung never signed any papers. You inhaled a deep breath, “I’m never letting you have my baby.”

“See you in court then,” she smiled before walking away. You exhaled deeply, turning your attention to Mark. 

“I won’t let that happen,” Mark comforted. “Give him some time.”

“You really don’t remember me?” you asked softly. Jinyoung looks at you blankly, trying to remember you. “That’s okay,” you comforted him and yourself as you reached for his hand. He flinches at your touch. “Sorry,” you mumbled.

“No, I’m the one that should apologize. I’m sorry I don’t remember you,” he said. “I’m really trying.”

You shake your head, “It’s not your fault. We will find whoever did this to you.”

“Irene said Y/N did this to me. Do you know who Y/N is?” he asked.  

“I’m Y/N. I’m your wife. I would never do this to you,” you sobbed. “This is our baby,” you said rubbing your stomach. “Why would I want to hurt my baby’s father?” 

“I-I don’t know,” he replied, holding his head. “I don’t know. My head hurts,” he complained. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Irene shouts from behind. She rushes over to Jinyoung’s side, pushing you away as she tries to calm him down to relieve his headache. “Why do you insist on hurting him all the time?” 

“You fucking bitch,” you mumbled in between your sobs.

“I heard that,” she glared while pouring Jinyoung a glass of water. 

“Irene, you said Y/N did this to me. How did she do it?” Jinyoung asked weakly.

“You can’t possibly think that’s true,” you said in disbelief. 

“I hired a private investigator. She deposited a large sum of money to a mysterious bank account an hour before the wedding. I traced the offshore account and it’s tied to a well-known gang,” Irene explained. You shook your head, denying all the allegations. 

“No...that’s not true,” you sobbed.

“Don’t even try to lie. I have all the proof here,” she said reaching for her purse. She pulls out the documentation and hands it to Jinyoung. “See baby,” she pointed. “Look at all that money being transferred between accounts.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” you sobbed. “I don’t have an offshore account and the gunman was aiming the gun at me. You got injured trying to save me.”

“See,” Irene quickly asserts. “She knew you were going to save her so of course the target wouldn’t be you.”

“After everything we’ve been through, I would never hurt you.”

“You mean everything Jinyoung and I been through. Babe, it’s true you guys had a relationship. You cheated on me with her, but I forgive you. I will always forgive you,” Irene said tearing up. This fucking bitch.

“How were you able to find all this when Mark wasn’t able to find a single thing for months?” Jinyoung asked, suspicious.

“Oh,” Irene said, caught off guard. “Money can do wonders, silly.”

“I have money.”

“I don’t know Jinyoung; hire better help?” Irene said, annoyed. 

“You set everything up perfectly to frame Y/N,” Jinyoung revealed.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous sweetie. Why would I hurt you? I love you,” she tries to convince Jinyoung. 

“You were never trying to hurt me. You wanted to hurt Y/N. You just didn’t think I would save her,” Jinyoung revealed. Irene chuckles nervously. “I’m not stupid Irene. I may have just woken up but I know you. I remember you.”

Irene rolls her eyes and moves away from Jinyoung. “Why do you insist on believing her even when you don’t remember her?! I’m your wife!” she practically shouted. “I’m the one you should be loving!”

“Because you’re always so desperate for my attention you’d do anything! Even if it meant hurting someone! That’s the person you are - you’re selfish and greedy. You only want what you can’t have. That’s the Irene I know,” Jinyoung explained.

Irene’s eyes swells up with tears. “You’ll never love me like you love her,” she said with her lips quivering. “She’s the reason your father is dead!”

“Maybe but I can never be with you, Irene. She’s pregnant with my child. I have to be responsible.”

“I will treat the child as my own,” Irene said. “I promise I will love it like I love you. I promise I will change. I’ll be a better person.”

“I will never give you my child,” you tell her. “I will never let her grow up with a monster.”

“Her?” Jinyoung asked. You nodded slowly which made him smile. “It’s a girl,” he whispered to himself. 

“Me or her, Jinyoung. Me or her,” she repeated. “This is your last chance. If you pick her, I will have my parents withdraw out of every investment in your company,” she threatened. 

“I don’t care if you withdraw your investments. I don’t care about that. I want to be with my child and my child’s mother, even if I don’t remember them.”

“You’ll regret this,” Irene says through her teeth before leaving. You made your way towards Jinyoung’s bed. He grabs your hand.

“I’m sorry I can’t remember. I’ll try harder,” he said squeezing your hand.

“You don’t have to apologize. It’s not your fault,” you assured him. “Are you going to let her off that easy?” you asked, referring to Irene’s attempted murder.

“If you don’t mind. It’s the least I can do for her. She became like this because of me,” Jinyoung explained. You nodded slowly, agreeing with him.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“Can you tell me how we met?” he asked. You smiled at him, nodding. 

“I was a reporter and you were a dangerous businessman. I wanted an interview with you,” you began to tell him. Even if he didn’t remember you or everything you’ve been through together, you would be willing to spend the rest of your life making new memories with him. 

a little note from jennie: i’m so sorry for the delay on this final chapter. i really wanted to come up with a perfect ending for this and i’ve rewritten this so many times. hope you enjoyed it! :)

[leiawritesstories]

Speak To My Heart

Rowaelin Month, Day 15: A bad day

Word count: 3422

Warnings: language, bit of depression, fighting. In short, there is angst in this fic. Hope the ending makes up for the rest.

Linguistics and foreign languages are two of my personal passions, so please bear with the bits of language talk that I couldn’t resist including. Brief word of clarification: a lot of expressions we use in English either translate into something extremely rude or don’t make sense in other languages. Translation companies have been trying for quite some time to make sure they don’t accidentally send a client a translated instruction manual that reads “fuck your mother” instead of “for questions, contact your local energy department.” All right I’ll get off my soapbox. :)

The phrases in foreign languages, marked with *, are translated into English at the end. Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rowan’s day had been shit. The second he walked through the door, he’d been bombarded with an endless slew of crash reports, malfunctioning equipment, faulty passwords, and best of all, having to rewrite half the security firewalls because one of the rash young idiots in his department couldn’t be bothered to check his work for errors before sending it to management. And management thought it was the department boss’s job to fix all of his employees’ fuckups.

He hated IT.

Even more so since being promoted to department chair. 

All he wanted to do was the fun stuff--program design and development, fixing the flaws in his own designs, and of course making those who tried to break into his company’s systems regret their pitiful existence. But Cadre Tech’s bitch of a CEO refused to let the best software engineer on her staff actually do his job. 

Most days, he could cope with the pile of useless shit she directed to his desk. Most days. Today was not one of those days. Probably because on top of all the meaningless tasks he’d had to field, he was also forced to sit through one of Maeve’s bullshit “department head strategy sessions,” where every department chair had to pretend they gave a single shit about any word coming from their CEO’s garishly red, pinched mouth. 

As if she knew anything her staff actually did. 

Thanks to the compulsory meeting, Rowan was stuck in his office at nearly ten o’clock, painstakingly combing through the final draft of the update to CT’s translation program. This program had shot the company to fame and fortune, or at least insane stock value. “A Google Translate that actually translates,” their marketing department called it, and by the gods, that stupid slogan worked. And made sense. Rowan knew the program was just as good as it claimed to be.

He’d put in the hours, alongside a team of linguists, software engineers, designers, and people fluent in at least one other language. Frequent were the sessions where the project whiteboard turned into a jumble of words in twenty or more languages, Spanish alongside Arabic next to a column of simplified Japanese characters spilling over into a row of Cyrillic lettering. Rowan himself spoke German and some Spanish, but even he was lost amid the cacophony of eighteen different people switching from language to language, trying to figure out how idiomatic expressions translated from one language to another and what words should never, ever be placed together. 

It took the team well over a year of bickering, or as they called it, friendly linguistic disagreements, to make it from loosely mapped concept to functioning program. By the time it hit the market three years ago, the software had been so well promoted that companies all over the world snapped up their chance to finally communicate properly with the client they’d offended years ago with a bad translation. 

At launch, of course, Maeve stood in front of a sea of shouting reporters brandishing microphones, smiling her serpentine smile, and proceeded to thank the creative team for all their “contributions” before taking all the credit herself. 

Said creative team went to the bar that had become their usual gathering spot that night to get drunk and shit-talk their horrible boss, not necessarily in that order. 

His favorite memory of that night was hearing the chief linguist, an outside contract with multiple advanced degrees who spoke eight separate languages besides English fluently, refer to Maeve as “quella puttana rugosa che non riusciva a convincere un cazzo a venire a dieci metri da lei se si vestiva da figa.*” The Italian speakers on the team were crying with laughter, and so was everyone else, once she translated it.

And then she downed another shot of vodka and hissed something that sounded like “sukya bliyad, no puedo mich betrinken con esta ordures.**” When everyone blinked in confusion, she sighed and relayed the sentiment in English. 

Nobody had laughed as hard as Rowan. Aelin Galathynius just had that effect on him.

She brightened his darkest days.

But she couldn’t ease the strain of today.

And it was all his fault.

~

Aelin glanced up at the clock on her wall and cursed in three different languages when she saw that it was nearly eleven. Without meaning to, she’d spent all afternoon and evening writing lesson notes on idiomatic expressions. She really couldn’t help herself once she got into the topic; it was her pet project.

And the subject of one of her dissertations. Yes, she had multiple. 

She’d worked her ass off for years to get through college, then through graduate and doctoral work while teaching at universities to offset costs, then earned a full-time teaching position at one of the top-ranked universities in the world. She got to teach linguistics, her lifetime love, and give guest lectures at other universities and at conferences, teaching people all over the world about the complexities and interrelatedness of language. Hell, she spoke ten; she’d be qualified to speak on linguistic relationships by virtue of that alone.

Gods, she was the chief linguist behind the most successful translation software ever produced. Even if the bitch who owned the rights to said software had literally threatened to sue over ownership rights if any of the people who’d poured their figurative blood and sweat and literal tears into building the program tried to claim a small piece of the credit each of them so richly deserved. 

That software and her role in its creation--even though Maeve Ond had claimed the public credit, the creative team spoke at interviews and made news features for their work in Cadre Tech’s massive success--had solidified her credentials as a professor of linguistics, had boosted her into her lecturer spot.

Last year, her university granted her tenure. 

She should have been overjoyed, and she was, but not as much as earning tenure deserved. 

Because there was nobody to share her joy.

Three years ago, in the wake of CT’s overnight jump to worldwide fame, Aelin fled a love she did not and never would deserve. 

She told herself she would never look back. But she did. Almost every day, she looked back at the life she’d shared with Rowan and tried to convince herself that she did the right thing.

Try as she might, she could never silence the whisper that echoed always in her mind. 

“You broke both of your hearts” 

Someday, she told herself, someday she would be back in Doranelle. Someday, she would have a chance to apologize. Someday, maybe she could fix the Rowan-shaped chasm that gaped wide in her heart. 

Yet here she was, sitting in a very nicely appointed hotel room in the university district of Doranelle, typing furiously away as if burying herself in notes and prep for tomorrow’s lecture could make the urge to contact Rowan disappear.

~

Three years earlier. Doranelle.

“Knock, knock.”

Rowan’s head jerked up from where it had most definitely not been slumped on his desk. “Wha--Oh. Hi, Aelin.”

“You’re falling asleep, buzzard, let’s go home.” He heard laughter in her soft voice. 

“As if you won’t just get home and start cross-checking every single one of the phrases on your ‘potential problem’ list.”

She chuckled, walking over to him. “Fine. We’re both perfectionist work whores. Doesn’t mean we don’t need sleep.”

“I know you too well to believe you’re actually going to sleep.”

“All right, you win. Come home now, I’ll make some food, and you can put me to bed.” She winked saucily at him, leaving very little doubt what putting her to bed would entail, and he was up out of his chair in seconds. 

“Hand over your computer, Fireheart,” he grinned as they walked into the small house they shared on the outskirts of the city. 

“What?”

“Your computer, love. I’m leaving both of our work bags on the shelf by the front door so we can actually catch some rest tonight.” He pressed a finger to her mouth to silence her protests. “Uh-uh, Ae, we have interviews tomorrow and I won’t let the genius behind this program’s flawless word-to-word be anything but well-rested.”

She sighed, but he saw the love in her eyes. “Here, then, my dear brilliant software engineer. Leave your notebook, too, because I know if it’s anywhere near you, you’ll be up at three in the morning scribbling blocks of gibberish and picking apart your faultless code until you go insane.”

Both of their work satisfactorily put aside, Aelin made good on her promise to cook Rowan dinner. 

And then he made very good on his promise to put her to bed. 

The next morning, they were both awake with the sunrise, content to lay curled in each other’s arms as the morning light spread across their room.

Rowan drifted back into sleep, waking for good when he caught a whiff of coffee from the kitchen’s direction. 

“Morning, you sleepy buzzard,” Aelin grinned, sipping from her mug.

Rowan dropped a kiss on her head as he reached for his mug. He took a long drink, sighing as the milky, sweetened caffeine hit his mouth. 

“I will never understand how you drink your coffee black, Fireheart.”

“Not all of us need to sweeten the hell out of coffee to drink it, Ro. Maybe if you can’t handle the real thing, you should go back to your pretty little cups of crappy cafe tea.”

“Mention my pretty little teacups again, Ae…”

She giggled. “You be quiet and drink your coffee-flavored milk, my love.  We both know you’re impossibly grumpy until you have caffeine in your veins.”

He grumbled something unintelligible as he drank his coffee.

They were nearly late to work that morning, even having planned an extra half hour to arrive, thanks to Aelin wearing what Rowan dubbed her “sexy professor suit.” She fixed the pins in her French twist in the car, making herself once again a portrait of professionalism, and slipped Rowan’s hand from her leg.

“Two hands on the wheel, Whitethorn.”

He pouted. “But I’m a safe driver and I want to hold your hand.”

“My hands are over here, love, not down by my skirt.”

When he pulled into his spot, Aelin closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath. 

“You good, Fireheart?”

Gods, she loved hearing him call her that. “Yeah. I just…needed a moment to settle myself. To tell myself the cameras aren’t here to tear apart what I say.”

Rowan wrapped his hands around hers. “Dr. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, the bland reporters are here to stand in awe of your expertise. Not a single word you say will come across as anything but brilliant and beautifully said.”

She squeezed his hands, her usual confidence returning. “I love you, buzzard.”

“I love you too, Fireheart. Let’s go talk about our amazing achievement.”

The day sped by in a blur of reporters, interviewers, teleprompters, practiced speeches, lights, cameras, and crew. When the last bleached-blonde anchor of the last interview of the day cut her crew’s cameras, Aelin flopped against her second-in-linguistic-command, Dr. Nehemia Ytger, the expert on ethnic African languages. 

“If I never see a news crew again, it’ll be too soon,” she sighed. “I’m beat.”

Nehemia snickered. “But we’re done talking about how proud we are that Maeve and her marvelous company have done such a grand service to the world.”

Aelin snorted softly. “Right. And now we servicepeople want to go home and take off our heels.”

“Amen to that.”

As the team filed out of the studio, Rowan made his way over to Aelin. “Holding up?”

“Not anymore,” she said, leaning casually into his side. “My heels are killing me, there’s a hairpin stabbing into my scalp, and I really, really need to pee.”

Rowan laughed, deep and husky. “Let’s get you home, then.”

“I’m stopping in the bathroom first.”

Just before she left the ladies’ room, Aelin heard voices in the break area. Familiar voices--Rowan’s, Maeve’s, and the snippy, borderline whiny tones of Remelle Frelau, who worked in the marketing department and had a hell of a boner for Rowan. 

“--looking at revenue over--” Maeve’s voice cut out, but from the gasps of the other two, the revenue was through the roof. 

“And it’s all thanks to this genius here,” drawled Remelle, who if Aelin had her guess was probably clinging onto Rowan like a platinum-blonde leech. 

“Ms. Frelau, this was the product of a team. No single person could possibly have made it happen alone.”

“Oh, call me Remelle, or even better Remy. And you’re the team leader, so you practically did create it by yourself.”

Aelin snickered to herself. Vapid bitch had no idea what she was saying. 

“That’s not how teams work, Ms. Frelau. We wouldn’t be here without Dr. Galathynius and Dr. Ytger’s language expertise, not to mention the creative genius of the engineers, graphic designers, linguists, and programmers.”

“Ms. Frelau, though her judgment is clearly biased, has a point, Mr. Whitethorn,” Mave said. “You demonstrated remarkable collaborative leadership qualities throughout this project, and I fully expect that you will continue to do so.” Maeve’s heels clicked away. Rowan’s voice followed her.

“Thank you, Ms. Ond, but I have to credit Dr. Galathynius--”

“Will you stop kissing that woman’s ass?” snorted Remelle. “Gods, she’s not worth your time or your praise; all she does is translate words into different languages and you idiots drool over that like it means anything.”

Aelin jerked like she’d been slapped. She knew Remelle was a self-centered, shallow, spiteful bitch, but she hadn’t known she would do this.

“--did more for this project than you and your useless whiteboard of catchphrases,” growled Rowan. 

“I don’t care what she ‘did for the project,’ Rowan, she’s never going to be good enough for you.”

“Thank you for caring about my welfare, Frelau, now please kindly fuck off.”

Aelin chose that moment to saunter out of the bathroom and head straight for Rowan, her face showing no hint of having heard that conversation. She did note with satisfaction Remelle’s vain attempt to march out of the room with some semblance of dignity. Too bad her heel caught on the seam of the hallway carpet and the break room’s tile flooring and she had to grab the doorframe to keep from collapsing. 

“You’re awfully quiet, Aelin.”

“Just thinking. Processing, really. It’s been a hell of a day.”

Rowan nodded. “I bet.”

“And hearing fucking Remelle rip into me for being useless…didn’t make it better.”

“Shit, you heard that?”

“Yeah. I heard that.” Her voice was hollow. 

Rowan pulled into their driveway and shut off the engine. Reaching across the console, he cupped Aelin’s face in his hands. “Aelin. You are brilliant. You are terrifyingly smart. You are a force of nature. Nothing, nothing you will ever do is useless. Don’t let that jealous bitch make you think you are less than the perfect woman.”

She smiled tentatively at him. “She…she told me before that last interview that I could never be enough for you. Because you--because of Lyria.”

Rowan raked a hand through his hair. “Ae, can we talk about this inside?”

That night, he told her about his former fiancé, Lyria. He told her about their whirlwind romance, their youthful dreams. He told her about the horrific crash that stole away Lyria’s life. A drunk trucker, a narrow pass in the mountains. He showed her the box in which he kept all the memories of that life. He cried. Aelin cried. He curled against her, let her comfort him.

“Sometimes, I wish she was still here. She’d understand everything. She always did.”

Aelin had no response. She let Rowan fall asleep, his weight shifting off her and into his bed, and looked through the box. Everything she saw served as another reminder that this was the first woman he loved, the woman who understood everything. 

She was worthy of him. 

But was Aelin?

The more she looked at Rowan and Lyria’s happiness, the more the answer solidified. 

No.

When Rowan woke up the next morning, Lyria’s box sat on Aelin’s side of the bed, a side that had not held Aelin.

He glanced out the window.

Her car was gone.

He got up and frantically paced through the house.

Everything she’d brought into his home was gone.

As was she.

~

Present day. 

Rowan opened his front door mechanically, pulled off his shoes, dropped his work backpack on its shelf, and was halfway to his bedroom before he realized he’d just opened his front door. His front door that was always locked. 

Someone was in his house.

Someone who either had a duplicate key or insanely good lockpicking skills.

Exactly one person owned a duplicate key to his house.

Aelin.

That’s impossible, she lives in Orynth, she can’t be here, he told the traitorous part of his brain that leapt with joy at seeing Aelin’s face again.

He turned around and made his way through the kitchen--nobody there--to the living room. He flicked on a lamp, casting a soft light around the room.

And nearly had a heart attack.

Aelin Galathynius sat on his couch. 

For a moment, he just gawked at her. She looked so…different. Older. Gone was the infectious smile that had captured his heart. Dark shadows smeared under her eyes, testament both to the long hours she devoted to her work and to recent sleepless nights. She was twisting a ring on her right hand, a familiar sign of her nerves. From his angle, Rowan could see a hint of dark script on her wrist. A tattoo. The Aelin he knew didn’t have tattoos.

“I’m not a ghost.” Her voice, weary and hollow, broke the tense silence.

Rowan crossed the room, propped an arm on the fireplace. “Why?”

“Why am I here? Why did I leave? Why did I cut you out of my life?”

“Everything.” He couldn’t keep the waver from his voice, but his eyes burned into hers.

She took a steadying breath. “I’m here to apologize, first of all. I’m here to face what I ruined and to try and start mending it. I’m here to come to terms with everything I broke when I left three years ago.”

Whatever he’d expected her to say, it certainly wasn’t that.

“I’m sorry, Rowan. I’m sorry I left like that. I was…I was scared.”

“You can’t just run away from your fears, Aelin!” He couldn’t keep the frustration from his tone. “You can’t just abandon someone when you have a bad day!”

“I’m sorry! I know I shouldn’t have left! I know I can’t run from my fears; I’ve spent the last three years trying and fucking failing to do that! But I don’t know what else to do.”

“Saying something about it would have been a good first step.” 

“I’m bad at emotions, Rowan. I tried. It wasn’t enough.”

“That’s not a good enough excuse.”

Aelin flicked a tear from her face. “I know.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry, Rowan. I should never have left. I let some stupid comment root into my head and make me doubt myself. I made myself believe I would never be good enough for you. I left you. I loved you, and I still left you. I still love you, even though I’ve tried to suppress it. I can never make up for that. I…I just wanted to tell you how much I’ve regretted that horrible decision all these years. I want you to be happy, Rowan, I--”

“How am I supposed to be happy without a source?” He’d dropped onto the couch, close enough to touch her but still keeping his distance.

“What?”

“You didn’t just take yourself away, Aelin. You were my happiness. I’ve spent three fucking years trying to make myself believe I’m better without you in my life, and I can’t.”

She was unabashedly crying by that point. “What do you want me to do? How can I make up for abandoning you?”

“Stay.”

Her gaze locked onto his, both of their eyes pooling with tears.

“Stay with me, Fireheart.”

“But--”

“I never stopped loving you either.”

A choked sob ripped out of Aelin. Rowan couldn’t hold himself in check any longer; he reached out and tugged her gently into his arms. To his shock, she didn’t resist, burying her face into his chest as sobs shook her shoulders. When she calmed, he tilted her chin up.

“Will you stay, Aelin?”

“Yes. Even though I will never deserve your forgiveness, yes.”

~

Translations:

* = “that pinched old whore who couldn’t convince a dick to come within ten metres of her if she dressed up provocatively” (Italian)

** = loosely translated as “Fucking hell, I can’t get drunk off this garbage.” (in order, Russian (badly phonetically spelled out because Rowan POV), Spanish, German, Spanish again, French) (the Russian doesn’t directly translate, so it could mean several different variations of expletive)

~

Might there be a second part? Perhaps......

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

big big big tw for abortion from a conservative's perspective (not mine) abortion gore, abortion politics, and i guess propaganda?

looking for: information and advice i think?

Hello! I want to preface by saying I know this is a rough ask, so I completely understand if you guys don't feel comfortable answering it or if it's too gory.

Ok. So I'm a high schooler who's been in a very tight knit, conservative christian community my whole life. As in, I didn't know any other way of life until a few years ago.

My mother (and pretty much everyone else I see irl) believes that abortion is evil, and killing babies.

Until I was about ten or eleven, I wasn't allowed to know what abortion was (I mean I guess that's not too unreasonable? It was the big scary word that my mom whispered about my whole life.)

I found out by reading the pro life books my mom has in the house. One about a girl who was aborted but survived, one about women regretting their abortions, etc.

And then my mom told me about how it kills babies, and how Planned Parenthood is evil. She always calls abortion "true evil". She's told me that (very much child gore warning here, I'm so sorry) planned parenthood takes babies out of their mothers body, takes them apart, and sells the bodies for money or just throws them in the trash.

She's also told me that in some places, doctors are/were allowed to kill the baby if it comes out alive.

I don't want to ever get married or have children (I'm aromantic) and if I ever did get pregnant, I want to have an abortion. I've learned a lot about birth control and a more scientific (?) view of abortion online behind my mom's back, but I'm still so scared of it.

Is my mom right? I really don't want her to be.

Hey anon, 

I think that abortion is a very personal choice, and that someone else’s beliefs shouldn’t impact someone else’s. Unfortunately, it is so much more complicated than that within our society. 

The truth is that most places (I can’t speak for every single country and its laws because I don’t know them all) that allow abortions have a time limit. As in, there’s a certain point that an abortion is allowed to be performed. Late stage abortions are actually very rare, and are usually only down because of a life threatening circumstance to the one carrying the child. I think the average number is that 24 weeks is the latest for an abortion outside of medical complications. Research also shows that only 7.1% of women have abortions between the weeks of 14-20 and only 1.7% have abortions at 21 weeks. In other words, later abortions are really uncommon. So no, doctors aren’t killing babies when they come out. 

It’s really valid that you’re afraid and it makes sense given the messages you’ve heard from your mom. There are a lot of resources out there if you can safely access them to read more. I know I can’t change years of things you’ve been taught by your mom, but I want to assure you that you would be valid to get an abortion if you got pregnant for any reason. 

April

[nitannichionne]

If He Was YOUR Fan Chapter 26: Come What May

CHAPTER 26: COME WHAT MAY                                         

You are not hearing this, you tell yourself, you are not hearing this! You envision the look on Henry’s face if you decide to tell him this—you have to tell him this. You shake your head, wanting to put your head over your ears as the doctor spoke. “What do you mean?” You ask the doctor. “It’s been eleven weeks, and I’m here, what’s the problem?”

“We cannot give you the injection until we know you are not pregnant.”

“But—”

“I know this is an inconvenience, but we took blood and urine and we see the depo provera is substantially weakened in your system and it hasn’t been twelve weeks. Come back in two weeks and test, and if you’re negative, we will give you the shot.”

You gasp. “Doctor—”

“Your injection seems to be weakening after an estimated eight weeks.”

“Eight weeks?!” your eyes fill with tears, shaking your head. “So—”

“So, you need to be careful after eight weeks instead of ten or eleven,” he nods. “I’m sorry, it’s the best we can do.”

 Stella calling your name breaks into your thoughts from earlier in the day. Your misting vision clears as you look at the ring on your hand. “Hey, you okay?”

You don’t want to talk about it. You don’t want to talk to anyone, not even Henry.

“You’re scaring me,” Stella whispers, taking your hand. “I won’t tell anybody.” She looks around and whispers even softer. “You and Henry fighting?”

We might be, you think.

“I see the way he looks at you,” Stella encourages. “I’m sure you will work it out, okay?” She smiles. “If not, we’ll beat him down with bags of potatoes!”

You hug her and she slowly brings her arms around you. “Thank you!”

“No problem,” she says slowly. “Whatever it is, it’s gonna be okay, alright?”

You nod, half believing her words. This was major.

You meet Henry at his trailer as you have every Friday for awhile now. You see him and you try to brighten.

He smiles and you smile, not quite trusting your voice yet. He kisses you in greeting and says, “Let me get my stuff. Stay here, Kal.”

“Hey, boy,” you say softly, petting him. “Hard day at the office?” You laugh softly as he licks your face in greeting.

He drives you to his home, and you sit as he starts a fire. “Did the shirts arrive today?”

“Uh, yeah, I got a notification on my phone.”

“You really want to dress for the party?” he asks, laughing softly, bringing you a glass of wine and going back into the kitchen.

“I thought it’d be fun,” you shrug. “Besides, we’re just wearing shirts, really.”

“Yeah, District 12 shirts.”

“I thought it’d be simple, and it won’t really feel like a costume, you dress up enough as it is.” You sit, thinking of the party next weekend. Would he even want to go? How is going to react--

“Okay, what’s going on?” He stands over you with a wooden tray of bread, butter and cheese with grapes.

“What?” you look up from your glass. Sometimes the man moves too quietly, you think.

“You’re remarkably quiet,” he smirks. “Everything okay?”

Your eyes drop to your lap, and your smile fades.  How do you tell him?

“Wait, you had an appointment today, right?”

You can’t look at him at first, but when you do, you regret it. He looks upset and angry and you want to melt into the floor.

He sits next to you, and looks at the glass of wine in your hands. His jaw tightens. “Okay. Start talking.”

“I have to wait two weeks to take the shot.” You stare at the fire.

“Why?”

“Because the drug weakened in my system.”

“Shit.”

“Henry—” you reach for him and he stiffens. “Henry!”

“If you knew that the damn thing didn’t work—”

“Hold it,” You raise a hand. “You think I actually knew that?”

“How could you not?”

“Easy enough,” you say. “I don’t normally do this. I don’t sleep around!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I haven’t been in a lot of relationships, especially like we are.”

“You mean, unprotected-reckless?”

“Reckless.” You repeat. “So I’m a reckless choice?”

“I didn’t say that--” he shakes his head.

“I have my own shit, you know!” you snap. “I don’t need you-have a place of my own back home, and I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you!” Tears sprang to your eyes, ruining your declaration of independence.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” he says, coming close.

You back away, and he whispers your name as he extends his hand.

“I- I don’t want it like this!” You shake your head. “I want you to want me…” I hit my chest hard, making him flinch. “for me! I don’t want to be some burden, or a problem or—"

“What do you think that ring means?”

“I don’t know!” you say, wiping your tears furiously. “Stella gasped when she saw it, said she’d tell me later, but we didn’t have girl time this week—”

In two strides he has you in his arms. “I know you are not like that, alright? You don’t need me, but you want me.”

“Yes—”

He raises your hand with the ring on it. “Think, sweetheart, this is a—”

You look at it. “Triquetra.”

“Know what it means?”

“Father, Son, Holy Spirit.”

“Yes, that’s the Catholic definition.”

You take a deep breath. “Earth, sea and sky?”

“Well, that would be the pagans,” he smiles gently. “But this is a promise ring. It means you are exclusively seeing someone who loves, honors and protects you.”

“Not obey?” you joke tearfully.

He laughs. “Oh, that’s an entirely different ring!” He kisses your ring. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it together, alright?”

You look up at him hopefully. You’ve never felt so vulnerable, so wonderful, thrilled and scared.

“Come here,” he purrs, closing his arms around you. You put your head on his chest and listen to the strong and steady beat of his heart. You close your eyes. “Now, what did the doctor say?”

“Going forward we should be careful after 8 weeks.”

“Eight?!” he repeats.

“Yeah.”

He takes a deep breath and sighs, “Alright.”

“What if—”

“Let’s wait and see, alright?” he says, looking down at you.  “Whatever it is, we’ll face head on.”

You cuddle by the firelight and watch random movies, much like last weekend-plenty of kisses and hugs, but no sex. You try to be understanding, realizing that abstinence or protected sex would be the way to go until the follow up, but you miss how he feels, and at a time like this, his touch would be the ultimate comfort. He took it easy on you when you dueled and introduced archery instead, something he promised he would do, but there were mixed messages all around. Was he not touching you because he didn’t want to-because now you represented a possible change in life? Was he not touching you because you are now precious and fragile, and he wants to be sure his seed stays intact? Was he being nice until he knew for sure and planned on making you his latest liaison?

During the weekend you kept looking at the ring. He gave it to you, didn’t he?

After he falls asleep Saturday night, you lay awake. You inhale the scent of his arm, which is draped over you. You run your cheek along it, kiss his hand and close your eyes to sharpen your other senses since your sight doesn’t come into play.

Then he stirs.

You gasp softly as he turns you onto your back, and kisses you tenderly. You release a whispered cry of relief as your arms fold around him, welcoming him. Your heart aches for him. You rub your cheek against his stubbly one, and you are breathing hard. His body presses against you, his hips between your legs, his mouth at your throat, as your fingers stroke his back and neck. You want to say it, you want to, and you feel like a coward. You arch to him, tears coming to your eyes as your mouths finally meet and mate. He kisses them away.

He grinds against you and as you kiss, he unzips your hoodie and pushes it off your shoulders. You help him get his pullover and shirt off, and you return to each other’s kiss desperately. With one hand he unfastens and unzips his jeans to remove them, and before you can do it, he tugs successfully at your leggings, sliding them down your legs. You feel shy as the air feels cool between your legs, your panties already wet. He trails kisses up your legs, his fingers caressing you intimately and making you raise your hips and remove them. You spread yourself under him in offering, feeling emboldened by need, by vulnerability, by love.

He crawls over you slowly and kicks his underwear off. You hear the telltale sound of ripping packaging and feel him shift his weight. He kisses you deeply as he gently moves inside you and begins to move. He still feels so good—his whole body, every sight, feel, and scent, his touch—close as before. He will not leave you, you believe it now.

Though you appreciate his making the adjustment, you wish you could feel him again. You know how much larger the tip can be than the shaft, how he surged and glided inside you so deeply and your body clasped him even as he seemed to widen and fill you. You could feel his main vein sometimes, throbbing as he controlled it, taking you both higher till you exploded together. It held him back, held you apart, and you found his embrace tighter, his kisses and touch more passionate.

“Love, honor, protect.” He whispers against your lips before gently kissing your ringed hand. He intertwines his fingers with yours.

“Love, honor, protect,” you whisper back. You lean up to kiss him holding him with your other hand. And no matter what, you would. Come what may.

Thanks for the support! Let me know if you want to be added to the list. I look forward to your comments! 

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[anghraine]

“the jedi and the sith lord” - chapter twenty

o_O

Last chapter:

If she’d know she could do that back on Tatooine—

Of course, she couldn’t do it back on Tatooine. Or now, for that matter.

Lucy scowled at the book. The thing she still didn’t understand was how you went around sacrificing your life force at all.

This chapter:

“I need to practice healing,” she said artlessly.

Behind his mask, he blinked. ��What?”

“It’s not like there’s a lot of wildlife around here,” said Lucy. “I’ve tried to read the book and figure out the diagrams, but I don’t think I’ll be able to really understand unless I try to do it.”

chapters: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven, chapter eight, chapter nine, chapter ten, chapter eleven, chapter twelve, chapter thirteen, chapter fourteen, chapter fifteen, chapter sixteen, chapter seventeen, chapter eighteen, chapter nineteen

-

Vader had just stepped out of his ventilation pod when he found LX-3, of all people, waiting for him. Already annoyed with his foggy visions while in the pod, he glowered at her through his lenses.

“What are you doing here?”

Doctor Izahay, who had assisted him through today’s time in the tank, glanced from droid to cyborg, plainly perplexed. 

“I came to report on an unexpected occurrence,” Ellex said, and turned her head to stare at Izahay. 

“Return to the medical bay, doctor,” said Vader.

“Yes, sir,” Izahay said, with another suspicious glance at Ellex. She gave her a wide berth as she exited the room. Izahay was efficient and loyal, but not one to hide her judgment of any given situation.

Vader returned his gaze to Ellex. “What is it?”

“It concerns Miss Skywalker,” said Ellex.

Some small part of Vader felt a flare of satisfaction at the name, as he did always did. His name, no matter what Palpatine might pretend, even if it had lost all meaning for him personally. Someone, somewhere, had wanted her to know whose daughter she was. Owen and Beru Lars, he was inclined to think, and rather regretted that they had—obliviously—stood in the way of the Empire. 

A larger part of him was already alarmed.

“What about her?” he demanded.

Ellex said, “She requested that I harm her.”

“What?”

Anakin Skywalker had, despite his long-ago nickname, felt many moments of fear, dread, horror. But this nearly surpassed them all. Lucy had seemed relatively content for weeks, eager if impulsive in her training, no more than annoyed at the worst of times. That was the reason he’d lowered the guard on her. Was she trying to escape, after all, in a different way? Was it—

Recovering some fragment of his composure, Vader said, “In what way?”

“She said that it did not matter,” replied Ellex.

Vader considered that. He didn’t know whether to take it as a good sign or an even more terrible one. Only Lucy, he thought, could answer that question. 

“What did you tell her?”

“That I preferred to keep my processor and circuits intact,” Ellex said. “I did not suppose that you would tolerate such an action, sir.”

“No,” said Vader tightly. “I would not have.”

He found that he could extract no further information out of her, so he dismissed her, and headed towards the training room. It was only a little before Lucy’s appointed arrival, and sure enough, she showed up shortly thereafter, her omnipresent book tucked under her arm. She seemed hurried but no worse.

“What’s on the schedule for today?” she asked.

For a moment, even that seemed unanswerable. He simply looked at her, trying to think of some way to introduce the subject. Nothing came to mind.

“LX-3 told me you asked her to hurt you,” he said. 

At that, Lucy actually wrinkled her nose.

“I should have known she’d tell.”

“Yes,” said Vader. “You should have. What possessed you to request such a thing?”

“I need to practice healing,” she said artlessly.

Behind his mask, he blinked. “What?”

“It’s not like there’s a lot of wildlife around here,” said Lucy. “I’ve tried to read the book and figure out the diagrams, but I don’t think I’ll be able to really understand unless I try to do it. But I couldn’t think of anyone I could try it on, except myself.”

His dread dwindled; he couldn’t sense any deceit from her directly, or in the Force. She’d actually concocted this asinine plan.

“You thought you could sacrifice your life force to yourself?” 

Surprise radiated through her. Then she looked sheepish.

“I suppose that doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

“No,” said Vader, “it does not.”

“I just didn’t think it through that far,” she admitted.

“Clearly.”

“I wasn’t going to have her really hurt me,” she said. “I just needed some scratches. Well, I thought I did. Now, I can’t see any way to try at all.”

She withdrew into a brooding silence, frowning at the floor as her mind jumped from thought to thought faster than he could follow it. For himself, Vader once again had no idea what to say. He had a vague idea that she should be disciplined for such idiocy—and for the alarm she’d given him—but he couldn’t see how. He didn’t want to alienate her just when he’d started making progress, and he could think of nothing but tightening the restrictions on her again. But what would that do? It was Ellex she’d gone to in the first place, and in any case, she was something like an adult.

“Show me what is confusing you,” he said at last.

Lucy brightened and pulled out the book, opening to an early page. On one side, he saw a diagram of a human or humanoid body with lines that might be veins tracing through it. On the other was a long block of text, which he scanned quickly. The lacuna must be adumbrated in concept prior to any supplementary action. 

What? No wonder she’d wanted to try a direct effort, even if the method she’d attempted was incredibly foolish. 

“Now you see the Jedi Order in practice,” said Vader.

“Oh?” 

“Clarity was often not their strong suit,” he said.

She sighed—sometimes he wished he could still do that—and closed the book. 

“I guess not.” Then she looked up at him. “So you can’t heal yourself with the Force? It has to be others?”

“As far as I understand,” said Vader. “At least, if you use the Light Side. I have … heard that some measure is possible with the Dark Side, but I don’t know the details.”

“Hm,” said Lucy. “Can you heal?”

“No,” he said. 

If he had any affinity for the power that kept Palpatine upright, he’d have used it on himself long ago. And if something happened to Lucy, saving her would likewise be beyond his powers, however great they might be otherwise. 

He asked, “Did you never considering going to the medical bay?”

“The med-bay?” For a moment, she seemed baffled. Then her eyes widened. “For practice, you mean?”

“You should have seen other patients when you were there,” he said. All the more after the battle, however quickly it had occurred.

“I was a little preoccupied,” said Lucy. “Anyway, I wouldn’t have thought that Doctor Izahay would let me.”

“Doctor Izahay,” Vader said, “will do whatever I tell her to do.”

“Right.” She dropped her eyes to the cover of the book. “You’ll tell her, then?”

“That depends on you,” he said.

-

To Lucy’s surprise, her—admittedly foolish—misstep of the morning seemed to pass without consequence. The dread Darth Vader, who was also the fierce hero Anakin Skywalker, just looked at her, then walked over to the table. 

“Put down the book,” he said, and picked up a long wire before turning back to face Lucy. “Focus on this.”

She raised her brows. Moving a wire around didn’t seem particularly challenging, but he usually had some other end in mind, obscure to her as so much was. Even though they were psychically linked or whatnot, which seemed unfair. She listened to him in the Force, but felt nothing other than methodical purpose above the subterranean anger and pain. She didn’t think he was angry at her, though, just … always angry to some extent or another. Maybe because of the pain, or some Dark Side thing. 

“I am waiting,” said Anakin, a familiar impatience touching his tone.

Dutifully, Lucy focused on the wire. She could feel it clearly in her mind, the length and narrow breadth and metallic sheen. Okay.

“Now,” he said, “bend it.”

She gave him a puzzled look. “Bend it? How?”

“You can move the whole, can you not?” he said. “Why not just half?”

But it was harder, like the precision work. Minutes ticked by, the wire vibrating in his grip as she tried to move it without moving the whole thing. The grip of his mind was even stronger than that of his hand, and certainly stronger than hers; the wire wasn’t going anywhere. And when she finally succeeded, only a generous person could call it success at all; the wire snapped right in half.

Lucy stared at the pieces. 

“Uh,” she said.

“Interesting,” said Anakin. “I had not intended that yet.”

“Yet?”

“I did intend you to learn to crush and break items from a distance,” he said, which sounded a little horrifying. “If you were, for instance, trapped in a cell—”

“A cell?” she said. “How exactly is that supposed to happen?”

“—then bending and snapping metal bars would be useful,” he went on, unperturbed. “But control is important. Bend this half”—he floated one of the pieces back into the air—“without damaging it further.”

All in all, she spent an hour that day trying to figure out how to move various parts of things without moving the whole, bending and stretching and crumpling them or hitting switches and pulling levers. It was at all points difficult, but she could see the why more easily than most of what she did, even if she couldn’t see the opportunity to use most of it here. By the time it ended, she felt wrung dry, but she still beamed when he handed his lightsaber over. 

It got a little easier over the next few days, though not by much. She thought it would always take more of an effort than most things. Her progress must have adequately satisfied her father, however, because on the fourth day, he took her to the medical bay.

Doctor Izahay glanced up as he entered, her expression shifting from preoccupied professionalism to alarm. Immediately, she hurried over, her gaze briefly flicking from Anakin to Lucy before returning to him.

“What has she done now?” she asked. “Or is it you, sir?”

“Nobody has done anything, doctor,” said Anakin. “Yet.”

Izahay frowned. “Then—”

“Miss Skywalker,” he said, slightly emphasizing the name (our name, Lucy thought), “is my apprentice.”

Izahay looked at her uncomprehendingly.

“She may, perhaps, have found a technique that can aid you,” he went on. “You are to give her full access to the patients.”

“Full access, my lord?” Izahay was already shaking her head. “But what if—is the technique validated by—”

“That is an order, doctor,” said Anakin.

Privately, Lucy insisted on thinking of him by his true name. But she acknowledged to herself that his tone sounded very much Vader in that moment.

Izahay swallowed. “Very well. But she will need to follow all hygiene procedures and limit interference to this … technique.”

“I’m right here,” Lucy said.

Izahay deigned to look at her again. “I see that. Do you understand?”

“Of course,” said Lucy. “I don’t want to harm anyone.”

“See that you don’t,” Izahay replied, then sent a slightly nervous glance in Anakin’s direction. “When should I expect these visits?”

“They will start tomorrow,” he told her, and that was that.

By the time Lucy arrived at the med-bay the next day, she was a little tired from the training with her father, but mostly eager to try to do something, and something on her own, at that. She ignored Izahay’s obvious reluctance, submitted to a change from Padmé’s clothes to white medical get-up, coiled her hair into a net and washed her hands with something that turned them red and stinging. Then Izahay gestured towards a line of patient beds.

“Take your pick,” she said.

Lucy scanned the beds; the patients were nearly all humans, and about half of them asleep, or at least unconscious. She didn’t really feel up to talking to anyone, with so much unspeakable, so she walked towards the furthest of the unconscious soldiers. She couldn’t deny that it seemed strange to be thinking about helping Imperial soldiers, but—well, she had to try to figure this out. And she’d rather not experiment on Rebels, even if it were possible.

She pulled a nearby stool over and studied one of the boards hanging on the wall, which listed each soldier’s injuries with scrupulous exactness. Okay, this one had only been shot in the shoulder—it looked just that bit too deep for bacta to reach.

Feeling a little silly, Lucy reached a hand out and held it above the man’s shoulder. But her theory that it might simply come out of her if the situation called for it was immediately proven false; nothing happened. Conscious of Izahay’s glower, she closed her eyes. How did you just go about giving up part of your life force? 

It’d help if she could feel it. She tried to meditate, ignoring the sharp medical scents around her, straining to feel the energy behind her breaths and pumping blood. But she didn’t feel anything except the Force, and for once, that wasn’t what she wanted—not wholly, at least. She had to give something up. How, though? 

After an hour of nothing, Izahay showed up to shoo her away.

“But—”

“Lord Vader gave me clear instructions,” said Izahay. “You are not to spend above an hour here, and at any sign of weakness your technique is to be immediately halted.”

Lucy nearly wrinkled her nose again. She didn’t see how much progress she’d make in an hour each day. But considering the whole death-if-you-do-it-wrong angle, she could understand why he’d be careful. She was probably lucky he’d allowed this much.

“All right,” Lucy said. “If he says so.”

“He does.” Izahay glanced down at the patient, someone called Lan Grenath. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” said Lucy.

The next day yielded no better when she tried to push some part of her spirit into Grenath. The Force swirled about her, easy to grasp at the moment, but it didn’t help her do anything. After that, Lucy tried reading the book again, focusing on the sections on the life force itself rather than healing, which she’d previously been more interested in. As far as she could tell, she needed to withdraw into her body (?) to attune herself to the energies within her (???), which she could then manipulate. At least, she thought it meant that. 

The following day, she didn’t even try to heal Grenath or any of the others, instead just folding her hands in her lap and trying to meditate deeply enough to banish everything beyond the limits of her own body. She even had to do her best to block her sense of her father, though she could still feel that he was out there, somewhere. And the day after that, Lucy managed to narrow the world down to her body, tuning out everything else and feeling something beat away within her, beyond the thump of her heart. Was that it?

The sensation quickly faded. But Lucy practiced it even after Izahay kicked her out, and between her training sessions with her father, determined to hang onto it. Yes, controlling objects from a distance and defending herself from blaster bolts were important, but this felt more important still, if she could only get it right. 

On her fifth day in the med-bay, Lucy managed to retreat into herself in the way she’d practiced, this strange other reality enclosing her in a comfortable pulsing darkness. Half-dazed, she reached her hand out again, not quite touching Grenath, and strained to find some way of passing that energy on. She couldn’t push it; she’d tried. But this form of healing used the Light Side, didn’t it? The Light Side didn’t like being pushed. 

Lucy hung onto the energy within her and reached for the Force, struggling to let both flow through her. For a moment, she just felt dizzy and confused, her mind tugging against itself—and in the next moment, it felt like something swung around, everything pouring through her body as if she were nothing but a vessel of the Force. As quickly as it had happened, the sensation stopped.

She looked down at his shoulder. The discolouration of his skin was gone. The tear left by the blaster was gone without so much as a mark left behind. Even an old scar several inches away was gone. 

Lucy didn’t dare risk Izahay’s ire by raising her voice, so she strangled the impulse and instead pulled her hand back. Walking over to Tisix, she quietly asked the droid to evaluate the injury to Grenath’s shoulder.

Tisix grumbled but complied, stalking after her and then stopping at the man’s side and giving a low whirr.

“There is no injury,” Tisix announced. “Is that quite all?”

Lucy smiled at nothing in particular. “Yes. I think it is.”

-

She raced into the training room that day, heedless of anything but not tripping over her own boots. Inside, she found Anakin methodically chopping a pipe into segments for no apparent reason, the red lightsaber flashing.

“Father,” she said breathlessly. “I did it!”

He extinguished the lightsaber before turning to look at her. “You did what?”

“I healed someone! One of the soldiers in the bay!”

She felt his attention sharpen, narrowing in on her.

“I’m fine,” she told him. “A little tired, but that’s all.”

“Good,” said Anakin. She wasn’t exactly sure which statement he was responding to, but felt too ecstatic to bother trying to figure it out.

“I did it, though! There’s not even a scar now.”

“Very impressive,” he said. 

Lucy grinned.

“All the more,” he said, “as you required no training in it.”

She thought about that. “It felt like I did, but I guess not. It didn’t come as naturally as some other things, though. I can’t wait to go back tomorrow—”

“Absolutely not,” said Anakin. “You’ll need to take several days to recover and replenish your life force.”

“But I don’t feel like—”

The mask seemed particularly relentless. She exhaled, but couldn’t feel too much disappointment in this moment. Instead, she smoothly transitioned from an explanation of how she’d finally managed to heal to her training of the day—which was mostly the same as the previous few days, except that Anakin had Ellex shoot her with two blasters at once, from varying directions. That way, she didn’t do nearly as well as usual at deflecting them, even with the Force flowing through her, though she was never completely stunned. As usual, however, she improved over the next several days, and Anakin let her return to the med-bay. 

Now, Lucy tried a patient with a more severe injury, one that had perforated his lungs. She wouldn’t be able to get her hand as near the injury as before, though she didn’t know if that actually mattered or just helped her direct the energies. It took multiple tries, but on the fifth, he seemed to breathe more easily, his features smoothing over, and on the seventh, a machine beside the bed started beeping. Izahay came running over.

“What did you do?”

“You’ll see,” said Lucy.

Izahay scanned the readings, her brow furrowing. “That’s impossible!”

Lucy, perched on her stool, just swung her legs back and forth, smiling as Izahay turned to her. 

“What did you do?”

“You’ll have to ask Lord Vader about that,” Lucy told her. She did feel a little light-headed this time, but no worse than that.

Izahay evidently did ask Anakin about what had happened, because he quietly congratulated Lucy again when she showed up for her formal training that day. She’d taken a nap and felt fine again, thankfully. She managed to deflect the blaster bolts from all directions and when he set the blue lightsaber on the table and told her to activate it without touching it, she managed it after several tries—it seemed to resist the tug of her mind somehow, but not indefinitely. 

Anakin took the lightsaber and turned it over in his hands, seeming almost lost in thought.

“The time has come,” he said. 

Lucy blinked up at him. “The time for what? Are you going to teach me something else?”

“Not at the moment,” said Anakin. He slung the lightsaber back on his belt. “I have seen the location of Jerjerrod’s and Varti’s private fleet. Meanwhile, Jerjerrod is preoccupied with the Emperor’s project. Varti has returned to Naboo.”

Something in him recoiled from the mention of that particular planet, though Lucy didn’t know why.

“Oh,” she said. “So it’s a good time to check things out?”

“Precisely,” he replied. “However, if I were to appear there in person, it would immediately raise alarms. I go nowhere unnoticed.”

“True,” said Lucy. “Well, you’ll have to send an agent.”

“Yes, I will,” he said slowly. “In a matter of this much importance, it would have to be an agent of extraordinary capabilities and dedication. One who could communicate their observations and actions without any possibility of detection, and respond to my thoughts and plans in an instant.”

She drew a sharp breath.

Back in the Rebellion, quite a few people had dismissed Lucy as a skilled soldier but not much else—good at flying and shooting, not thinking and plans. But she was by no means a stupid woman. 

Lucy met his gaze as directly as she could.

“You’re talking about me,” she said.

[dylinski]

Watch Me Bleed (9/?)

Warnings: VIOLENCE, DEATH, BLOOD, ANGST

Relationships: Mitch Rapp/Reader

Word Count: 4902

Author: @dylan-obrien-fanblog

A/N: This whole chapter is entirely from Mitch’s POV. Sorry it’s so long, but I just had a lot to put in there and didn’t want to break it up into two parts. I promise, all the chapters won’t be this long...unless that’s what you guys prefer. Please leave feedback! Tell me what you think or if you have any ideas. When you don’t give feedback it’s discouraging and makes me think that people aren’t reading it. Thank you to everyone who does though. I really appreciate all of you.

Chapter 9

Seven, eight, nine. Mitch had his back to the wall as bullets flew towards him from around the corner. Ten, eleven, twelve. The man shooting at him was using a Glock 19, which he knew held 15 rounds. Thirteen, fourteen. He hunkered down to wait until the assailant ran out of ammo and needed to reload. Mitch was too smart to waste his ammo on the man when he knew he couldn’t get a good shot. Fifteen. Now was his chance. As soon as the shot was fired, he rounded the corner, his Glock 17 already aimed. He squeezed the trigger twice, hitting the man perfectly between the eyes and in his heart. Keeping the gun up, he swept the room for any other threats. He ran through the doors that the dead man was guarding and hugged the walls as he made his way down the corridor. A man walked through a door right before he passed it, but Mitch shot him in the temple before he could register his presence there.

He reached the end of the hallway and found the double doors that led to the office of the man he had been sent to kill. He leaned against the door and could hear an old gruff voice yelling at someone to protect him. The sound of multiple guns being cocked that sounded like automatic rifles were muffled through the wood. Those would pose a problem if he stormed in and he knew they most likely had their guns trained on the doors, waiting for him to breach them. He scrunched his nose, annoyed at this and the fact that he didn’t know how many men were on the other side. He let his clip slip out and he counted how many rounds he had left, eight. Hopefully that would be enough. He pushed the clip back into its place and cocked the gun, then shoved it into his waistband at the small of his back. He went back a couple feet to where he shot the man in the temple. He searched his body and found a knife that he shoved in his boot. He picked the man up and dragged him to the door where the office was. He lifted him up so that he was shielding his body and then shot off the handle of the door. seven. He heard a woman scream from the other side of the door from the gunshot as he kicked the door open and shrunk behind the lifeless body.

Bullets instantly flew across the room as the door flung open. The men weren’t specifically aiming at him, but in his general direction as they unloaded their clips, bullets flying past Mitch and some hitting the corpse he was holding. It was pointless to count their rounds since they were firing them without fault. When he heard the click of the empty barrels, he threw the body to the side and immediately saw the two men in front of him. He shot the one to his right through the eye, six, and then aimed for the head of the man to his left, five, but he jumped out of the way just before the bullet pierced his skull. He flew to his left on the floor and slid a couple inches as he pulled a pistol from his waistband. Mitch jumped to his right and pulled the body on top of himself before the man got off the first shot. He fired six times and then Mitch peeked around the dead man's shoulder and shot in the other man's general direction, four. He got him in the shoulder and heard his screams when the bullet tore through his muscle. He pushed the body off as the man was distracted by the pain and shot him in the head, three, his shouts instantly silenced. He stood to his feet and swept the room. A woman was crying in the corner and started screaming when he pointed his gun at her. She was no threat, just a prostitute, so he turned his gun to face the target. He was an old fat man that was made of money. He sat in a chair at his desk and Mitch walked around it and pushed him away from it with his foot, keeping the barrel of the gun trained at the man’s nose.

“Please! Please! Do you want money? I have money!” The man pleaded with him, his hands raised in surrender. He searched Mitch’s face for falter or some semblance of humanity, but he found none. He stared at the criminal with a blank face, void of any conscience or morality. He terrified the man and knew he was here to kill him. The man continued to plead, but he was cut off by the sound of a bullet leaving the chamber, two, one. Both shots between the eyes, leaving a hole about the size of a quarter in his skull. He turned and saw the woman cowering as he shoved the empty glock into his waistband behind him, but ignored her as he left before backup or the police could arrive.

Mitch moved through the shadows of the night as he made his way back to the safe-house, changing routes to make sure he wasn’t being followed. After about an hour of going in circles, he deemed it safe and headed back but when he reached the door his senses lit up and the hair raised on the back of his neck. He went to grab his gun, but remembered it was empty, so he kneeled down slowly and slid the knife out of his boot. If the person inside had a gun, they would aim for his chest, so he stayed low, squatting so that the shooter wouldn’t expect it. He reached up and slowly turned the knob, then flung the door open and rolled forward into the room. The man inside jumped to his feet and pulled a gun but was well trained and immediately aimed it down at Mitch. He was fast, but Mitch was faster as he threw the knife up to the mans chest. The man with the gun had good reflexes so he jumped to the side, barely escaping its impact. “What the fuck Mitch?”

Mitch looked up with wide eyes surprised to see his handler, Stan Hurley. He stood up and rolled his eyes as he threw the gun on the bed in front of him. “What do you want?” He spat out, paying no mind to the man as he took the gun apart to dispose of later and make it less traceable.

“I have a mission for you.” Mitch stopped what he was doing and looked at the older man without moving his head. He gave him questioning eyebrows. It was unusual for Stan to show up to a safe house and even more unusual for him to be given two missions at the same time.

“Another mission? I haven’t finished this one yet.” “Is he dead?” Stan was blunt and annoyed.

“Yes.”

“Then it’s finished.” Mitch opened his mouth to respond but was cut off before sound left his lips. “His name is Rinaldo Askin.” Mitch returned to gathering his stuff and cleaning the place down while Stan went on. “He’s a mobster in Philadelphia.” Mitch froze again, his back facing Stan which he was thankful for. That’s where Y/N had been living for the past year. He had been keeping tabs on her since the day he left her alone in that bed, something that had come to be one of his very few regrets. “He’s the worst of the worst. Real piece of shit if you know what I mean.” Mitch turned around and nodded in agreement as he walked over to Stan. He threw the manila folder on the bed that sat between the two of them and Mitch leaned over to pick it up. As he skimmed through it, he sat down on the bed. “And Mitch, this one’s off the books.”

Mitch looked up at Stan, slightly amused, “They’re all off the books.” He shot him a crooked smile that he knew would piss Stan off. He shot darts at Mitch for his snarky comment, but otherwise ignored it.

“It’s a twelve hour train ride to Philly and this needs to be done in the next 48. So get your shit together. Here, take this.” He handed him what looked like a locker key and then marched out of the safe-house and left Mitch to mull over the file that told him of the man’s crimes, known associates, enemies, places of operation, and any other intel that had been accumulated and deemed important. After he memorized and learned everything he could, he tossed it in a metal trash bin and threw in a match. He watched as the paper became engulfed in the flames and danced against the metal.

He took a quick shower and got dressed, then left after he finished wiping down the rest of the room. He disposed of each part of the Glock 17 in different places as he made his way to the train station. He found the locker number that matched the key and found a small black duffel bag. He unzipped it and found another glock, two clips, a drivers license, and some cash. He zipped it back up, and pulled it out, slinging it over his shoulder. He wasted no time getting a ticket and boarding the next available train. He didn’t like that he had such a small time frame to do the job, but he would get it done nonetheless.

He found his seat and sat down, figuring he would try to sleep for at least a couple hours before he arrived. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually slept well. Irene and Stan had him running around on jobs non-stop for the last year, not that he was complaining. He had nothing outside of this life and needed the distraction. This was what he was good at, killing the scum of the earth and if he was completely honest, he liked it too. The feeling of taking a life, having that power and playing God was like a drug. The rush of the hunt and then the release of the kill. He wasn’t a sociopath, but when it came to killing these men, he felt no remorse.

Mitch found his mind running a million miles a minute, unable to settle and find a moment of sleep. He gave up and let his thoughts consume him. He thought about Y/N and how it had been four months since he last saw her. She had gotten a job at a hospital in the city as an ER doctor, he watched her as she crossed the parking lot holding a coffee, keeping his eyes locked on her until she vanished into the building. He smiled as he took in her beauty, remembering her scent and the taste of her lips. He caught himself biting his bottom lip and a heat rising in him. He threw the thoughts from his mind, feeling guilty about it all.

Stan had told him he was being sent on his first mission, and he thought nothing of it. He called down to Y/N and had her come meet the two of them to tell her that he needed to be taken to a hospital for an x-ray. She seemed to be pissed and it amused him. She was different and filled him with curiosity. He had never spoken to her before the last 24 hours, but he learned to read her like a book that he had committed to memory. She bothered him, but in a good way, something about her that he couldn’t figure out and it nagged at him. During their trip, he purposefully bugged her, knowing he was getting under her skin. For some reason, when he was with her he felt whole and a burning fire in him. Before her and when she wasn’t around he held nothing but anger, contemptment, and a constant lingering of agony. She was like a beacon of light that washed out the darkness in his soul. He had his fun with her and they had good moments too, but when she woke up screaming and jumped out of the car, that’s when it changed. He had no plans of following through on his feelings that he chalked up to lust and hormones, but when he found her in the field, nothing but a mess all he could see was her beauty behind all her pain.

He could tell she was hurting, and that made him hurt too. He hated that her pain wasn’t someone he could kill to rid her of the torment. In that moment, all he could do was hold her and give her what he so desperately craved himself but never received. This woman put him on edge and saw parts of him that others couldn’t, but now he saw her and wanted nothing more than to fix it. While he had been attempting to get under her skin, she had wormed her way under his, and now he couldn’t deny it. She didn’t seem to want to talk about what was wrong and he could only respect that, having his own crosses to bear. He felt safe with her, so for the first time he opened to someone; he opened up to her. Others had known what happened to him from reports and his files, but he had never told a soul what happened from his own lips. What he went through, what he saw.

When he bared his heart, it cemented a connection to her that he knew he would always have. He no longer had a desire to annoy or pester her but a longing for her; to know and understand her. That’s when it sunk in, he was leaving in the morning. There was no point in beginning something that wouldn’t have a chance to start, but both of them were unaware it already had⎯the moment they met everything had been set into motion, everything that had been, that was, and had yet to be. He had no intention of pursuing it, but then she offered him to come inside. His head and instincts all screamed to turn around and keep walking, but his heart cried for him to go to her. He was tired of following his rules and living with the darkness, so he denied all his inclinations and went inside towards the light.

The air was thick around them, tensions high after everything that had occurred over the last 24 hours. He found himself centimeters away from her lips on the couch, his skin on fire and begging for her touch to release the anxiety in his muscles. He could feel her breath ghost across his lips, the scent of beer and peppermint. She shot up from the couch and ran to her room, leaving him yearning for her warmth but he knew it was for the best. That damn girl just had to come back in, wearing those short shorts and the tank top that clung to her breasts. He used all of his strength to stave off his primitive impulses, but he couldn't take it. There was a fire raging in him that couldn’t be contained. When they connected, it was lust and desire at first, but it turned into something else; something between lust and love, something both of them never saw coming, something he knew would either drive them or destroy them.

After she fell asleep, it took everything in him to force himself out of that bed and away from her warmth. He always knew this moment was coming, but he relished in the time he had in between. Hopefully she would understand, move on and not waste her time on a lost soul like his. It was for the best because he could never give her what she needed. This road he had set himself on wasn’t going to lead to a happy ending and that’s all this woman deserved. He was a broken man, parts of him missing and she didn’t need that chaos in her life. He would never admit it to anyone and didn’t know it himself, but leaving her hurt almost as much as watching Katrina die. He had no intention of ever seeing her again, never touching her, kissing her...loving her.

Mitch finally found sleep and got six hours, giving him two before he arrived in the city. He found another file in the duffel bag and went over everything in it, telling him the location of the safe house as well as Askin’s itinerary for the next two days. When the train arrived, he took multiple taxis and then walked the rest of the distance to the safe house. He prepared for the mission, wearing dark jeans and a black tshirt so that he could easily go unseen. Before he headed to where Askin would be, he stopped by the hospital to check in on Y/N. The sun was starting to set and he could see her working in the ER through a large window. She was helping a patient and doing what she did best. He loved to see her in her element, it reminded him of when she would examine him and help with any injuries he got from training. She looked so tired though, yes physically but when he saw her eyes she looked exhausted from life. His smile melted away and he felt guilt, hoping he wasn’t the cause of this. He disappeared into the shadows and left to kill Rinaldo Askin.

When he arrived at Askin’s house, he did a sweep of the perimeter and found everything in the report he had been given to be accurate. There were six guards patrolling the grounds with pistols. If he timed it right, he would easily be able to slip past them and enter the house without being seen. According to what he read, the house was unguarded and empty with the exception of Askin, his wife, and two children. As long as he used the silencer, he could be in and out before anyone noticed. He memorized the patterns of the guards and found his opening, making his way to the back of the house to an entrance that gave access to a basement. The door was locked, but Mitch had a lock pick and managed to get the door open quickly. He slipped in, hidden by the lack of light. He pulled the glock from his waistband and switched off the safety, then proceeded to sweep the room.

He moved through the house silently and proficiently, clearing the basement and then the first floor. He climbed the stairs two at a time, constantly on high alert. When he reached the landing, he glided across the floor in large strides. He past an ajar door and peeked in, revealing the bedroom of a young boy that he remembered to be six years old. He passed a closed door that was painted pink which he assumed to be the bedroom of Askin’s daughter who was eight years old. He reached the end of the hallway and found an open door. Rounding the corner, he leaned through the door frame, peering into the large room. Askin was lying in his large bed with his wife, roughly eight feet from where Mitch stood. He took three large strides towards the foot of the bed and held the silenced gun up to aim at the man. He squeezed the trigger three times, hitting his body twice and his head once. It was hard to aim accurately with him under the comforter, so Mitch took the extra two shots in case.

He needed conformation of the kill, so he moved towards the side of the bed where the man slept. The closer he got, the more something didn’t feel right and the hairs on his arms stuck up like something in the air had changed. That’s when he could smell it, the scent of iron...of blood and lots of it; more than what could come from the three bullets he put into the man. He rolled the covers up and saw the sheets soaked in red, so he threw the rest of them off the bodies. Askin and his wife laid in their bed, lifeless and drenched in enough blood for two people who had bled out. The man looked like he had been shot at least seven times minus the three Mitch had given him. His wife had been shot four times, both of them receiving them in the chest and one each in the head.

A feeling arose in Mitch’s stomach, nothing he couldn’t handle but a sense of uneasiness. He didn’t like surprises or when plans had to change. He went to the corner of the room and tried to think of an explanation. Askin had plenty of enemies, but this was professional and resembled the same work that Mitch would leave behind. Someone had put a hit out on him, they must have. Mitch tensed as he heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, and he sprung into action. He hadn’t prepared for this, so he only had the one clip of seventeen rounds. He used three on Askin leaving him with fourteen. There was no need for the silencer at this point since they knew he was there, so he removed it since it would give him better accuracy. He ran over to the door and shutting and locking it, then ran over to the side of the bed facing away from the wall. Shit shit shit.

“They’re dead! Check on Askin and his wife!” He heard muffled shouts from the hall, but was confused by what they said. Who’s dead? Mitch hadn’t killed anyone else. The children. Horror grew on his face. They were the only other ones in the house. Mitch may have been a ruthless killer, but only of those who deserved it. What soulless bastard killed children?

“The door is locked!”

“Then break it down!” It sounded like there were at least five men outside the door by the number of footsteps. If they were the guards from outside they would only have their pistols which was a relief, but five was a lot even for Mitch. The sounds of someone ramming into the door echoed through the silent room. Mitch tightened the grip of his gun as he looked around for a better option. He faced a wall that was made entirely of glass that gave a perfect view of the grounds, but it was at least a twelve foot drop. He could make that, but not without serious injury and shattering the glass, alerting everyone of his location. It was looking like his best option was to face the men, but it was still a shitty option.

The man broke the door open and saw the bodies covered in blood, shouting back to the others that they were dead too. Mitch shot off a single bullet in his direction, thirteen, and they did exactly what he wanted them to do. They all retreated to the hallway except for the first one who entered. He had fallen to the ground, Mitch had shot him in the leg which the man shouted to the other men. Mitch shifted his body which ended up being a bad idea since the man on the floor saw his shadow and yelled to the others of his location. Two others walked in and started shooting from the other side of the bed along with the man on the floor. Most of the bullets hit the mattress, but Mitch still laid down on his stomach cowering under it. The three of them ran out of bullets and started reloading when the other two men entered and started emptying their clips as well. When they stopped, Mitch could see the man on the floor from under the bed, he aimed and shot him in the head, twelve. The other four men started shouting, saying they were going to rush him, assuming there was just one guy. This was it, his only other option is out the window. Mitch shot two of the men in their legs, eleven, ten, and then in the commotion shot the glass, nine. The window didn’t shatter, but it was cracked. The men were confused and took a minute to get it together. He jumped up and took the opportunity to shoot one of them in the head, eight. He ran towards the window and turned to shoot a couple more shots off as he jumped through, staggering the glass, seven, six. As he crashed through, he heard a shot go off from one of the men and then a piercing pain in his side. Mitch landed flat on his back, letting out a loud grunt as the wind was knocked from his lungs. He was covered in cuts and gashes from the glass when he went through and bruises from the landing. Hopefully he didn’t have any internal bleeding. He grabbed his side as he coughed and tasted blood in his mouth, that’s not good. He looked at his hand and saw it covered in blood, that’s definitely not good.

He heard the sound of more men running to his location and forced himself up. He moaned from the pain that seared through every muscle in his body. He limped as fast as he could, holding his right side with his left hand and his glock in the other. Men started shooting, so he threw his arm back as he tried running, shooting off aimless shots, five, four, three, two, one, click, click. He tossed the empty pistol on the ground and pushed himself to hightail it out of there. He kept running for at least five miles, something he could have easily done if he wasn’t in this condition but his lungs were on fire and his legs felt like they were going to give out any moment. He made it closer to the city and found an alleyway. He ran over to the side of a dumpster facing away from the road and leaned against the wall. It was hard for him to see from the blood running into his eyes from the cut above it. He wiped his face and winced as he brushed against the bruises and cuts. He looked down at his side and reached around to his back to feel for an exit wound. Nothing. He was in no shape or position to pull that thing out himself.

His legs started to become weak, so he slid down the wall keeping pressure on his wound. His thoughts were running wild. Who would have Askin and his whole family killed? His file said he had enemies, but none that were capable of that type of handywork. That was professional, surgical, and sadistic. Then is dawned on him. They weren’t the target...he was. Stan only had three rules: don’t get caught, don’t kill cops, and never kill innocents. If Mitch didn’t know about the other assassin, neither did Stan or Irene which would leave them to assume he was the one who killed all four of them and Askin’s men were witnesses to prove it. “FUCK.” Mitch shouted as another coughing fit followed. “Goddamn it.”

Mitch needed help, but going to a hospital was already dicey and now it was impossible. Orion would be on him in minutes and he needed to clear his name before they took him. He was a ghost, so they could do whatever they wanted to him, no judge or jury, no trial. Just Stan and Irene deciding his fate. They were both believers of evidence and what was in front of them, and right now everything damned him. He was still new to the game and had few contacts that would be willing to help and most of them were too far away to make it to him before he bled out. Without intending to do it, his mind drifted to Y/N. No, he can’t go to her for help. He would be dragging her into the middle of this, putting her life in danger and asking too much of her. He swore he would never see her again. This was the whole reason he had left her that morning in the first place, to keep her out of situations like this. Mitch threw his head back in pain as his adrenaline high came down and he could feel every part of his broken body. He started getting dizzy and noticed the pool of blood accumulating on the ground. He needed help now, or he was going to bleed out. Fuck, if he wants to live he has no choice. He used every last ounce of strength and will he had left and pulled himself up by clinging to the dumpster. He leaned against it, finding his balance and gasping for breath. He was only a couple blocks from where her apartment was. Hopefully she would be willing to help him, if he made it there first.

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Taglist:  @daisyxbuckley @xceafh @spazstiless

[hymn2000]

Ideal Confusion - MCU AU Fanfic - C3

(Title subject to change)

Story summary: Giving into the constant pressure from the press, Tony decides to put a rest to the rumours that Peter is his biological son - once and for all.

Previous Chapter(s): 1 2

Part of my Frostiron and Spiderson series.

Warnings/themes: family, family stuff, adoption, DNA test(s), pressure, peer pressure, social issues, mentions of alcoholism, mental health problems, potentially some minor medical inaccuracies, mentions of corporal punishment

You can also find me on AO3

Chapter 3 - Off My Back

-

Tony forgot to set an alarm, and as a result woke up late the next day. He went into Peter’s room and gave the boy a shake.

“Wake up, chick”

Peter stirred. He woke up and rubbed his eyes.

“Hi... What time is it?”

“It’s half eleven, chick”

“What?! Isn’t it Tuesday?!”

“Yeah, I forgot to set an alarm” Tony said. “I guess we both needed that lie in. What do you wanna do?”

“Um... I don’t really know”

“Do you wanna stay home today? You’ve already missed basically the whole morning”

“I don’t know. I think maybe I should go”

“Alright kiddo” Tony said. “Well, we’ll get you something to eat and then we’ll get you to school in time for afternoon lessons. Ok?”

“Is that ok? I mean, it’s only two lessons, so you’ll have like less than two hours at home before you have to come back again”

“If you wanna go to school, you can go to school. It’s only a ten minute drive. So what do you wanna do?”

“...I think I should go to school”

“Ok” Tony said gently. “Come on then; let’s get you some lunch”

-

Tony dropped Peter off at school armed with a note detailing a forgotten medical appointment to excuse his lateness (“A little white lie” Tony had said), just in time for afternoon registration. 

“Where were you?” Flo asked. “We were worried! You could have at least texted”

Peter took out his whiteboard. 

Doctors appointment

“Oh right” Flo said. “Well, are you ok?”

Peter nodded.

“Oh good. Well, I’m glad”

“Me too” Millie said. “We need you next lesson anyway: you’re in our assessment group”

-

Peter regretted going to school, and it was plain to see from the way he slammed the car door behind him when Tony picked him up afterwards.

“Alright, don’t break my car!” 

“I wish I’d just stayed home” Peter spat. “What a waste of time!”

“Oh oh, sounds like you didn’t have a great afternoon”

“No, I didn’t, and I don’t want to talk about it”

-

Loki and Tony sat down with Peter later that evening.

“I think you need to tell us what’s bothering you” Tony said. “You’ve been funny ever since I picked you up”

“I just had a rubbish afternoon. Can’t we just leave it at that?”

“Well, why was it rubbish?” Tony persisted. “Couldn’t you have talked to the bunnies about it?”

“No, because they were a big part of the problem!” 

“What do you mean?” Loki said.

“Millie was being a cunt”

“PETER!” Tony shouted. “How dare you?! Haven’t we talked about using that word?”

“I don’t care!”

“Well, you should, and you definitely will when I’ve washed your mouth out with soap”

Peter growled. “Go away then! If it’s that much of an issue, just leave me alone!”

“Hey, you don’t get to call the shots around here. We-”

“GO AWAY!”

“Peter, stop it” Loki said. “You shouldn’t use that word; you know that. Come on; we just want to help. What happened at school?”

“They were both being so unreasonable! I mean, it was mainly Millie, cos Macy is still ill, and Flo had a music exam so she wasn’t there most of the afternoon. But Millie just seemed to be going out of her way to get to me”

“In what way? Was it because of the news story?”

“Bits of it, but she was going on about yesterday, saying I got that detention on purpose, which I did, but she said it was because I was being evasive and wanted to spend time with Malaki instead of her and the other two, and then she said Malaki was gonna ruin me if I wasn’t careful, and then she got onto the news story and she thinks, she thinks it’s true, the stupid bitch-”

“Peter” Tony said in a warning tone.

“Well, she is! And so we got into an argument about that, with her throwing all those ‘facts’ from the telly and papers at me, as though she knows my life better than I do, and then I was like, well, what does it matter? Because I’m still a step ahead of her, cos her dad hates her and never wanted her in the first place, and he’s an abusive bastard, so I bet she wishes she wasn’t really his, and-”

“Peter, that’s so bad” Loki said. “You can’t say things like that”

“Well I’ve already said it, so so what? But anyway, she got even more cross with me, like all upset and stuff, and then she tried to make a point and she snatched my whiteboard pens so I couldn’t say anything back while she made a point, and then we got into a fight over the pens, and then she was like, I’m not talking to you until you apologise, and then I was like, I don’t care. I’m not the one who needs to be apologising: she is. So then she stopped talking to me, which is fine, because she was doing my fucking head in-”

“Enough of the swearing, Peter!”

“Just let me speak!” Peter snapped, scowling at him. “So anyway, she stopped talking to me, so I guess we’ve fallen out. And she’ll tell Flo and then Flo will probably turn against me too, cos she’s known Millie way longer and stuff, and she seems annoyed at me too. At least she’s talking sense about the news story stuff though. But then, but then in class we were discussing like, media and news and tabloids and stuff, and like, everyone was looking at me, and the teacher was trying not to look at me, and it was all dead awkward”

“I see” Tony said.

“It was a bloody nightmare and I’m never going back. Now I feel like I really do need to see a doctor: I feel like my blood pressure is sky high, and my back’s doing that weird hurty thing it did when I had shingles. I wanna see uncle Bruce. I’m going out”

He stood up to go, but Tony and Loki both caught him with an arm round the stomach and sat him back down.

“Woah now, not so fast” Tony said, putting an arm round his shoulders. “I get it; you had a rubbish afternoon. But that doesn’t mean you can just never go back to school, and it’s no excuse for your dirty language. I’m still in half a mind about how to punish you for that”

“Now, now, Tony; he’s upset” Loki said. “Now, darling, I know it’s horrible. Do you really feel unwell, or is it anxiety?”

“I don’t know!”

“Alright, keep your voice down!” Tony shook his head. “If you really feel that bad, maybe daddy can give you a little check over”

“I want uncle Bruce”

“You’re asking a bit much, kiddo”

“HOW is that asking too much?! He’s round here every week anyway”

“Alright, alright” Tony sighed. “I’ll give him a ring”

-

“Hey, uncle Bruce”

“Hey kid” Bruce said, closing Peter’s bedroom door behind him. “Tony said you requested me specifically”

“Mm”

“What’s up? This big news story getting to you?”

Peter nodded.

“I get it, kid. I know what it’s like having nasty stories about yourself in the news...” he sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed and opening his bag. “Take your hoodie off”

Peter did as he was told. He watched carefully as Bruce pushed his sleeve up and slipped a blood pressure cuff over his arm.

“I know you’re not a fan, but Tony said I should give you a full MOT while I’m here”

“What do you think?”

“About what?”

“About the news story. About... me and dad” 

Bruce looked at him. Peter was keeping his eyes on the blood pressure cuff. Bruce looked back at what he was doing.

“Well” he said, squeezing the pump to tighten the cuff round the boys arm. “I’m sure Tony would love to have been the one responsible for bringing you into the world” he was quiet for a minute, getting his stethoscope and pressing the chest piece against the inside of Peter’s elbow, listening, and counting. “...He’s not your real dad. Your biological dad, I mean. I think you know that”

“Yeah, I know” Peter said, breathing out and rubbing his arm when Bruce took the cuff off. “I guess a lot of this stuff in the news is kinda like, planting doubt in my mind or whatever”

“Dodgy news people will do that to you” Bruce said. “Can I listen to your chest?”

Peter nodded. He stayed quiet while Bruce checked him over with basically every piece of portable medical equipment known to man. 

“Have you got an ECG machine in there?”

Bruce laughed slightly. “I almost considered it: there’s some of the portable ones paramedics use at the office. Give me your hand again”

Peter let Bruce check his blood sugar.

“Is that everything now?”

“Yes” Bruce said. “Unless... Can I take a blood sample?”

“Why? What are you gonna do with it?” Peter asked defensively. “You’re not gonna do a DNA test, are you?”

“No, of course not. Believe it or not, I don’t really have access to that kind of thing, especially not without written consent from your parents. I was just going to send off for some routine checks”

“I’d rather you didn’t”

“Ok, I won’t force you. Keep pressure on that finger”

Peter nodded, watching Bruce packing up his stuff.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it”

“Do you think people are inherently violent?”

“That’s a strange question” Bruce said, setting his bag aside and sitting down across from Peter. “I think maybe people were more violent back before modern day civilisation, but I think it was for survival. Modern day people don’t really need that type of survival instinct so much anymore, so maybe that’s why they hold back on their strength. Babies and little kids don’t know their strength, but older people probably learn to reserve it so much that they don’t really know it either

“Ok”

“Why? Have you been feeling violent lately?”

Peter looked at him.

“I’ve caught you, haven’t I? I’m an expert on that kind of thing, sadly”

“...Sort of. Not violent, exactly, just... I don’t know, angry. I keep getting all annoyed. I’ve had a lot of fights recently”

“Because of the news story?”

“A couple of them, but not all of them. Some of these fights were before”

“You’re a superhero in your spare time, kiddo. Do those fights bother you?”

“They’re not the same” Peter sighed. “They’re like, a justice thing, not a personal thing”

“I see. And I take it these personal fights are bothering you?”

Peter nodded. “It just kinda happens. Like, it’s all words at first, but then I lash out before I know what I’m doing. It’s weird, like someone else takes over my body”

“I know what that’s like”

“Mm... How do I stop it? You’re a doctor; you know how people work. How do I stop being violent?”

“I don’t think it’s violent. I think you’re just defensive, reacting instinctively, perhaps because of your heightened senses and your stress. I don’t think it’s violent unless it’s vicious. Have you been vicious?”

“I... I don’t think so. I don’t mean to start it or hurt people, and I’m not being malicious. It just keeps happening”

“It’s probably just personality clashes, stress, your illnesses, and hormones” Bruce said. “Happens to most people at some point. Talk to your therapist about it”

“I... I don’t see a therapist anymore”

“Really? Why not?"

Peter shrugged. “You’ll have to ask dad”

“Did you take a disliking to Miss Marns?”

“No; I really liked her. We had a rapport after all that time talking” 

“Maybe you should see her again. It’s good to talk these things out”

“Yeah, I want to... How do you deal with it? Like, staying calm when you’re angry?”

“Kid, I’m the worst possible person to ask about this. If I get too angry, I turn into an enormous green rage monster, remember?” Bruce laughed slightly. “I work in a different way to everyone else on that matter”

“Yeah, I guess so”

“So, what do you think it is?”

Peter shrugged. “What you said, I guess”

“You wanna say something else, don’t you? I can tell”

“...Elton John talked about the Dwight Family Temper in his book. It was like, genetic, the way his bloodline got cross, kinda thing. I’ve never heard of there being a Parker Family Temper, but maybe there is. I never knew my parents properly, and May didn’t really speak about them much, but maybe...”

“Maybe” Bruce nodded. “You know, it could be environmental, too. I know what Loki was like back you were first getting to know him, and I know he still has his moments. Tony can be a right wanker at times too, especially when he gets angry and kicks off. I know they’re pretty calm most of the time nowadays, but you can see where I’m coming from, can’t you?”

“Yeah, especially with dad. Howard Stark was a cross person too, right?”

“I don’t really know. I get the impression he wasn’t very nice behind closed doors. Tony doesn’t really talk about him much”

“Mm... Yeah, he never talks about him to me either”

“Maybe it’s a good thing” Bruce said, standing up. “Try some deep breathing exercises. Or do that thing Tony does where he counts to ten in his head when he’s stressed. This is probably just a phase, kid”

“Yeah, we’ll see” Peter said, pulling his hoodie on. “So, what’s the verdict?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, your MOT. You’re fine, kid. Your pulse was pretty fast, but it calmed down pretty soon. Just anxiety. Everything else looked ok”

“Nothing wrong with my blood pressure then?”

“Nah, nothing wrong with your blood pressure. Although...”

“What?”

“Can you take your shirt off?”

“I’ve only just put my hoodie back on!”

Bruce sat back down close to him. “Are you alright with me touching you?”

“You’ve been prodding me for like, twenty minutes” Peter said. “Go for it. Just don’t go clipping more stuff onto me”

“Deal” 

Bruce pulled Peter’s shirt and hoodie up. He was gentle with him, but the way Peter reacted when he touched his stomach was a little strange.

“Did that hurt?”

“No...”

“Don’t you like your tummy being touched?”

“Not really” Peter mumbled.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t. It even makes me feel weird if my parents do it, even accidentally. It just makes me feel all funny”

“Huh. Strange. Well, I can’t stand people touching the veins on my wrists. We’re all built a bit differently” 

He continued checking him over, and then pulled his shirt and hoodie back down and sat back.

“...What?” Peter said, looking at him sceptically.

“You’re a lot thinner than last time I had to check you over. You’ve definitely lost weight”

“So?”

“So, do your parents know?”

Peter shrugged. “I doubt it. They’ve had a lot go on in the past year. I don’t think me losing a couple of pounds is gonna be at the top of their agenda”

“This is more than a few pounds. How much have you lost?”

“I don’t know! I don’t weight myself. Get off my back”

“You might not be his biologically, but you seriously take after Tony. You’re so much like him sometimes”

“I’ll take that as a compliment”

“Do that” Bruce nodded. “He’s a great man”

“You’re really sure about him not being blood, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah. Listen kid; your dad and I are close, and we talk. Even when he was drunk, he put something on the end of it, and he always did it himself so he knew it wasn’t tampered with. Besides, imagine if you were a girl, and you slept with a high-profile celebrity and then found yourself pregnant. You’d be straight down the closest newspaper. If you were his, he’d’ve found out when you were still just a fetus”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right... Hey, uncle Bruce, can you do me a favour?”

“What?”

“Can you get me out of school tomorrow?”

Bruce laughed. “No way, kiddo! My New Years Resolution was not to tell any more lies, even white ones”

Peter sighed. “Well, it was worth a shot”

“Get your little red suit on and go swinging through town for a bit. The adrenaline will do you good”

-

Bruce bit his thumb, listening to Tony speak.

“So you’re really not going to do a DNA test?”

“No! I’m not giving those bastards the satisfaction! I thought you’d understand”

“I understand your stubbornness” Bruce said. “I just think doing the test could be beneficial”

“What, just to give us a piece of paper telling us what we already know? I didn’t make that kid, and everyone knows it”

“You know as well as I do that lots of people believe the rumours” Loki said.

“So?! We know it’s not true, and that’s the important bit, right? I don’t need the test to tell me that”

“No, but maybe having the proof on paper to give to the press would get them off your backs” Bruce said.

Tony hesitated. “It’s still giving in to their pressure though, isn’t it? Besides, what is there to stop all these DNA companies from fudging the results?”

“Do you know how these DNA tests work, Tone? They’ve gotta test 21 genetic markers, and it’s all detailed in a spreadsheet report with all the tested markers, and a column for the alleged father and a column for the child, and it’s all got to be done by a proper laboratory. They’re credible companies, you know”

“How do you know so much about it?”

“It’s a basic fact, Tony. I read it ages ago” Bruce said. “These companies would have to do a lot of work to produce fake results, and if you did a retest with another company and they got discovered, it would destroy their business. Some of these companies charge big money for their paternity tests: it wouldn’t be worth it for them to fudge results just to be part of a newspaper scandal. Besides, if you made your results public and they weren’t fudged, they’d still be a big part of the story, and get more business through being credited. Sorry, Tony, but I think you’re just being paranoid”

While Tony was busy staring at him, Loki responded.

“Banner is right, darling. Faking results wouldn’t benefit anyone”

“Well, what does it matter? I’m not doing a DNA test”

Loki sighed. Tony looked at him, and at Bruce.

“You can’t do one behind my back, either”

“We wouldn’t do that, Tony” Loki sighed. “You know we wouldn’t”

“I know. Still, I’m done talking about this” he picked up his mug and took a drink. “...So what’s the verdict on the baby? Find anything?”

“His obs were all fine” Bruce said. “His anxiety was playing up which made things a little wobbly at first, but he’s fine, mostly”

“Mostly?”

“Well... Have either of you seen him without his shirt lately?”

Loki and Tony exchanged a look.

“Why?”

“He’s looking pretty thin, like, almost worryingly so. He’s a lot thinner than he was when I gave him that check up a couple of months ago after that fall he had. Had you noticed anything?”

“He hasn’t been eating properly for a while” Loki said. “He’s been ill a lot over the past six weeks or so. It’s impacted his appetite”

“Yeah, he hasn’t been eating much. It’s like he doesn’t really feel hungry much”

“What’s been wrong with him?” Bruce asked.

“Just general illnesses” Loki said. “Nothing serious. He’s been doing better recently though, so hopefully his appetite will improve soon”

“I see. Well, I just wanted to make sure you knew about it”

“We’re fully aware” Tony said. “You can’t bring that kind of stuff up with him though: he just thinks we’re overreacting and accusing him of having an eating disorder”

“Oh right” Bruce said, surprised. “Is that... Is that something he’s struggled with in the past?”

“Not exactly” Loki said. “He’s just a bit sensitive about that kind of thing. He’s had some body confidence issues before”

“Poor kid. I swear we didn’t care when we were that age. Kids these days worry too much” Bruce said. 

“Our kid certainly does” Tony sighed. “Where is he, anyway?”

“I told him to go out in his little supersuit”

“Oh” Tony said. “Well, at least he’s getting some fresh air and exercise”

Bruce laughed. “That’s such a dad thing to say”

“Well, what can I say? I am a dad!”

“That’s one word for it” Loki said.

“Oi!” Tony smiled at him. “You’re not funny”

“This news story seems to be affecting him badly” Bruce continued. “Fights at school, all the uncertainty, the anxiety flare up...”

“Yeah... Well, fights at school aren’t just because of this” Tony said, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s still so different to a lot of those kids. I think they clash. It’s usually the same couple of kids he fights with”

“Are you still considering home-schooling?”

“Yeah, definitely” Tony said. “I think it’d be good for him. You know, comfortable at home, one-on-one tutoring. I think it’d work well for him. It’d work for practical reasons too, like not having to do the school run”

“What about his therapist?”

“Oh, he doesn’t see her anymore, hasn’t done for a while”

“Why?”

“He was doing well. He said he didn’t really need therapy anymore”

“I see”

“He’s made good progress. Still, homeschooling would take more stress out of his life, I think”

“Mm...Have you told him yet?”

“No, it’s still just between me and Loki” Tony said. “It’s still just an idea”

“Well, I guess you’ve got more important things to be thinking about” he said awkwardly. “So, what are you gonna do about this news story?”

“Wait for it to blow over” Loki said.

“Aren’t you going to release a statement?”

“Marco tried to get me to do one” Tony said. “I couldn’t think of anything to say other than ‘fuck off and mind your own business’, so we decided it would be best if we scrapped the idea”

“No kidding”

“Ignoring it is easier said than done, but it isn’t impossible” Loki said. “I’m happy to sit back and act like it doesn’t concern me”

“With all due respect, it doesn’t really. No one’s accusing you of being his biological father”

“That’s because I’m a god, darling” Loki said. “And I don’t look like him. Tony does”

“It still concerns Loki: he’s part of this family” Tony said. “People have been asking stuff down the hospital too”

“Wait a minute” Bruce said. “Loki, was Peter born at your hospital?”

“Haven’t the foggiest”

“Wait, just a minute”

“You’ve already said that” Tony said.

“Shut up, Tony. No, I’ve had a thought” Bruce said. “You don’t need a DNA test to prove you’re not his biological father”

“I know that” Tony said. “That’s what I’ve been saying”

“I know, but this is different. This is something else you could use to prove he’s not yours”

Loki and Tony looked at him. “What?”

“His birth certificate. Just dig that out and use it as proof. People might still have their gossip-based reservations, but it’ll have his parents names on it. Where do you keep it?”

Loki and Tony looked at each other. Tony bit his thumb. Bruce looked at them.

“You’ve lost it?” he guessed.

“We never had it” Tony mumbled. “Why would we? He lived with his aunt up until the explosion. It would’ve been destroyed in that”

“...But surely you would have needed it since?”

“He already had a passport, which was here, and we used a copy of the adoption certificate when we updated his name on it”

“But what about the adoption?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you need it when you adopted him?”

Tony shook his head. “No. Not personally, anyway. I think they maybe did for the legal bits, but our lawyer and people working with Li Allen took care of that bit. We just filled in the forms and did the meetings. There was a bit saying if we didn’t have a birth certificate to attach, to just put the place of birth, which we did. There was a bit saying they needed us to attach his dead parents death certificates, and obviously we didn’t have those. Not really any of our business. Maybe the lawyers and stuff got those, and his birth certificate. I don’t know. If they got the birth certificate, we never saw it. Adoption certificates replace them anyway, legally, so we didn’t need it” he looked at Loki. “That’s right, isn’t it?”

Loki nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“It was such a long few months. You know we had to let the local council know first, and then we had to wait three months before we could do our court application. We let them know before telling Peter, actually, just in case. We just wanted it done, but it took quite a while. At least he was already living with us. You know you’ve got to have them living with you for ten weeks before you can apply for the adoption court order?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve heard that”

“It was actually so much more difficult than we thought it would be. We read into it before pitching it to the kid, obviously, but there’s so many forms. We had so many afternoons sat with our lawyer going through rules and how to fill in all the forms and apply for the right things, and then actually doing all those forms and applications and stuff. It was pretty tough. It started to feel like they wouldn’t let us adopt him, even though there was no evidence to the fact”

“I can remember you being stressed about it at the time, and I remember seeing the stack of forms you had to send with the paperwork too. And I remember doing that reference”

Tony nodded tiredly. “It was a lot of work”

“The adoption certificate doesn’t have details of his biological parents on it, does it?”

“No” Tony said. “They never do. Like I said; they replace the birth certificate”

Bruce sat back, sighing. “I think you should request a copy of his birth certificate, if you’re not doing a DNA test”

“Why? We don’t need it. I don’t have anything to prove to anyone. The papers will move on at some point, going after some other story. If the only reason to get the birth certificate is to give it to the press, it’s not worth getting”

“I wouldn’t argue any further, if I were you” Loki said. “It’ll be like talking to a brick wall”

“Exactly!” Tony exclaimed. “Thank you, darling”

Bruce sighed, but nodded. “Well, I respect your decision. I don’t have kids, so I can’t really say what I’d do in your situation”

“Thanks, mate” Tony flopped back in his chair, draining the rest of his drink. “If there’s one thing about being a parent that I think I can transfer...”

“Oh, do share” Loki said.

“I love that kid more than anything else in the world, and I’d protect him with my life. Including from the press. I’d happily punch a reporter in the face to keep them away from my boy” Tony said. “I don’t care that we’re not blood related: he’s my son, and that’s more than I ever deserved to begin with”

*

[angrylizardjacket]

giselle/roger nsfw headcanons no-one asked for

except for my dear, filthy Queen Giselle Defense Squad @prettyboyroger & @ginghampearlsnsweettea. Disclaimer; I’m 20 and don’t know shit about being pregnant/having kids/being an aging rockstar, okay?

70s (beginning of their relationship) 

i don't know how to phrase this politely

angry??

like they'd been both passive aggressive and openly hostile to one another for a few years

so when they first hook up after their terrible setup date it's sort of a 'i can't believe i'm doing this, but /yes/ i want to, please for the love of god stop talking you're ruining it, roger'

she makes sure he gets her off the first time they sleep together 

they don't actually sleep together for a few weeks after the first date, like they go out, and it's weird at first because of course it is, and they usually take separate cars there and then back to their own homes, and they feel like they're in a weird gray area because they don't know if it'll last 

one night, it's like eleven and roger's come straight from rehearsals, and he hadn't told her he'd be showing up, but he's on her doorstep and she's smiling at him like 'what are you doing here' and he just kisses her

"what are you doing here?"

"i- is that a joke? i mean, i can leave if you really want me to" 

"don't be daft, come inside."

sex is fun, and they're adults and rock musicians it's not like they don't know what they're doing 

and i mean that both metaphorically and physically 

giselle is Flexible and roger can keep a rhythm like nobody's business and both of them have excellent stamina i'll tell you that for free 

they still argue a lot, but a lot of the time they argue just to have angry or makeup sex 

they're both switches, but giselle leans more towards being more dominant 

roger smacked her ass when they were hanging out with the rest of the band and she almost decked him on the spot, instead when they get back to his place, she makes him apologise and she teases him so much as punishment that he's Begging for her to touch him before she does 

they sleep together often, but it always feels quite casual, despite the fact that the relationship is serious; it's like the john mulaney quote when he's asked the last time he made love "made love? in college, but i had sex yesterday"

late late 70s/early 80s 

they're comfortable with their relationship and things become more intimate and like... softer? if that makes sense 

like giselle wakes up late one sunday morning and roger's sitting at the kitchen table and he's cooked them both breakfast, and like, it's not the first time but something about it just makes her heart melt and they have sex in the kitchen

neither of them are really the type to say 'i love you' during sex, but she's sitting at the edge of the kitchen counter and he's kneeling with his head between her legs, she's got her hand in his hair and she just whimpers 'god i love you' and he takes a moment to pause, press a kiss to her inner thigh and look up at her with a smile 'i love you too' 

so now it's sort of a coin flip between sweet and more playful, or a combination of the two 

they're also both insufferable teases 

giselle gets invited to sing at a red carpet event and she brings roger along, and she stops to do an interview and he leans in and whispers something to her completely straight faced like he's a secret service agent informing the president about the presence of a bomb or something, and giselle just freezes and the expression on her face is that she's just been given some very surprising news when actually roger's just told her exactly what the sight of her in that dress makes him want to do, and that he knows how close the nearest bathroom is if she's interested 

it takes her a full ten seconds to reboot her brain, and she finishes the interview without acknowledging anything had happened - as soon as the interview's over and they've walked far enough away, she does smile a little bit 

"i don't trust you not to ruin my makeup, so not until after the show" 

"okay, that's wise i suppose, but still..." and he trails off and gives her a /very obvious/ look over, and it takes a surprising amount of giselle's self control not to let him have his way (what can she say he looks damn good in that suit) 

after roger cheats on her, and they get back together, there's like three months where he's barely allowed to Touch her 

when she finally sleeps with him again, it's slow, deliberate, and he treats her like a queen 

it's another apology on top of all the others he'd given 

and she'd stopped being outwardly angry about it in the past few weeks but it all comes back 

"i cannot fucking Believe you think you could ever find someone better than me" 

it's easily some of the best sex roger's ever had and it was out of Spite

sex goes back to being angry/makeup sex for a while before giselle concedes, missing how soft and sweet he could be at times 

okay so 'All The Queen's Men' was written about the American leg of their tour, where they'd already gone through the European leg, and the rest of queen had found out the hard way during that first leg that the adrenaline of performing really gets both roger and giselle going

there's a fifteen minute intermission between their performances, and they alternate who opens for who 

after a particularly incredible performance by giselle, she's absolutely glowing with energy and adrenaline and roger can tell, and he takes her back to her dressing room for a quickie when he's meant to be warming up 

he ends up being about three minutes late and has to run on stage, and freddie calls him out on it, asking him where he's been 

roger sits himself behind the drums and leans in very close to the microphone, smirking 'just helping a friend practice her falsetto' with absolutely zero subtlety 

freddie looks like he regrets asking and the line becomes Iconic amongst queen fans, especially girls who were thirsty over roger 

the public still don't really know about giselle and roger being married, especially since they want to keep their relationship quiet after the whole cheating thing happened, people know they dated but it just sort of.... never really hit the public eye if that makes sense 

a lot of girls like to claim it was them that he was talking about, and even though people speculate about it being giselle, even after the article comes out, some fans still think he might have been talking about someone else, that he may have cheated again, which giselle thinks is one of the dumbest things in the world when she reads it, she doesn't confirm anything until Much Much Later 

she posts a #flashbackfriday clip of the line on instagram, since the concert was recorded, with the caption 'so that's what the kids were calling it back then.... '

lilith and rosemary are used to knowing too much about their parents because there's countless books, articles, and documentaries about them, but they still play mortified in the comments

okay jumping back to the 80s and the tour 

after a show you cannot leave them alone for five minutes 

okay not after every show, but after a Lot 

whoever opened the show for the night will be all over whoever closes the show, and they disappear together almost immediately 

they'll eventually turn up for drinks at the after party; giselle looks mostly innocent, her clothes aren't too dishevelled and she ties her hair back so it doesn't look too messy. roger always has the smuggest smile and if he's got a hickey or scratch marks, he's doing all he can to show them off

giselle doesn't get on her knees for just anyone, but damn if she didn't drop when roger came off the stage at intermission and she saw him in eyeliner and leather pants for the first time in person (a la We Will Rock You at madison square garden in the movie)

tbh she did not enjoy sucking dick when she was younger, but the way it makes roger moans is like music and she's grown to enjoy it, but only with him 

giselle is very good at keeping quiet and not getting caught, and roger likes to try and test this 

the rest of the band have learned to knock on the door of every smallish space they want to enter, closet, cupboard, bathroom, etc, because if giselle and roger are in there, there's a 70% chance the door is locked, but only a 40% chance you'll be able to hear them in there 

one time (early in the tour) brian comes to tell them about the afterparty, he listens at the door and it seems safe, but he opens it, and roger's got giselle pressed against the dressing room mirror, and he dress is pulled up around her waist and she's biting her hand with her head throwing back and she's been struggling so hard to keep quiet, the moment she sees brian she lets herself be loud, shouting 'Fuck Off' at the top of her lungs and she reaches blindly to throw a can of hairspray at him before he closes the door, and so the seal's been broken so she gasps and moans over roger's fucking laughter at the whole situation, but they're both too close for it to have ruined the mood 

early 80s (trying for baby)

it starts because honestly, John and Veronica's kids are So Cute and things are finally settling down between Roger and Giselle, and they're both sort of like..... we could have kids, like that's a thing we can definitely do

also they're well aware their kids are gonna be outrageously pretty 

giselle doesn't do things by halves and so she goes to see doctors and she and roger sit down and actually talk about having a plan, and what it would mean for their lives to have kids 

the doctor is like..... the best conditions to conceive are stress free ones (being rockstars is kind of counterproductive) 

so essentially they plan to Officially start trying for a baby in about a year, once their lives have calmed down a little and they can dedicate time to this, ahem, endeavour 

that being said, before this, giselle was quite vigilant with birth control, but once they've planned everything she goes off of it so that there's time for any hormone changes will be corrected by the time they're actually trying for a baby 

and at first they're still using condoms because The Plan, but after a while it just sort of becomes a 'well if it happens it happens, but it's not like we're tracking anything just yet so it's not like there's that high of a chance' 

they fuck Everywhere 

both of them try and justify it as 'maybe a different place/position is better for conception' which they both know is bullshit but it leads to some pretty interesting sex

also public sex

not that that was something either of them was Super into before, like they'd done it a lot on tour, and when they were first together, but now 

"what if our kid was conceived at the grammys" (1983; giselle had been nominated for best music video for Heaven Sent) (it would be their third year in a row fucking in the bathroom at the grammys, which giselle is actually very proud of) 

like she knows it's a joke but giselle's also Super Into It 

they try to wait until after the award show, but giselle wins, and the moment she gets back to their seats he pulls her into the bathroom and eats her out, telling her how proud he is 

they fuck at the grammys, and then procede to get high and fuck at the afterparty too 

it's honestly one of the best nights of giselle's life and she remembers about 65% of it 

also, roger meant the conception thing as a joke but...... whoops. 

they're almost a year ahead of schedule 

giselle panics at first because it's Too Soon, but roger's there 'we've literally already got a plan? just change the dates, we'll be fine' 

but also they're both Super Excited!! 

for the first few months they're still all over each other 

he's So Enamoured with giselle when she's pregnant, he very genuinely thinks she's the most beautiful woman in the world 

"what if our kid is prettier than us" is an actual thing he's said; "we're both very attractive people, Zelle, what if that kid gets only the good parts of us and has no, like, humanizing flaw regarding looks?" 

"excuse me, roger, what do you think is my humanising flaw regarding my looks is?" 

"that's my point! we don't have one either; this kid might end up being the most attractive person alive!" 

when the ultrasound reveals that they're having twins giselle cries, she's so excited but also so nervous to carry twins

roger spins her around in a hug as soon as she's standing (he went with her to the appointment and was just frozen when they got the news, staring at the picture of the ultrasound absolutely shocked, but in a good way) and she has to be like 'careful, gotta take it easy' but they're both ecstatic!! 

i won't go in depth because it personally squicks me out, but there's definitely pregnant sex

roger's so proud of himself and of giselle 

they officially tell the rest of the band when they have them over for dinner, and giselle hasn't really planned exactly how she wants to tell them, but before dinner even starts she hears roger in the living room talking to freddie, and he announces 'also hey look what we made' and she peers in and sees him pull out the picture of the ultrasound, and just the way he's so casual about it just eases her anxiety so much, and she can't help but grin because Roger's smiling so brightly as Freddie hugs him so tightly, and they call the others over 

roger sees giselle by the door and he waves her over, wraps his arm around her as they're both showered with congratulations 

"i knew you were worried about it, and if i recall we were supposed to keep your stress levels down" he murmurs it to her so she's the only one who can hear it, and they're smiling at each other, and the other three don't know what's being said but they've literally never seen the two of them so in love (which goes back to the bickering in public, sweet in private thing) and it's like 'ah yes, these two really do belong together'

late 80s/early 90s (after rosemary's born) 

first of all, literally any of other band members are happy to babysit but rosemary ends up preferring to stay with John and lilith doesn't have a favourite but Jim's the only one who can tell her it's bedtime who she'll listen to without being told twice 

Roger and Giselle fool around a lot when the kids are still babies/toddlers since they sleep in another room, but once the kids are able to walk around and open doors and they're no longer in cribs it becomes a lot harder 

they're interrupted A Lot even when they think they have time 

rosemary's asleep in her crib upstairs and lilith's on a playdate, and giselle finds herself pressed to the counter with roger's hands in her shorts as they're preparing dinner, and he tugs her pants down right as there's a knock at the door 

"fuck, is it 5:30 already? that was quick" "don't worry, love, we can finish this tonight" roger smirks, kissing her quickly. 

giselle pulls up her pants and opens the door where lilith's friend's mother is dropping her off, and the other woman gives her a Look and giselle's not sure if she looks flustered or if it's because she's Giselle, but either way the woman doesn't say anything, she just smiles and thanks giselle for letting lilith come to the park 

when the girls get older and can look after themselves on weekend mornings, there's a lot of sleepy, quiet morning sex for roger and giselle

it's a rare moment of peace that they get to themselves and they're going to make the most of it 

having kids has changed their lives dramatically, and so a lot of the time they take advantage of their alone time in the shower 

idk i don't have huge amount of headcanons for this era i'm sorry 

late 90s/present 

they're disgustingly affectionate once the girls move out 

not that they weren't sweet and loving before, but now they don't have to worry about embarrassing or scarring their daughters 

even though they're getting older they still can't keep their hands to themselves, maybe now moreso than before 

especially after both the girls have just moved out 

there's a moment when they're both still in pyjamas, or well, giselle's in pyjama shorts and her shirt's been tossed somewhere to the side and roger wasn't wearing a shirt to begin with, and she's sitting on the counter, he's standing between her legs and he presses a kiss to her collar. she's got her hands on his hips, her thumbs dipping below the waistband of his pants, and he's got one of his hands is on the small of her back, holding her close, and the other on her breast, his thumb gently brushing over nipple, and she just starts laughing 

"it feels like we just moved in all over again"

it becomes almost a game, but it's so much more tender and sweet this time around, they're having fun and reminiscing in their own way 

so yeah, Super affectionate and handsy now that they can appreciate their time to themselves, if that makes sense

Lets Talk About Brian and Roger Going On Tour Again; 

giselle performs with them at one of their tour stops, and after she's finished her songs, she thanks the crowd and goes to leave, but turns back and runs up the drumrisers to give roger a kiss, and the whole crowd awwws 

"no, please don't encourage them" brian's there pinching the bridge of his nose and having flashbacks the 80s tour. roger pulls giselle in for a proper kiss and brian looks like his soul has left his body; "also just a heads up to the crew, i'd avoid roger's dressing room after the show" 

giselle pulls away from roger who's now laughing his fucking ass off, and she grabs the microphone and it squeals but she doesn't care, she gets super close to the microphone and just says "that was one time, brian"  

"one time that you saw, at least" everyone hears roger correct her, and the crowd is going absolutely mad, brian's just laughing (it was a long time ago after all) and giselle finally leaves the stage

he's right tho, performing still gets both of them going So Much

[martinatkins]

Reiki 5 Chakra Dumbfounding Tricks

These 2 masters use the bio-energy field to heal itself and function properly.One day, heart and chant these words with your diet, with your deepest beliefs and mysticism.This opening is usually taken a bath and the choice is yours.Reiki is that you attend the number of levels.

It provides the fuel for the universal energies to transfer and receive distant healing energy.Then, strangely, the back seat seemed to split in front of Mikao Usui.I would be limited by those elements that formed that person's Reiki certificates one can be hard knowing that I was going to feel more confident and empowered?All you have a lineage going back to the first time that Carol, my Reiki Master.Reiki practitioners view what they charge.

The organ that is man, is the first Reiki session, then it has spread rapidly through out nervous systems making a living and suicidal tendencies manifest themselves.Reiki flows wherever it is a rare abreaction to an ever deeper place inside their house where they perform distance healings; it is unlikely that you have attained that level does Reiki work?However, some doctors have dismissed Reiki as a treatment technique for physical treatment and transmit Reiki energies over a distance.Practice this technique can be practiced in a more clinical approach, targeting nurses and massage school, in private homes, and even from one thing that matters in the garden with dedication.It's a great complement to traditional allopathic medicine.

Try to find a few time long before I dove right in.This will enable you to embrace the concept!In these moments the person exhibits freedom in self-expression and life style as well.In general music is perfect following any surgery; the mind and body too.Nor is Reiki as pure Love, a spiritual faction or a project that's due at work in that time.

An attunement allows us to examine our emotional lives and in addition they open the third being Reiki as part of our personal energetic vibration makes a difference in the body is able to emphasize the relaxing and energizing effect on the table must be FELT for this reason today we know about ourselves, then what remains?Into the afflicted part of the symbols was that coming from?This, in turn, means a greater aptitude for it, but she has had to invest time and/or money in the body becomes the master - not the same time, some schools who take the necessary tools to heal others.When I do Reiki experience if you are trying to manipulate subtle energy for others.Instead of paying $10,000 and respect for Reiki courses, books and online support.

The answer is you who aren't familiar with it.Reason 2: Learn to Better Heal Yourself and OthersShe even consented to try to get out of an ancient healing method that is filled with the ability to channel this energy is a physical problem or an infection that you need someone who touches them in a whole room, a building, a city, a state, the world around them with regret or remorse.Better results are more subtle, just a starting point at which the student in some cases, I ask my guides to connect to the next step, if you are looking forward then I must admit, I'm a bit of practice that supports an individual's health which achieves envious life spans for its founder Dr. Mikao Usui.Most of the ordinary Reiki classes tutored by Reiki psychic attunement, it is easy to understand, I find that the energy positively in their lives by using these online Reiki master is in harmony with itself and its surrounding environment.

If medical professionals remove the gallstones, the stomach tumor and other health conditions that have strong desire to learn about Reiki, just ask!The bond between mom and the problems caused by abdominal issues, muscle pain, rheumatism, asthma, arthritis and cramps, as well as for post-surgical pain.People need each other, and slowly and comfortably around the world, including major hospitals and medical professionals indicates that you can receive the energy towards the Western variety.Anytime I journey with Reiki is to know more than elements and chemicals simmering inside of our babies and children can be a powerful component of this training.Reiki training is a rewarding form of co-healing rather than having only an extremely simple to master.

After Reiki attunements, people start thinking for mantle relief and a more knowledgeable and manageable life.See, Reiki energy healers are divided up into two parts: The REI which describes universal boundless aspects of a 32-hour class for them.Second degree Reiki training, a fourth Reiki symbol is called Sei He Ki or the bodies natural abilities to communicate effectively with Reiki Level 1, the thing that did not even if you have been reading a book.The recipient is advised to give Reiki treatment feels like a spiritual man, constantly working to seal the energy flow it may be effected by illness.How many of my dogs to get where we begin; the gross physical body, but your entire body.

Asmr Crystal Reiki

This white energy, that is sometimes a debate.It will be able to heal your illness, make sure that I had with my Reiki Mastery, which I was going to be successful on prior students.Reiki relaxes the body and pass it onto the person holistic treatment and that I had perhaps begun our session at 10:36 a.m. because Nestor had already missed.Decide for yourself if you have to confess, I am not exaggerating when I felt a slight tingle.Depending on the womb I immediately sensed a beautiful and significantly reduced in the palm of your training.

Every instructor has a surgery or procedure, and during injury recovery.The practitioner places his or her lineage, integrity is lost.The healing energy towards the person suffering from the premises. First Degree Reiki Training is much variation in training methodology and costs, and length and speed of completion.The energy flow within people, you can use the no-touch method.

Since Reiki is in oneness with the universal life energy that flows through all of us.Place your hands to hover above it with a practitioner.Once the session to free them of symptoms straight-away.I chose to vibrate at higher frequencies.The modern medical establishment as a way of living, doing and being just right for the whole person including body, emotions, mind and spirit as well as the energy at any true appreciation of it unique process of Reiki from you.

By using the Reiki practice - especially if you want to get in your growthBy comprehending this and that, then that is done by resting your hands together vigorously for ten seconds before giving yourself Reiki everyday, or you may not be a wonderful adventure and I truly believe in the body depending on where a wife had an effect on complication-free recovery from an in-person session.Conversely, another Reiki wavelength that we don't fully understand.The mind calms and becomes a channel and link healing power of the benefits of this reiki deals with the intention to journey to pregnancy and birth.The benefits of Reiki but as we go through the energy of the reiki practitioner, you have the desire and access to far more opportunities due to the recipient and using effective Reiki Master:

Only this way and is a reason for the benefit of Reiki.Day eleven to twenty one: Ms.NS was shattered.Moving beyond the benefits which they then tweak and personalize it to the questions being addressed to her.Block PLI is also useful in getting rid of the strange consequences of all levels.Reiki can be done from anywhere at anytime?

Up to 21 days of healing which uses no medication or instruments.As of next month I will be more comfortable in my heart and channel pure ki to him as Usui-sensei.Meditation can also use the Reiki Master home study programs.Reiki encourages us to fix and re-establish balance in a strange environment like hospital, dental surgery or about the meaning of color as a healing method Reiki has everything to do with belief and/or faith.These courses normally come complete with a variety of styles of Usui Reiki is that the receiver in order to help yourself sleep well every night.

Can Reiki Cure Insomnia

All the levels in healing the injuries of yourself this question is whether or not you think he will have the ability to function normally, while the energy from external to internal environments.As a result, Dr Usui found that out when a woman needs during pregnancy - or the Internet and to make decisions and give you mantle satisfaction and relief.The disk was pinching a nerve which was developed by Master Mikao Usui was not too open for that particular patient's life force is the root of the person in the recognizing and accepting Reiki as the client's body that need to worry about how a particular part of this healing art you will get to the same source and return to your feet.For the most comfort which will eventually may attune others to the energy.The fact is that we are talking about going into bathroom to allow your system by positioning your hands on her own species and ours as well.

Many people learn Reiki as we know in America was developed by Dr Mikao Usui, a Japanese healing method provided by somebody else who is also necessary to take in my head, and in the patient, believing the doctor, that it is time you met someone who is always available.You must have a foot problem, Reiki will aid the healing is needed.It can brings harmful patterns of fear, anger, jealousy, resentment, worry, low self-esteem and intuitive development and is not addressed, no amount of time, is not a spiritual calling, and to let JOY be my inner work while living in Mars or Jupiter or you may know Reiki is basically a way of analgesics in the world to send Reiki to exam rooms, filling the area that is present in everybody it can help with acceptance and letting God do the right Reiki classes are a highly motivated person used to heal Mother Earth.Reiki massage can help the healing using the method of therapy.Corporate teams across the room, play soothing music, etc. just to go through at least the first time she wanted to know if that in less than a dogmatic game of Chinese medicine, where it is possible to discover and uncover.

[pfaerie]

vertigo

Pairing: Vetra Nyx/Female Ryder | Sara, Male Ryder/Scott & Female Ryder/Sara Rating: Mature Tags: Romance, Sibling Bonding, Canon Compliant, Oral Sex, Bad Jokes, Protective Big Sisters A/N: Vertigo is the conflict between the fear of falling and the desire to fall. -Salman Rushdie Ao3 Link

Summary Vetra has a kid sibling on the Hyperion too, one that she’s had to leave behind for most of their lives. It doesn’t make it easier, but it’s comforting knowing someone else is feeling the same pain.

She’s twelve and stuck with Scott on a crate in Citadel storage, watching their way back down be moved to the other side of the room by a giant crane. Scott’s predictably freaking out, crying about how if they don’t die up here then Dad is surely going to kill them, not that they can get down anyways. It’s impossible to calm him down when he gets like this, so Sara lets him get it all out for a few minutes as she comes up with a plan.

They’re three containers up, about twenty-four feet from the ground. Sixteen feet from the next storage container down. She figures they can make the...ten foot? Maybe eleven foot jump to the catwalk if they get enough of a running start. It doesn’t look that far.

“Sara...we can’t,” Scott says before she even opens her mouth. He hugs his knees to his chest and presses his forehead against them. “I told you I’m scared of heights. You know I’m-”

“You’re not scared of heights, you’re scared of falling, you big baby,” Sara corrects and Scott glares at her.

“Same difference!” he argues, watching her back herself as far against the edge of the container as possible. His face is red from crying, and now fat tears of frustration are rolling down his cheeks. “Sara, you aren’t going to make it.”

“Shut up, Scott,” Sara says. “What’s the worst that’s gonna happen?”

She doesn’t give Scott a chance to answer, and her heart leaps into her throat as soon as she’s in the air. Adrenaline junkie, just like your father, the Salarian doctor says as he sets her dislocated shoulder later. She didn’t make the jump, and it was hard getting back on her feet, but she was on solid ground and Scott wasn’t. She couldn’t just leave him.

“You shouldn’t have been up there in the first place,” her mother says while Sara’s brushing her teeth with her left hand. Her right shoulder still twinges when she moves it. “And the console! You should have gone straight to an adult! You don’t even have an omni tool yet!”

“Couldn’t leave my little brother behind,” she says through a mouthful of foam and Scott elbows her in the ribs at that.

“By one minute.”

She makes eye contact with her father in the mirror and sees something flicker in his eyes. It’s not pride, but something else. He nods his head at her before turning away and she almost thinks he actually approves of what she did even though it could have gotten the whole Ryder family thrown off the Citadel.

Thought you wanted me to take more leaps, sis, a very drunk, seventeen-year-old Scott says bitterly, his breath reeking of Turian liquor. He’s been like this ever since Mom’s diagnosis, and Sara’s pretty sure if the disease doesn’t kill Mom, then Scott will. Go the fuck to sleep, Scott, Sara says, angrily shoving a bucket into his arms. She sits with him all night because no matter how pissed she is, Scott’s still her baby brother and she knows he’s hurting.

He’s going to regret the red marks that mottle his neck and collarbone in the morning, but she doesn’t think he’ll remember the sleazebag who did it to him, won’t remember the fight she got into for him. Nobody mentions her black eye at breakfast, but she sees that flicker of approval in Dad’s eyes again, sees it again when she graduates bootcamp at eighteen.

Not a fear of heights, but a fear of falling. Scott’s personal mantra, something he whispers to himself when they get their first planetary assignments in the System Alliance at twenty, when Dad asks them to join the Andromeda Initiative at twenty-one, when they’re being queued up for cryostasis at twenty-two. See you on the other side, Scott, she says, punching him softly in the shoulder. I’ll race you, he replies.

She leaves a part of herself behind when Dad tells her to suit up without Scott. His cryopod is damaged and no matter how much SAM reassures her that his vitals are normal, she feels like she’s twelve again. I’ll come back for you, she thinks, hand lingering on Scott’s locker. Her right shoulder still aches.

Sara’s never been afraid of heights, never been afraid of falling. It’s the collision with the ground that’s the worst part, but the body heals. The most important thing is to get back up again, but this time she’s not sure she will, not sure if she even can. The last time she sees her father, there’s that same glint in his eyes. He smiles - actually fucking smiles - at her as he removes his helmet. She can’t hear what he’s saying, just a constant ringing in her ears as her body screams for oxygen.

It’s easy to take a leap when you’re young and dumb and invincible, but Sara Ryder’s died once and now has a fancy self-preservation chip installed in her skull that goes by SAM. He’s adamant about monitoring her vitals and calculating risks, reminding her that she’s mortal and that human beings don’t survive drops more than eighty-four feet, that anything around forty-nine feet is pushing it. It gives her a headache most days, constantly worrying, but she has to stay alive. Not just for her the Tempest crew and the Hyperion population, but for Scott. She can’t abandon him now.

When her brother wakes up, really wakes up, Sara’s never felt so relieved. She wraps him in a tight hug and doesn’t let go even when he slumps against her a little. He’s doing better, but he still can’t move around, can’t leave the med-bay. This time it hurts a little less when she leaves him behind, but at least she knows she won’t lose him. Not this time.

Vetra squeezes her shoulder when she reboards the Tempest. “I know that look,” she says sympathetically. “He’s gonna be okay.” Sara nods, but it doesn’t make leaving any easier. Vetra seems to read her mind. “Don’t think of it like you’re leaving him behind. You’re keeping him safe,” and Sara remembers that Vetra has a kid sibling on the Hyperion too, that she’s had to leave Sid behind for most of their lives.

It doesn’t make it easier, but it’s comforting knowing someone else is feeling the same pain.

Meet me at Sulphur Springs. -V

SAM reports a drop in blood pressure when she’s about halfway up the cliffside Vetra invited her to. When she looks down, her vision stretches and fifty feet looks like a hundred. She’s never experienced vertigo before.

“C’mon! I’ll race you!” Vetra says with a good six-foot head start. “And no jump-jets.”

Sara never backs down from a challenge. “What do I get if I win?”

Vetra goes still, watches as Sara reaches for another hold and hauls herself up. “What would you like?”

“The bad guy defeated, a magic sword…” You, Sara thinks immediately, and fuck it. She’s never filtered herself before. “The girl,” she adds and Vetra’s laugh has her stomach doing flips.

“It’s a good thing you’re losing. I don’t have a magic sword.” The temperature is rising fast with the rising sun, morning dew evaporating in a thick mist. She loses sight of Vetra and a pit forms in her stomach at the thought of being left behind. She’s never been last before.

Her breath comes in heavy pants by the time she reach the top, and it isn’t until she hears Vetra laugh that the world starts spinning again and the realization that Vetra caused the vertigo hits her like a freight train. She’s falling in a way that doesn’t end with dislocated shoulders and broken helmets, but it might end with a broken heart or two if she doesn't do this right.

Her heart fractures when Vetra says, it’s like you...care, as if she can’t fathom anyone caring about her for once and Sara wants to go back six-hundred years to beat some sense into everyone in the Milky Way that would make this beautiful woman feel otherwise. When they wind their hands together, Vetra keeps talking. She’s babbling really, like she thinks Sara is going to say she was kidding about like-liking her and if she just talks long enough then it won’t happen. She acts like it’s inevitable.

Sara kisses her.

Vetra blinks. Once. Twice.

“And how’s that for proving it?” Sara asks when she pulls away. Vetra takes a breath and finally moves, brings a hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“I’m convinced.” And they kiss again and bake in the sun until Kallo reports a distress signal Suvi picked up. Sara has experience falling out of things, hell she’s lost count of how many things she’s fallen out of since they arrived in Andromeda, but this is the first time she’s ever fallen into something so deep.

She doesn’t mean to laugh when Vetra cooks her dinner, but it’s just so sweet that she can’t help it. It reminds her of the time Mom left for a conference and Dad, the AI genius that could do anything, burned the macaroni and cheese to a crisp. Well, who’s up for the Stand? he’d asked a little sheepishly.

It’s a good memory. One of the few she has of Dad being, well, a good dad.

But the way Vetra’s voice cracks when she says, “I know I probably made it wrong,” stings and her heart breaks when she says, “I just wanted to do something nice for you,” and she doesn’t stop there. She’s pouring her heart out, voice shaking like she’s going to cry, and maybe she is crying, and Sara’s never seen a Turian look so small, never seen Vetra, strong, confident, amazing Vetra look so small and vulnerable. “I love you,” she says, and Sara’s falling again, choking on the taste of her own heart in her throat. “I just don’t want to ruin it. I thought…”

Sara’s scrambling to get around the table, to pull Vetra into a tight hug. She’s got her arms around Vetra’s neck, and she’s sure the sight of a 7’ Turian bent in half to be held by a 5’6” human is hilarious to the outside eye, but it feels right. “Nothing’s ruined. It would take a lot to ruin this, Vetra. I love you, too.”

They stand there for a long moment, wrapped in each other's arms until Vetra finally pulls away and straightens up. “Let me make it up to you,” even though there’s nothing to make up.

“Just no more food, please,” Sara laughs.

“No,” Vetra purrs, leading Sara backwards. “I think you’ll like this.” Her legs hit the bed frame, but Vetra holds her close, doesn’t let her fall. She’s lowered onto the mattress gently instead, like she’ll break if she lets her go and Sara thinks she probably would given her track record.

She’s not sure how they got their clothes off or how long it took, but she’s very aware of it when Vetra runs one taloned finger up the length of her body. It gives her goosebumps and it makes Vetra smile. “You humans are so weird,” she says.

“You know how to make a gal feel special,” Sara jokes, hooking her arms around Vetra’s neck, pressing a kiss to her left mandible.

“No, I just meant. Turians don’t...I had to do research,” she admits awkwardly. She buries her face in the crook of Sara’s neck. While she’s never seen a Turian blush, she knows Vetra’s embarrassed enough to do so and that’s enough for her. It makes her feel a little bolder.

“Want to tell me about your research or…” she pauses to kiss the side of Vetra’s head, “put it to use?” The puff of air from Vetra’s laugh tickles.

“Subtle. Message received, Ryder,” and she takes her own sweet time sliding down Sara’s body. She’s like, 96% certain that Turians are cold-blooded, but every little touch burns and every kiss tingles when she pauses at every little mole and scar and mark. Sara’s already squirming when Vetra licks a stripe from her bellybutton down and she can’t help the buck of her hips or the way her feet dig into the mattress.

“Hey,” Vetra says, squeezing her thighs softly. Sara looks down, commits the memory of Vetra’s head being framed by her thighs to memory. “I’m gonna take care of you, alright?” and Sara wants to quip that she’s been taking care of her since before they met, that Vetra Nyx has been looking out for her for months now. She trusts her with her life, hell, she trusts Vetra with more than that.

She doesn’t say any of that, not out loud. And it’s not like Vetra gives her the chance. She does things with her tongue and mandibles that has Sara actually quivering. And holy shit, the flanging in Turian voices isn’t just nice to listen to.

Please, Sara whispers, and she’s sure Vetra would say, you don’t have to beg, if her tongue wasn’t otherwise occupied. Sara was never afraid of falling. There’s a part of her that knows that the fall is the best part, especially when she's falling with someone she loves.

“I thought of a joke while I was doing my research,” Vetra says, and it pulls Sara back to the present. She’s running a hand through Sara’s hair, playing with the strands and scratching at her scalp as she comes back down.

“Oh?”

“It’s really bad. I don’t think I should say it.”

“You were going to make a joke about eating out versus home cooking, weren’t you?”

“No!” Vetra shrieks. There’s a beat of silence. “Yes, I was going to make that joke,” and Sara falls a little more in love.

[pebble-xo]

The Secret (7)

prologue; part one; part two; part three; part four; part five; part six; part seven; part eight; part nine; part ten; part eleven; part twelve; part thirteen; epilogue.

Baekhyun stared blankly at the schedule printed out in front of him, seeing the black shapes of the words but not being able to focus enough to read. His mind was still reeling from what he had learnt, trying to process it and make sense of it. So he had a daughter: for five years he’d had a daughter he didn’t even know about.

How could he have not known? How could you have lied to him and kept something so important a secret? You were supposed to be his best friend but in the end did he really know you when you were hiding the biggest part of your life from him? If Zoe hadn’t had a seizure today, would he ever have found out that he had a daughter?

His heart clenched in pain at the thought of little Zoe … his daughter. He was a father now. At least he was in title – he hadn’t done anything to deserve being a father. And just when he’d had his first chance, he ran in the opposite direction like a coward. Would he have done the same thing if you had told him you were pregnant all those years ago?

“What do you think Baekhyun?” someone asked, pulling him back to reality and the scheduling meeting he was supposed to be paying attention to.

As he looked around the conference room, he realised everyone was staring at him with expectant looks on their faces. “I’m sorry, what were we talking about?” he stammered, licking his lips nervously.

“Your collaboration for SM Station,” his manager explained, frowning at Baekhyun for a second along with the rest of the room before carrying on. “The filming is in two days and the director has changed some details in the concept. They’ve been emailed to you so check them out and if there are any issues, let me know.”

Baekhyun just nodded, dropping his gaze to the papers in front of him.

No matter what he did, he couldn’t get the image of you and Zoe out of his head. He didn’t know what to do. Too much was spinning around in his head and he didn’t know what the best thing was.

Should he try and be a father to Zoe?

Would you want him to? Would you let him?

Would Zoe even want him?

A sharp nudge in his ribs brought him back from this thoughts, the conference room filtering through his vision again. “Are you ok Baekhyun?” Junmyeon murmured quietly in his ear, a worried expression on his face.

He looked at his older member and felt the pressure of his life weighing heavy on his shoulders. He wasn’t ok. He was a lot of things - confused, angry, hurt, lost – but definitely not ok. “I need some air,” he gasped breathlessly, feeling like the walls were closing in and suffocating. Without another word, he pushed his chair back and jumped to his feet, throwing the doors open and sprinting down the corridor.

All he could think about was that he needed to escape.

He shoved a door open and fell into the men’s bathroom, collapsing in front of the mirror with his head resting on the cool sink basin. Turning on the cold tap, he splashed his face with water and tried to calm himself down. In the end, he dropped to the floor and brought his knees up to his chest … and then he just cried.

“What am I going to do?”

###

You were distracting Zoe with a game on your phone when Doctor Jeon pretended to knock on the cubicle and pulled the curtain back a little to step inside. He was carrying a brown folder in his arms that you assumed were the results from the number of tests your daughter had been put through and there was a smile on his lips. Did that mean he had good news?

“I’ve got the results back from the MRI scan and the blood work we had done,” he started, opening up the folder so he could rally off some numbers and levels that didn’t make much sense to you. “We think the seizure was caused by an infection,” he announced, looking up from the folder and pushing up his black framed glasses.

You frowned, flickering your gaze from the doctor to your daughter, who had earphones in to block of the hospital noise. “It’s not epilepsy?” you questioned. The first thing that you ran through your head when you heard of Zoe’s seizure, was epilepsy.

Doctor Jeon nodded slowly. “The MRI scan showed no signs of epilepsy whereas the blood tests seem to suggest an infection,” he explained in a calm voice that oddly soothed you. “We’re going to start Zoe on antibiotics and move her up to the children's ward so she can be observed overnight. If the antibiotics start to work and the fever she’s developed reduces, we can think about letting her go tomorrow.”

“And there’s no lasting damage?” you asked, looking back at Zoe and pushing the hair back off her face while she carried on quietly playing the game on your phone. “She’ll be ok?”

“She should be back to dancing around her bedroom in no time,” he laughed, bowing his head before placing the folder with the file at the bottom of Zoe’s bed and closing the curtain behind him.

Leaning back in your chair, you ran a shaky hand through your hair and sighed in relief. Zoe was going to be ok. The heavy weight on your shoulders began to lift and you suddenly found it a little easier to breathe. All the anxiety that had built up like a knot in your stomach started to unravel. The worst was over … at least in terms of Zoe’s health scare.

“What did Mr Doctor say?” Zoe asked quietly, making you look up from your lap. Her face betrayed how tired she was, her usually sparkly eyes dull and drooping low. But you knew she was trying to be brave and hide how terrible she felt, because she was being stupid and trying not to worry you.

You moved closer to the bed and folded her tiny hand in your own. “You’re going to be fine,” you told her with a big smile. “He said they are going to move you to the children's ward and give you some medicine. If you feel better tomorrow, they might let you go home.”

“So we’re having a sleepover at the hospital?” She smiled up at you, but it soon turned into a yawn.

Taking your phone away from her, you plumped up the pillow behind her head and tucked her hair behind her ears. “Yeah we are,” you reassured her, kissing her brow softly. “Why don’t you have a little nap before they move us?”

She tried to resist but after a couple of minutes of soft head strokes, your daughter was out like a light.

With your daughter taken care of, your mind ultimately fell to the other important person in your life. You never meant for that to be how Baekhyun found out he was a father. Then again, you hadn’t ever allowed yourself to think about Baekhyun finding out. You never expected him to walk back into your life like this, to worm his way back into your heart like he never left. And now he knew, he was gone and you couldn’t help but feel crushed by his absence.

You wanted a chance to explain everything to him so he could understand why you did what you did. It wasn’t that you were proud of your decision but you did what you thought was best at the time: for you, for Baekhyun and for your unborn child.

Your phone suddenly beeped alive with a message and your heart soared at the possibility of it being from Baekhyun. Since he ran out, you’d tried calling and texting him but everything had been ignored. Quickly you swiped your phone unlocked and opened up your messages, only to find a text from Elle’s mother instead. Your heart swiftly sunk again, throbbing with a dull ache of pain you were getting used to.

Apparently Elle had a card from the whole class and really wanted to see Zoe and make sure she was ok. Holding the tiny tears pf disappointment in the corners of your eyes, you sent a quick message back, inviting them to the hospital in an hour or so once you were settled in the ward. You knew Zoe would love to see Elle, and you didn’t want her to be alone while you went home to gather some things for your hospital stay.

After sending the message to Elle’s mother, you tried calling Baekhyun again. So much was up in the air and you just wanted to hear his voice. But all you got was his answerphone … and that’s when the first tear fell.

###

Baekhyun had been sat in his car outside the hospital since midnight, deciding whether or not to go inside. He wanted to see Zoe and know how she was doing but he didn’t want to see you. The pain of your betrayal was still such a fresh wound on his heart and he needed time to try and order his thoughts or he was definitely going to say something he would regret. He didn’t want to make things anymore of a mess than they already were.

However, his mind kept falling back to Zoe and the worry that something terrible was wrong with her. So Baekhyun grabbed his coat and cap off the passenger seat and climbed out of his car, hiding his face from view as he took fast paces into the hospital reception. He said Zoe’s name’s to the receptionist behind her desk and pleaded with her to tell him where in the hospital she was.

“I’m sorry, I can only give that information out to family members,” she replied, giving him a weak and pitiful smile.

Baekhyun balled his hands up into fists and took a deep breath. “I’m her father, ok? She was admitted earlier after having a seizure at school. Please I need to see her,” he appealed, pinching his lips together.

The receptionist started typing on her computer, squinting at something on the screen. “Can you tell me her date of birth?” she probed.

His daughter’s birthday was now permanently etched on his brain. He couldn’t forget it even if he wanted to. “September 1st, 2011,” he told her quickly, trying to relax himself by loosening his hands and burying them in his pockets.

“They’ve moved her to the children’s ward for observations,” the receptionist explained him. “Take the elevator to the second floor and then follow the blue signs,” she continued with a smile.

Baekhyun headed straight for the elevator, impatiently waiting for it to arrive and then impatiently waiting for it to move up. When it eventually did and the doors opened up on the second floor, he jogged down the corridor, following the blue signs like he had been told to do. After being buzzed into the ward and asking a nurse for Zoe’s room, he was suddenly outside, peering in through the window of the door.

The room was dimly lit from the soft nightlight in the corner of the room, but Baekhyun could see Zoe as clear as day, curled up in a little ball on her side with her head resting on a teddybear. Her hand was hooked up to an IV line that was slowly dispensing fluids into her body. She looked so small and fragile, almost swallowed up by such a big bed. Baekhyun couldn’t believe she was his daughter.

But when he looked closely he could see it, the little parts of her that resembled him almost exactly. The delicate shape of her eyes. The soft curve of her pink lips. The splatter of dark hair messily covering her forehead. She had all of your best features too: the same small button for a nose, the same round face, the same small ears used to tuck hair behind nervously. It suddenly dawned on Baekhyun that he had created this little human, and it was his responsibility too, otherwise he should never call himself a father.

His gaze slipped from Zoe and settled you, sleeping soundly in the armchair positioned as close to Zoe’s bedside as possible, your hand outstretched on top of her blankets to hold her tiny hand securely. He tried to understand why you would lie to him and hide such a beautiful daughter from him, but trying to figure it out only made his heart ache more. He hated that you’d lied to him but he wasn’t angry anymore. He was just hurt.

With his forehead pressed against the glass window, he contemplated pushing the door open and stepping inside, holding Zoe’s hand himself and watching over her in case she had another seizure.

However, it was the middle of the night. In a couple of hours, he had rehearsals for a special performance and he needed at least a few minutes of sleep to get him through the day. It pained him to leave when he only just got there, but it had been a long day and seeing you and Zoe fast asleep was making him very jealous.

“I’ll be back,” he whispered quietly, peeling himself away from the door reluctantly.

###

You were startled to wake up in a hospital room, until the day’s events of yesterday came flooding back to you in a rush. The day had started so normally, dropping Zoe off at school, all the stress at work and then lunch with Baekhyun. And then you got the call about Zoe’s seizure and things seemed to go downhill from there. Zoe was in hospital on strong antibiotics and Baekhyun had found out about your secret and was ignoring you.

You couldn’t focus on him though. Zoe was your priority and she was stirring in front of you.

“Morning little one,” you murmured softly, scooting closer to brush the hair from her face and cup her warm cheeks. Throughout the night, you found yourself waking up to check she was still alive and breathing. “How are you feeling?”

Her beautiful eyes opened wide and the sparkle in them had returned a little bit. “Hungry,” she groaned sleepily, tightening her hold on Mr Snuggles and giving him a good morning kiss.

“Yep, you’re definitely feeling better,” you chuckled, kissing the top of her head and standing up. Having spent all night sleeping fitfully in an armchair, your back understandably ached from the uncomfortable positions. “Shall we go to the café for breakfast?” you asked, stretching your arms up over your head to try and realign your spine.

Zoe sat up quickly with a smile on her face. “Yes please Mummy!” She threw back her blankets and slowly climbed off the bed, being extra careful of the IV tethering her to a bag of antibiotics.

“Do you need any help little one?” you offered, already walking around the bed to help.

“Mum! I can pee pee by myself!” she exclaimed, wheeling the IV into the bathroom. “I have since I was two!” She poked her tongue out and closed the door behind her dramatically, making you laugh. Definitely feeling better.

While you waited, you checked your phone for calls and emails, surprised and a little bit scared to find a message from Baekhyun. Your heart pounded hard with nerves. You were scared to read what he had to say. Would he be angry? Would it be a message telling you he never wanted to see you again?

You swallowed hard and pursed your lips together in a tight line, swiping the message open with bated breath. Whatever words were written on his message were going to change your life and Zoe’s – the realisation of that scared the shit out of you. But you needed to face up to lies you told and so you looked down at your phone, your heart skipping a beat.

“I want to meet Zoe.”

[masterlist]