#i hate that gps have hurt me and dismissed me

[aquarianconstellations]

I'm already stressed about the fact i NEED to get a doctor's appointment tomorrow why do they make it so hard i hate it i hate it i hate it

[therealcocoshady]

Hey! I love your fics, would you be able write one of Marshall taking care of the reader while the reader is sick?

Author’s Note : thank you for your request 🖤. I made this a part of the Marshall + Lily series because why not 😉. Also… I think it is most fitting for Father’s Day 🖤.

Mama’s gon’ be alright

Synopsis : Reader is sick and Marshall has to take care of her and Lily.

You had been under the weather for days and, what your GP had told you was just a bad case of food poisoning was getting worse, in spite of you not being able to eat much. Even more curious was the fact that Marshall and Lily, who had been eating the same things as you were absolutely fine. On the weeks his youngest daughter wasn’t at his place, he was often at your house and you were more thankful than ever to have him around. Your stomach was hurting like hell and, overall, you were feeling like shit. That God, he was able to keep Lily distracted while you were able too lay down and get some rest. Her first birthday was fast approaching and she was now running around everywhere, with a lot of energy to spare. He spent a lot of time playing with her, as well as taking care of you, whether it was to massage your feet, cuddle with you or to help you with anything you needed.

- I’m sorry for this week, you mumbled.

- What are you talking about ? He asked with a raised eyebrow.

- You know… For being under the weather and stuff, you explained.

- Not your fault, babe, he said sympathetically.

- You know, I would have understood if you’d told me you’d rather stay home-, you began.

- I’m happy to be with you, he replied. I just hate seeing you like this.

- Me too, you groaned. Thanks for taking care of me. And for keeping Lily distracted.

- You don’t have to thank me, he chuckled. I told you. I’m happy to be here. Besides, I don’t know how you’d do if I wasn’t. Even if I’m tired after running after her all day.

- She’s growing up so fast, you commented with a smile.

- It’s crazy, he agreed.

As if she was able to sense that you were talking about her, you heard her call you, signaling that she had woken up for her nap. You let out a grunt as you got up from the bed to go and pick her up from her bed and Marshall looked at you with a worried look.

- Tell me again why you don’t want to go back to your GP ? He asked.

- He said it’s food poisoning and basically dismissed my symptoms, you groaned. I’m not going back there.

- You can’t stay like this, babe, he said.

- I can still work and change diapers, now, can’t I ? You almost snapped. It’ll pass.

- Forget I said anything, he sighed

You went to Lily’s room and she seemed genuinely excited to see you, which brought a smile to your face. You regretted not being able to spend too much time playing with her. You went to kiss her and pick her up but you immediately felt a sharp pain in your stomach, causing you to let out a scream.

- Mama ? Lily asked with a worried voice.

- I-I’m fine, baby, you said as reassuringly as you could.

- Y/N, are you alright ?! Marshall asked as he entered the room.

- It hurts, you said. Oh my God, it hurts so bad…

- Go and lay back down, I got this, he said.

- Her diaper needs changing, you said.

- Got this, he shrugged.

- Are you sure ? You asked.

- I haven’t changed a diaper in a while but, unless they now include a Bluetooth feature, I think I can handle it, he said with a smile.

- Ok, you conceded. I’m here if you need me.

You gave up and went back to your bedroom where you laid back down. You were feeling exhausted and a bit feverish. Every passing minute, things seemed to be getting worse and, even though you were frustrated with yourself for not being able to care for Lily on your own, you were thankful that Marshall was here. Once he was done with Lily’s diaper, he came to check up on you. She was in his arms, playing with his chain. Ever since you had started dating, roughly six months ago, they had gotten really close. She simply loved him and, whenever he was around, they would have a blast. He was very patient with her and, whenever he was playing with her, his inner child came out. At first, you were a bit worried. You knew being a single mom wasn’t exactly glamorous and would probably be a turn-off for many men, but Marshall didn’t care one bit. Knowing you had a four month-old when you met didn’t prevent him for flirting with you. It took two months for you to give in on the attraction and go on a first date with him and, ever since, he had been a staple presence in Lily’s life. In fact, a lot of your dates included her. He understood that you were a single mom to a very young kid and he consistently showed you that he respected that. He was always mindful of your schedule and, since he was a parent himself, you were in agreement that kids came first. You actually enjoyed dating a man who had three grown daughters, and you often talked about the struggles of parenting, you with a baby, him with teenagers and young adults. In many ways, Marshall was a blessing and him being a girl Dad meant that you easily trusted him when it came to Lily. In fact, he was the only one capable of reassuring you, when you were doubting yourself, scared of doing something wrong, feeling guilty for not following everyone’s advice. He made a point of reminding you of what a great mom you were to Lily, and how lucky she was to have you, often praising your hands-on parenting.

- Are you alright ? He asked as he sat on the bed and let Lily crawl to you.

- I think I just need some rest, you said. It’ll pass…

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow but didn’t say much. The three of you were laying in bed while he was reading to Lily. She simply loved having stories read to her and her favorite reader ever was Marshall, who put a lot of efforts into it. He was great at using his vocal skills to give life to the characters and you often thought to yourself that, if he was to give up on the music industry, he should get into voicing characters. Whenever he read to Lily, she was super involved and interested. This time, you were glad she was captivated and didn’t see your face scrunched up in pain. She was giggling at the voices Marshall made up for the characters and staring at the book while he pointed to the various elements. You, on the other hand, were unable to focus and felt your eyes close as the room started spinning.

- Y/N ? Marshall asked. Babe ? Can you hear me ?

- Mmh yes, you mumbled. Headache that’s all….

- I’m taking you to the ER, he said firmly.

- No need, you said.

- That wasn’t a question, he replied. Either I’m taking you, or I’m calling 911. You choice.

- Not 911, you pleaded. I don’t want Lily to be worried if they take me in an ambulance.

- ER it is, then, he said.

- What about Lily, though ? You asked.

- We’ll take her with us, he shrugged. I’ll stay with her in the waiting room while they take care of you.

- Ok, you said sheepishly as you closed your eyes.

He placed a hand on your forehead and commented on your fever being too high before helping you get ready. Lily was nervously looking at you and you tried to appease her by smiling - however weakly. Seeing as you were in no state to drive, Marshall drove your car to the hospital. He had packed a few snacks and toys for Lily, in case she would get bored. You expected the wait to be quite long but, as soon as she saw you, the nurse called a doctor and you were taken to an examination room.

- Mama ? Lily asked nervously as they helped you sit on a wheelchair.

- I’ll be right back, my love, you said as you cupped her cheek. I won’t be long. You stay with Marshall ok ?

Marshall gave you a weak smile and you could see the worry on his face. He stayed with Lily in the waiting room, playing with some toys that were there. Thank God, she was rather calm and easy to deal with. About an hour later, a nurse came to call them and they were allowed to see you. You were laying in a hospital bed, wearing a hospital gown and hooked to an IV drip.

- Mama ! Lily shrieked as soon as she saw you. Hug ?

- Yes baby, give me a big hug, you said with a smile. I need this.

Marshall handed her to you and kissed the top of your head. The doctor came in and informed him that you had peritonitis, which meant that you needed emergency surgery.

- I have already called my parents, you said. They’re in Cabo right now but they’re taking the first flight to Detroit. They’ll look after Lily.

- I could have taken care of her, you know ? He said.

- She’s my daughter, you said. My responsibility. You don’t have to-

- I love Lily, he replied. I know I don’t have to do anything. I want to.

- Do you think you can look after her before they arrive ? You asked. It shouldn’t take too long. You’d just have to make sure she eats, give her a bath and put her to bed.

- Of course, he said.

- I’m sorry to ask this, you said apologetically. But Tracy is busy tonight, and-

- I told you, it’s no problem, he said with a smile.

You were rather nervous about leaving Marshall to take care of Lily. Not because you didn’t trust him but because, as a single mother, you had always refused to let anyone else to care for your daughter. Even finding a daycare you could trust had been a struggle. Deciding to have her on your own, you saw her as your responsibility. But having to undergo emergency surgery, you felt helpless. Especially since the doctors had implied that peritonitis could be fatal if not treated quickly. You held your little girl in your arms, stroking her hair.

- My parents’ flight should land late in the night, you commented.

- Good, he said. Do you need me to pick them at the airport ?

- No need. They’ll take a cab. I just need you to look after Lily before they arrive… and if anything were to happen to me-, you said in a creaking voice.

- Don’t be dramatic, my love, he said as he held your hand.

- This is not me being dramatic, you said. This is me being a single mom. So if anything happens, there is a folder in a safe under my bed. With all the necessary instructions. The combination is Lily’s birthday.

- Alright, he said. But nothing is going to happen to you. You’re going to have this surgery, you’re going to be well again, and you’ll be healthy just in time for her first birthday.

You nodded and felt a tear roll on your cheek. You were grateful he had forced you to come to the ER. Otherwise, God knows what would have happened. He kissed you and, as the surgeon came to see you, He took it as his cue to leave. He held Lily and they both said goodbye to you. She was calm in his arms, which put you at ease.

In the car on the way back home, though, she started to get a little fussy and call for you. He started to get a little more nervous, realizing it would be the first time he was alone with her for so long. So far, he had only been there for the « fun » moments like playing with her, reading to her or carrying her on his shoulders when the three of you went for a walk. This would be the first time he would have to actually care for her and, even though he had done all of this with his own kids and even Nate, it was a little stressful.

- It’s just the two of us tonight, Lily, he said softly as they arrived home. It’s a first, huh ? Don’t worry, we got this. But just so you know, it’s kind of a big deal for me. Because if your Mama knows we did a great job, I might score a few important points. Which might help if… you know, I ever work up the courage to ask for her hand.

- Hand ? She asked as she looked at hers.

- Yeah, he said with a smile. It’s when two people have so much fun together that the guy asks if they can stay like this forever. And I’m having a lot of fun with you girls. We’re not there yet, obviously but, you know… one day, maybe, I might pop the question. I’d like to. But it won’t happen if I blow this so, I need you to help me, ok, Lily ?

She looked at him and almost shrugged. Obviously, everything he was saying didn’t make a lot of sense to her but, hopefully, she would register the important part which involved being good until her grandparents arrived. Which made him realize that he would be meeting your parents for the first time ever without you there. Talk about nerve-wracking. It was already dinner time for Lily so he put her in her playpen and attempted to find and prepare something for her to eat. For the first time ever, he silently cursed you for being the kind of mom who made everything from scratch. How the hell was he supposed to compare ? He wasn’t a bad cook by any means but he didn’t even come close. He settled for some vegetable sticks with toast and yoghurt. It wasn’t a five star meal but that would have to make do. She was starting to be a little fussy so he did something he knew you would never agree to : he let her eat in front of the TV, watching cartoons. Thank God, she wasn’t one yet and her limited language skills would prevent her from snitching. After dinner, they played for a while and he was relieved that she seemed to be cooperating. However, things became a little more difficult when he attempted to bathe her. It was always a time you shared with her, a mother-daughter ritual in which he was never involved. Maybe it was because she could sense his nerves, or she was tired and starting to miss you, but she started crying straight away and no amount of little toys made her feel better. After bath time was over, he went to put her down but, once again, she didn’t cooperate too much. As soon as she was in her crib, she started crying again and he didn’t have it in his heart to leave her like this so he picked her up and sat in the armchair next to her bed, that you once used for breastfeeding and now mostly used for reading. She was staring at him with wet eyes and a quivering bottom lip.

- I know you miss your Mama, he said. I miss her too, you know ? But right now they’re taking care of her so that she can come home soon and give you tons of hugs and play with you. And soon enough, she’ll be back home and we’ll do fun stuff. We can even go back to the zoo and watch the ducks.

- Duck ? She asked with a smile.

- Yeah, I know you love ducks, baby, he chuckled.

He grabbed the duck plushy he bought for her when he had taken the both of you on a date to the museum and gave it to her. It was by far her favorite stuffed animal. Ever since she saw ducks for the first time, she had been obsessed with them. She was sitting on his lap, mindlessly playing with her toy and it was apparent that she was not intent on sleeping. He grabbed a book and decided to read to her, hoping she would fall asleep. However, after three stories, she was more awake than he was. He sighed and looked at his phone. Four hours had passed. By now, he should have received news from your surgery. Anxiety started to rise. What if something had happened ? What if they had not performed the surgery in time ? The thought of something happening to you was upsetting but thinking about it while he was holding your baby was nearly making him sick. He kissed the top of her head and he let her play with a couple of toys while he called the hospital to get some news. He was put through to a nurse.

- We meant to call you, Mr Mathers, she said. There have been complications…

His heart started to rush. He looked anxiously at Lily, who was playing with a doll. In half a second, his mind immediately went to the worst-case scenario. Was he going to have to look at your baby girl and tell her that her only parent was gone ?

- The peritonitis was caused by an untreated appendicitis and was in an advanced stage that caused sepsis, which in turn caused organ failure. We were able to treat her, though and she’s still recovering from anesthesia. We’re monitoring her and she should wake up soon.

- Thank God, he said. Is there anything I can do ?

- For now, nothing, she said. I’ll call you as soon as she wakes up. She will have to stay here for a while, so you might want to bring some personal effects.

He sighed in relief and, as soon as the call ended, he engulfed Lily in a big hug.

- She’s alright, he said. Your mama is alright.

- Mama ? She asked.

- Yes baby, he said as he kissed the top of her head. She’s sleeping now, but she is all good. So as soon as your grandparents arrive, I’m going to pack her stuff and bring it to her so that she can recover and come home to you as soon as possible.

- Mama ? Lily asked again.

- Very soon, I hope, he nodded. She might need a little help, though, but I’ll be there, don’t worry.

They played calmly for a little while but, when he tried to get her to sleep, she got fussy. Evidently, without you by her side, her little routine was off and she was all upset about it. He resorted to the method he used when his own kids wouldn’t sleep : he laid on the floor, next to her bed and held her hand through the bed rails.

- I’m not leaving until you sleep, ok baby ? He said softly. Now you need to rest. The sooner you sleep, the sooner you get to see your mama.

He stayed like this for a while, humming lullabies and losing track of time. Eventually, he heard her soft snores and smiled to himself. They had officially survived and, if he said so himself, he had done pretty good. It had been a while since he’d had to take care of a baby - since Stevie was one, basically - but he wasn’t too rusty after all. And with Lily, the idea of having to do it all over again wasn’t too bad. He was in love with you and he knew you were a package deal. Thank God, your baby girl happened to be the cutest child on earth, right after his own daughters. She was still firmly holding his fingers in her small hand, not letting go. He smiled and yawned before closing his eyes and eventually falling asleep on the carpet.

He was awoken a couple of hours later by the sound of the door opening. He jumped before quietly going downstairs, making sure Lily was still asleep. He immediately recognized your parents from the family pictures displayed in the living room. He went to greet them with a handshake but your mom immediately hugged him.

- Hi, she said. Marshall, is it ?

- Indeed, he said. Nice to meet you.

- Likewise, your dad said. Although we wish it was under better circumstances.

- Of course, he hummed. I called the hospital earlier. They had some complications but she’s alright.

- Thank God, your mom said as she brought a hand to her heart. And thank God you were here to take care of Lily, too ! I knew Y/N moving here alone was a mistake ! And raising my poor Lily without a father… see, honey ? I told you we should move here ! What if Marshall had not been there ?

- She’s not alone, Marshall assured her. Don’t worry.

He tried to refrain from smiling. You had told him time and time again how much you had argued with your mom, about having Lily on your own, about moving from New York to Detroit… he knew that you loved your independence and that your mother could be a little too pervasive for your taste.

- Need help with your bags ? Marshall offered.

- It’s alright, your dad said. I’ll take these to the guest room. How is Lily ?

- She’s asleep right now, he replied. She was a bit fussy but she did good. I think it’s the first time being away from Y/N for so long.

- My poor baby, your mom said. Hopefully, Y/N will be back soon.

- Hopefully, yeah, Marshall said. I’m going to pack a bag and bring it to her.

- I can do it, your mother replied. I’m sure you have better things to do. Y/N mentioned you have kids. You must be eager to go back to them.

- All good, he replied. The eldest are in college and the youngest is at her mom’s, this week. I’ll let you get settled.

He went to your room and packed a bag for you, with some comfy clothes, toiletries, one of his hoodies (the one you always shamelessly stole from him), as well as one of Lily’s stuffed animals, that you kept in your room for when she would end up in your bed because she had a nightmare. He imagined just how hard it would be for you to be away from her. As he exited your room, he saw your mom going to Lily’s bedroom to check up on her. The little one was awoken by the creaking noise of the door and immediately started crying.

- Don’t cry, Lily, it’s just Granny, she cooed. I’ve come to take care of you.

She picked Lily up and tried to soothe her. The three of them went downstairs and Lily got to hug her grandpa. She seemed rather happy to see them and Marshall took it as his cue to leave. However, as soon as he put on his jacket, Lily started bawling, trying to reach for him. Her grandma tried to get her to stop crying but to no avail. He immediately took off his jacket and put it back where it was.

- It’s fine, baby, I’m not leaving just yet, ok ? He said softly.

- It’s just a tantrum, her grandma said. You can go.

- I don’t mind, he said.

He knew full well you hated the idea of letting a child cry and he couldn’t bring himself to go, seeing Lily like this. She seemed to panic at the idea of seeing him go. He grabbed her and held her close, reassuring her as much as he could. He realized that, of all the people in the room, he was the one she knew best. After all, even if they were not related, he saw her practically every day, whereas she only saw her grandparents every two to three months. He was the most familiar face in the room and it had been hard enough on her having to spend so much time without you.

- See ? I’m here, I’m staying, he cooed. No need to panic.

He rocked her for a minute and, eventually, she stopped wailing. She brought her hand to his face and stroked his beard. He kissed her forehead and went to put her to bed.

- So here’s what’s going to happen, baby, he said softly. I’m going to stay with you until you sleep, and then, I’m going to see Mama, alright ? Granny and Grandpa are going to take care of you. And I’ll see you very, very soon.

- Soon ? She repeated.

- Yeah baby, very soon, he nodded. As soon as possible. I’m going to miss you. But see ? We survived the night. Just the two of us. We did a good job. I’m proud of us, we’re a good team.

He planted a kiss on her forehead and put her to bed. And just like earlier, he held her hand until she was fast asleep. Then, he went back to the living room where your parents were having tea.

- She’s asleep, he said. I’ll leave you to get settled. Do you need anything ?

- I think we’re good, your father said. Thank you for handling her.

- No problem.

- She seems taken with you, your mother remarked with a grin.

- She’s used to me, he replied with a smile.

- We’re having a family dinner for Lily’s birthday next Friday, if Y/N is out of the hospital by then. Will you join us ? Your mother asked.

- Of course. I’d love to, he said.

He left and, as he got to the car, he smiled to himself. For a first encounter with his possible in-laws, it wasn’t too bad. It was in the early hours of the morning and he drove to the hospital to bring the bag he had prepared for you. As soon as he entered your room, he was relieved to see your face. You were awake and looked much healthier than before, though a little tired.

- Hi babe, he said with a smile. How’s my favorite girl ?

- A little loopy but that’s alright, you said with a smile. How is my favorite girl ?

- With your parents now, he said with a smile. She’s doing good. We survived the night. She misses you though.

- I miss her too, you confessed. I missed you as well.

- I was so worried for you, my love, he said as he kissed your temple.

- Thanks for taking me here, you said. If you hadn’t, God knows what would have happened…

- I don’t want to think about it, he said as he kissed your hair.

- How are you ? You asked.

- Tired but ok, he said with a smile. Survived my first meeting with your parents. That’s a milestone.

- Oh my god, you said. I didn’t even realize… how did it go ? Was my mom weird ? She’s like that sometimes but-

- Your parents are lovely, he assured you. They invited me to dinner for Lily’s birthday.

- That’s a good sign, you conceded. But if you don’t want to, you don’t-

- I want to, he chuckled. I love Lily. I love you. I want to be here.

- We’re lucky to have you, you said as you let your head roll on his shoulder.

You talked for a while, Marshall’s arm around your shoulder, your head on his chest. His presence was incredibly comforting. You didn’t really like hospitals but him being there made it bearable.

- I should be out of here in three days, you explained. But I won’t be able to go back to work straight away, I’m sorry…

- Don’t you dare apologize for this, he scolded. I’m not here as your boss, I’m here as your boyfriend.

- Still, I’m annoyed, we had all these things planned, the meeting with Dre…, you continued.

- Work is just work, he said. For now, all you have to do is rest and get better. Stay home a while, rest as much as you can…

- With my mom around ? Not a chance, you scoffed. I love her but she’s so… her. If I have to live with her for a week and have her tell me how to handle Lily, I will lose it, babe.

- Don’t go home, then, he shrugged. Come to my place. I’ll take care of you.

- Oh, no, I didn’t mean… it’s fine, you said. Don’t worry. I can’t just barge in there with my daughter and-

- Why not ? He asked. I can make a room for Lily’s in Nate’s old space. I can even baby proof the house.

- You don’t have to do this, you said. It’s fine.

- Let me take care of you, he insisted. I love you. I’m literally asking for it.

- We’ll see, you said.

- Now you better rest, he commanded.

- I’m starting to have double vision, you said with a yawn.

- Close your eyes, babe, he chuckled. You don’t want to see two of me.

- Two Marshalls ? You giggled. I might have a few ideas…

He chortled and kissed you chastely on the lips. He stayed in the room with you as you went to sleep, watching the serene expression on your face. As soon as he was sure you were asleep, he grabbed his phone and searched for tips on how to baby proof his house. Just in case. Because, after all, doing that Dad stuff all over again didn’t seem too bad, after the night he spent looking after Lily.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Arranged marriage smut where Batman takes y/n’s virginity (full story)

Eventually their other trusts too (specially the one that gets y/n pregnant).

Bruce followed the sound of the quiet crying. Not the hysterical sobs of a socialite in a snit. But- more like a child, one that's scared or hurt and doesn't want to be noticed.

It had been an ugly scene downstairs. One that you'd handled with poise. But, he wasn't surprised to find you here. Away from it all; or at least as far away as you could get while the GPS you knew was tracking you would still say you were in the building.

"Y/N?" he said, voice rough, "What are you doing out here? It's freezing. It could dangerous-"

"I just- I just- I don't know I just-" You wrap your arms around yourself and shiver, prompting Bruce to stop closer to you, eyes narrowing under the cowl.

"Where's Mr. Wayne this evening?" he asked, pulling you into his arms. Oddly satisfied when you don't resist, snuggling into his chest.

"He had somewhere else to be, I guess," you murmur.

"Is that why you're crying?" he asked, tilting your chin up and wiping tears away carefully.

You shake your head and look away, feeling stupid. "I don't really know," you admit. "I can't seem to stop- I just- I'm just being stupid You don't have to stay I can find-"

Bruce can't listen to this. He can't listen to you dismiss all your loneliness and, what he suspects is a deep depression as stupidity. Not now. Not knowing what he knows. The desperate need you have to be free. To be loved. And like he's done so many times before, he kisses you. Stopping the flow of words and relishing the way you melt. Eager, inexperienced lips against his, your hands reaching for him. Desperate for some warmth. Something to fill the empty void where little girl dreams of marriage and babies used to sit.

"I shouldn't," you pant, feeling guilty but unable to stop. "I can't keep-"

"It'll be alright, sweetheart," he soothed, lifting you up and setting you on a picnic table. One where he could use his body to block the worst of the wind.

"But my husband-"

"He's not here," Batman reminded, smirking, stripping off his gloves as he pushed your legs apart to stand between them. "And if he won't make it better, I will."

He can see you struggling. Desire flaring to life with a burn so intense that it's robbed you of any ability to think. Poor thing, he thought smirking. At least you won't hurt too much. He pushes your dress up out of the way, pausing before he goes any further, "Let me touch you, sweetheart, huh? Let me make it feel better."

"Batman I-"

"Nothing you don't want," he said softly, bending his head to nip lightly at your neck- a spot he'd found that made you whine. "I hate seeing you cry. I hate seeing you so lonely, sweetheart."

Bruce watches for a moment. The struggle on your face. You want to be a good wife. You want to do what you were told and be loving and faithful- but. The penthouse is cold and your husband only holds your hand for photo ops. You're lonely and naive. And here Batman- your night in kevlar armor is. Offering you love. Offering you protection. Comfort. A sense of danger. And even as he feels sick. He knows he shouldn't.

Technically he's already proven you'd cheat- but. He knew that wasn't fair to you. He'd woven a snare so deft you'd not seen it closing in. And now? At the point of no return, you're too desperate to care. Past worrying about pride, duty, or your sham of a marriage.

"Take me?" you plead. "I just want- fuck. I just want to feel something. I just want to know-" Tears run down your cheeks, shining in the city lights. And all Bruce can do is kiss you again. Making a promise to himself to not do this again- even as he already knows he won't be able to stay away.

Bruce Wayne may not be able to love you. But Batman can't stop himself from doing it.

[nagichi-boop]

I’m gonna explain the situation behind my previous post cuz I think I’ve hit a bit of a rock bottom with my mental health and I’m not sure what to do.

TL;DR - Tried getting diagnoses from doctors for mental illness, didn’t go well. Need to get a health note for work benefits as I feel unable to do full time work (too stressful), but need to talk to a doctor for that. Unsure what to do (push for diagnosis, ask for health note for just anxiety first, suck it up and keep struggling, etc).

During lockdown I learned a lot about mental illness and neurodivergency. I’m not saying I’m self dxing, but I suspect I may have one or a combo of the following; autism, adhd, ocd, cptsd, DPDR. Currently none have been diagnosed - the only progress I’ve made is being referred to a (still closed) autism clinic which will likely take years to actually do anything.

A gp/doctor said that I have “severe depression and anxiety” (based on a questionnaire that took like 5 mins) on a call where I asked to be referred to a psychiatrist to be assessed tor diagnosis. I even brought up that I thought that I may have ocd. She asked where I got my info from and I said “online”, and she basically dismissed it after that. Like sorry I didn’t go to medical school, where else would I get my info?? But I literally spent hours a day researching mental disorders…hmm, kind of like an ocd compulsion, which is the disorder I gave as an example??

I also did CBT for a bit but hated it. The “therapist” (but probably not cuz apparently social workers are allowed to do CBT for the NHS) said she didn’t think diagnoses were helpful, that symptoms should be addressed. Every session she focused on social anxiety but it made me feel worse - either I’d say “I don’t know” to her questions and she’d push me for an answer and cause me to make something up (due to, uh oh, anxiety) or I would give an answer and she’d be like “that’s not a social anxiety thing, please read this worksheet with the symptoms for social anxiety”, which made me feel like an idiot. Anyways, maybe 4 sessions in I decided to quit because it was too stressful for me. Funnily enough when I told her I felt like I didn’t always know the answer, she said “when that happens, you need to say you don’t know”. LIKE LADY, THAT’S WHAT I DID!!

Needless to say the combo of the two things made me somewhat reluctant to try again to ask for help, so I’m STILL undiagnosed. Now you may be wondering why this is important.

Well, as of a few days ago, I am once again unemployed. Which means I need to (if I want money) go on benefits. The problem with that is they tend to expect you to dedicate your life to job searching and push you to take whatever comes up, which includes full time work. But I really don’t think I could do that. Even working 20 hours a week at my old job was mentally draining. I tried to bring up to the benefits people that I had anxiety and was referred to the autism clinic, but that’s not enough for them. They just told me I needed to get a health note from my doctor. And again, remember how that went before? How would I even ask for that?

I feel stuck. I know logically I should probably just try and talk to a different doctor or something, but I have no idea where to start. Do I bring up ocd? Or just say I’m generally struggling? Or ask to see a psychiatrist again? Do I ask for the health note first or try and get assessed so I know what I’m dealing with?

It’s gotten to the point where my brain is screaming “hurt yourself” or “you’re better off dead”. I feel so useless and dysfunctional.

As the icing on the cake, I don’t rly have a support system. I love my parents, but much like the counsellor I had, they think I have social anxiety and nothing else. They don’t think a diagnosis would help. And they don’t really react at all when I say I’m pretty much suicidal (like they seem unconcerned). It’s not because they don’t care, they just don’t understand (despite claiming to). I also don’t really have any friends, so no support there.

On a good day, I feel emotionally numb and/or disconnected from myself. On a bad day, it feels like there’s an intense pressure building up inside of me and it sucks cuz I can’t let it out and all I can think of is wanting to hurt myself to relieve the feeling. (Also just to to clarify, I don’t actively self harm and have not and have no plans to attempt suicide, but I also don’t have sort of outlet or support for when I have the urge to, so I just bottle it up.)

…any advice?

(Sorry for the long post)

[everybodyscupoftea]

the treat

frat jj x reader

a night in raleigh with your boyfriend

um this is way past overdue, i’m so sorry this took so long :/

(warnings: cursing, drinking, mostly proofread)

Between the whole appendicitis thing and the tramp stamp and just generally being there for you whenever you needed it, you thought JJ was past due you treating him to something. You weren’t entirely sure how you wanted to do it until one afternoon, you got a twitter notification about Canes single game tickets going on sale.

You knew that JJ had grown up pretty poor and despite having played hockey and been a fan, had never been to an NHL game. It seemed like the perfect plan, the one game that the Stars were in Carolina was even on a Friday night, so you saved up and bought the two of you really good seats, a few rows up from the glass.

Secret keeping wasn’t your forte, especially with JJ, everything you heard you pretty much told him, so it was extra hard trying to suppress your excitement about the game. You told your whole family and some of your friends to make up for it, the game was like two months away, you had to tell someone.

When the day came, you went to the frat house before JJ got home from class and grabbed his Stars jersey out of the closet. Drew, the other Canes fan, was sitting on the couch and he looked up when you walked in, “Oh what’s up?”

You gave him a fist bump, “Getting ready for the game.”

Drew nodded, “You want me to chip in for beer, might join you and JJ watching it down here.”

With a small smile you declined, “Actually I got us tickets for it. Four rows up.”

His eyebrows shot up, “Alright, that’s sick. JJ’s a lucky man.”

You laughed, “Remind him of that sometimes for me.”

JJ got home just as you were getting in your car to wait for him and walked over to you after parking. He looked confused, “Babe, did we have plans?”

“Not really, but I was thinking we could go get dinner in Raleigh tonight.”

He put his hands in his pockets and you could practically hear the wheels in his brain spinning as he tried to figure out if he’d missed an important date or something. He was staring at your outfit, a hoodie and jeans, trying to guess the vibe of where you were planning on going. Taking pity on him, you added, “It’s just something fun, you didn’t forget an anniversary.”

With a shrug, JJ said, “Sounds good to me, I’m going to change and then we’ll go?”

“Yeah, I’ll drive,” you added.

He really looked confused after that, you rarely drove for several reasons including your love hate relationship with Google Maps and parking. You waited in the car, scrolling aimlessly through Spotify, trying to calm yourself down, it wasn’t time to get excited yet.

JJ got in the passenger seat wearing jeans and a nice pullover that you’d gotten him for his last birthday. He leaned over the console, kissing you before pulling away to buckle in. You started backing out as he asked, “How was your day today?”

“Pretty good, didn’t do much because my class got cancelled. How about you?”

“My test went well I think, and I met with my advisor about scheduling next semester.”

You hummed in response and focused on merging onto the interstate, already a little nervous. The GPS was muted, so JJ wouldn’t hear where you were going, but that also meant you were having to drive and navigate at the same time.

By the time you got near the arena there was a line of cars and JJ was looking out the window in confusion. He looked over at you, “This restaurant is pretty poppin, huh? Hope you got a reservation.”

“I did,” you answered with a snort.

He leaned his head against the window as you turned off the main road onto the one that leads to the parking lot. When you pulled into a spot decently far from the arena he perked up, looking at the building curiously.

“Wait, where are we right now?”

You grinned, pulling his jersey out from the backseat, “I might have lied a little bit about where we’re going.”

“Holy fuck, you got us tickets?”

“I did.”

JJ whooped loudly, getting out of the car to tug his jersey on and run around to pull you out and into a hug. You laughed at his excitement, and he spun you around a few times. He pulled away enough for you to put your jersey on and then retake his hand.

“I wondered why we were going out on a night the Canes were playing.”

“Well, now you know.”

“I do,” he said, swinging your linked hands back and forth between the two of you. The tickets were on your phone luckily, and you were able to keep your seat location a secret. Doors had already opened, so the two of you were able to walk in, and you pulled him to a stop at the first bar.

JJ immediately started to pull out his wallet and you pushed his hand, “Nah, I got it all tonight.” He went to protest and you interrupted before he could start, “Babe, you have my initials tatted into your back and a belly button piercing for me. Please let me buy you a beer.”

He laughed loudly and put his wallet back, “Fair enough.”

You ordered two Bud Lights and handed him one before pulling him along behind you. It looked like he was about to go up the escalator to the upper section, but you grinned, “Nah, babe, we’re going down.”

“What?”

He was shocked when you finally stopped, four rows up from the glass, close to center ice. It was rare JJ, who always had something to say, was speechless, but he was. You grabbed the front of his jersey and pulled him into a kiss, and when the two of you broke apart, you asked, “So, what do you think?”

“What do I think? I think this is fucking awesome!”

“I knew you’d never been to an NHL game before and I thought it would be kind of fun.”

“Kind of? This is going to be a fucking blast!”

The whole night, the smile never left his face, even when you were chirping his team’s inability to score. After another whiffed shot, you looked over, “Y’all got Seguin, and for what? Less scoring?”

JJ put you in a gentle headlock and ruffled your hair, “Put some respect on his name, it’s one off night.”

“Nah, baby, tell that to your abysmal road record.”

“Damn,” he responded with a pout, “you don’t have to come for the Stars like that.”

“I do when they’re playing my team, bitch.”

“You better watch your mouth; I feel a comeback on the way.”

“Oh, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

JJ was wrong, but he still had a great time. Screaming along with the other Stars fan in your section when the Canes missed an empty net. Everyone was standing at the end when the Stars had a powerplay and you gripped on his jersey sleeve.

“Ah fuck,” he told you when the final buzzer went off.

You laughed, “Shoutout baby!”

JJ reached around and pulled your hood up over your head. You squealed and tried to shove him off. He laughed, “What do you have to say to me now?”

Finally pushing him away, you fixed your hood and glared at him, “Your team sucks.”

He staggered, hand coming up to his heart with a fake look of hurt, “Baby, your words cut deep.”

You grinned, “Since you’re the loser, you have to give me a piggy back ride all the way to the car.”

“You can’t walk?”

“I had five beers,” you told him, holding up four fingers.

“Okay, yeah, fair enough.”

JJ pulled the two of you off to the side, away from the flow of foot traffic, and let you climb on his back. You draped your arms over his shoulders and tugged at the strings on his jersey. He huffed, “God, you weren’t this drunk during the game.”

“I was sitting, now I am standing. Hits different.”

“Where are the keys?”

You reached around, pulling them out of your back pocket, and handed them to him. JJ let you down by the passenger seat and opened the door after unlocking the car. Climbing in, you pulled the seatbelt across while JJ closed the door and jogged over to the other side.

“Feel like eating?” he asked, starting the car up.

“Chick-fil-a,” you told him, already searching Google Maps for it.

JJ took your phone with a sigh when you got sidetracked and picked the closest location. By the time he pulled in, the parking lot was packed and you groaned, leaning dramatically against the window. His lips quirked up briefly before saying, “We’ll go drive-thru and pull off somewhere to eat in the car.”

“Oh my god, a genius.”

JJ laughed, “I’m glad you think so.”

He knew your order, and you lost track of time as he pulled through, only zoning back in when JJ shifted to dig the wallet out of his shorts. You slapped lightly at his hand, “No, my treat.”

With a sigh, he took your wallet. When he handed you the food, he held a finger up, “Last time tonight you’re paying for me ma’am.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you dismissed, giggling and slapping his hand away when he reached for the bag to dig out a fry.

“The betrayal,” he gasped, dramatically, and pulled into a parking space so the two of you could eat, “my very own girlfriend won’t allow me sustenance.”

“My money, my food,” you told him playfully, batting his hand away again.

“I will leave you in Raleigh,” he threatened.

“You won’t.”

“Bet.”

“Alright, bet,” you raised your eyebrows and crossed your arms, and after about a twenty second stare-off, he looked away in defeat. You cheered and handed him his sandwich, “That’s right, can’t ditch me.”

He shook his head, snorting quietly, “You know I never want to.”

“I-“ you started, “you’re such a sap.”

“Only for you, babe.”

“Good. You’re the only man I’d ever buy hockey tickets for.”

“Good.”

[thorne93]

The Stars Made Us (Part 30)

Prompt: In this world, you’re one of the “lucky” ones who got a soulmate, but what if the universe gives you more than you bargained for?

(Prompt challenge – You live in a world where your soulmate can write on their skin and you will get the writing on your own and vice versa. Where they can wash away the ink on their own skin, however, the writing is forever scarred onto your skin until you meet face to face)

Word Count: 3007

Warnings: angst and language throughout, fear, violence

Notes: This was supposed to be for @sorryimacrapwriter​​​​​  and their challenge like a year ago, I think? I still loved the prompt though and have been working on this story for quite some time. This aesthetic was made by @dontshootmespence​, thank you so much! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​​​​, couldn’t have done it without you, as well as @carryonmyswansong​​​​​ and @arrow-guy​​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​

Also, I’ve never really liked the whole soulmate AU thing idea, but this felt so right and it was amazing to write. I hope y’all love it too!!

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

Charles found the closest parking he could and ran as fast as he could to the door of the sanctum. He tried to let himself in but it was locked. He pounded on the door.

"Strange! Open the door!" he ordered loudly, not caring who stared at him on the street. 

A moment later, the door wrenched open. 

"Hi, I'm sorry, do I know you?" Stephen asked.

"You Stephen Strange?" he asked.

"Depends on who's asking."

"I'm Charles Xavier. Heard of me?" he questioned.

"Charles? Yes. Why?" 

"Is Y/N here with you?" Charles asked as he pushed past him to go into the sanctum.

"What? Y/N? No, why?" he asked as he turned to face him, closing the door. 

"Then she's missing."

"Missing? Wait. What happened?" 

"I don't know. I got home from work and she wasn't there. Our house looks like we had a break in, but she's nowhere to be found." He ran his hand through his hair as he paced in thought, trying to think who might've taken you.

Stephen was silent, his eyes slowly casting down the ground, shifting left and right in thought. 

"And she didn't just leave?"

Charles frowned at Stephen as he stopped pacing. "I'm not 100% sure how she acted while she was with you, but she's never made a habit of wrecking my home and disappearing. Correct me if I'm wrong on that."

"No," Stephen muttered. "Quite the contrary. She leaves a place cleaner than it was when she walked in."

Charles nodded, biting his lip in thought, his hands on his hips. "You can say that again. Fuck! I don't know where the fuck she could be. I don't know who would've taken her. Maybe Erik but he's not the hostage type." 

"Erik?"

"Old colleague who hates me, but we haven't had contact for a few years," he dismissed.

As Charles paced, running his hand through his hair, he felt something on his wrist. He looked down and tore his sleeve back. 

It was your name and an address he didn’t recognize. 

“Shit,” he muttered. “Okay, we gotta go,” he said urgently, starting to make his way out the door. 

“No,” Stephen suddenly said from behind him, not moving a muscle. 

Charles turned around. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” he asked, clearly irate as he walked back towards him. 

“I said no,” Stephen responded, a little firmly. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought you said,” he responded, nodding before he cocked his arm back and threw a closed fist at Stephen’s jaw.

Stephen stumbled a bit from the blow.

"Jesus!" he cried out. "The hell is the matter with you?" 

"Me? She is your soulmate for Christ's sake! Whatever happened between you two is in the past. She is in trouble, we have no idea who took her or how many of them there are. She might be fighting for her life and you and I are arguing about going to save her!" 

"She isn't mine. This isn't my problem." 

Charles shook his head. "What? Because you can't have her all to yourself? Are you a child? She isn't a toy that you can play with when you want and cast aside when someone else wants her. You bloody asshole." He glared at him. "You broke her heart twice and you don't have the goddamn decency to save her life? Forget the fact that you used to be a fucking doctor. She's your soulmate. You can't bullshit me all you want but I know you love her." 

"Yeah well that doesn't change the fact that she chose you."

"She chose both of us, you bloody fucking idiot," Charles retorted. "You were just too consumed by your goddamn ego to see that. You had to have her all to yourself. It was either all or nothing." 

"What? Because I want monogamy  with my soulmate? Sue me."

"This isn't a normal situation, Strange! If you can't accept the fact that she loves both of us and she should be able to have both of us then you don't understand or respect her at all. I love her with all my heart, and I know she loves me back. She's proven it time and time again, it's why I didn't keep her chained to her and encouraged her to find you. She's destined for both of us but you're too shortsighted and selfish to see that." 

Stephen didn't respond.

Charles shook his head. "Jesus. Fuck this. I'm leaving. She needs help and I'm going, with or without you." 

Charles turned and made his way for the door. Muttering obscenities under his breath. He didn't have the time or the patience to convince him to come with him. You were out there somewhere, possibly hurt or worse and he didn't have the time to waste. 

"Wait," Stephen suddenly called out. "I'm coming with you." 

He stopped for a moment, letting Stephen catch up before they got out of the sanctum and into Charles's car, driving as quickly as they could to where you were. The GPS said it would take three hours to get there. 

This was going to be a long drive. 

Stephen and Charles drove on the interstate in a tense silence. Stephen didn't like the uncomfortable atmosphere so he decided to break the ice a bit. 

"So what's your plan?" he asked, a bit of condescending in his tone. 

"Plan? What plan? I came home to a ransacked house and the love of my life missing. Hank called the police and I came to find you. I don't have a plan other than to find her and make sure she's alright."

Stephen rolled his eyes. "Fantastic. Just go in guns blazing."

"Oh, I'm sorry, this is my first rescue mission. Sorry I don't have a plan. Let's hear all your bright ideas." 

"First of all, what can you do?" 

"As in...?" Charles prompted, annoyed.

He sighed. "As in powers. Can you do anything? I happen to be a Master of the Mystic Arts so we have that going for us."

"You're going to be Master of getting your ass kicked if you keep up the ego and the attitude," Charles muttered. 

Stephen stared at him, clearly angry. "I'm sorry, I thought you wanted to save her. I'm trying to be proactive here and get a strategy going. "

A sigh left him. "Fine. Yeah, okay. I'm a telepath. I'm supposing Y/N never told you."

Stephen shook his head. "No, she didn't. What does that mean?" 

"It means I can read minds, stop time, make myself or others invisible to others, I can put others to sleep, make others do things, take away memories, restore memories, cause pain and paralysis, and if push comes to shove, I can kill someone, it's called a mind bolt. I take all my psychic energy and shut down their brain."

For the first time, Stephen was actually scared of someone other than Kaecillius. Quite the feat, as he'd never truly known fear in his life, except for failure. 

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Stephen asked, scoffing a bit. 

“I know you are,” Charles said with a smirk. 

This made Stephen uncomfortable. He didn’t think he could hear his thoughts like that, just, at a whim. 

“Oh, come now, I’m not going to kill you,” Charles responded with a smile as he glanced at Stephen. “Not while Y/N needs saved at least. I’ll use you for your powers and then I’ll kill you.” 

Stephen nodded. “Ha-ha, very funny.” 

“Speaking of which, what are your powers?” he asked curiously.

“Why don’t you just probe my mind and look?” he asked, a bit sarcastically. 

"Because I'm going to try very hard not to get into that mind of yours, even though I desperately want to. To find out why you're the worlds biggest ass." 

He gave a dismissive nod before perching his eyebrow up. "I'm not exactly sure how to describe it. I use magic and sorcery to conjure objects, weapons, and shield. I can create a mirror dimension which means I can go into a world that mirrors our own but nothing bad can happen to the outside world. Very useful for destructive fighting."

"So we may have a chance after all between the two of us."

"We should, but Y/N can handle her own."

"Yes, I know, which is why it bothers me she was taken. I think I saw gunshots in my walls. From what I gathered of her time with you at that temple she knows martial arts and the sorcery, and yet they still took her." 

"Can you not just use your mind to reach her? To figure out what's going on?"

"It doesn't work that way. I have to be relatively close to them. I do have a device that can project my powers but it's back at the house. Ultimately I don't think it'll help. Seeing where she's at or who she's with won't help too much." 

Stephen nodded in response. 

Several more minutes went by without a word from either one. 

"Can I just know why?" Charles asked. 

"Why what?" 

"Why you won't share her?"

"Is it really not obvious? I want all of her. I don't want her time divided between me, you, and work, and other social obligations. You and I both know that relationships are hard enough without adding another romantic interest in the mix. Seeing each other, making enough time for each other..." 

"Actually, I don't really know. I've never really dated anyone."

"Never?"

He smiled, a bit amused and proud. "Never. I had a girlfriend in highschool for a small bout, but I've never dated anyone outside of Y/N, not seriously."

"Interesting." 

"So you think that just because she can't devote 100% of her attention to you she'll somehow prove as an unworthy mate?" 

"No, I just don't want to have to fight for her attention and affection. That's all. Doesn't it bother you?"

"Does what bother me?" he asked, entirely confused.

"When she left to see me. When she was with me for six months at Kamar-Taj. I know you missed her because you two had a couple of fights about it. So it had to have bothered you."

"No, if she was away on a business trip it would've bothered me. It had nothing to do with you." 

"Why not?"

"Because she isn't property. She is free to love who she loves. She chooses to come back to me time and time again because we know we love each other equally, above all else. I trust her, and whether she loves you or not, or anyone else, doesn't change any of that." 

"I don't see how you're okay with this."

"I know it's unconventional, but whether she loved you, me, or someone else, she's going to go where her heart takes her. She always has. So, instead of standing in her way and making it difficult on her, I decided very easily to let her have both of us. If my options are to have her and share her, or not at all, I'm going to pick whatever option gives me her. I can't bear to be without her. I did it once and I never intend on letting it happen again." 

Stephen's eyes cast down for a second. "She is amazing. I'm not trying to make it appear as if I don't want her. In my mind it's not so much have part of her or none of her, I just don't see how it could all work with her running between the two of us and her work. I don't see how it's fair to any of us. If I'm having a shitty day but she's with you, then I don't have the right to pull her away." 

Charles pursed his lips. "I can see why you might think it's that way."

"Or if if we're lying in each other's arms, is she wishing she was with you? Or does she wish she was making you dinner instead of me?" 

He hummed in response. "All fair questions to have."

"Well, you can read her mind, what does she think?" 

"I never read her mind. Some things slip through the cracks that I can't help, but I never intentionally read her mind."

"Oh."

"But I don't have to have that ability to know that's not who she is. She was fated for both of us. She gives 100% to who she is with in the moment, and then, if time allows, she goes back to the other. I mean, you saw how she was with you. She tended to you night and day, but still managed to call me. The moment she didn't need you there constantly, she made more time for me. Now that we're both better from our ailments, I don't see any reason it shouldn't work. She doesn't have to feel torn between us if we don't make her that way."

"But wouldn't it hurt you if you two were having dinner one night and she suddenly said she wanted to see me? She wanted to leave your presence and see someone else?" 

"Why would it? It doesn't bother me if she wants to see friends or go out for drinks with Hank." He shook his head. "Stephen, you need to stop thinking in this all or nothing mentality. She loves both of us, at the same time, as a duality. We both complete her in different ways. When you want to spend time with friends, does that mean you detest her presence? Does it mean you love her less? No. So why is it any different for her?" 

"Maybe I'm being selfish. You got ten years with her, uninterrupted. Then you got eight months, of nothing but her attention and love. I'd just like the same."

Charles laughed. "You did get the same. She didn't see me face to face for months. She only called a handful of times. And we also had ten years of being pen pals, it's vastly different than being in the same home together. You and I have had roughly the same face to face time with her."

"Yes, but yours wasn't a tug of war with another man."

"Neither was yours. She was adamant about staying with you." He took a deep breath. "I don't think it's the idea of sharing me at all. I think it's the same fear I had when she was with you at the temple. When I got the call she was going to Nepal with you."

"Yeah, and what's that?" Stephen asked, sounding uninterested. 

"You're afraid that if you do have all of her, that one day she'll want me back and you'll lose her. So to avoid the pain of her abandoning you, you just pushed her away."

"Is that the mind reading or the psychoanalyzing?" Stephen inquired.

"It's having a brain and a heart and going through the exact same insecurities. When she said she was leaving with you, I suddenly worried about us. I worried I wasn't good enough. That she'd love you more. That she'd never come back." 

Stephen nodded slowly, waiting for him to explain how he got over that fear.

"So... what did you do about it?"

"Well, other than fighting with her like an ass about it like I'd done a few times, I finally realized that worrying about her leaving wasn't going to convince her to stay. If she did love you more or leave me or whatever the case may be, my concern for that wouldn't change her decision. So, I let go of all my fears, insecurities, and doubts. As I said, I love her and I trust her. I know she loves me back very much so all I can do is hope she doesn't leave. It is a lot better than stewing over possibly losing her and a lot better than losing her altogether when I could simply share her." 

Stephen nodded, quiet in thought now. 

"We're almost there," Charles informed once they were ten minutes away. 

"Strategy?" Stephen asked. 

"I'll scan the area for minds, and determine what they're thinking. Once we know that, we can go in." 

Stephen nodded and just a few minutes later, they pulled into what looked like an abandoned lot. Charles stopped the car and closed his eyes, focusing on minds. He heard Stephen's mind, but nobody else's. 

"I don't hear anything," he informed, shaking his head. 

"What? But the address sent us here," Stephen responded, confused, his eyes narrowing as he looked around. 

"I know," he agreed, feeling something was off. 

The two of them got out of the car and looked around. It was an empty bit of property except for a metal structure sticking up out of the ground that looked like it led to an underground bunker. It was small, almost like a bomb shelter. 

"Wanna try that?" Stephen asked.

"Can't hurt," Charles said.

"Well, arm your mind lightning or whatever it is you can do," he responded. 

"Mind bolt," he corrected. "Get ready with your impressive light show," he shot right back with a tiny grin. 

The two men walked over to the bunker and opened it up. It stepped inside to a small room that only had an elevator in it. Stephen looked to Charles for confirmation to push the button, he shrugged in response, and Stephen pressed it. The elevator showed up after a few moments and the men stepped in.

"Do you have anything yet?" 

"No," Charles responded. "Just you." 

The men looked at each other worried, and also frustrated. How much time did they have? Were they already too late? 

They hit the only button that was on the elevator and rode down, getting more anxious with every ticking second. Finally, the elevator that seemed old and rickety opened into what appeared to be a crisp, white, state of the art facility. They walked forward, the only way they could go.

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

Forever Tag:

@essie1876​

@magpiegirl80​

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​

@iamwarrenspeace

@marvel-imagines-yes-please​

@superwholocked527

@missinstantgratification​

@thejemersoninferno​

@rda1989​

@munlis​

@thefridgeismybestie​

@bubblyanarocks3​

@igiveupicantthinkofausername​

@kaliforniacoastalteens​

@feelmyroarrrr​

@kaeling

@friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo​

@damalseer​

@heyitscam99​

@yknott81​

@sorryimacrapwriter​​​​​​

@glitterquadricorn​​​​​​

@xxqueenofisolationxx

@little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama

@bittersweetunicorm​

@alyssaj23​

@sea040561​

@princess76179​

@thisismysecrethappyplace​

@sarahp879​

@malfoysqueen14​

@ellallheart​

@breezy1415​

@marvelmayo​

@lyniboy​

@paintballkid711​

Charles Xavier

@bohemianrhapsody86​

@lenawiinchester​

TSMU

@tilltheendwilliwrite​

@allinhishands​

@solaramoonset​

@halfofwhatisayismeaningless​

[jackoshadows]

It wasn’t fair. Sansa had everything. Sansa was two years older; maybe by the time Arya had been born, there had been nothing left. Often it felt that way. Sansa could sew and dance and sing. She wrote poetry. She knew how to dress. She played the high harp and the bells. Worse, she was beautiful. Sansa had gotten their mother’s fine high cheekbones and the thick auburn hair of the Tullys. Arya took after their lord father. Her hair was a lusterless brown, and her face was long and solemn. […] It hurt that the one thing Arya could do better than her sister was ride a horse. Well, that and manage a household. - Arya, AGoT

No, Arya was not jealous of Sansa. She was envious of Sansa. There is a difference here. She longed to be as beautiful as Sansa. Arya longed to do well all the things that Sansa could. She thought it unfair that Sansa had all these talents and good looks while she did not.

Arya’s envy did not exist in some kind of vacuum. It came about because Arya was seen as ‘less than’ her beautiful elder sister. Sansa could do well all the things required to be a good lady - singing, sewing, dancing - while Arya was seen as being deficient. She’s mocked for her looks and bullied as being ugly. She is constantly compared to Sansa by her mother and Septa Mordane - if you only do this, you will be as pretty as your sister. If you could only sew well, you would be as good as your sister. Arya’s envy is a result of her feelings of low self-worth - the feeling that she will never be good enough unless she is like Sansa.

“…my hair’s messy and my nails are dirty and my feet are all hard.” Robb wouldn’t care about that, probably, but her mother would. Lady Catelyn always wanted her to be like Sansa, to sing and dance and sew and mind her courtesies. Just thinking of it made Arya try to comb her hair with her fingers, but it was all tangles and mats, and all she did was tear some out.“  - Arya, ASoS

The girl was too young and too plain to be Sansa Stark, but she was of the right age to be the younger sister, and even Lady Catelyn had said that Arya lacked her sister’s beauty.  - Brienne, AFfC

Her mother used to say she could be pretty if she would just wash and brush her hair and take more care with her dress, the way her sister did. - The Blind girl, ADwD

Arya wants all the things Sansa has because she is required to be like Sansa to have value in Westeros society and in the eyes of someone she loves - her mother.

Arya’s envy of Sansa is similar to Jon’s envy of Robb. It’s what Jon feels growing up as a bastard outcast in Winterfell seeing Robb enjoy all the privileges that he is denied because of his birth. Even as far as ADwD, Jon is envious of Robb - long after Robb is dead.

But Jon does not want to take from Robb. He does not have ill will towards Robb. He just wants what Robb has. That’s why Sansa’s accusation of Jon being jealous of Joffrey because his low birth is false.

"Poor Jon," she (Sansa) said. "He gets jealous because he's a bastard." - Arya, AGoT

Jon did not like Joffrey because Joffrey was a terrible human being. And not because he was more good looking or the future king. And just like Sansa devalues and dismisses Jon’s opinions on Joffrey because of Jon’s ‘jealousy’, Arya’s real feelings of hurt and low-self worth due to being bullied are often dismissed because she was simply being ‘jealous’ of Sansa.

And just like Jon and Robb, Arya never intends any ill will towards Sansa over this. She never hurts Sansa over this. She never verbalizes this envy to Sansa.  

And that’s why the ‘both sides are equally bad’ take on Arya and Sansa’s relationship never makes sense except to excuse and justify Sansa’s treatment of her younger sibling. Sansa actively contributes to Arya’s feelings of low self-worth by calling her ugly and mocking her looks with her bestie Jeyne Poole. Sansa sides against Arya even after seeing Joffrey attacking her with his sword. Sansa proclaims to Cersei that it is Arya who has the traitor’s blood.

The ‘both sides’ crowd use the above single passage of Arya being ‘jealous’ of Sansa as proof that Arya is equally responsible for their fractious relationship, when these are the things that Sansa thinks and says of Arya:

Arya had a way of ruining everything. - AGoT

Why couldn’t Arya be sweet and delicate and kind, like Princess Myrcella? She would have liked a sister like that. It would have been easier if Arya had been a bastard, like their half brother Jon. She even looked like Jon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing of their lady mother in her face or her coloring. And Jon’s mother had been common, or so people whispered. - Sansa, AGoT

She told herself that it had not been Joffrey’s doing, not truly. The queen had done it; she was the one to hate, her and Arya. Nothing bad would have happened except for Arya. - Sansa, AGoT

“They should have killed you instead of Lady!” - Sansa, AGoT

“She tries to spoil everything, Father, she can’t stand for anything to be beautiful or nice or splendid.”   Sansa, AGoT

Sansa threw back her head in disdain. “You? You couldn’t sew a dress fit to clean the pigsties.” Sansa, AGoT

“Send Arya away, she started it,” - Sansa, AGoT

Arya was chewing at her lip in that disgusting way she had. - Sansa, AGoT

“Hodor!” Sansa yelled. “You ought to marry Hodor, you’re just like him, stupid and hairy and ugly!”  - Sansa, AGoT

“I’m not like Arya,” Sansa blurted. “She has the traitor’s blood, not me. I’m good, ask Septa Mordane, she’ll tell you” - Sansa, AGoT

Father had killed her (Lady), on account of Arya. - Sansa, ACoK

Sansa had once dreamt of having a sister like Margaery; beautiful and gentle, with all the world’s graces at her command. Arya had been entirely unsatisfactory as sisters went. - Sansa, ACoK

“You are the real Arya, my lady. Arya of House Stark, Lord Eddard’s daughter, heir to Winterfell.” Her name, she had to know her name. “Arya Underfoot. Your sister used to call you Arya Horseface.”  - The Prince of Winterfell, ADwD

Are children who bully other kids just because they are different in terms of behavior and appearance excused because they are ‘just children’? No? Then why use this justification to excuse Sansa’s behavior towards Arya? Is the bullied child equally to blame as the bully? Do people actually say things like - “Well the bullied child is internally feeling jealous of the bully’s good looks and hence is as much to blame as the child bullying him for being ugly”.

Do people who read Hans Christian Anderson’s ‘The Ugly Duckling’ come away thinking that the ugly duckling is as responsible as the other animals who abuse him for being ugly? A book that Anderson wrote because - “Andersen himself was a tall, ugly boy with a big nose and big feet, and when he grew up with a beautiful singing voice and a passion for the theater he was cruelly teased and mocked by other children"

People suffer from low self-worth sometimes for their entire life after being bullied in child hood for their looks. Arya finds it hard to accept when others call her pretty since she’s been conditioned to accept that she’s ugly.

Is Catelyn responsible in large part for Arya’s issues with self-worth? No doubt. Did Catelyn and Septa Mordane play a part in encouraging Sansa’s behavior? No doubt. But that does not absolve Sansa’s own role in how she treated her siblings like Arya and Jon considering a person’s empathy for others often guides us towards right and wrong. Which is something important to note when Sansa is often as praised as one of the most compassionate and empathetic character of the series.

Sansa is a flawed character who mocked her sister for being ugly and was mainly responsible for the fractious relationship between the sisters and it’s wrong to blame the victim for the bully’s actions because the victim was ‘jealous’ of her bully. There’s a reason for why GRRM says this:

Sansa was the least sympathetic of the Starks in the first book; she has become more sympathetic, partly because she comes to accept responsibility for her part in her father's death.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/feature.html?tag=westeros-21&ie=UTF8&docId=49161

The reader is of course free to blame Ned, Cat, Arya, Maester Coleman etc. etc. for Sansa’s every action in the books but I doubt that was GRRM’s intentions.

[one-boring-person]

You Can Be My Wingman (Part Two)

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x reader

Warnings: mentions of death

Context: Back in Miramar, Maverick is basically emotionally beating himself up about what happened to his friend, (Y/n).

A/N: I don't know how well these will do, but I'll keep them coming for now 😂💛

Masterlist.

"You've got to stop beating yourself up over Quicksilver, Mav." My RIO, Goose, says as I slam my locker door a little too hard, coming over to me with a towel wrapped around his neck, a gentle smile on his face. "I know you cared about her, but it wasn't your fault their plane spun out."

Gritting my teeth at the memory, I turn to him.

"I flew in front of her. It is my fault she got caught in the current." I look away, guilt encroaching on my heart again, "And now she's probably dead so I'll never get to apologise."

"You don't know that, there was never any evidence to say they died." Goose tries to reassure me, but I don't buy it.

"Oh, come on. Their GPS went offline with the plane and we've never found them on our search flights. There's no chance they're still alive, not after that crash."

"You don't have enough faith in Arrow. He'll keep 'em alive." A voice behind us states. Spinning, we come face to face with a serious looking Iceman.

"He can't do that if he's dead." I retort, irritatedly. Sighing, I grab my stuff and leave, heading out to the hangers.

For two weeks now, (Y/N) and Matthew have been missing, and it's been weighing heavily on my heart. They were some of our best flyers, and could hold their own against most enemies, so it was a terrible stroke of bad luck when they crashed out on the training flight. I do admit that having (Y/N) missing makes life worse for me; she has become a close friend of mine during our time here, and I hate that she's gone. In all honesty, I'd started to develop more intimate feelings for her before the incident, and now she's gone, the feelings are twice as strong. If I ever see her again, I will confess: I can't afford to lose her again.

Taking a seat in one of the uncomfortable chairs in the hanger, I wait for the other lieutenants to arrive, idly watching the horizon as I think back to when I'd sit here with Quicksilver, joking about and having fun. Clenching my jaw, I look down at the piece of string around my wrist. She'd given it to me when we were drunk one night, claiming that it would "Strengthen our friendship!" as she clumsily tied it around my arm. She had a similar one, which I'd given her at the same time.

A wry smile tries to push through as the memory surfaces, but it is soon dampened when the commander strides past, the rest of the lieutenants filtering in after him.

Plonking himself next to me, Goose grins before leaning in to whisper to me;

"Iceman says he heard the commanders saying that we're gonna be flying against their fastest today. I can't wait!"

I try to be excited, for his benefit, but my attempt falls flat.

"Yeah, it'll be cool."

I can't help thinking that (Y/N) would've loved the challenge, imagining her face light up as she heard the news, that same fiery glint of determination that always shines through in her eyes.

Goose notices my reluctance, but doesn't pick up on it. Vaguely, I listen to what the commander has to say, taking in the instructions subconsciously, my mind elsewhere. Eventually, we head off to the planes, our helmets and kit ready. Excitedly, Goose practically flies into his seat, grin wide and bright, his eyes finding mine briefly. I follow him up, strapping myself into my seat in front of the joystick, getting comfortable and adjusting to the smaller, cramped space.

Ten minutes later, we are the first in the air, the aircraft wheeling and banking through the clouds aimlessly until the rest are with us.

"Goose to tower, who are our wingmen? Out." Goose speaks into the radio, contacting the tower back at base.

"Tower to Goose and Maverick, your wingmen are Iceman and Slider. Out."

"Roger that."

As if on cue, Iceman pulls up through the clouds to our left, a little behind us, signalling to us through the cabin window. Signalling back, I concentrate on controlling the plane as a light wind hits us, angling it so we have a view of the ground and the horizon.

"Jet to our right, a little below but behind." Slider's voice crackles through the radio.

Allowing myself to look back, I locate the enemy plane, noticing Viper as the pilot.

"You got him?" I ask through the radio, waiting for their reply.

"Roger that, we'll get him." Iceman replies, before the plane wheels away, leading the enemy jet away as another replaces it.

"You ready, Maverick?" Goose quips, nervously.

"Born ready, Goose." I say before dropping the plane into a dive, beginning an elaborate series of tricks to throw him off us.

It's a long, drawn out chase, but eventually we end up behind the jet, a small success, though we have yet to get him on missile lock. Minutes later and we have him.

"YES, MAV, WE'VE GOT HIM!" Goose calls to me, the RIO ecstatic.

"Iceman, how you getting along? We've caught our guy." I report to our wingman.

A second passes before we get a reply.

"Almost there."

"You want some help?" Goose questions.

"No, we're good, thanks." Slider responds this time.

"Ok, we'll land." I say quickly.

"Goose to tower, permission to land please? Out."

The radio crackles slightly.

"Tower to Goose, permission granted. Out."

"Woo, great balls of fire, let's go!" The RIO laughs behind me, voice relieved.

Guiding the plane back to the airbase, I get ready to land, bracing myself for the impact. The landscape rushes by around us, the dusty ground coming closer and closer as we speed towards it, everything as it normally is.

Except one thing.

As we fly past, I notice a glint out of the corner of my eye, like the sun is reflecting off of an object on top of one of the mountains to the side of the base. Confused, I ask Goose to check it out, my own attention needed on the rapidly approaching runway.

"It looks like a person, but they're walking funny, like they're hurt. I'll report it." The RIO replies, a puzzled tone lacing his voice.

"Wait until we've landed, then we can check it out."

As if on cue, I manage to land the plane, the impact sending a violent jolt through my body as I move with the aircraft. Applying the breaks, I allow the plane to slow considerably before taxi-ing towards the hangers. A few attendants rush out to greet us, their helmeted faces covered and unfamiliar as we exit the jet. My mind is still on the object we saw on the mountain, but when I look, I see nothing.

"We saw something, or someone, up on the mountain whilst we were landing." Goose reports to the commander who has just joined us. Raising an eyebrow, he looks sceptical.

"Did you? Sure it wasn't the sun catching off your cockpit?" His gruff voice barks out dismissively.

"We're sure." I retort, quickly adding a "Sir" when I get a stern look.

"Well, wait for the other lieutenants to return, then you can check it out." He sighs, turning away to watch another plane land, "But don't take too long. We need you guys for another theory lesson, later."

"Thank you, sir." Goose and I bark in response.

Impatiently, I watch the jets wheeling around the sky, my mind and body restless in anticipation. A couple come in to land, their small structures skidding to jerky halts on the runway, their engines overheating in the beating warmth of the overhead sun. Only four more to wait for.

Beside me, Goose tugs at the sleeves of his uniform, a sign of his own impatience, though his is less noticeable as he quickly explains to the approaching pilots what we saw. One of them dismisses it, but resignedly says he'll come with us. Smiling dryly, I thank them both, watching the last jets land with mounting excitement as they do so, one by one. I bite my lip as they taxi to a halt, the pilots jumping out and stretching out their cramping muscles before they come over to join us.

We go over to them, Goose once again explaining our intentions to the others, taking in their varying faces of interest, curiosity, dismissal and disbelief. Amongst them, Iceman looks sceptical, his bright eyes focusing on my body language.

"I'll go with you guys." He says briefly, the others quickly agreeing with him.

Together, we turn and walk in the direction of the mountain we saw the flash on, stopping intermittently to allow planes to take off and land, no one speaking to each other until I finally catch sight of something.

There, limping over the coarse ground, is a person, their uniform unmistakeable. A fighter pilot.

Frowning, I squint at them, before my mind recognises the figure, my eyes widening in disbelief.

I break into a run, ignoring the confused shouts of the others as I charge towards the figure, my gaze focused solely on them.

Or rather, my gaze focused solely on her.

Part Three

[maknaesdancersrappers]

Devoted 2

part 8

Overall warning/s: kinkier smut (eg. voyeurism, exhibition, etc.) character death, dark themes

Just how devoted is Jaehyun to you?

prev: Part 7

wc: 4.7k (i know it’s short, but an update is an update 🥺)

“Excuse me, but what is your right to hold my future godchild before me?” Doyoung scoffs, pointedly glaring at Kun, who began to laugh at him. “[Y/N]! How could you?!”

You shake your head and shrugged your shoulders, chuckling to yourself, “I didn’t ask Kun, Jaehyun did. Pick a fight with him, not me. Besides, Kun’s a doctor, not a banker.”

Kun nods, “I’m the obstetrician. Sorry, Doyoung.”

He huffed angrily cutting into the steak he ordered.

The three of you finally found a similar time slot to catch up with each other; spending an early dinner together at a restaurant Doyoung swears by. You were halfway through the main course when Kun teased Doyoung about being able to see and hold your kids before him which inevitably annoyed the latter. You had invited Jaehyun to join, but he told you he didn’t want to intrude as this was a mini reunion between high school friends.

“Oh,” You spoke up, halting their bickering, “I hope you two will be free in a month or so, we’re planning a housewarming party as soon as we move into the new house.”

“As long as it’s on a Sunday.” Doyoung says in between bites, covering his mouth with a fist.

You move your attention to Kun, who offers you an unsure smile.

“Hopefully, I’ll be free. But it’s a little busy in the hospital. I barely go home, to be honest. But don’t worry, I’ll do my best to go.”

“I understand if you really can’t.” You insisted, “But I hope you can.”

Doyoung hums, taking a swig of wine. “So in the end, only [Y/N] is getting married among the three of us.”

Kun takes offense to this, “Why are you implying that I don’t have plans at all? I’m just too busy as of the moment. I’m sure I’ll meet someone in the future. Are you still asexual?”

He narrowed his eyes at him, “Don’t make it sound like it’s a phase, Qian. I can’t help that I don’t feel sexual attraction to anyone.”

“But you had sex with that one girl.”

You gasped, almost spilling your iced tea. You leaned over, hissing at your best friend, “You had what?!”

Doyoung glares at Kun before sighing, “It was a one night stand. She’s a friend of a colleague I met at a birthday party. I’m not specifically attracted to her, but I’m not going to deny my body sexual gratification.”

“Okay, but why did you tell Kun before me?” You were very appalled by this new knowledge, but it bothered you more that he didn’t tell you first.

“I didn’t plan to! We ran into her when we met a bar and this guy,” He gestures to Kun with visible annoyance, “just ‘knew’ we had a past.”

“Seemed like she wanted a round two.” Kun teases and you narrow your eyes at Doyoung.

“Did you go for round two.”

The man in question raises his brows and looks away, choosing to take a lengthy sip of his drink.

“Oh, he did.” You and Kun said in unison, giving each other a knowing look.

“It’s purely physical.” Doyoung defends, practically slamming his wine glass on the table, “Besides, she doesn’t have time for a relationship. She’s a divorce attorney.”

You reached out and put a hand over his wrist, “We’re just teasing, Dons. Do whatever you want. You’re an adult; just, you know, be careful.”

“I am, don’t worry. The last thing I need is to get someone I don’t even love pregnant.” He dismisses the topic, “Speaking of, have the two of you decided on names? More importantly, will you name one after me?”

Retracting your hand away from him, you laugh at his question, “Sorry, Dons, but I don’t think we plan on naming one after you.”

He fakes a hurt expression, “Well, I hope you don’t name them something ridiculous.”

“He wants a daughter named after me, that’s for sure.” You swirl the contents of your glass around, “I was thinking of the same if we had a son, maybe Woojae or something, but I don’t want to dwell on it yet. I have other things to think about.”

The night crawls on; Doyoung pays for the meal and the three of you continue to lounge at the restaurant to finish your respective desserts. It feels nostalgic to be with them; you didn’t think it would ever happen since Kun left for China all of a sudden with no proper goodbye or explanation why. It’s surreal to see both of them matured into men when — what felt like yesterday — they were just scrawny teenage boys. Doyoung had gotten rid of his lisp and got lasik surgery. Kun was more eloquent now with words and confident with himself. You didn’t think you were going to miss being with them until tonight.

“Crap,” Doyoung grumbles after receiving a message, “I have to go. There’s been a hack in our system.”

“Oh, no. Will everything be alright?” You watched him grab his jacket he had draped on the back of the chair and shrug it on.

He nods, although unsurely, “We have amazing computer technicians in the company; I’m sure they’ve handled it well. I just need to make sure everything is okay at the office. I’m sorry about this.”

“Take care, Doyoung, and don’t apologize. It’s not your fault, hopefully everything’s okay.” Kun glances at you, “I should be heading back as well. I have an early morning.”

“Will Mr. Kyung pick you up?” Doyoung asks while pushing his chair back.

You stood up and slung your purse over your shoulder, “No, I was going to call for a cab.”

“Let me drive you home.” Kun offers and Doyoung insists you do so you agreed.

You and Kun see him off before heading over to Kun’s car and you input your address into his GPS; it was only a 10 minute drive even with the traffic. The journey started quietly, almost a little awkward.

“[Y/N].” He clears his throat and you glanced at him, “You know, I’m really glad that you’re happy; that you found someone to care for you.”

“Thanks, Kun…” Something felt a little off with his tone.

“I… had no control of what happened to us back in high school. I was scared when I left; we ended things on a bad note and—”

“Kun, it’s fine. The past is past; why are you telling me this? If you didn’t have control over it, then you don’t have to apologize for anything.” You had to admit there was a little venom in the way you spoke, but Kun didn’t seem to flinch at your tone.

“The past is past…” He repeated, “You’re just going to let things go because it was in the past?”

You frowned at him, not understanding what he wanted to say.

“[Y/N], there’s something you need to know; about why my family suddenly flew back to China.”

“Why? Why do I have to know? You make it sound like it’s my fault.” You honestly didn’t want to talk about this. “And you make it sound like it was a bad thing! You said there were better opportunities for your parents back in China.”

He groans, clearly frustrated, “Yes, they did. Their salary back there couldn’t compare to what they made here.”

“Why can’t we leave it at that? It was all perfect timing back then.”

“It wasn’t perfect timing, [Y/N].” His jaw is clenched, hissing the words out through gritted teeth. “There’s more to it than you think.”

You scoffed, “Okay, fine, so what? It doesn’t change the fact that your parents hated me.”

“My parents—” He swallows, trying to get his bearings, and speaks in a softer tone, “My parents never hated you, [Y/N]. They loved you; especially my dad. He was fond of you because you reminded him of my grandfather.”

“Then why the sudden hostility? Why did they try and stop us from seeing each other? The sudden curfew, the phone bans?”

“My grades dropped a letter and they just wanted me to focus in school! You know I was on scholarship so they were strict about my grades. It was never about separating us!”

“Then that night!” You cried, voice echoing in the small vehicle, “Your mother looked me in the eyes and said these exact words; ‘I don’t want you to date my son.’ Explain that!”

Kun takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. The glaring red brake lights of the cars in front seemed to make the mood worse as he looks at you pensively. “They didn’t want to do that, [Y/N].”

“Kun, please.” You rolled your eyes, “Your parents made it very clear—”

“Will you just listen to me for a sec? Qīn—”

“Shut up!” You screeched, panicking at the nickname you haven’t heard in years. “You don’t have the right to call me that.”

He shakes his head, distraught at the car honking behind him, and he starts to drive again, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to call you that. It just came out—”

“Pull over.” You heaved; it felt like you can’t breathe, the air was too heavy, and the interior made you feel claustrophobic. “Pull over!” You don’t even recognize your voice as you screamed again.

Kun pulls over at the next opening and you unbuckle your belt, “[Y/N], I’m sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean to upset you… [Y/N], I’m just trying to protect you.”

A curt laugh bubbles from your chest, “From what? If this was about our relationship years ago, you could have protected me then! You’re years too late, Kun.”

Your words cut through him; hurt evident in his eyes as he hopelessly stares back at you.

“And I hate depending on him but,” You sniffed, “I have Jaehyun now. He can protect me and you don’t even know how safe I am with him. So if I’m in danger, I know Jaehyun will do anything in his power to protect me.”

His face doesn’t give anymore emotions as he unlocks the door and you start to leave until he speaks up again, “From who.”

You look back at him, confused.

Kun doesn’t meet your gaze, just staring forward, “I’m not protecting you from something. I’m protecting you from someone. Or at least I tried to.”

“Thanks, but…” You paused, seeing the slightest movement from his brows, “Jaehyun can handle it.”

He doesn’t say anything else and you get out of his car, waiting for him to pull back into the traffic and watch him drive away. You looked around, you were just a block away from your apartment so you began to walk towards it.

You’re willing yourself not to dwell on what happened in the car ride, but you couldn’t help repeating Kun’s voice when he accidentally called you by the pet name he used for you. You don’t know why you reacted that way when you heard it again. It gave you an overwhelming sense of nostalgia, but the way he said it bothered you; he sounded desperate. 

You arrive home and the second you step inside, you lock the door and cautiously peered through the peephole. There was no one there and you didn’t feel like anyone was following you, so why did you even check? 

Tea, you think. Tea will help you calm your nerves. As you scurry off into the kitchen after removing your shoes, tossing your purse onto the counter, you stare at the kettle.

Qin

Tea won’t make you forget.

Jaehyun came home at 9PM, tugging off the knot of his tie loose and debating on calling out for you; unsure if you’re busy or asleep. He was about to make a bee-line towards the bedroom to check on you, but skids to a stop when he notices your body slumped over the coffee table. His blood ran cold, dropping his things onto the ground and running towards you.

The thud of his items jolts you awake, whipping your head to the source of the sound and gasping in fear when your blurry vision sees a dark mass coming at you with arms raised forward. You try to move away, but your drunken limbs wouldn’t cooperate. You hear your name in a panic tone and you visibly relax when you recognize Jaehyun’s voice; your vision finally focusing on his worried expression as he knelt in front of you.

It was only then did Jaehyun realize the empty vodka bottle by the table and the shot glass laying on its side by your legs. He looks back at you, “What’s wrong?”

You threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and using his scent to calm yourself down. You felt like crying, but tears won’t come out.

“Hey,” He ran his hand over your back repeatedly and kissed the side of your head, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here. It’s alright.”

That was all you needed to hear; the anxiety left your mind and the jitters stopped. Whatever Kun was talking about, you didn’t have to worry about it as long as you were with Jaehyun.

He feels your body relax and he pulls away a bit to see you passed out. He sighs, pulling you back close to him and kissing your forehead, rocking your bodies to a silent rhythm. He doesn’t know what’s wrong, but he’s not going to wait for you to wake up and tell him about it. Once Jaehyun carried you to the bed and gingerly stripped your clothes off, he took off your makeup and tossed the wipes into the trash bin. He pulls the sheets up to your chin and gives you one last kiss on the cheek before retrieving his phone from where he dropped it earlier.

He presses a number on the speed dial and walks to the window, peering down at the night life of the city.

“Sir.”

“What happened before she got home?”

“Everything seems good so far. Kyungwon mentioned how the pull-out kotatsu is working well?” You look around the empty space of Yuta’s apartment, already visualizing how to design and decorate it.

Yuta casually nods, “Yes, I’m quite impressed by her design, really. It’s quite convenient for the heater to turn on automatically after a certain length.”

“The tatami mats will be delivered tomorrow morning and installation will be done by the end of the week. Regarding the bathtub—”

“The ofuro.” He interjects and you repeat after him.

“The ofuro, yes, there’s a delay in shipping it. The company said it might take another week.”

Yuta shrugs, “If it can’t be helped. I don’t mind the wait.”

You look over the apartment once more, “Well, aside from that, after everything that needs to be installed is in place, we can begin putting furniture and decorating it the way you like it.”

The sun is setting outside and Yuta’s apartment has an amazing view of it; you check your watch for the time and hope you won’t get caught in the rush hour.

“Great!” He cheers, “Finally, a place I can call home. Although, I’ll miss room service.”

This makes you laugh, “Can’t cook?”

“I can if I have to, but I don’t have the time or luxury to do so with all the work I have. I’ve already hired the hotel chef to come by every other day to make something for me, you know, something I can easily reheat or throw all together.” He pauses, “Does Jaehyun cook? Or do you?”

“We both do. We take turns. But we have days when we live off on take-outs and deliveries.”

Yuta’s phone rings and he fishes it out of his pocket, lightheartedly scoffing before glancing at you. “Speak of the devil. Hello— hey, calm down man.”

You watch his expression grow concerned and confused as he looks at you.

“She’s here and she’s fine. I don’t know. I haven’t seen her take out her phone the whole time.”

Your phone? You spin around and dashed to your handbag on the counter, dissecting it for the said item but found it to be missing. You wonder out loud about its whereabouts, wracking your brain to remember where you last used it.

“[Y/N].” Yuta calls out to you and you turn to see him hand his phone out to you.

You take it from him, putting it over your ear, “Jaehyun?”

“Are you okay? Where’s your phone?”

“I— I don’t know. I must have misplaced it.” You licked your lips. He sounds so frantic. “I probably left it at the house by accident. I dropped by earlier since they started with remodeling and I remember using it last there.”

“Okay… okay. I’ll go look for it. Can you give the phone back to Yuta?”

“Jaehyun, what’s happening?”

“I’ll tell you later. I need you to go home right now.”

You hand the phone back to Yuta and with the look on your face, he puts the call on loudspeaker.

“Jaehyun?” He clears his throat.

“Yuta, I need you to take [Y/N] home. Please.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll take her now…” You move back to where your bag is, zipping it back up to get ready to leave. “Is everything okay? I know it’s not exactly my business, but I’d like to know why I have to escort her home.”

The line was silent for a moment; eerie enough for you to peek over your shoulder just before Jaehyun finally replies.

“There was a threat made against her, Yuta. I don’t want to take chances.”

Your blood ran cold. Was this from the person Kun warned you about? But that can’t be, right? This person should have been from years ago. Did they find you again because of your engagement with Jaehyun?

You felt a hand on your shoulder and you gasped, backing away so quickly, you hit your hip on the edge of the counter. You winced in pain, but brought back to your senses and looked up at Yuta with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you. You’re obviously distraught.” He says, taking a step back.

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m okay. Let’s just go.”

The walk from the apartment, to the elevator, and to Yuta’s car was tense. For you, at least. Yuta kept it cool; walking casually. On the other hand, you followed closely behind him, trying to inconspicuously check your surroundings for shady characters. When you got to his car, he opened the door for you and you quickly got in.

“Relax, [Y/N]. It can very well be just a prank.”

You give it a thought. He has a point. But the fact Kun told you he wanted to protect you from someone a couple of days ago rang at the back of your mind. Maybe you should have told Jaehyun what happened; why you suddenly decided to get drunk in the middle of the week. He didn’t press you for a reason, probably chalking up to it as stress from work.

“Unless,” Yuta interrupts your train of thought, “Jaehyun has enemies? Or you have some stalker?”

“—I don’t!” You vehemently denied, choking on your own spit. You cover it up with a nervous chuckle, “I mean, who would take interest in me?”

“Jaehyun took interest in you.” Yuta hums, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “But in our business, we’re bound to make enemies without even knowing it.”

“You think Jaehyun pissed someone off?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, focusing on driving for a few minutes and checking the rear view mirror. “There’s a lot of greedy men out there, [Y/N]. Plenty of them are petty, too.”

It was completely dark out by the time you reached your apartment. When he escorted you all the way up to your room, you asked him to stay until Jaehyun returned. He seemed to hesitate, but relented once he noticed just how scared you were.

“Would you like anything to drink? Tea? Coffee?” Your eyes shift to the wine cooler, “Vodka?”

Yuta looks at you incredulously, “I don’t think this is the right time to drink alcohol, [Y/N]. If anything, I think I should be preparing you some tea.”

“No, no, I’ll make it myself. Please, make yourself comfortable.” You grabbed the kettle and filled it up with water. “What kind would you like?”

“Hmm? Anything is fine.”

His voice sounded like he wasn’t seated at the counter nor the living room. Once you turned the stove on, you walked out into the hallway to find him looking at the photos on the wall. It almost freaked you out, until you saw him smiling at the photos — almost innocently at them.

He realizes your presence and stutters out an apology. “Sorry, I just really admire your relationship. It makes me wish I had someone to protect and care for. You must feel pretty lucky to have someone like him… someone who’d go out of their way to protect you.”

“There’s no one more I’d trust my life with.” You chuckled, showing off your engagement ring. “I just wish he’d—”

You stopped yourself, hoping he didn’t catch it, but he curiously peeks at you over his shoulder and you inwardly curse yourself as you try to rephrase what you were about to say.

“He’s just…” There’s no way to sugarcoat what you wanted to say. “He’s overprotective. And I appreciate it, I really do. It’s just… he doesn’t have to go out of his way to do so.”

Yuta laughs, “He’s a billionaire, [Y/N], what exactly does ‘out of his way’ mean?”

“I mean, he doesn’t have to overdo it.” You sighed, realizing a split second later that he could interpret your words wrongly. You open your mouth to correct yourself, but he beats you to it.

“Overdo it?” He repeats, “Like…”

The kettle begins to whistle and you quickly excuse yourself to prepare the tea. When you turn the stove off, you hear the front door open and Jaehyun’s voice calling out to both you and Yuta. You hear Yuta greet him and tell him that you’re preparing tea just as you round the corner and almost collide face first into Jaehyun’s chest.

“[Y/N]!” He grabs your shoulders and hugs you.

“Jaehyun, what’s happening?” You pushed him away, feeling a little shy since Yuta was there.

He lets out a heavy breath, “I received a note while I was at the office. It questioned your safety.”

“What does that mean? What did the note say exactly?”

“Is she safe?” Jaehyun clears his throat, “And it had a picture of you, Doyoung, and Kun from that night you three met up for dinner.”

Your fingers began to shake uncontrollably, Kun’s warning flooding back into your mind. “...From who?”

The look of regret on your fiance’s face tells you he hasn’t found out yet who sent the photo, “I don’t know. The note was slipped into the receptionist desk somehow.”

“Mina doesn’t remember where it came from or who handed it to her?’

“Mina hasn’t come into work for two days now. The temporary secretary there is overwhelmed with the work that piled up for her, so I can’t blame her if she doesn’t remember who or where the note came from.”

“Security cameras?” Yuta pipes up, but Jaehyun shakes his head. “I was told my people have already installed it.”

“The cameras were set up, but there was a system error on our end. There’s no footage.”

You walk off towards the windows and cross your arms, overwhelmed with the urge to vomit. Jaehyun calls for you and you shrugged your shoulders, “Maybe it’s just a prank? That’s possible, right?”

“Yes, it is.” Jaehyun pauses, slowly nodding his head, “But I don’t want to take chances, [Y/N], not when it concerns you.”

“Would you have any idea who would be behind this, Jaehyun?”

He looks at Yuta and frowns, “Not a single clue.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth; you should tell him about what Kun told you.

“Jaehyun, [Y/N], if you need anything, I’ll gladly help. I can have my team set up surveillance cameras here — free of charge. You can even have the feed be sent straight to your phones.”

“My phone.” You gasped, remembering it was missing. Before you could panic, Jaehyun fishes it out of his pocket and holds it out to you.

“It was at the house.”

Checking the notifications, there were nearly a hundred missed calls from both him and Doyoung. You peer up at him while calling Doyoung. “You told Doyoung?”

“Of course. I thought he would know something.”

“[Y/N]?! Where the fuck—”

“I’m fine! I’m safe! I just left my phone at the house this morning and didn’t notice! I’m sorry for making you worry.” You continue to calm your best friend down, promising to be careful and such. By the time you are done with the call, Yuta announces he should head back to his hotel.

“I should get going. Take care, you two.”

You walk back to them, “Oh, please stay for dinner. As a thanks for bringing me back home and even waiting for Jaehyun with me.”

He smiles, “Maybe some other day? I’m expecting a conference call with my family later and I wouldn’t want you guys to hear a bunch of angry Japanese.”

“Oh,” You purse your lips, “Okay. Some other day then?

“Yuta, thank you again for bringing her home and waiting with her. It really put my mind at ease to know she’s not alone.” Jaehyun puts an arm around you and you lean into him.

“Don’t mention it, Jaehyun, so tell me if I could be of any help, I’ll gladly do so.”

You both see Yuta off, waiting for him to enter the elevator and waving one last time before closing the door and locking it for the night. You turn to Jaehyun, who immediately reacts to your touch.

“Don’t worry,” He whispers, “You’ll be okay, baby. I’ll take care of it.”

“I know. I know you will.” You tug at his arms and he leans down to kiss you, letting your lips mold against each other. When he pulls away, you lick your lips, “I’m going to make tea. Would you like some?”

“I’m good. I’ll finish up some work. Get some sleep after, okay? I’ll be with you as soon as I’m done.”

You watch him walk off towards his home office and you make your way back to the stove to reheat the kettle. Your eye catches the photo Yuta was looking at; it was your graduation photo with him, both of you dressed in the dark gown and proudly clutching onto your diplomas, but had noticeably harder grips on each other. Everything seemed simpler back then with nothing to worry about other than school, rent, and what to eat daily. 

Why didn’t you tell him about what Kun told you?

No, why couldn’t you tell him?

You look back to where he disappeared into; now determined to solve this on your own.

Inside his home office, Jaehyun carefully closes the blinds of the little window on the door and pulls out the note he had received earlier.

He didn’t want to lie to you. Especially not about something like this. It still involved you, however the safety being compromised wasn’t just yours.

He opens the crumpled note back up, rereading the 3 words over and over again. His gaze moves to the photo it came with. It really was of you, Doyoung, and Kun. 

It just wasn’t from a couple days ago; nor was it a couple of weeks either. Anyone could tell with one look how far back it was. You were standing in a music store, watching Doyoung pick an album from the stand in front of you, beside you stood Kun, just barely recognizable and the only telltale sign was the beauty mark on his brow. What stood out the most was that all three of you wore your high school uniforms.

Jaehyun crumples it up, angrily closing his fist around the photo. He brings the note back up and clicks his tongue.

Does she know?

a/n: an update since quarantine sucks. this chapter is a lot shorter only because i’m still not in right headspace to write, but i’ve been working on something devoted-related (not a fic or anything written) and it’s getting me back into writing again. 

next: part 9

~ buy me a peach? but why?

[libsterslobsters]

Black Dog...

A Bucky Barnes x Reader fanfic

A/N: The motherfluffer strikes again! I know I said I was going to do a pt 2 of "What Is and What Should Never Be", but I was sitting with my doggo tonight and this is what I was inspired to write. It's more of a prequel, I guess.

Summary: There's not much Bucky wouldn't do for his best girl, but when she suggests they get a dog to help them readjust to life after the final battle with Thanos, he's not so sure it's a great idea.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/ fem! enhanced! Reader

(reader can see moments into the future as well as understanding all languages and processing new information quickly, plus she's also a super soldier)

Warnings: Slight angst, mild swearing, fluff!, mentions of PTSD and panic attacks, No editor, we die like men

“You want to do what?”

Bucky considers himself a fairly reasonable person (well, there is the “was brainwashed for over fifty years” part) and he prides himself on valuing whatever his girlfriend (fiance he reminds himself, she kept the ring on for five years) says instead of only listening to come up with a response, but this time, he’s almost certain he’s heard wrong. At least, he hopes he has.

“I want to get a puppy.”

That’s exactly what he thought she said. “Or really a dog of any age.” Where to begin with that suggestion.

He likes dogs. He had one before the war. But that was back when it was safe to walk through Brooklyn at night, not to mention walk your dog along the sidewalk after dinner. Back before sudden noises in the night, however light or normal they are made him bolt upright in bed and reach for the knife he still keeps on the nightstand just in case. Before fighting “bad guys” was part of his every-day life, and way before he himself had become a bad guy. All of that considered, there’s only one way he can answer.

“I don’t think so, doll.” The corners of her lips turn down and her eyelids lower.

“Oh.” She’s more disappointed than she’ll let on. Maybe there’s a way to smooth it over.

“Why did you want a dog?”

He takes a seat on the sofa next to her (they were going to settle into their usual after work activity; watch something neither of them will remember later as an excuse to be together, usually with her legs resting in his lap and a bowl of popcorn between them) and silently wills her to look up, not be saddened by something he’s done. Goodness knows she’s had enough of that to last a lifetime already, and the wedding isn’t for another month.

She shrugs, still absently picking at her pilling sweater.

“There’s been studies done on how having a pet helps lower stress levels and raise seratonin levels. That helps with PTSD and sleep disorders.”

Something that used to just apply to him, but after Thanos, it’s as often her waking up from a nightmare that felt just a little too real or staring at words in a book that she’s not even seeing long after midnight.

“Plus-” She laughs, but it’s not the unbridled sound he treasures, it’s… bitter somehow. “-it’ll be like exposure therapy. We’ll be forced to leave the apartment for more than groceries and work.”

It seems as if the outside world has become even louder and more unbearable since the world ended and restarted again.

“All of that sounds good-” There’s the beginings of a smile on her face. He hates that he’s about to crush it all over again. “-but what about the logistics of it?” She frowns, clearly confused. “We don’t know where we’ll be living once your lease is up-”

“There are plenty of other apartment complexes that allow pets.” He nods.

“Yeah, but not all of them. And on top of that, when we’re away on missions, who’s gonna look after the pooch?” She seems to be considering it, mulling it over, then-

“Here me out: we train the dog to come with us on missions and do reconnaissance.” The smirk on her face lets him know that it’s a joke. Good. Then she’s not completely devistated.

“If the situation looks too tough, we’ll send him out ahead of us. While he’s licking their faces and their guards are down because even the worst of the worst can’t resist a cute puppy-”

“We storm the place?” She nods, shoulders shaking in a quiet laugh.

“You’re catching on! And, we can order a special doggy uniform since you can find anything on the internet these days.”

That’s the final straw, and before he can even consider it, he’s laughing too.

“You do make a pretty compelling argument, but let’s stick a pin in it until this thing-”He indicates her left hand, which is now resting casually against his thigh. “-becomes official.”

“Fair enough.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

She’s doing better now, she thinks. Better than she was for the past few months. Still, after her last class at the community college lets out (so many new enrollments now that the population is back to normal, and the majority of them have no memory of the hell those who survived the snap endured for five years), she sits in her car for a solid half hour, shaking and crying her way through a panic attack. When it passes, she reaches for the makeup bag hidden in her purse and, in an effort that’s really muscle memory at this point, repairs the damage to her face. There. Nearly normal.

Driving home is considerably more difficult than it used to be now that there’s more cars on the road, but the route is familiar, so that’s some comfort. Not everything changes. She really should pick up some potatoes and cubed beef for tonight’s dinner, but after the day she’s had, facing a crowded supermarket seems like just a step too far. Takeout, then. Maybe a pizza. After all, she’s got the same chemicals running through her veins as he does, which means their metabolisms can keep up with excess calories. It’s one of the better side effects of being “enhanced” as her file is labeled.

She’s so busy thinking about which toppings to order that she barely manages to swerve in time to keep from hitting the animal slowly limping towards the curbside.

“Shit!”

The miriad of horns honking from behind and beside her let her know that her decision isn’t a popular one. Still, she eases the car to the curb and as soon as the coast is clear (she should just run into traffic… no, that’s an intrusive thought, acknowledged and dismissed), steps out.

The animal made it across, at least. Animal, because she can’t be sure what species it is. It’s trying to get away from her, but the poor thing is limping badly, so there’s not much chance it’ll manage that particular feat even if she weren’t faster than the average human. She approaches with caution (if she were to be bitten, would it even effect her? More than likely not) in case she startles it.

“It’s alright.” She’s got it cornered now, and she can see that it’s a dog. A pathetic lump of matted fur and mange with at least one broken leg, but a dog none the less. She crouches, holding her hand out in front of her, palm open.

“You’re okay, sweetie. I’m not going to hurt you.” The poor thing is shaking, letting out low growls that quickly turn to whimpers as soon as she touches it. “You’ve had some tough luck, haven’t you? Yeah.”

She can’t tell what color it is under the filth and… her breath catches in her throat… blood. Black for now, but maybe a lighter color once it’s washed. However, the tongue that peeks out from a swollen muzzle is unmistakably pink. “Good boy. Or girl. I’m not going to look close enough to find out right now. Don’t worry.” It’s not a huge dog. She could probably lift it. That is, if it’ll let her. “A car hit you, didn’t it? Hurt that poor leg of yours.” She leans closer to get a better look. No collar. A stray, more than likely, and definitely a mutt. The decision is made. She’s not leaving it here.

“Alright. I’m going to get you some help, but that means I have to pick you up. Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d kindly refrain from biting me when I do that, okay?” She takes the blink as agreement. “Here we go.”

She must look strange, emerging from an alleyway in the middle of Brooklyn with at least thirty pounds of unidentifiably colored dog in her arms, but if any of the other motorists notice, they don’t let on. Thank goodness for technology. With the press of a button, her car unlocks and she’s able to deposite her new friend in the passenger seat before settling behind the wheel once more. “Siri, show me the nearest animal hospital.” Once the gps is online, she adds as an afterthought, “Call Barnes.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

Somehow, when he picked up the phone and the first words out of her mouth were, “Bucky, you’re not gonna believe me…” he didn’t expect it to result in him sitting in a veterinarian’s office an hour later, waiting to hear about a dog he’s never seen. Well, that’s not quite true. She did snap a quick picture. Even though he knows it probably wasn’t at it’s best, that had to be the most pathetic lump of fur and fleas he’s ever laid eyes on, through a photograph or otherwise. He’s not even sure it had both ears!

None of that matters though, because now he’s sitting there, pretending to study his phone with his baseball cap drawn low over his eyes and a pair of sunglasses to boot while she flips through the same magazine for the fourth time. If he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t think the dog’s going to make it (actually, it might be kinder if it didn’t, the pooch is in such bad shape), but he’s decided it’s best not to bring that up. Time will tell.

“Are you mad?” That’s the first thing she’s said since he arrived and she informed him that they’d taken the dog back for immediate surgery.

“That depends. Did you walk into traffic to save him?” It probably wouldn’t hurt her, considering she’s strong enough to stop a car if she really wants to, but it’s not exactly a healthy habit to get into. Especially if they’re trying to be inconspicuous.

“No.” She flips another page. “Although I may have swerved to avoid hitting him, then chased him down into an alleyway and cornered him by a dumpster.”

That sparks a memory from the early days in Romania, the ones where he thought he was dating someone for the first time since the forties (albeit, moving very, very slowly) and she was under the impression that he saw her as a little sister. Her apartment was the equivalent of “low rent” and when, halfway through ‘Singin’ In the Rain’, a rat made it’s unfortunate appearance, she told him, “No, don’t kill it! Just get rid of it!” while standing on top of the coffee table (because clearly, that was so much safer than the floor). In the end, he did catch the rat (thanks to her precognition), and they safely moved it and it’s nest into a quiet corner of the courtyard. That’s when he realized he was in way over his head with this girl, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It’s still one of his favorite memories, so-

“ ‘Course not.” She doesn’t look entirely convinced, so he wraps his arm around her, pulling her close despite the plastic waiting room chairs. “Why would I be mad at my girl for having a big heart?”

She chuckles, leaning into him. “You mean I’m a softy.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

Before she can reply, the door swings open. It’s late, and they’re the only ones left waiting, so it’s no surprise when the woman in scrubs stops in front of them.

“Your dog made it through surgery, although we did have to amputate the front left leg.” Huh. That’s the same one he lost. “We also took the liberty of giving him his rabies and heartworms shots, and since you said it’s a stray, we’ll call animal control to pick him up once he’s awake.”

That’s for the best. She may have a thing for hard luck cases, wounded animals, and lost teddy bears, but it’s not like they can keep the dog. He’s come around to the idea of getting a pet at some point (maybe he’ll surprise her at Christmas), but an animal that’s in that bad of condition… it’s a lot of work, and he’s not sure either of them is up for it (well, if truth be told, if he’s up to it).

“Did you want to come back to see him?” She looks up at him, clearly trying to get a read on what he’d rather do. He could just say no thanks, they’re alright. It’ll only make things harder when they have to go home. But, it’s obvious she wants to, and he’s not great at telling her no.

“Sure.”

He’s panicking just a little as they walk through a maze of corridors and metal doors that lock behind them. Calm down, it’s just a vet’s office, not a prison. You’re not going to have to fight your way out.

Finally, after the dozenth turn, the vet announces, “Here we are. He’s still a little groggy, and we had to shave him. It looked like he could use a trim anyway.” and pushes open another locked door.

Even with his leg repaired and his fur at least partially groomed, he doesn’t look like much. There are indeed two ears; one of them is just crooked, folding down instead of sticking straight up. He still couldn’t guess at the breed, but with all the muck washed away, it’s still a black dog. There’s an I.V. attached, and Bucky’s expecting that the most it’ll do is whimper if it’s touched, but as she approaches the table and gingerly begins to pet it between the ears, the dog’s eyes open, and it licks her hand.

“Hey, boy. You made it through. I knew you were a fighter.” Is it sticking it’s tongue out and- “Whoa. Your breath could take out an army!” -attempting to lick her face.

“We think he’s about eight months old. May get a little bigger, but not much.”

He’s a decent sized dog. Not exactly one you’d chose to guard your house, but not a lap dog either. And he seems friendly.

“Some nice people from animal control are going to come get you once you’re all better and they’ll find you a good home.”

Unlikely. After all, the dog’s a tripod. He’s going to regret asking this, but-

“Is there anything else wrong with him besides the leg?”

The vet shakes her head. “Nothing that a flea bath, mange treatment, and a few good meals couldn’t fix.”

So really, it wouldn’t be THAT much work. He’s seen plenty of dogs who can still walk with only three legs. He needs to get ahold of himself. The dog might not even like him. Animals are funny; they can tell a bad person from a good one, and if he’s being honest with himself, he’s not sure if he qualifies as the latter after all he’s done. There’s only one way to find out.

“Hey, boy.” He reaches out his hand (the metal one, because even if it’ll heal quickly, he’s not crazy about being bitten) and scratches under the dog’s chin. “You had a hard day, didn’t you?”

The dog sniffs at his arm and then, wonder of wonders, his back leg starts to kick. “But you still seem pretty happy even if you are a little worse for wear.”

He really shouldn’t do this. It’s a lot of work, having a dog of any kind. They don’t know where they’ll be living once her lease is up, and oh yeah, they’re getting married in three weeks. But, the big puppy dog eyes look up at him (the dog’s looking pretty desperate too), and he knows his decision’s made.

“Think Stark ever designed armor for dogs?” Her brow knits in confusion.

“You know, since we can’t very well have him out there on missions without some sort of protection.” There it is. Recognition.

“Are you serious?”

“No.” The beginnings of a smile freezes on her face. “There’s no way we’re taking an innocent dog into a situation with hostiles. Are you nuts?” That laugh gets him every time.

“So we’re keeping him?”

He nods.

“We’re keeping him, doll.”

She hasn’t looked this purely happy in ages. For once, the memories of the past and worries about the future are completely forgotten, and that makes it worth it. That, and, well… he is a pretty cute dog.

Author's note: here's a picture of my good boi and writing pal, Rigby.

[jaskierswolf]

You Set My Heart Ablaze Pt.12/25

TW: Fire!! (Only took 12 chapters to get there), and Geralt has a panic attack in the shower.

Previous

_____________

Half-term was chaotic.

Geralt would have preferred to have gotten the time off work so he could spend the week with Ciri but unfortunately the shift rota just didn’t work out this time. This meant he was already grumpy before his shifts even started. He hated leaving Ciri behind. Coën was thankfully grateful for the extra money that the hours round Geralt’s house gave him. Geralt had managed to at least get two days off during the week and he’d promised to take Ciri ice skating. He hadn’t tried ice skating since he was a child but he hoped that it was like riding a bicycle. She’d pouted at him with her big shining green eyes and he’d been helpless to say no.

He just had to make it through the day first. His stomach rumbled as he watched his leftovers spin round and round in the microwave. He’d made pasta bake with Ciri on Sunday evening and the leftovers were his lunch until his next day off, which was, thankfully, tomorrow.

Lambert had been called out to assist the police at a road traffic accident whilst Geralt and Renfri had just gotten back from house call in Lower Posada and it was already long past his usual lunchtime. The call hadn’t really needed both of them in attendance but the owner of the house hadn’t been confident to put out their small kitchen fire by themselves so had rung the fire service. Eskel had had a few false calls, which was really just a waste of everyone’s time. The on-call team, the griffins this week, had been called in to help the wolves on their various missions. They’d just been too spread out the last couple of days and Geralt was exhausted.

“Ger-Bear!” Renfri called as the alarms began to ring in the fire station. “We’re up! Stop slacking.”

He cursed and stopped the microwave. It looked like he was skipping lunch today, again.

He grabbed his jacket and they all jumped into gear. They were down the pole and in the fire engine in record time. Geralt turned the keys in the ignition as Eskel slipped into the seat beside him. They keyed in the postcode into the GPS and Geralt hit the siren and the lights.

“What have we got?” Geralt asked Renfri as he navigated the traffic of Upper Posada.

Renfri looked through the notes on her phone. “House fire in a block of flats. Cause of the fire is currently unknown but it managed to spread to the corridor before it was noticed by one of the residents returning home.”

“Fuck.” Geralt cursed. “What happened to the fire alarms?”

“Believed to be faulty. The alarms only went off when the fire reached outside of the flat.” Renfri continued. “Owner of the the flat where we think the fire started was also out at the time, he returned whilst the reporting resident was on the phone. However, we aren’t sure how many residents are still in the building. Vesemir has called Lambert so he’ll be joining us as soon as he’s finished with the RTC in Gulet.”

“Shit.” Geralt groaned. Fires in apartment buildings could be devastating if they weren’t caught early. The potential number of casualties were a lot higher than your average household. “Eskel, can you contact the landlord, get a list of everyone in the building?”

“On it.” Eskel grunted and started to flick through their list of contacts until he found the right number.

Whilst he was on the phone the fire engine’s radio crackled to life.

“Shrike.” Vesemir called.

“Here.” Renfri nodded as they turned into the right road. Geralt grimaced as he saw the plumes of smoke rising from the building.

“Call me once you’re at the scene. I have information for you.” Vesemir ordered.

“Will do, boss.”

Geralt parked the truck in the road and turned the sirens off, leaving the lights on to alert passing traffic. The police was already at scene trying to control the crowd, they must have had a patrol in the area. They leapt into action the moment the engine had pulled to a stop. The smoke was already heavy in the air and the smell of burning plastic hit the back of his throat. Geralt grimaced as he quickly assessed the situation. Judging by the smoke billowing from the window, the fire was on the third floor and hadn’t spread yet to the other floors, but it was only a matter of time and they had to act fast.

“Geralt!” Renfri called, the urgency in her voice startled him. “Vesemir. He didn’t want me to tell you this but… He had another call.”

“Spit it out, Renfri!” Geralt growled as she hesitated.

“Geralt… Jaskier’s up there!”

Geralt felt his knees almost buckle underneath and he had to grab onto the fire engine to keep himself standing.

Jaskier.

“Why didn’t he evacuate with the others?!” Geralt yelled at Renfri.

“I don’t know!!” Renfri yelled back. “We’re wasting time!”

Geralt snarled and pulled on the rest of his protective gear so that he could go into the building. Renfri tried to protest, saying he was emotionally compromised but he ignored her. Jaskier was somewhere in that growing cloud of smoke.

He had to save him.

Whatever the cost.

“Focus on the fire. I’m getting him out, and call any griffins that aren’t on other jobs. There may be others.” He growled. “Did Vesemir say what floor?”

“Fifth. Flat 5D.”

“Thanks.”

He took a deep breath before heading into the blaze, ignoring Renfri’s protests behind him. He ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He almost ran straight past the third floor in his rush to get to Jaskier. He skidded to a halt and cursed before turning back.

The third floor was the priority. He had to check for residents nearest the fire first. If he didn’t and there were casualties then it would be on him. Their deaths would be his responsibility.

“Fuck!” He yelled into the ever growing heat. Every step he spent on the third floor was torture. His soul was pulling him to the fifth floor but he couldn’t lose his cool. He needed to remain professional. Renfri was right. He was compromised. “Damn it, Jaskier.” He snarled.

He located the cause of the fire in one of the flats as he navigated the flames. The structure of the building growing more unstable by the second. The oven was completely charred and there was no saving the rest of the flat but thankfully it was empty, just like the reports had said. He quickly radioed Eskel to confirm the cause of the fire before moving to safer ground. He yelled out as he check the rest of the floor as quickly as he could. Once he was certain it was clear he sprinted up the final sets of stairs.

“Jaskier!!” He called loudly. The sound of burning was quieter on the fifth floor but he could still feel the heat from the floor below. He squinted through the smoke at the numbers on the doors until he found 5D.

He kicked through the door. He winced as he felt the shock of the impact shudder up his leg. “JASKIER!” He called again.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice was uncharacteristically weak. “I’m in here!”

Geralt snarled. ‘In here’ was not a useful description but he tried his best to locate the teacher. The living room was full of instrument cases and there was a small grand piano tucked into the corner of the lounge. Geralt swallowed. He really hoped they could tame the blaze before the fire tore apart Jaskier’s home. He’d be devastated if he lost his instruments but there was no way Geralt could get them out in time. He shook his head and moved into the bathroom. “Jaskier?” He found him…

In the bath…

Naked.

“Jaskier!” He fell to his knees in front of the tub. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

“My ankle. The alarm went off and I slipped. I couldn’t move, Geralt.” Jaskier was visibly shaken and pale in the bright lights of the bathroom. Geralt tried not to look where he really shouldn’t but he needed to make sure his friend wasn’t badly hurt. There were no obvious burns which was good and so far there wasn’t much smoke in this part of the building. Hopefully it was just his ankle.

“I couldn’t move.” Jaskier repeated more quietly.

Geralt looked around. Ideally he didn’t want to pick Jaskier up with nothing to cover him but clothes were not a priority. He was hoping Jaskier had a dressing gown or something nearby that he could grab. If not a towel would have to do.

“Luckily I had my phone next to the bath. You can’t hear the music over the sound of water if it’s too far away so I had my phone on the laundry basket. I should probably invest in some speakers but then it did save my life so maybe I won’t.” Jaskier was speaking at a hundred miles an hour now Geralt had arrived. “I did try and call you first but then you didn’t pick up and I realised you must be at work so I called the emergency number instead. Weirdly not my most embarrassing phone call. ‘Hello I’m stuck in my bathtub and the building is on fire. Oh and I’m naked as a new born baby.’”

“Jaskier!” Geralt snapped, breaking off the man’s train of thought and desperately trying not to look as Jaskier drew his attention, once again, to his nakedness. “Do you have a dressing gown or anything?” Geralt asked, the mask muffled his voice but Jaskier managed to hear him clear enough.

Jaskier, the fool, laughed. “On my bedroom floor. This was a lot sexier in my dreams.” He whined.

“You’re delirious.” Geralt grumbled as he moved into the bedroom. “Must be smoke inhalation.”

“No really. You’d fly through the window like in the movies and carry me down the ladder.” Jaskier sighed wistfully. “It’s fucking terrifying in real life. More of a nightmare.”

Geralt found the robe and threw it into the bathroom. “Put that on and I’ll help you out.”

“You were wearing less clothes in my dreams.” Jaskier continued to ramble and Geralt realised it was probably the nerves blocking his usual filter. Whilst Geralt wasn’t a stranger to Jaskier’s flirting, the teacher usually took more care to keep their interactions on the other side of the professional line, a more light flirting that could easily be dismissed as banter between friends should someone, such as the headmaster, care to examine their growing relationship more closely. “Strangely I normally start with more clothes.”

“Hmm.” Geralt sighed and looked around the small flat impatiently.

“Of course… by the end of the dream…” Jaskier trailed off.

“Are you done?” Geralt pushed the door back open.

Jaskier was leaning against the wall, hopping unstably on his good ankle. The dressing gown was fluffy and covered in yellow flowers, and Geralt just wanted to wrap the man up in his arms.

He paused.

Jaskier couldn’t walk.

Geralt was allowed to wrap him up in his arms.

He grinned, thankful that he delight was hidden behind his helmet and mask, and scooped Jaskier up into his arms and over his shoulder.

Jaskier squeaked indignantly but didn’t resist.

“At least buy me a drink first!” He protested.

Geralt rolled his eyes. “I’ll buy you one after once we get out of here.”

Jaskier laughed. “Is that a promise, dearest?”

Geralt needed to get them out of here, and quickly. The fire was no longer the most dangerous thing in the building. If Jaskier didn’t shut up soon, Geralt’s heart was going to burst from his chest.

“If we survive.” He grumbled mostly to himself.

Geralt carried Jaskier to the window, flinging it open with only a little difficulty. He managed to radio Eskel to confirm that he’d found the teacher. Eskel radioed back to confirm receipt of the message and the ladder on top of the fire truck was already moving towards them.

Really Geralt should have entered the building through the window to start with but he would be the first to admit that he hadn’t exactly been thinking clearly. He wondered if that was how Vesemir had felt all those years ago when Geralt had been trapped in his bedroom by the burning embers of his house. Jaskier was still wittering away over his shoulder but he didn’t put the man down. The weight on his shoulder was a comforting one. He’d managed to rescue Jaskier. That was all the mattered.

Eskel’s voice crackled in his ear to confirm the rest of the residents had thankfully managed to evacuate without a problem.

Of course it would be Jaskier that was the problem.

By the time the reached the street both Lambert and the griffins had arrived on the scene. Lambert, Renfri and a handful of the on call fighters were spraying gallons of water into the smoking windows to douse the flames. Eskel was supervising the operation, since Geralt had dived straight into flames, and liaising with the other emergency services that now crowded outside the burning building.

Geralt dumped Jaskier into the waiting ambulance and pulled off his helmet. He looked down at his friend, searching his face for any obvious injuries or signs of trauma.

“Jaskier.” He voice cracked now the adrenaline of walking through fire had begun to crash out of his system. “Fuck.” He closed his eyes.

He opened them when he felt Jaskier’s hand on his cheek. “I’m ok, Geralt.”

Geralt wanted to say so many things.

Like how fucking worried he was.

Like how he had wanted to tear the building apart just to find him.

Like how he’d felt like his heart was shattering when he pictured Jaskier’s dead body trapped under burning debris.

He couldn’t say any of that. The words just stuck in his throat as he was shooed away by the paramedics. He growled at them and headed back over to join Eskel.

The blond fireman was seething.

“What the fuck were you thinking, Geralt?” Eskel shoved a clipboard into his chest.

Geralt groaned and turned away.

“Years of training. Over a decade of experience, and you almost throw it all away in a heartbeat!” Eskel continued. “You’re lucky Vesemir isn’t here.”

“Oh really!” Geralt spun back around and snapped at his friend. “Because you are doing a damned good impression of him.”

“You just charged headfirst into a burning building without following any of our standard safety procedures!” Eskel yelled back.

“He was in danger!”

Eskel rubbed his face and groaned. “That’s our job, Geralt. Every single day!”

“I know!” Geralt sighed. “I know.” He repeated more quietly.

“Why?”

“Because I—”

Geralt cut himself off with a snarl.

“He’s my friend.”

“Go home, Geralt.” Eskel sighed. “You can’t work like this. You’ll put us all at risk. Go home and come back Friday with your head screwed on right.”

Geralt shook his head. “Vesemir.”

“I’ll cover for you. Go.”

Geralt glanced back over to Jaskier but the paramedics were still fussing over him. He sighed and decided it would be best to give him some space. Maybe he could text him after dinner just to make sure he was alright. He had just had a traumatic experience after all.

“Fine.” He grumbled and sauntered over to the fire engine to get his stuff.

They were too far out from his flat and he’d have to call a taxi. He groaned when he realised he would have to explain to Ciri why he was home early. She’d go ballistic when she heard about Jaskier. He was sure that they news would get back to the school eventually. That place was like a cesspit of rumours. Nothing happened in Posada without all the teachers knowing and more often of not the kids found out too.

He glanced down at his clothes. He was still wearing his uniform and he stank like smoke but his normal clothes were still back at the station. He really didn’t want to go back to the station. He couldn’t face Vesemir’s disappointment.

“Ah fuck!”

The taxi ride was an uncomfortable affair but there was the promise of a hot shower on the other side so he kept quiet and endured.

Coën was surprised to see him when he slunk into the kitchen. Coën and Ciri been sparring in the small living room with long tube balloons, and Ciri had what looked like blood red lipstick streaked across her cheeks as warpaint.

She screamed excitably when she saw him and ran to give him a hug. He picked her up easily and buried his face in her long hair.

“Ewww!” She squealed. “Dad you stink!”

He hummed in agreement. He really did need a shower, the smell of smoke was driving him mad.

“Everything alright, Mr Rivia?” Coën asked, looking concerned.

He nodded. “Yeah. Rough day. Can you watch her whilst I have a shower?”

“Sure thing.”

“I still need to save the princess from the evil sorcerer!” Ciri grinned.

Geralt forced a laugh for his daughter. “Is that what this is for?” He smudged the lipstick on her cheek.

“Dad!” She whined. “Yes! It’s to help me get through the wards.”

Geralt furrowed his brow. “The wards?”

“That the sorcerer put up to keep the princess prisoner!” Ciri rolled her eyes as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Geralt raised his eyebrows at Coën who just shrugged. “Where did you get the… paint?”

Ciri grinned. “Coën!”

“Ummm. Yeah. That’s mine.” Coën shuffled awkwardly.

Geralt was a little surprised but just nodded. “Nice colour. I’ll be right back, little lion cub.”

The water burned against his skin as he rested his forehead against the cool tiles in the bathroom. He mind was still reeling from the day. How did it all go wrong so fast? He closed his eyes and he was back in the building. The scent of burning hung thick in the air. The flames flickered at the debris and bits of glass cracked under his feet. He couldn’t breathe.

There was too much smoke.

And his chest was on fire.

His knees buckled underneath him and only just managed to catch himself from falling in the bath.

He cursed and spun the tap towards cold.

The jet thundering down on the top of head turned to ice and his muscles shuddered at the sudden change of temperature.

He finished off quickly under the icy water and got dressed. Coën and Ciri were still dancing around the living room playing their make believe game. He watched them from the doorway for a few minutes with a soft smile before she noticed him and leapt forward to attack with her wooden sword that had now replaced the balloon. He noticed her green balloon was lying in tatters on the sofa.

His stomach rumbled and Ciri laughed. “You have a monster in your stomach!”

“How about a takeaway?” He asked sheepishly.

“Pizza?”

He nodded. “Is there any other kind?”

Ciri ordered a pepperoni pizza and Geralt went for a meat feast. They had invited Coën to stay for dinner but the teenager declined the offer. Geralt didn’t blame him. Coën had spent most of his half term around their house to look after Ciri. He was probably desperate to go and meet his own friends.

There were cuddled up together on the sofa munching on pizza and watching one of Ciri’s favourite cartoons when Geralt’s phone rang.

He scowled as he pulled the device from his pocket, assuming it was going to be Vesemir yelling at him for leaving half way through his shift or blatantly ignoring all their training in order to save Jaskier.

But it wasn’t Vesemir.

It was Jaskier.

He hit the accept call button and shuffled off Ciri to go to the kitchen.

“Oh hello!” Jaskier stammered on the other end of the line. “Wasn’t sure whether you would pick up.”

He hummed, unsure on how to reply. They didn’t talk very often on the phone, preferring to communicate via email or the odd text. It stopped the friendship from seeming like… more. He rang Jaskier if he was struggling to find the right words or occasionally Jaskier would ring him if he was busy cooking dinner or composing something new on one of his many instruments.

“I hoped you would.” Jaskier continued. “I… I wanted to say thank you.”

“It’s my job.” He frowned. He always felt uncomfortable when people thanked him for doing his job. What was he supposed to do? Not do his job and let them die?

“True. That’s true.” Jaskier admitted. “Well, you should thank me more often then. Quite frankly I do a remarkable job in teaching Ciri’s class.”

Geralt laughed. “And you’re so modest about it too.”

Jaskier’s melodic laughter joined his on the other end of the line. “Naturally! Did you know I go to sign language classes every weekend on top of what we learn during the week?”

Geralt tilted his head. “No. You never mentioned that.”

“It’s important and really I’m disappointed in myself for not learning sooner.” Jaskier sighed.

“You can’t please everyone, Jask.” He growled.

Jaskier audibly gasped. “You take that back! I can! It’s my party trick.”

Geralt shook his head with a smile and rolled his eyes at his friend. “How’s your ankle?”

“Fucking sore!” The teacher whined. “Not broken though, just sprained. The real casualty was my dignity.”

Geralt snorted.

“Is there any chance we can just forget everything I said in my flat?” Jaskier asked.

“Hmm…” Geralt paused, pretending to think about it. “Not everything.”

“Bollocks!” Jaskier groaned. “Come on, Geralt, please!”

“Nope.”

“Who do I have to kill to make it go away?” Jaskier moaned.

Geralt smirked. “No killing.”

“Awww” Jaskier whined and Geralt could picture his pout easily. “But Geralt!”

“How are you a teacher?”

“Charm, good looks and a dash of smouldering personality.” Jaskier laughed.

Ciri started yelling at him about his food going cold and he sighed.

“Ciri?” Jaskier asked sadly.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll leave you to it.”

They was few seconds of silence between them as they were both reluctant to say goodbye.

“Jask?”

“Yes, dear?” Jaskier asked, hope brightening up his voice and Geralt’s heart skipped a beat at the term of endearment.

“About that drink?”

Jaskier groaned. “Freya help me.” He breathed quietly on the other end of the line. “Geralt, darling. I told you to forget what I said!”

“Friends have drinks.” Geralt added quickly.

There was a beat of silence. “Friends do have drinks.” Jaskier considered.

“Dad!!” Ciri tugged at his arm. She had tomato sauce smeared around her face from her pizza. “Who are you talking to? You’re missing the show!”

“I’m missing the show.” He repeated to Jaskier before calling back to Ciri. “I’m coming, princess.”

“What show?” Jaskier giggled.

Geralt peered back at the television and groaned as he saw Twilight bloody Sparkle dancing around on the box.

“Nothing important.” He grumbled.

“Oh ho ho!” Jaskier cackled. “Now you have to tell me!”

Geralt considered his options. He was running out of time to talk to Jaskier without Ciri working out he was on the phone to her teacher. He didn’t have an excuse this time now they’d sorted out the band nonsense. Ciri would start to worry that Geralt was talking to Jaskier behind her back and something was wrong at school. He could easily just hang up and save himself the embarrassment.

Only, he knew Jaskier enough to know that it wasn’t going to go away simply by hanging up the phone.

Once Jaskier had his claws in something he never let go, unless he got distracted along the way.

“Dad! Come on!” Ciri pouted, a pout that could rival Jaskier’s.

“One minute.” Geralt reassured her before speaking back into the phone. “I’ll tell you over that drink.”

Jaskier stammered incoherently over the phone for a few seconds, making Geralt laugh. “Geralt! You cannot say things like that without warning me first!”

“Your poor bisexual heart?” Geralt rolled his eyes.

“Oh you think you’re so funny don’t you!” Jaskier huffed.

“I’m hilarious.”

“Fuck off.” Jaskier grumbled. “But fine. Over drinks, stubborn ass.”

The line went dead saving either of them from having to say goodbye.

He huffed a laugh and went back to sit with Ciri.

He curled back into his side as he finished off his pizza, and if he got a little too invested in the Ponies’ latest adventure then no one else needed to know. He had thought Ciri had fallen asleep by the time he switched the tv off but she whined and shuffled around next to him, looking up at him with those big green eyes, Pavetta’s eyes.

“Dad?”

“Yes, princess?”

She rubbed sleep from her eyes and scrunched up her nose. “What’s bisexual?”

He frowned as he tried to work out the best way to explain it without getting too complicated.

“You know how your grandmother and grandfather loved each other?” He started.

“Yeah.”

“And your mum and dad did too?”

Ciri scowled. “Grandma said they did. I don’t really remember.”

Fuck.

“Sorry, Princess.” He pulled her into a hug and stroked her head. “Well, that was both mums and dads loving each other right?”

“Yeah, but Kayleigh has two dads!” She added.

“Right.” Geralt nodded. “Well, sometimes a person falls in love with another person regardless of gender.” A simplified version, not entirely accurate. For some people it wasn’t about love at all. “Like me.” He added.

“You’re bisexual?” Ciri asked.

Geralt nodded, he didn’t really label his sexuality but he guess it would fit if it helped her understand for now. It was better than outing Jaskier without his consent. If Ciri didn’t already know the term that meant her teacher was uncharacteristically secretive about his sexuality around his class. “You know I used to date your Auntie Yen?” Ciri nodded. “Well one day I might decide to date a guy.”

“Would you date Mr Jaskier?” Ciri asked innocently.

Geralt ignored the ache in his chest and shook his head. “I can’t date your teacher, Cub.”

“What if he wasn’t my teacher?”

“Time for bed.” Geralt grumbled.

“Just because I’m asking questions you don’t like!” Ciri yelled.

Geralt sighed. “It’s just… it’s complicated, Ciri. I can’t answer that one just yet. Can you trust me on that?”

Ciri put her hands on her hips and frowned. “Fine.”

“Thanks.” Geralt ruffled her hair and picked her up to carry her upstairs. “I’ll read you the next chapter of your book if you want?”

“Ok.” She agreed. “But I’m still mad at you.”

“I know.” He sighed.

He wondered when she had become so perceptive. She was growing up fast and he’d not even been her father for a year yet. He’d never expected that watching her growing up would be so terrifying. One day soon he wouldn’t be able to pick her up like this anymore. She buried her face in his neck as he held her tighter.

______

Next

[samanthaxreed]

                                               SOLO THREAD

Locale: Sam’s apartment / Oceanside Cemetery

Mentioned: @fireinhislungs, @gracetaylorwilliams, @jessexmarino​, @naomixjones​

Dinner with her father went off with only a few conversational lulls, far less awkward than anticipated and yet not completely fluid. Like two people rowing a canoe at different speeds, both attempting to turn it in the same direction without being fully in sync. It would come with time Sam supposed and as she began cleaning dishes, bright hues caught sight of her father throwing a cursory examination of the window latches before shifting attention to the folded sweater on her couch. “Are you holding that for somebody?”

It took everything in her not to snort. “Real subtle... It doesn’t belong to some secret lover if that’s what you’re getting at.”

His chagrin at being caught was palpable enough to soften Sam’s raised brow, almost lingering on the edge of amused before he continued. “I worry about you living in this place alone, Samantha. No roommate, no boyfriend, or... girlfriend?” The blonde visibly winced then, hands resuming the task at hand to avoid discussing something so personal with a person she truly didn’t know well at all. Her father, still a near stranger. “Look, take it from me that too much alone time drives you a little nuts and it’s probably safer in numbers around here.”

The audacity to gently lecture as if his brand of advice mattered in the grand scheme when he never deemed it necessary until now. A measured swallow and breath came before she pivoted features to address him in a way that wouldn’t entirely nuke their still rather tepid relationship. The pair lingered a hair away from disaster and the only indication she managed to give was a firm warning. “Dad, I know what you’re trying to say, but I can take care of myself. I’m doing just fine and you’re forgetting that I literally lived here at one point.” With him and her mother, ironically enough. Apparently Oceanside had been worth settling in during her formative years, but once she could choose for herself it no longer suited the narrative.

“You always did have your mother’s stubbornness.” That, at least, managed to ring true and she might have been able to ignore that comment with a scoff or quick humor picked up from his side, but her father always prodded the right button. “I’m trying to keep you safe, okay?” Definitely a hothead like her abrasive mother because the knife she’d been wiping down tightened within Sam’s slender grasp. Hell of a time to start giving a shit, but she digressed. “Because Oceanside isn’t how you remember it and ignoring that fact’s gonna get you hurt if you don’t pay attention... I understand if it brings you comfort being here, but it’s not the same.”

The sharp utensil she had been cleaning finally clattered against metal as it hit the base of her sink, dropped in frustration because it wasn’t his business. None of it. He surrendered that right when the ink dried on her custody papers; parental claim relinquished unequivocally. “I’m not blind. I can fucking see that it’s worse and I’m not walking around the city with rose colored glasses.” Quite the opposite, suffocating every blossom of nostalgia before it could spring out of the dirt... Or ash, depending upon how one looked at it. “The whole me getting poisoned thing shot that down right out of the gate, but I’m not just–– I’m not giving up on this and lots of people I care about live here.” She swallowed against the vulnerability, choking it down like a bad tequila shot. “Which means there’s something worth sticking around for, so if you’re trying to talk me out of it then go ahead and call up Fletcher. Let him tell you how well that worked out the last time somebody tried.” 

“Take it easy,” he cautioned with infuriating ease against her rising temper. “I’m only trying to look out for your best interest. If something happened to you, I wouldn’t forgive myself.” The chuckle she gave in response lacked both humor and warmth, practically bewildered at his entire savior complex... And bitter, so unfathomably jaded at this ill conceived timing. Too little, too late. “Yeah, well, you’ve been asleep on the job for twenty-eight years so it’s convenient that you woke up to do it now.”

That must have cut deep because her father maneuvered out of the kitchen doorway, hands raised defensively as if she were still holding the knife. It sort of felt like that, but her tongue became the barb instead. Stabbing repeatedly when he hardly deserved it, angered more at unseen and unresolved forces. “I know I wasn’t always as involved as I could have been, but I did raise you––”

“You didn’t raise me, you avoided me because it was easier to spend time at the casino than come home to the life you picked out. And before you start accusing me of favoritism, Mom didn’t do shit either. You want to talk about romanticizing the past? Take a look in the fucking mirror.” Fists clenched against her side were blanched white at the knuckles, three decades of resentment spilling out in verbal blows that Sam knew she couldn’t take back. Nor did she want to, not tonight. “The Williams raised me. And when they were gone, I raised myself and I did a damn good job at it.” 

Some part of her would regret this moment later when his features came to mind, the shame and clear heartbreak written across them undeniable. “I didn’t realize that’s how you felt.” They had backed up fully into her living room, or perhaps she simply cornered her father with truthful criticisms when he’d only wanted to help. So much for repairing their relationship. “Yeah, well... I ruined your lives so I guess it’s only fitting that you ruined mine.” Arms crossed protectively over her middle, both avoiding one another’s gaze out of mutual hurt and then she heard the door unlock. 

“I wish you hadn’t come back here, Samantha.” 

While sounding bad on the surface, she knew full well it was meant as a last olive branch and proof that he loved her despite the vitriol, but Sam’s throat had tightened too far to respond. He slipped out into the evening air and despite how she wished to move, or scream, or burst into a thousand shards to match her internal schism, both feet remained firmly planted for several minutes. 

Then she darted across to her purse, snatching it up along with the sweater draped along the back of her sofa. No phone, she didn’t need to talk anymore. At least no one listed in there.

–––––

One bottle of some cheap rosé from the grocery store later and she was back on the road, navigating some vaguely familiar route down the coast. GPS wound up becoming necessary at some point much to her embarrassment, but twelve years away wasn’t nothing and darkness made fools of everyone. Her car pulled into the cemetery parking lot and for a minute she simply sat with the engine idled, replaying pieces of their conversation in her mind. Not just with her father, but Fletcher, Grace, Jesse, Naomi... People who existed in her former life that now began slotting into this new, convoluted one. 

The gate’s lock was either open already or rusted by the sea air, but it hardly mattered because Sam entered without much barrier. Weaving through headstones, she discovered that the path to her destination sprouted from memory which was altered by nighttime shadows and the fickle mistress of time. After getting turned around once, she eventually made it and settled into a small plot of grass, unscrewing the lid of her bottle and toasting in mock cheers to her company.

                        In Loving Memory of Brooke Williams

The sight alone was enough to tighten something imperceptible within her chest, washed away by the peachy drink and a half-hearted joke. “Sorry for sitting on you, but that should be nothing new. Kick me off if you hate it.” Talking to a ghost as if the long deceased girl were able to hear felt stupid on about three hundred levels, but Sam hadn’t been granted the privilege of catching up for so long. And after arguing with her parent, she just needed her best friend and other half. 

“I think that maybe... everything in my life is temporary now,” she admitted to the silence. “And sometimes I can even convince myself that I’m okay with it. Never attaching myself to anybody or anything.” Mostly through her own design, sabotaging any concept of permanence before it, too, could be ripped away without warning. A self preservation measure concocted when she was far too young; no kid should delve so far into their own fear that they only knew how to run. “Except here. I feel like I keep circling back to this place and these people... And you. Always you.” For someone who only an hour previous claimed to raise herself, she truly did an immaculate job at creating an adult who wound up successful, capable, and so unbearably alone.

Maybe she should have called Fletcher instead, the thought interjected itself and became quickly dismissed. Hadn’t enough trouble been thrust upon his shoulders? And Grace’s? Stripped of their entire family in the course of a single night, tossed into a system which spat them back out, and molded to fit a world that clearly didn’t give a shit. The last thing either one needed was a reminder walking back through their door, but she had with such unfathomable selfishness. Perhaps guilt brewed in the pit of her stomach over how she treated her father tonight or that continuous fear of making the wrong move, but uncertainty brought the rim to parted lips once more.

“I’m not sure what I’m doing anymore, B.” It was easier to draw honesty from her bones out here, less like pulling water from a stone with only a bottle and the faint ocean breeze answering back. Rather than eerie or unsettling, the dim light provided a quiet comfort of remaining unseen in the midst of such raw admittance. “I don’t think I belong in this city like I used to, but I’m scared––” There was that thickness in the far reaches of her throat again. “I’m afraid that if I don’t belong in Oceanside then I don’t really belong anywhere. So what the hell do I do?”

She had belonged once, in a flickering memory of happiness that remained pure despite life’s valiant attempts to extinguish it. Friendship bracelets with her name misspelled on accident. Brooke telling Fletcher he could only join their pillow fort if he killed the spider inside. Grace’s laughter from beneath the hood of an old car as she threw a grease laden rag at Mr. Williams. They were supposed to grow old together, buy houses on the same street, live out impossibly normal lives. So beautifully mundane in their cookie cutter regularity. Even after the worst overtook them, she had been naïve enough to believe in some echo of that future; a broken shell, but enough to keep her head above water.

In that alternate time, Grace taught her to drive manual and took Sam to get her license, the pair bonding in a way that she only dreamed of as a child who idolized the eldest Williams beyond words. She would have thanked the brunette for being the only stable adult in her life and the only one worth counting on. In that alternate timeline, she got Fletcher trashed on his twenty-first birthday and sat on the bathroom floor with him all night in apology. She would have told him the truth at some point, even if he didn’t reciprocate. So many what if’s that were robbed before they even began and now she grasped at smoke, unable to hold it between desperate fingers. Why couldn’t she just let things go like a well adjusted person? Why did she leave claw marks etched into every memory?

More wine, but this time it tasted distinctly of saltwater as the wind brushed over damp cheeks.

[themissingmarvel]

Kind Regards, Detective [Part 6]

(So, forgive me for this both: being long, and not having a lot of Loki in it. I understand if this chapter turns people off or doesn’t get a lot of love. I won’t be hurt by it. But it needed to be done. So hopefully I don’t lose readers but if I do, like I said, I understand.

Catch up:  [Part 1] // [Part 2] // [Drabble] // [Part 3] // [Part 4] // [Drabble 2] // [Part 5]

Pairing: Detective Loki x fbi!Reader

Word Count: 3.7k [yikes]

Warnings: Language. Poor life choices. )

Back when Y/N was in undergrad, she remembered one of her classmates affectionately telling her she was afflicted with what was known as “resting bitch face”. She became known as the Queen of the RBF within her circles, and honestly it remained with her. But it was protective, and in times like this, when a precinct was staring at you, you had to protect yourself.

One of the things that would come up was a conflict of interest, she knew that immediately. Her supervising agent would be concerned about a package sent directly to her. No one would know the depth of it, though. They’d know it was in reference to her sister’s passing, but the song? The CD itself? She could lie. And she would. Even when her phone rang and she ignored it, she kept her face stoic and her eyes locked on the computer, scanning over the evidence collected from the scene still.

“Agent Y/N, there’s a call for you from the bureau-” a young officer, though not a rookie, popped his head in.

She didn’t even look up, “That’s cool.”

Loki glanced from her to the officer who looked more confused than anything. Clearly that was not the answer he was hoping for.

“I mean, they want to talk to you.” He suddenly got quieter. Meeker.

Again, she didn’t even pause, “Nice of them. I’ll send them a thank-you card later.”

Now the officer was confused, “Did you want to answer it out front or I can-”

“Tell them I’m dead. Or I’m in the bathroom. Whatever. I’m busy so please don’t come in again.” Her eyes glanced briefly from the screen to the man who got the hint, his mouth in a straight line as he backed out of the room, entirely missing David Loki’s very soft smirk.

But she was. Busy, that was. Not dead. She had found a few interesting leads, and was suddenly finding a rather disturbing pattern, “David, c’mere a sec. I need you to look at this and tell me I’m not crazy,” she looked across the table at the man who’d been poring over the papers and pictures, hating to look at bodies but knowing now was not the time to be squeemish. He thought his note was bad… hers was tenfold. Whatever it was. He didn’t know about her sister. Or any of her life, really. He knew what she had shared. He was vaguely terrified that this would stop all of it.

Standing, he walked over to where she was, a spreadsheet open, “So look,” she held up a finger, glancing back to the man who was leaning over, face by hers as he looked at the screen, the moment intense, though far from intimate, “if we follow the purchases, the television is old but beyond state-of-the-art, telling us it was pricy. And you don’t leave pricy things behind, especially if you think you can be traced. And when we tracked the generator down, it was from a different manufacturing company, so both were dismissed out of hand. But when we add in the piece about the phone company provider and the chemical weapon used… Look.”

She brought up a page of a very formal looking website, Safety in the palm of your hand was the caption under the large “West Company” logo in block letters at the top. David knew of them, but clearly Y/N knew more, “The company does a lot of work with technology and weapon engineering. The federal government has a contract with them, so we’ve worked with them before. David, they even have a lab on site…”

He stood back, looking down at her with focus and concern. Without the chemical agent to go off of, the connection might be a reach. But the fact that it all tied to one company, and one that would have direct links to technology to reach into… anything, meant it was a good chance that the person they needed would be there.

“So what do we do with this? I mean, that’s a huge company. And with a defense contract, they’re probably not gonna wanna talk to you,” David crossed his arms in front of his chest, concern on his features. She was a bloodhound who had finally picked up a scent and he had a sinking feeling she’d chase that scent, regardless of what came in her way.

Nodding, she closed the laptop, “Normally that’d be true, but I may have a way into the company records. I can’t divulge why. I just need you to trust me.” Her eyes were wide. And pleading. She had just been hit with a wrecking ball and already she was back on her feet, but David knew she was hurting. And pain made you do stupid things. But she was slowly becoming his weak spot.

Pushing back his hair he sighed, “Fine. What do we do next?”

Standing up and grabbing her phone that had more missed calls than she could reasonably get away with, she shrugged, “We don’t do anything. I make a call, and you keep going over evidence. I have to go back and grab something at the hotel. I left a file back there we’ll need to keep moving forward on this.”

There was something in her voice, her tone perhaps, or her body language. David would blame himself later, as he always did, for not noticing. He’d tell himself it was his fault. He should have known she wasn’t going to the hotel, or at least that wasn’t her final stop. And as she walked outside without her federal issued phone, only her keys and wallet in hand as she held her jacket tight, she understood what had to happen.

_____

She wasn’t lying. Not completely. She had gone to the hotel and grabbed her personal phone, the one she used for calling her parents, listening to music, listening to audiobooks when she was stuck on airplanes, or in this case, long car drives alone. But her first call had been, surprising to most, to Henry Best. The man was one of the top CEO and board members of West Company and one she knew better than most. It was the way she had into the company.

Henry had been surprised to hear her voice, though not disappointed. He had liked Y/N when he met her four years back, when she had just begun her profiling in the field. Back when she was still wet behind the ears, so to speak. And that she was calling on her personal phone made him even more curious, “Of course. Around when should I expect you?” His voice, smooth as silk with a ‘proper’ British accent, a voice that could melt a woman without effort, came forth.

Glancing at the dashboard of her car, Y/N shrugged, “GPS says it’s another hour. So around 3pm, if that’s all right? Honestly, I hate to barge in like this. And I know you’re doing more than a favor. Especially since the FBI doesn’t even know-”

There was a soft chuckle, the man on the other end smiling, “Please don’t apologize. It would be my pleasure to see you again. After all, it is you I have to thank for where I am now, is it not?” A genuine kind of thanks to his voice, though something else lingered. Perhaps not strong enough for the bluetooth in the car to detect.

Either way, she felt herself smiling as she eyed the guidance system, “That was all your own work, Henry. But we can talk more when I get there. Do I check in at the front desk?” She was adjusting herself in her seat, suddenly a little nervous. She really hadn’t thought this through. And she was still wearing… well, a sweater and jeans. And her hair wasn’t well done, either. Fuck, she really did not think this through.

“I’ll have someone waiting out front to valet the car, don’t worry about parking. Mark will bring you up. Take your time.” He was calm. Cool. Collected. More than he had been before. It was kind of nice.

She nodded, to no one in particular, “Will do. See you in an hour, Henry.” She clicked off the phone, continuing her drive.

Her phone rang again, though this time the number came up as Delete This Later, “Madison is on a rampage. And now I have some podunk Detective Loki- Hey, what kind of name is that even? Whatever, anyway, this dude is calling me wanting to know where you are. I made some shit up about you needing to coordinate with another office. I still have Madison on a rampage, though. He’s your boss. Remember him?”

Rolling her eyes, she was already regretting giving Adrian her personal number, “Thank you for covering. I’m actually headed to see Henry Best. Over at West Company. Who knew my name was so memorable?” She smirked.

Adrian huffed, “Just don’t do anything stupid. Well, more stupid than you already have. Wits about, right?”

She cocked a sideways smirk, “Always. And you know the deal. Call David at 3pm, when I’m due in New York to meet with Henry. I’ll text you the address. And you can give him this number. Otherwise the guy will have a heart attack,” she sighed softly.

There was quiet for a moment before Adrian spoke again, “What did he send you, Ladybug? That guy. I haven’t seen you like this since the Boston case when you almost bumped into the dude we were after. I’m worried.”

But she was quiet. Too quiet.

“Nothing’s gonna happen. I just have a feeling Henry will be able to help.”

___

He had called her. He had called her twice before realizing the ringing was coming from inside her bag. He had thrown his own phone across the room, though one cased in an Otterbox after the officer manager was tired of him breaking phones. Instead, it bounced off and hit the ground. He had wanted to break something. Fucking anything.

It was a flurry of words after that, David having rolled his sleeves up, his hair repeatedly needing to be slicked back as his face looked vaguely similar to John Wick finding his dog dead. He kept telling himself he was angry because she was in harm’s way, and that was true, but there was something more. This woman he had felt vulnerable with, who had in turn shared her own vulnerabilities, was gone. And he knew that she was gone because she was chasing something that not even God himself could stop her from getting. She was on a mission.

David was a driven man just as much, however, and he had gotten through to Y/N’s unit by sheer force of will on the phone. He had kept it together enough that he was actually able to get through to someone named “Adrian Dent” who worked closely with her. The one who had texted her ‘ladybug’ and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like Adrian. No idea why, but when the smug asshole gave him a regurgitated message about her meeting with another agent in another city, he understood it was a lie.

But what else did he have? He was sitting by himself in the conference room they were using, staring at a laptop that had the company name on it. And he knew. He didn’t know exactly, but he knew. And fuck waiting. Fuck telling his chief. Fuck all of it. He was headed to New York City just the same as she was. ____

It had been strange, walking into the large, sleek office building. The floors were marble and the colors back and silver were clearly the aesthetic. She had trailed behind a young man who looked to be no older than twenty-two, probably scored this gig right out of a prestigious college, wanting to work his way into the defense industry. What a strange goal. No stranger, perhaps, than wanting to be an FBI Field Agent.

He was quiet as he lead her up, his earpiece wired in as they took a private elevator to the… damn, fiftieth floor? Last time she could have sworn it was forty. But that was four years ago.

Stepping off the elevator that looked like something out of Blade Runner, she followed the assistant carefully down the hall, carpeted in black with dark wood lining it. Far fewer people here. And it was clear, by the large double doors ahead, that this was where she was going, “Mr. Best is inside, you may enter.” He looked almost smug. She didn’t belong. He knew it. She knew it.

Shrugging off her winter jacket, she knocked on the door, heading the rather gentle, “Please, come in,” beckoning her forth.

It had been four years since she saw him, but Henry looked amazing. He had before but… there was something else now. His dark blonde hair was styled on his head, not slicked down but a certain casual and professional look to it. He had on a white business shirt, black tie tight around his neck though with his sleeves rolled up. And he, of course, was gorgeous. Blue eyes that felt like they could stop you in your tracks, angular features that made him all the more distinguished. He looked good.

And the office was amazing. An entire wall was purely windows, looking out at the impressive New York City skyline. It was like being in a movie. Her entire life she had never existed in a world like this, and now she was investigating a serial killer in an office that looked so extraordinary it hurt. Book shelves, a large desk by the back where he had been standing, oak, of course. He smiled, a sort of crooked smile that, were she paying attention, would have concerned her more. But he was smiling as he walked over, “Oh, please, let me take that. Shouldn’t have you lugging this around,” he smiled as he got close, taking the jacket from her hands, draping it over a chair nearby.

Nervous, suddenly, she pushed back her hair, “Thank you… and sorry about not being dressed for the occasion… Like I said, kind of a rush deal getting here,” she laughed nervously, fidgeting.

“Nonsense. You look wonderful, if I may say so. Would you care to take a seat? I wager you’ve just driven a bit of a ways, so I’ll understand if you’d like to stand.” There was care in his voice and tone, and suddenly she was struck by how strange it was. She tended to trust her gut, and suddenly it was telling her to be aware.

Smiling with her placating, plastic smile, she shook her head, “I’m happy to sit.”

He looked satisfied with the answer, gesturing to the table in the corner, two cups and a teapot on it, “Please, take a seat. May I offer you some tea?” He sat across from her, his movements graceful and purposeful, and perhaps almost serpent-like.

She held up a hand, “No thank you. Long drive back, don’t want to have to make pit stops,” she smiled at the man who looked… content. Relaxed. Hardly what she remembered before.

He was pouring himself a cup, Y/N looking around as she noticed a plant on his desk. Well, one. And flowers on his window. Gorgeous lilies. And orchids. Succulents were on two shelves of the book cases. She couldn’t help but smile, “Quite a lot of greenery around your office, Henry.”

Taking a sip of the tea, he smiled, “After we spoke those years ago, I took you up on your suggestion. I began gardening. Took a month off, worked on myself, and began gardening. Hobbies really are a lifesaver, aren’t they?” He was watching her now, able to see that brief moment of her eyes widening, ever so slightly, her breath catching in her throat. He could see her wheels turning. But she was no mere rabbit. Fear was not something that drove her.

And true, in her own mind she was rationalizing it, “I’m glad it seemed to work for you. Having a hobby like that can be therapeutic. And it seems like our meetings got you back on track. How have things been now?”

Of course, she was referring to the incident that had lead her to his office years ago. He had lost his wife in a rather tragic car accident. From what he had told the police, they had gotten into a fight, and before he could stop her, she had gotten her keys and driven off. She’d wound up running a red light at a major intersection and was killed on impact.

Something was clicking, now. His face changed every so slightly when she asked how things had been. Hobbies. Not just gardening. And now she was poking at the wound.

He nodded, quite like the gentleman he was, “Much better. Work has been consuming much of my time. I imagine you’re in a similar boat. I always sensed we were quite alike in that way,” he placed the tea back down and smiled at her.

There was a feeling of anger that came with the comment, though she was unsure why. It wasn't rude in any way, nor did it infer anything negative about her. But it felt personal.

“Speaking of work… I’m here because I think I have a lead on my case. And not to be an alarmist, I’m somewhat concerned they’re linked with your company somehow,” she eyed him carefully.

He looked out the window with a bit of a chuckle, “We have quite a few employees, you know. Do you have anything more to go off of? I’d love to help you, but that’s quite a broad brush to be painting with, Y/N,” his smile was daring this time. He was playing with her. What may not have been personal now was. But he was fishing, too. He wanted to see what she had. If she’d divulge.

She was many things in this world. Stupid was not on that list.

“If you could set me up with someone in human resources, I might be able to go over a filter given some of the profiles I have set up. Think you could make an exception for me?” She forced a smile, hoping, perhaps, she was wrong about that feeling in her gut. The feeling that was screaming at her, louder now, telling her to get out of the building. To find her car. But he had that, didn’t he? He had insisted he park it for her. Insisted he take her up through the private elevator. And she had complied.

Maybe she was wrong.

“Were I a different man, I might argue against it. But you’ve done quite a bit for me, Y/N, more than you know. You helped me realize my potential in those meetings. The kind of man I could be. And so of course, Agent Y/L/N, I would be more than honored to help. After what you’ve done for me. Truly, it stayed with me.” He smiled. And he was being honest. Sincere. She had made an impact in his life that had changed the entire course of his world. He had gone from a man on the brink of losing his life to drugs and alcohol over the loss of his true love, to a man who had channeled his grief into something else. He understood what it meant to lose.

A feeling of relief washed over her and she smiled, more sincere this time, “That’s really kind of you. And if it means anything, I always knew you’d come back from it. It’s why I recommended the board keep you on. We all have choices in life, I’m glad you made yours.”

A small ‘chirp’ came from the digital watch on the man’s wrist, looking down as he grimaced slightly, “Seems I’ve had an unfortunate emergency arise. I’ve got your number, so I’ll be sure to give you a call when I can locate someone in HR who can work remotely. Wouldn’t want you taking the trek back and forth from Conyers again, would we? You said over the phone the Detective you’re working with is stationed there as well,” He smiled as he stood, the agent doing the same.

He handed her the jacket she’d come in with, walking her to the door. And for a moment, she knew she could walk out and it would be the end of it. Her gut would stop screaming at her, now from the top of its lungs, and maybe she could get out unscathed. She could simply walk to the elevator and find a way to do things on her terms. She knew, deep down, that she could walk out the door confident in her own beliefs and he would be confident that she had only the brief terror that prey does when suspecting a predator nearby.

Instead, she turned as she walked out the door, her eyes locking onto his, “I meant to ask, you have so many different plants and flowers, do you have any favorites? I’m a lavender woman, myself,” she smiled strongly, forcing herself to speak now as she felt the rest of herself coming undone.

And he smiled. The smile that would seal in every fear she had, every terror that she would feel, every nightmare that would haunt her, and she knew that look in his eyes with that smile as he spoke, “Oh, my dear, it’s roses I love best. Give my kindest regards to Detective Loki, won’t you?”

It took every ounce of strength she had to stay standing as he closed the door with the look of a man she had seen once. The man who had fallen apart but was wearing the mask of something else. She understood his comment, now. Two sides of the same coin. Two people shaped by tragedy. Two lives changed in a moment. And a grin on his face that felt like a bullet to her chest.

Kind Regards indeed.

Fuck.

(Tagging: @escapingthoughtsandsecrets​ @is-it-madness​ @detecellie​ @doritosandavocados​ @oscarflysaac​ @peccobagnaia​ @fgtakbrjbdl​ @miss-missing-patd​ send me a message to be added/removed)

[squirrelly831]

Leaving Him [Minseok, Junmyeon, and Yixing]

Note: This is JUST a reaction. I do not think you should EVER be in a violent relationship. NEVER let yourself get abused by another [mentally or physically]. You’re worth more than that kind of life.

Not all my mafia/gang reactions will involve violence against the OC by the member. These relationships are supposed to be loving and not just down right abusive. But there will be violence in some reactions.

Enjoy

Minseok

Minseok sat in front of the piano as he waited for his girlfriend, Zoe, to arrive for their date night. Today was going to be the day, the day he would finally ask Zoe to marry him. It had been three and a half years and he felt like now was the best time. Not only because he wanted to be with her forever, but marrying her would also make it easier to protect her. Protect her from his enemies who would love to find her and torture her to hurt him. But, if they were married, he could have her with him at all times. Zoe could travel with him to the meetings, though her involvement in the actual meetings would not be necessary. 

However, Zoe was entirely in the dark of Minseok’s criminal activities. She didn’t know that the man of her dreams lived such a dangerous lifestyle. To her, running into Minseok was a chance of faith. She was his waitress one day and the next she was hired as his personal secretary. It was her first secretarial job and after a year of work, her relationship with Minseok went from secretary and boss to girlfriend and boyfriend. Zoe felt like she was walking on air dating Minseok. She hated comparing things to being perfect, but Minseok was perfect. Everything from his smile to his personality was perfect and he treated her like a queen. 

Zoe had left her job as Minseok’s secretary after she began dating him and started working in a cafe as a barista. She was closing up the cafe when the front door opened. “Sorry, we’re closed” she called from the back as she picked up the mop and bucket. 

“Sorry to disturb you so late Ms. Zoe Burchman, but do you have a moment?” 

Zoe set down the mop and the bucket. She walked out front to see two detectives, “Can I help you, detectives?” She gave them confused looks as she watched them glance at one another. 

The younger one stepped forward with a smile, “We were just wondering if you have a moment to come to the station with us. We wanted to talk to you about Kim Minseok.”

Zoe pulled off her apron and gave a concerned glance, “Oh--sure. Let me just lock up and we can go.” The detectives’ shoulders relaxed as they flashed her a smile and waited for her to finish closing up shop.

“Are you sure you don’t know anything?” 

Zoe had her face buried into the crook of her elbow. She shook her head as her other hand pushed back the pictures of Minseok in Hong Kong. “I never would ha--” she shook her head as she sat up, “I would never be with a killer.” 

“But you knew he went to Hong Kong?” The young detective held out a handkerchief.

“For a business trip” she grabbed the handkerchief and rubbed at her eyes. “I didn’t know--” She looked back at the picture, “Oh god…” 

The older detective took the pictures away from her sight, “We’re sorry to do this to you. You’re free to go.” 

Zoe stumbled as she stood. She bowed to the detectives as she wondered out of the police department numbly. Her head spun as she walked down the sidewalk. Her home was only mere blocks from the police department, so she walked the way home. The fresh air helped her breathe better, but when she got home and she shut the front door, Zoe flipped. Zoe let out a sharp cry as she flung the small end table by her front door. She sank to the ground and sobbed into her hands unsure what to do.

Minseok called Zoe’s cellphone for the fourth time that night. After the third call, Minseok sent out his men. He waited at home in case Zoe showed up, but when one of his underlings entered the room with Zoe’s phone in hand, Minseok’s heart dropped. He feared the worse. He felt he was too late to protect her. Sehun entered the room and dismissed the underling as he handed Minseok a picture. “What is this?”

“She was at the police station. Apparently, they took her down after the cafe closed.” Minseok stared at the image in his hand. “She made it home, but then she took a taxi. I haven’t been able to track her since she took a train, but I’m working on it.” 

“So she knows…” He ran his hand in his hair as he let out a light-hearted chuckle. Zoe was alive, she was safe. She was still breathing and okay. 

Sehun’s eyebrow rose, “Shall I go look for her?”

Minseok shook his head. His hand went to his suit pocket where the engagement ring rested, “She’d be better off without me… But keep an eye on her. If any of our enemies find her, who knows what they would do to her.” He walked out of the room to his bedroom where he hid the engagement ring in the nightstand along with any happiness he had managed to keep since becoming a gang leader.

Junmyeon

Bianca felt like she couldn’t stand still as she watched the cars pulling up and driving off from the airport. Her longterm boyfriend, Junmyeon, had planned to spend a week and a half in Japan for a business trip. It took a lot of begging and pleading from Bianca to get Jumyeon to agree to let her spend the weekend in Japan with him. It was to be her 25th birthday and she wanted to spend it with him as her family still lived in the US. 

A cop cruiser pulled up in front of her and Biance moved believing they were just trying to get out to check the airport. However, the cop from the passenger seat exited the car and approached her. He spoke to her in Japanese at first which only got a raised eyebrow from Bianca. He spoke again, “Bianca Guerra, we need you to come to the station with us.” Before she could really say no, the second cop had reached for her luggage and threw it in the back of the cruiser while the cop in front of her guided her to the cruiser. As if to show no ill intent, the cop let her sit in the passenger seat while he took a seat in the back.

Junmyeon was only ten minutes late when he swung by the airport to pick up his girlfriend. His meeting with a yakuza member ran later than he intended as they ironed out the details of their alliance with EXO. Junmyeon sent Bianca a text to let her know he was on his way to the airport and how excited he was to see her. When no text came in, Junmyeon called Bianca to check on her. The phone just rang and rang until he hung up. He pulled off to the side of the road and checked the GPS to see Bianca’s location. His blood boiled when he saw her phone ping at the nearby police department. Junmyeon threw his phone on the passenger seat as he gripped the steering wheel tightly and took a u-turn to the police station. 

Bianca sat in the interrogation room with a detective who interpreted for his partner who sat beside him across from Bianca. She was shaking and visibly upset as the interpreting detective leaned towards her. “Just tell us what we need to know and you’re free to go. We won’t press any charges against you if you come clean.”

She wrapped the cardigan tighter around her body as she cried harder, “I don’t know what you want from me… I told you--”

The second detective slammed his hands down on the metal table and rushed Bianca, “Look at these pictures!” He pointed at the open file where pictures of corpses rested. Bianca shut her eyes tightly. “Look at them!” She let out a cry as she shook her head. “You know Kim Junmyeon. You know he’s here in Japan. Is he here to kill someone else?”

The detective who interpreted for her broke the other detective away from her as he tried to keep the peace. “I apologize for my colleague. We just need to find the victims’ killer.”

“It’s not Junmyeon” she whispered. She looked at the interpreter, “He’s a kind soul, he’d never kill someone.” 

The detective gave a sympathetic smile, “I hope for your sake, you’re right. Here’s my card. If anything happens, please call us.” 

“Don’t let her go!”

She slipped the card in her pocket just as the door to the interrogation room swung open against the protest of officers behind the intruder. Junmyeon fixed his tie as he entered the interrogation room calm and collective as he eyed the two detectives. 

“Junmyeon” Bianca shot out of the chair and rushed over to Junmyeon who wrapped his arm around her protectively. 

“You’ll be hearing from my attorney. Good day, gentlemen.” Junmyeon led Bianca out of the police station. 

Junmyeon sat Bianca down on the couch in the living room before he retrieved a hot cup of tea. “Here, my love.” He handed her the cup and knelt in front of her, “Did they hurt you, angel?” Bianca shook her head and Junmyeon took her hand in his. He pressed a kiss on the back of her hand, “I’m sorry. That must have been scary for you, but I promise this won’t happen again.”

That night, the two were in bed when Junmyeon received a phone call. He thought he had answered it before it woke up Bianca, but as he left the room to take the call, Bianca climbed out of bed. She followed after him and hid in the hall as Junmyeon took the call in his office. “Why are you calling me? I told you I’d call you” he growled. “What do you mean--are you that incompetent. Get rid of him. I never want him to be found again, do you understand me? And never- NEVER call me again. Meet me at noon at the docks, we’ll do the exchange there.” Bianca rushed back to the bedroom making no sounds as she returned to bed. She buried herself in the covers just as Junmyeon entered. When he saw her shift, he crawled in bed and wrapped an arm around her, “Did I wake you?”

“Yea… Who called?” 

“No one important. Just my employee in Germany. I guess he forgot about the time difference.” He kissed her cheek as he snuggled up to her and he went back to sleep. However, Bianca was wide awake and hoping for morning to come so he was away from her.

The next morning, Junmyeon pecked Bianca’s lips before he headed out claiming to go meet up with a business partner. Bianca was surprised by how calm and natural she could act around him when she could feel her heart race against her chest. As the front door shut behind Junmyeon, Bianca let out a shaky breath as she pulled out her phone. She wore the cardigan she had the day before and pulled out the business card of the police officer. She dialed the number and pressed the phone to her ear.

“Hello, Detective Younghwa speaking?” 

Bianca gasp, “Detective! It’s Bianca Guerra.”

“Ms. Bianca, are you okay?” The detective asked with concern laced in his voice. “Did something happen?” 

Bianca sank down to her knees as she cried, “I think you’re right-- Please. Help me.” Detective Younghwa spoke to her in a gentle voice as he explained what she needed to do. Bianca rushed through the home getting dressed as she texted Junmyeon to let him know she was going to a cafe.

She sat at the cafe with a coffee trying to act natural when a man approached her, “Ms. Bianca?”

She jumped at her name and saw it was Detective Younghwa in casual clothes. He led her out of the cafe and to his unmarked vehicle and drove her to his temporary housing. Once there, she told him about the conversation she had overheard the night before. Detective Younghwa took her hands and squeezed them reassuringly, “You did great, Bianca. This information will be helpful. I have to go back to the station, but you’ll be safe here.” 

It was noon, Junmyeon met with his hitman. He handed over the briefcase to the hitman. However, after the hitman checked the content and began to walk off, a ring of police cruisers circled them. Detective Younghwa was the first out with his gun as he ordered the two men on their knees. Junmyeon glared at him as he did what he was told and he was put in cuffs. It would only be in the interrogation room where Junmyeon would learn Bianca had heard the conversation from the night before and turned him in.

Yixing

As much as he loved his fiancee, Vivianna, there was one thing about her that annoyed him. Her constant need for answers. If he came home late, she questioned him. A little blood on the corner of his shirt, she questioned it. He couldn’t just tell her about his work as a collector-at least not about what he really collected. Vivianna knew he was a debt collector in Junmyeon’s company, but not the type of debt she had thought. 

He wasn’t going to correct her that the debt he collected usually ended in death. He was the last resort if people who screwed over Junmyeon didn’t pay him back tenfold. Yixing was one of the best killers in EXO, but there had been times where he slipped up. It was one slip up that brought Yixing’s criminal activity to light. 

Yixing invited Vivianna to stay the night at his place as they hadn’t been together in some time due to Yixing’s job. They were in bed relaxing from another round in bed when Yixing heard the deadbolt on the front door unlatch. His eyes darkened as he got out of bed and gave Vivianna an excuse that he was getting water as he slipped on a pair of boxers before he retrieved a knife from his drawer. He slipped out of the room and made his way down the hall towards the living room. He heard the shuffle of feet and rolled his eyes amateurs. Yixing fixed his grip on his knife, loosely holding it between his fingers as he stepped into the living room. “What brings you to the dragon’s lair?” He smirked. 

The amateur hitmen were startled by his sudden appearance, but quickly recovered and rushed him. “You gotta be a lot fast than that” he huffed as he jumped over the first attacked slicing the man’s throat as he landed behind him. Yixing whipped around to the second attacker and stopped his attack midair. 

The sound of the first man’s body alerted Vivianna. She quickly got dressed and grabbed her cell phone. She was leaving the room when she was pulled from behind, a hand pressed against her mouth silencing any cry that would have left her lips. She felt a sharp blade press against her neck as a cold voice told her to slowly walk to the living room. The two of them entered the living just as Yixing yanked his knife out of the second attacker. Vivianna felt faint as she saw the two bodies and Yixing standing over them with excitement dancing over his face. 

Her captor cleared his voice and Yixing’s head turned in their direction. His smile faltered when he saw Vivianna. His demeanor changed and both Vivianna and her captor shivered at the change in the air. “You have five seconds to get your hands off her.” He flicked the knife in his hand as his eyes never left hers. 

Vivianna felt the rush of air by her ear and her captor let out a gurgled grunt. The blade at her neck fell away from her as her captor reached from his own throat. Vivianna was yanked by Yixing just as the man collapsed on the ground as blood began to pool. Vivianna let out a cry as the situation she was in finally set in. 

Yixing tsked as he looked around the room covered in blood, “They made a mess in my apartment… bastards.”

Vivianna turned to him in disbelief, “We need to call the police!”

Yixing glared at her, “We will do no such thing.” He took her phone and dialed a number. He waited a moment until someone answered the phone, “D.O. get over to my place. Those fuckers came just as you said.” 

Vivianna broke up with Yixing after that night. After finding out the truth about Yixing, she packed up and left. She was still distraught, but she didn’t call the police. Yixing didn’t threaten her, but he really didn’t have to. He made a show of what he was capable of doing. More shocking was that Yixing let her leave, a smirk on his face as she walked out of his door. “You’ll come back, love. You always do!” Their relationship was a testament to his words. Their relationship was an on and off affair, she had walked out of the relationship but each time she returned after a few weeks.

However, when the fourth month passed with no sign of her, Yixing began to grow frustrated. He wasn’t going to cave in and drop by her apartment, at least that’s what he said. He drove passed her apartment periodically but never checked to see if she was inside. Then one day, he received a text message from her phone. He was in the middle with Junmyeon when his phone flashed with her name. He smirked as he picked up the phone to see what Vivianna said. He had planned to make her beg for him to take her back. He opened the text and his smirk fell. His jaw clenched as he viewed the text. He stood quickly, “I got some business to take care of” he growled. 

“What could be so important?” Junmyeon’s eye twitched as he looked up from the file in front of him. 

Yixing tucked his phone in his pocket and reached for his gun, “Look, I take care of people who fuck over EXO. I’m not your personal hitman who takes out the men who steal your women. Unless you wanna start paying me for it. Or you handle it your damn self.” With that, he stormed out of Junmyeon’s office ignoring his calls for him to return. Yixing checked his gun for bullets as he rushed to his motorcycle remembering the image of Vivianna bound to a chair with a blindfold. He was going to make whoever kidnapped her pay and he was going to enjoy making them suffer. 

Vivianna had been at home when she was kidnapped, but she was knocked out before she could see her intruders. When she came to, she felt the blindfold ripped off her face down and it fell around her neck. She took in the new sight still trying to gather her bearing. She noticed the two men lounging around her with a cigarette in each mouth eyeing her as she came to. Both were huge, they reminded her of two bodybuilders. A third guy walked up in front of her, he much smaller, but even the two men stood to attention at his presence.

He flashed her a smile, “Sorry they were so rough with you. They don’t know when they should hold back their own strength.” He pulled a chair and sat with the back of the chair at his chest. He reached out and touched the wound on her head. “You’re probably confused why you’re here.”

“Yixing…”

His eyes widened with surprise, “Well guess it’s not much of a surprise. If you don’t try to fight us, I can guarantee your safety. We’re just after that bastard. You’re just the thing that will bring him to us.”

She shook her head, “We broke up. He won’t come and save me.” 

As if on cue, the sound of a revved motorcycle rang out and shouts could be heard from the entrance as the motorcycle grew closer. The guy in front of Vivianna chuckled as he stood from his chair as the motorcycle was switched off. Yixing smirked as he got off it with his gun in his hand, “I heard you picked up my fiancee. How nice of you, but I think I’ll take her from here.” 

The man nudged his head and the two body-builders rushed past the two towards Yixing. He fought against the body-builders. Yixing had used the body-builders as a distraction as he reloaded his gun and took a shot at their leader. It wasn’t enough to kill him, but enough to bring him to his knees. The gun was knocked from his hands, but the two men went down by Yixing’s hidden knife. Yixing wiped off his hands and picked up his gun. He approached their leader with a cocky expression as he pointed the gun at him. “I’d kill you, but I need you alive long enough that you can let others know not to touch what belongs to me.” He let off another shot into the man’s knee before he pocketed the gun. Yixing turned to Vivianna and his smirk only grew.

Part II || Part III

Credit to gif owners

Written & revamped by Squirrelly831

♕ REQUEST

☮ EXO MASTERLIST

∞ ULTIMATE MASTERLIST

[mentallyambivalent]

Things I wish my doctor knew.

I just had an appointment with my GP, who is an absolute darling and I adore her. She calls me out on so much and not much slips by her. However, most weeks I leave her room in a state of frustration, bordering on anger. Some days I get so irritated and feel so helpless I leave her room in tears. Not because I don’t appreciate her or don’t think she does a good job (I do); but because I think there’s so much about me and the way I think, act and speak that she doesn’t understand. 

So without further ado; five things I wish my doctor knew about me.

1. I idolise you.

I would never, ever tell you this (to your face), but you are one of the most important and influential people in my life. I think you are a wonderful doctor, and your demeanour and clinical skills shape my work as a nurse. I look forward to our appointments every week because I genuinely enjoy seeing you (even though I probably don’t show it). I place you on a pedestal, and sometimes I forget you are human; so when you’re running late or you’re sick, or God forbid you go on holidays, I freak out. 

2. I don’t intentionally try to annoy you.

Some days I think you believe that I say or do things with the sole intention of annoying you or getting a reaction from you. I really, really don’t (see point 1). 

3. I have never lied to you with the intention of betraying you or hurting you.

If anything my lies are to protect you. To protect you professionally and personally (however I perceive that). What I mean is... I lie, yes... but I lie because I know that if I tell the truth (usually something in regards to my safety), you have to take action, or that you won’t take action and something will happen. You are not responsible for my safety. I am an adult. I am very unwell and the lies I tell you are to protect you from that, and I’m sorry.

4. I genuinely believe you hate me. 

I don’t need to tell you about attachment, or abandonment issues, or blurred boundaries, insecurity and self-esteem issues. You’re a doctor. You know that. But the singular thought that takes up all the space in my head tells me you despise me. That you think I’m better off dead.

I need to be reassured, constantly, that you don’t hate me.  That you’re not leaving. That you don’t think I’m worthless. That you will help me to the greatest extent for as long as you can (don’t use words like forever because I will take that as literal). I need that reassurance. Don’t dismiss my concerns; because they occupy my mind and I will be mindful of nothing else until you acknowledge that I am feeling that way. If I ask you, please be honest.

5. Some days, I am scared of how unwell I am. 

[teeforhee]

Fuck, I'm not sure I'll ever get over how much CAMHS (child and adolescent mental health service, it's the under-18s mental health service in Scotland) let me down as a kid.

It's like this. You're 11 and you're traumatised but you're scared of using that word, you don't know if you're allowed it, but you are traumatised. And you're so anxious you can't breathe most of the time, you can't sit down and speak to any of your friends, you can do your school work but you keep falling apart and everything feels like it's getting worse all the time. You don't fit in, you're weird and awkward but your schoolwork is good so you aren't worrying about your grades, you're not even sure why you feel this way (it's unprocessed trauma, but again, you don't feel like you're allowed that word). You're s/hing and struggling with suicidal ideation, and you're lucky enough to still trust authority figures, so you do what everyone says you should. You trust an adult. And she calls your GP, who is another adult you choose to trust, who you bare your heart to with all of these symptoms that make your feel sick to even acknowledge, and then they make you an appointment with CAMHS. You came in asking for treatment. They referred you to CAMHS. They did not explain what CAMHS was other than what the letters stood for. That's okay - it's treatment, right? They're gonna help. You can talk this through and they'll help- just gotta be careful you don't get institutionalised. You don't want that, yet.

You talk to a CAMHS worker. She's a psychologist. She says it's very likely you have autism to your mother after your first session. Your mother broaches the topic gently. You are overjoyed: there's an answer! oh fuck, this explains so much! but it's not treatment. It's a word. The psychologist puts you on a waiting list and you have 22 sessions of CBT with her, trying to unpack your trauma and trying to build up coping skills. So many of them feel like just denying the truth, so many of them feed into your magical thinking ("the one thing you can control is your thoughts, you must always control your thoughts, good things will happen when you control your thoughts and stop thinking the bad thoughts"), but it's treatment, mostly. You stop seeing her twice- once because you are trying to develop an eating disorder and having a mental health professional who wants to hear how you're doing is totally cramping your style (I wasn't actually trying to develop an ED really, I was trying to cope in ways other than s/h, in ways that felt honest to the situation and real and gave me a sense of control that "controling my thoughts" just wasn't doing). You come back for recovery. You tell her you want an eating plan. By the time she even considers an appointment with a nutritionist, you've moved past that stage in your recovery on your own. You stop seeing her again because you get into an abusive relationship who doesn't really like you having contact with people who aren't him, and he super super doesn't like you not being able to talk to him for a whole hour every week. That part isn't their fault: no one could be gotten me out of that until I decided to; believe me, everyone around me tried, and it didn't work until I wanted I to, the third time.

But I left, again, I was without support for 6 months, and when I came back it was after my father (the earliest source of my trauma) had died. They take 4 sessions compiling evidence as to what treatment i needed going forward, without telling me that was what they were doing (I was trying to build trust with an adult again after 6 months of constant reinforcing that I couldn't trust anyone but my abuser), and then an appointment with a psychiatrist and your mother and a new psychologist. They dismiss and justify the symptoms that most worry me, they have at this point turned down my request to be institutionalised multiple times (including after an aborted suicide attempt, I presume they thought that was fine because made it clear that I did want to live), and they say at the end of the meeting that they are going to give me an official diagnosis of autism and that after that CAMHS has nothing more to offer me.

They say that if after 22 sessions with a psychologist I am still struggling so much (bear in mind that probably close to half of those sessions I was concealing factors that were actively making my mental health worse and which were traumatising me) I clearly can't gain anything more from their service, and anyway, autism isn't a mental illness and CAMHS as a service can only help while waiting for/trying to get a diagnosis, or if you have a diagnosis or a disorder for which they could provide specialist treatment. My very obvious PTSD? nah, no big-T Traumas, and c-ptsd is way too hard to diagnose. I receive a hilarious letter detailing all of the evidence (I mean genuinely insightful but also fucking hilarious and I do want to note down funniest bits and post them hear at some point, stuff like "unusual speech was noted, (exclamations of 'wacky!' while describing his symptoms)") and then they refer me to a charity which, at time of writing, I have had 1 assessment phone call with, and am waiting for a call back for my next and first proper appointment.

They did not inform me when I was first referred that CAMHS is a diagnostic and specialist treatment service and if they did (this was well over two years ago now, I don't remember word-for-word what my GP told me), they did not tell me that meant that they would kick me out to a charity once they figured they couldn't label me with anything requiring specialist treatment. During our last sessions they were unyeildingly focussed on the trauma of my father dying and of the "shock" of my diagnosis (that I had been waiting for for 2 years. yes, very shocking/s) when those were not my biggest problems. My relationship with my father is complex and I won't get into it here, but suffice it to say that his death was the last step on a very, very long journey, and honestly one of the least traumatising.

I let them keep the focus there because I desperately hate talking about the actual, recent, debilitating trauma of being in lockdown with an abusive partner for 6 months. That shit hurts, I can't even say his name, but that is the thing that I need to unpack if I'm ever going to be able to go outside in the sun again.

Repeatedly ignoring the requests I made for specific treatment until past the point where I needed it anymore, not informing me how the service I was going to be working with for 2 years even worked in something so basic as "what is this for? what will happen to me if I get a diagnosis they can't give me specialised care for?", telling an 11 year old child that suicidal ideation is "not that serious", a fundamental misunderstanding of what I needed and wanted to hear ('normal' is not a helpful word. 'normal' tells me 'suck it up, everyone experiences this and they're all fine, you're normal, just think better' why are they all so adamant that I am normal? Not even considering my mental health I am an autistic bisexual gnc trans guy, we went past whatever 'normal' means a long time ago, fucking listen to me), at every single step of the way this system has left me in the same state I was before, the only improvement being through support from my friends, fucking Childline (gd fucking bless Childline volunteers, but still, I shouldn't have been getting so little support that that felt like my only option), mental health masterposts on Tumblr, chats with my (luckily) very nice guidance counselor (they're called pastoral teachers here but I know most folks reading this are American or are most familiar with the American school system) and what amounts to gritting my teeth and getting through it.

It was worth it, of course my life was worth it, of course I say the same thing every person who's attempted suicide says, I'm more grateful than words could possibly express that I survived, that I get to go home in a few minutes and feed my kitten and write and message my friends, but for fucks sake it didn't need to be this hard. And it doesn't need to be this hard. I'm not out of the woods yet, I'm still waiting on that second appointment with this charity, I'm still 3+ months behind at school, and I'm one of the lucky ones. My boyfriend has been hurt worse by CAMHS, left even more isolated than I was, even more traumatised by the way he was treated, and every single person I know who's been in this system agrees that it's deeply, deeply flawed.

I don't want people to have competitions over who's medical experiences are worse, who's country has the worst mental health system, who's been the most traumatised by their psychiatrists or lack thereof, please. Please don't make this the suffering Olympics. I'm just making this post cause I know, I know that other people have had similar experiences, whether with CAMHS or whatever their equivalent is. Mental health services need serious reform that puts patients first, listens to their needs and requests, that is well funded and well staffed by people who care about their patients wellbeing more than they care about controling other people's lives.

Austerity in the UK is a huge reason why this happened the way it did- my first psychologist left the service to go work somewhere that pays better, leaving just one newly-graduated psychologist that clearly had no idea what she was doing and didn't care to sympathise or show compassion for me.

This shit needs to change, because kids need help, and this is not good enough.