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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

City Lights . ( Namjoon x OC)

Pairing : OC x Kim Namjoon.

Genre : Angst. Romance.

Rating 18 +

Word Count : 2900

Warnings : Mature Themes , Explicit Sexual Content . Slow burn. Like slower than a snail.

Summary :

Widowed and destitute, Son Yang Mi leaves the comfort of her small , secluded fishing village and travels to the intimidating city of Seoul with her young son. She has a plan, one that involves finding a job, getting her son into a good school and building a life for herself.

Now, three years later she has a job , working as a live in house keeper for the Kim family, specifically for the son, Kim Namjoon, a famous rapper and producer.

Its a job that puts a roof over her head and she’ll do anything to keep it.

But fate has other plans.

Chapter 1 ~

Akogare (ah-koh-ga-reh)Often translated directly as a sort of frustrated “yearning”, “desire”, or “longing” .

Seoul in summer was a sight to behold. I blinked back against the bright sunlight, staring out into the stunning skyline of the city as the sun rose over it , and although it was just a little past seven in the morning, the air was warm and invigorating. The mid July sun shone down with no mercy, and there was no trace of the rain that had lashed city just the previous night.

It had been three whole years but the relief that came from breathing fresh air, untainted by the damp musk of fishing trowels and sweaty men, was still unrivalled.

I shook off the feather duster in my hand, moving to carefully clean the wicker woven chairs on the artificial lawn in the balcony. Dusting the entire condo down was a mind numbing exercise in patience, so i tried to get it out of the way, early in the morning when my son was still asleep.

At six years old, Junsu was a bright , happy child. Summer vacation meant days sleeping in and evenings spent frolicking with the other kids in the building and he was content with being alone in our small shared room, reading or playing with his toys while I went about the day’s work.

I glanced at the clock, grimacing.

It was almost eight . And although Mr. Kim wasn’t due back home for another twelve hours, I felt a little jittery and nervous.

Kim Namjoon , renowned rapper, producer, writer , poet and what not. The apartment was his but he was usually on tour, traveling all over the world to promote his book and to perform in sold out stadiums. For an A list celebrity, he was surprisingly humble.

For the past three years, him and his model fiancée Lee Mina had spent a total of maybe seven months in the condo. They were a sweet couple, or so I’d always thought , a bit formal with each other but clearly in love . Mr. Kim was a kind, soft spoken young man and I’d never heard him raise his voice unless he was in the company of his very dear friends.

Just a little over a week ago , both of them had left Korea for the States , the tabloids screaming about a luxurious destination wedding in the Caribbean and I had been asked to take a few weeks off . The newly weds wouldn’t be back for quite a while and they would let me know when I had to come back to the condo.

I’d been toying with the idea of visiting my in laws in Gwangyog, maybe even dropping by to see some old friends there but yesterday , Mr. Kim’s mother had given me a call letting me know her son was coming home.

[

The conversation went something like this :

Yang Mi, I hope you haven’t left yet?

No, Ma'am, I haven’t.

Joon-ah is going to be back tomorrow.

Oh, is Ms Lee arriving as well?

No, Just him He’s going to be alone.

Yes, Ma'am.

Please don’t mention anything about Mina or the wedding.

No ma'am of course not.

I’ll drop by later . Cook him something warm and filling. And make sure the house is cleaned well.

Yes, Ma’ am.

]

And that was that.

~~~~~~

It took the better part of the day to finish cleaning and setting up the house . I washed the window slats, changed the sheets, arranged the books that had been left scattered all over his bedroom. The walk-in closet was littered with a bunch of his clothes and I made sure his gym bag was stocked with fresh towels, spare clothes and his favorite head and wrist bands.

For someone so careful and calculated, he was really quite a messy man.

i did his laundry, making sure he had ample clothes at least for another two weeks, creasing the handkerchiefs and carefully removing lint from his jackets.

I also carefully sorted out the feminine clothing from the laundry and from the cupboard, folding them neatly and placing them in the lowest shelf of the closet, where he wouldn’t find them. It wasn’t hard, hiding traces of his fiancee from the condo, because it had never really been her home. other than a few spare pieces of underwear and a couple of t shirts and skirts, there weren’t many articles of clothing belonging to Ms. Lee.

But I still got rid of the bobby pins and hair ties, the spare lip gloss and mascara.

Junsu spent the entire day in our room, reading and drawing, only venturing out every few hours to grab a snack. I left him with his drawing tab ( a gift from Mr. Kim for his 5th birthday ) and his favorite book, asking the security guard at the end of the hallway to keep an eye on the door, while i went out to buy groceries.

Lots of meat, no sea food, healthy snacks and high protein fiber bars. I stocked up on sauces and bought a fresh batch of eggs, oranges and grapes . Mrs. Kim had sent a large amount of kimchi a few weeks ago and that was still in the pantry.

i stopped for a second, staring around at the almost deserted store. Most of the other housekeepers shopped at the bigger, more exclusive store on the other side of the residential complex. But Mr. Kim had a very selective palette, which meant that I had to be very particular about the brands i bought.

When i came back home at around six, Junsu was on the floor in the living space and i felt my heart jump in panic.

“Baby!! I’ve told you not to come out here when I’m not home!” I protested bleakly and he pouted.

“I need to show you my gift for Mr. Kim!!” He said softly. I smiled moving to put away the groceries and glancing at the clock. It was a little past six. I had to call Yungyu.

“Did you draw him something ? “ I asked curiously, checking to see if the beer shelf was stocked. probably should have done that before going out for the groceries, I thought regretfully.

“Yeah! Look!!” Junsu held his tab out and my heart dropped.

For a six year old, Junsu drew very well. And there was really no mistaking the very obvious wedding scene on the screen.

Oh, Good God.

“ That looks amazing honey.” I said gently. “ But, I heard that Ms Lee isn’t coming over this time..”

Junsu frowned.

“Why?”

“Well, I’m not sure. But remember how we spoke about saying the right things? When something upsets someone, we do not bring it up.” I reminded him gently. My son hesitated but nodded.

“Okay. I’m sorry. “ He said softly.

“No baby, its not your fault. It’s just that we want Mr. Kim to be happy right? We don’t wanna upset him...”

He smiled at that.

“When he’s happy, his dimples come out.” He said with a giggle. I laughed.

“yes they do... So let’s try and get those dimples out as often as we can alright? Why don’t you show him that picture you drew of yeontan the other day? He’ll really like that....”

“Okay...but i need to go color it!” Junsu yelled, already running back into our room. I watched him go before reaching for the phone and dialing, Yungyu, the chauffeur.

“Are you on the way here? ” i said briskly.

“Just starting from home...” Yungyu muttered, “ I’m supposed to be on vacation now! Why is he coming back so soon?”

“Just hurry up !! We can’t keep him waiting!!” I said sharply, before hanging up.

I made a quick check of all the rooms, filling up water bottles for his gym routine in the morning and stashing them in the fridge before moving to get dinner started.

i set the water on boil for the stew, before moving to peel cucumbers for the salad. I chopped the cucumber , along with some fresh cherry tomatoes . I watched the water boil, thinly slicing an onion and adding it to the bowl as well. The dressing was pretty simple, soy sauce, rice vinegar, honey and sesame oil . I sprinkled some sesame seeds on the bowl, used the salad tongs to give the whole thing a nice toss and set it aside.

I braised the chicken first , peeling and chopping potatoes and carrots to add to the stew . In a few minutes, the rich smell of lightly spiced chicken and garlic and perilla leaves began filling the kitchen and I turned on the rice cooker as well.

The door bell rang at six forty and i opened the door to reveal Yungyu.

I grabbed the keys to the Palisade, handing them over to him.

“Did you hear?” He whispered urgently.

I frowned.

“What?”

“They say Mr. Kim called off the wedding!” He whispered, wide eyed.

I glared at him.

“Who told you that?” i demanded...

“Seojoon from the gate said-”

“Why don’t you ask Seojoon from the gate to mind his own damn business?” I snapped.

Yungyu looked suitably chastised. i felt a little bad. Yungyu was still young and curiosity was hardly a sin.

“His flight lands at eight exactly. Hurry okay?” I said with a smile, ruffling his hair.

He brightened, peering over my shoulder into the house.

“Where’s the little one?” He asked curiously.

“ Painting something for Mr. Kim... Go ahead, hurry up.” I shooed him away, locking the door behind him. I fixed a plate of food for Junsu and sent him to eat, before moving to check on the stew. +

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

By the time eight thirty rolled around I had the table set and ready. I washed my face quickly in the small bath attached to our room , making sure I was dressed well. Junsu wasn’t allowed in the main house unless Mr. Kim specifically asked for him and my son usually stayed in.

Junsu and I stayed in a bedroom , not large by any means but big enough for a queen sized bed, a table and chair for Junsu and small dresser where I kept a comb and a tube of night cream. I stared at my face, licking my lips as I smoothed my hair out.

I glanced at the bed.

Junsu was asleep , having dozed off while coloring his picture and I carefully extracted the tab from under his fingers, moving him around to lay on the soft pillows. I tucked him in gently, brushing the hair off his face.

“In peace , I will lie down to sleep, for You alone will let me rest in safety.” I whispered gently against his forehead, kissing the soft skin. I felt my lips wobble , a debilitating wave of affection flooding me as the sweet scent of my baby, filled my senses.

I would die for you, I thought fiercely, kissing him again.

The sound of the front door opening made me jump.

Swearing, i smoothed the fabric of my skirt, running to the kitchen.

“Thank you for picking me up Yungyu, I’m sorry you had to cut short on your vacation.” Mr. Kim’s deep voice filled the hallway and I quickly grabbed a glass, filling it with water and placing it on the dinner tray.

“Not a problem, Sir. “ Yungyu’s cheerful voice responded.

“How are you going home?” Mr. Kim asked.

“I’ll take the bus.”

A pause and then,

“Here’s some cash. Get a cab.”

I could hear the relief in Yungyu’s voice as he let out a , “ Thank you sir.”

I fixed his plate carefully, the bowl of rice, the bowl of chicken stew, and the salad neatly arranged next to the napkin and the chopsticks. I heard him move across the condo, the sound of his suitcases as he wrestled them towards his bedroom and I frowned. Yungyu should’ve have brought those in for him.

I finished reheating all of the food and carefully carried the dinner tray to the bedroom.

Mr. Kim’s bedroom was right at the end of the hallway and the door was open. The full length mirror on the opposite wall showed him sitting on the small couch in his room, legs spread and elbows resting on his knees as he ran his fingers through his hair.

I raised my hand, ready to knock on the wood.

“Fuck!” He shouted, kicking out at the coffee table with enough force to send the furniture skidding half way across the room.

I froze in the hallways stunned.

“You’re such a fucking fool , Namjoon !!” He muttered angrily and I swallowed, turning on my heel and quickly walking back to the kitchen.

Maybe I ought to wait till he asked for dinner.

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

He didn’t ask for dinner.

I stayed sitting on the floor of the kitchen, waiting and lightly dozing as I heard him talk to his parents on the phone. I heard him open the liquor cabinet in his room, the sound of ice sloshing against glass, the sound of whiskey being poured carefully and i sighed.

I had to get to bed. It was already a little past eleven.

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

Sometime in the night, I woke up sweating....

Wondering what woke me up, I blinked groggily, glancing at Junsu. He was still sound asleep.

Sighing, I climbed out of the bed, carefully making my way to Mr. Kim’s room, peering in carefully.

He was asleep on the sofa.

I stared at the way his long legs stretched over the armrest, his lean hips twisted to accommodate his broad shoulders on the couch and I winced. He was definitely going to regret that in the morning.

I stared at the half empty bottle of whiskey on the table and sighed, moving to take off his shoes carefully. He didn’t stir.

I grabbed a pillow from the bed, carefully lifting his head and slipping it under. I placed a comforter over his shoulders, pulling it down to cover his legs.

Force of habit almost made me brush his hair off his forehead but I stopped myself.

The clock on the wall read three fifty am. God, I was going to feel terrible tomorrow. I carefully tip toed out, shutting the door behind me

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

I picked the comforter from the floor, carefully folding it and placing it on the bed, before grabbing the empty bottle of whiskey and glass . i could hear the shower running. The curtains were still drawn in and I tugged on the strings to get them to open. Sunlight spilled in through the floor length windows. The bed wasn’t slept in, so I opened the closet to grab a couple of towels, laying them on the bed for him.

The bathroom door opened and i quickly straightened, wanting to race out of the room but it was too late. Thankfully he was dressed, a pair of loose sweats and a loose t shirt . He was running a towel through his hair and his face brightened at the sight of me.

“Yang Mi! You’re here....” He said cheerfully.

“Good morning sir.” I said softly, offering him a small smile.

He smiled brightly, hair damp and dimples deep. The white t shirt he had on was almost fully soaked through and he shook his head, sending stray water droplets all over the place, a few landing on my cheeks.

“I didn’t see you last night...” He said casually, moving to drop the wet towel in the hamper, grabbing one of the fresh ones I’d laid on the bed.

“I thought you would like your privacy sir, you looked exhausted.”

He smiled.

“ Thank you for the blanket and the pillow by the way. And the shoes.”

I bowed quickly.

“I’ll get your breakfast done, sir.” I bowed again before quickly getting out.

I moved to the kitchen grabbing the oranges I’d got the previous day . Mr. Kim wasn’t fond of traditional korean dishes in the morning. He preferred freshly squeezed juice and toast, sometimes with an omelet perhaps.

I fixed his breakfast quickly, setting it all in the tray . He was still moving around in the bedroom and I heard him drag his worktable to the windows, which meant he was going to stay in the bedroom.

Pouring his coffee into a cup, I carefully picked up the breakfast tray , moving to his room slowly.

I used my foot to knock on the door.

After a pause of a few seconds,

“Come in Yang Mi!”

I carefully moved to the small table in front of the couch, placing the tray right in front of him. The scent of his body wash, green apple and strawberries, hit me hard.

“Where’s Junsu?” He asked casually.

“Still asleep sir. It’s Summer so school’s out.” I smiled, grabbing his phone from the table to make space for his tray.

The phone buzzed just as I was about to place it back down and I blinked.

Mina calling.......

I swallowed, not sure what to do, placing the phone down quickly.

“Uh..you have ...” I waved vaguely at the device before bowing again and moving back.

“close the door on your way out, Yang Mi...” He said gently and I quickly obeyed.

I moved to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee for myself. I stayed leaning over the counter and even through the locked door, I could hear him .

“Just don’t call me Mina...i don’t want to talk about this!!!”

I swallowed, glancing out of the window again. It was a bright, clear morning.

A second later, the door to his bedroom slammed open and he stormed out. I watched him from my spot in the kitchen, his fists clenched as he rushed out to the front door.

The door shut behind him and I exhaled.

Once I as done with my coffee, I moved to his room to clear the breakfast tray. His phone was still on the table.

It began ringing again just as I left the room.

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

"Mrs. Kim.” i said respectfully, bowing . She gave me a short smile.

“Where’s Namjoon? I’ve been calling him for the past hour.” She pushed past me into the house and I bit my lips.

“He went out about an hour ago. He left his phone behind.” I explained.

She stopped, sighing.

“Fine, I’ll wait for him. “ She moved to sit on the couch, glancing around the room.

“Should I get you something ma'am?” I asked softly and she smiled.

“Get me a glass of lemonade, Yangmi.” She said brusquely and i nodded, running to the kitchen.

“Did Mina come over?” She called out as I got the lemons out of the cooler.

“No ma'am.” i replied.

“Did she call?”

I remembered the phone ringing, how upset it had made Namjoon, how he had stormed out.

“I don’t know ma'am!” I said softly.

She nodded.

“Okay. You can leave.” She said quietly. i bowed and went back into the kitchen.

I peered out of the window as I fixed her a glass , and my eyes fell on a familiar figure, coming back in through the front gate. Even from this distance there was no mistaking the long legs and messy blonde hair.

I bit my lips, mind racing.

Mrs Kim and her son had a volatile relationship, to say the least.

And something told me that Mr. Kim was probably not in the right frame of mind to argue with his mother, now. The man was upset but apparently, neither his mother nor his ex fiancée understood that. instead of giving him space they were hounding him.

I hesitated for a second before making a quick decision.

I grabbed the tray with her lemonade and moved to her quickly.

“Thank you.” She said sharply. “ Turn on the Air Conditioner for me, will you?”

I fumbled with the remote, grabbing his phone from the table , turning it on before moving to the front door and rushing out.

I almost ran into him as he came out of the elevator , and i jerked back stumbling a bit to stop myself from crashing into his chest. He let out a , ‘ Whoa, “ his hands reaching out to grip my elbows.

“Careful. What’s wrong?” He asked gently and I swallowed.

“Your mother’s here.” I said quickly, “ Sir.”

“Oh, fuck.” He groaned. I swallowed.

“You can leave.” I blurted out. “It’s Tuesday. She has her charity work meeting at ten. Its almost nine. She won’t stay long....”

His eyes met mine, lips parting in surprise.

“I really can’t meet her now.” He said apologetically.

I nodded.

“Of course, I understand , sir. Just be back in an hour , she’ll be go-”

The elevator buzzed , the doors nearly closing over my shoulders and I flinched. He swore and stuck his arm out to keep it open.

I stared at him before holding his phone out.

“Here you go sir. “

He chuckled taking it from me and shaking his head.

“i feel like a kid, sneaking away from my mom.” His eyes reached mine, twinkling, “ Who would’ve thought the quiet, timid Yang Mi would be my partner in crime. “

I didn’t reply, just smiled.

And then he hesitated. “ Is Junsu awake?”

I blinked.

“Uh...yes sir,...he’s playing in the park downstairs with the other kids.”

“Great... Would you mind if i take him out for ice cream?”

I stared at him.

“Oh..uh...of course not. Sure.. I mean.. he’ll love that... Sir. Thank you.. You don’t have to -”

“Consider it thank you for helping me with my mother.” He smiled again and i found myself staring at his dimples again. i swallowed.

“in that case, he loves butter scotch.” I smiled.

The dimples appeared and i bit my lips.

“Thank you Yang Mi.” He said slowly.

“Yes, Sir.”

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

Author’s Note : Finally a hyungline fic !!! ugh... I’ve been wanting to write a Namjoon fic for ages and I really hope you guys will like this one :’( Feedback is much appreciated.

#namjoon smut #namjoon au #namjoon hot #namjoon fics #namjoon x reader #namjoon fic #bts smut #bts fanfics #bts au #bts fics #houseofddaeng

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hopelikethemoon · 4 years

Text

Kindergarten (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Kindergarten Rating: PG-13 Length: 2300 Warnings: None. Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set August 1998. An attempt was certainly made at this chapter. It’s not GREAT™. Unbetad and as is. Summary: Josie starts kindergarten.

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Six years ago this month, you and Javier had thrown reason aside. At the time, you hadn’t realized just how monumental of an occasion it was. How would you have ever guessed that one night would bring you a lifetime of joy.

It was still surreal to think that you had a five-year-old. A bright-eyed, witty, and smart little girl who was starting kindergarten.

Javier was beside himself. He woke up an hour before the alarm went off and set up camp in Josie’s bedroom — watching her as she slept. You joined him, since you were already awake. Leaning back against his chest as he held you.

You weren’t nearly as affected as he was. Less than a month after she was born, you were sending her down the hall to a babysitter so you could get back to work before they found a reason to fire you. You were working when she started going to preschool — leaving Javier to take her and pick her up most days.

It touched you that Javier was so affected by Josie starting kindergarten. For all of his rough-around-the-edges exterior — he was a marshmallow when it came to his family. You’d watched him fight back tears as you rounded the final corner and parked a block down from the school.

“Why can’t sissy go with me?” Josie questioned, looking up at Javier as she grasped tightly at his hand, walking side-by-side with him up the sidewalk path that led to the school.

Javier glanced back over his shoulder at you and Sofía before he stopped. “Because she’s not a big girl like you are JoJo.” He told her as he crouched down to her height. “Kindergarten is for big girls.”

“And I’m a big girl?”

You smiled, resting your hand on Javier’s shoulder as you nodded. “You are a big girl! And in just a few years, she’ll be in kindergarten just like you.”

“Don’t remind me.” Javier grumbled quietly. “Remember everything we’ve taught you, princesa. Okay?”

“Okay, daddy.” Josie grinned. “It’s just like preschool, right?”

“Except you’ll be learning a lot more in kindergarten.” You explained. “And you have to be extra good.”

“Oh!” Her eyes widened. “But I like talking, mommy. They didn’t like that at preschool.”

Javier snorted, “Yes. We are aware of that. Just try to sit and listen like a big girl, okay?” He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. “And then I’ll pick you up and take you for ice cream.”

“You spoil her.” He swatted his back lightly, before you readjusted Sofía in your arms. “I know you’re gonna do a great job, babydoll.”

“I know too.” She beamed, before she threw her arms around Javi and hugged him tightly. “Mommy?”

“Yeah?” You questioned, brows furrowed as she looked up at you.

In her very obvious conspiratorial whisper, Josie offered, “I think daddy’s sad.”

Javier let out a strained chuckle and you rubbed your hand over the width of his shoulders. “I just can’t believe you’re already in school, JoJo. That’s all.”

Sofía kicked her legs, trying desperately to get out of your hold. She babbled, mostly nonsensical attempts at voicing her displeasure for not being able to go where Josie was going.

“Babe,” You started, reaching out for Javier’s hand as he stood back up. “I’m gonna take her back to the car. Okay?”

He frowned, “You don’t want to see Josie off to her first day of school?”

You shook your head, “I want you to have this moment, Javi.” You cupped his cheek, smiling up at him.

Javier closed the distance and kissed you gently, “Thank you, baby.”

“I know you’ve been dreading this for… five years.” You brushed your fingers over his forehead, fluffing his hair. “Go walk your daughter to school.”

Sofía grabbed at Javier, trying to get him to take her from you. “Sorry, sunshine. Daddy’s gotta take Josie to school.” You tickled her, earning a fit of giggles, before you turned back towards Javier. “And I won’t judge you if you cry.”

“You better not.” He taunted with a grin, rubbing Sofía’s back before he looked down at Josie. “Let’s get you to class.”

As much as you might want to walk her into her classroom, it wasn’t like you hadn’t already met her teacher — Ms. Bryant — at the parent-teacher night. You wanted Javier to have this special moment with his daughter.

You were still trying to make up for him not being present for her birth. Josie was his entire world. These were the important memories you wanted Josie to have with her father. They were the kind that she’d hold onto forever.

And maybe, deep down, it stirred up your own memories. You wanted Josie to have everything you didn’t have growing up. You wanted her to have those special memories.

“JoJo?” Sofía mumbled, straining to look back over your shoulder as you started towards the Jeep.

“She’ll be home this evening,” You told her, even though you knew she didn’t really understand what you were saying. “She’s got to go learn.”

Sofía seemed satisfied with that answer, trying to stick her whole fist in her mouth as she rested her head on your shoulder.

You got her settled into her car seat, setting up the little plastic tray that sat across her seat so she could snack on goldfish while you waited for Javier to return to the car. You knew it was going to be hard on him. Which was the precise reason why you had taken the day off. You were trying, slowly but surely, to back away from your roll at the police department.

Steve had officially parted ways with the DEA and, with his own consulting business set up, you were looking forward to partnering with him and taking a more active role Sofía and Josie. And maybe you were looking at the adjunct faculty paperwork Javier had brought home for you.

Sometimes you missed being in the field — but without Javier and Steve it would never be the same as things had once been in Colombia. You couldn’t cling to something that couldn’t happen again.

“How about Toy Story?” You remarked to your daughter, glancing back at her as she pushed the goldfish around on her tray. You grabbed the cassette case from the backseat, grabbing the Toy Story Read-Along tape and sticking it into the cassette player. Unlike Josie, who all the tapes were bought for, Sofía loved listening to them in the car or in the nursery.

And whatever soothed her, you were willing to try. Even still, Sofía was a difficult baby. Always on the go, even before she could walk. She started with scooting her butt on the floor, sliding herself everywhere and entirely bypassing the crawling stage.

She and Josie were night and day.

“You like that?” You questioned as the voice on the tape started talking. You turned back around to look at her, smiling as you watched her sink back against the car seat, fumbling to get another goldfish into her mouth as she contentedly listened to the narration.

Javier returned nearly thirty minutes into the Toy Story narration, just as Sofía was starting to drift off. At least she’d take a nap when you got back to the house. He was trying to put on like he hadn’t been crying, but the distinct redness under his eyes made it obvious that he had been.

“You wanna go home?” You questioned, reaching over to take his hand into yours.

He squeezed your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of yours as he gave a stiff nod. “I can’t believe she’s in kindergarten.”

You exhaled slowly, chewing on your bottom lip as you studied him. “Me neither. How’d she do?”

“No tears.” He answered with a short chuckle, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “A couple of the kids from preschool are in her class. She was thrilled. Went straight over and started playing with some building blocks.” Javier sniffed quietly, “Baby, I feel like I’m gonna blink and she’s going to be off to college tomorrow.”

“I know.” You sympathized, bringing his hand up to your lips so you could kiss each knuckle. “Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I think it’s going to be my first day at the DEA all over again.” You smiled softly at him. “All we can do is hope we’ve given her all the tools she needs to succeed in school.”

“I just can’t believe she’s in kindergarten.” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth, his gaze flickering towards the backseat where Sofía was quietly snoring with a sticky goldfish stuck to her chin. “We should take her home.”

You squeezed his hand tightly, “Javi.”

“Hmm?” He glanced back at you.

“You’re a really good father.”

Javier let out a shaky breath, “Baby, you’re gonna make me cry again.” He complained, releasing your hand so he could wipe at his eyes. “Shit.”

“I’m just saying,” You started, keeping your eyes on his face. “If I could have more children, I would do it in a heartbeat, because I love how you are with our girls.” You leaned over the center console and kissed his cheek. “Guess we’ll just have to wait till we have grandkids.”

Javier gaped at you, “Baby, she just started kindergarten ten minutes ago. We are not gonna talk about our baby having babies.”

You laughed, pulling your seatbelt on. “It could be worse. If we started sooner we could have a ten-year-old.”

“And when exactly would we have done it earlier?”

At least this had gotten him out of his funk. “I could’ve gotten behind your vibe the night I bagged us Lehder.” You grinned, putting the car into reverse as you inched back, so you could out of the spot easier. “You were very… I don’t know what the right word is.”

“I was in awe of you, baby.” Javier admitted, dragging his fingers through his hair as he sank back into his seat. “You think we would’ve made it?”

You shrugged, “In my hypothetical world where we had six kids?”

“Six?” He sputtered.

You snorted, “Babe. I’m just kidding.” You reached over and squeezed his thigh. “Two is plenty, thank you very much.”

“Two is a handful,” He agreed, resting his hand over yours. “What would that even look like?”

“Four too many kids.” You laughed quietly, staring straight ahead as you drove. “I hope you understood why I let you be the one to take Josie in.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, tapping his thumb against your fingers. “Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome.” You gave his leg three squeezes, before you returned your hand to the steering wheel.

Javier leaned forward to turn Toy Story down, but you shot him a look. “What?”

“She will start crying.”

“Really?”

“Go ahead and test it, Javi.” You shot back. “Frankly, I was looking forward to her napping when we got home. But, go ahead.” You waved your hand dismissively.

“What did you have in mind?”

You tilted your head to look at him as you rolled up to a stop sign. “I was contemplating a nap.”

“A nap?”

“Well, the nap was going to follow a workout.” You pressed your tongue to the inside of your cheek as you turned to look at him.

“You don’t have to go in today?”

You shook your head, “Took off just for you.”

“You’re too good to me, baby.”

“Only because you’re good to me.” You smiled at him, before focusing on the road again. “And if she wakes up, we could take Stevie for a run and set her up in the new stroller.”

Javier pursed his lips, “We could do that while she naps.”

Your brows shot upwards, “Really?”

He shrugged, “Gotta keep in shape if I plan on seeing my five-year-old give me grandkids.”

“The old man is finally concerned with his health.” You punched the air with a laugh.

“Easy there, Miss High Blood Pressure.”

“Excuse you, it’s Ms.”

He rolled his eyes, “Alright, Ms.”

“Thank you.” You smirked. “See, not so hard.”

“You should tell that to JoJo’s teacher who couldn’t fathom why you aren’t Mrs. Peña.”

You scoffed, “I thought we sorted that out at the conference.”

He shrugged, “She was back at being confused about it. Don’t worry, Josie set her straight.”

“Oh? She’s going to get into so much trouble.”

“She’s a carbon copy of you.”

“Well, my sass has gotten me into so much trouble.” You made a face. “Did she remember the accent on Josie’s name at least?”

He nodded, “She did get that right.”

You blinked twice, feeling the faint prickle of tears as you pulled into your driveway. “Fuck. We have a kindergartener, Javi. It just hit me.”

“It’s fucking crazy, baby.”

Five years had slipped by in an instant. Josie had gone from newborn infant to the five-year-old who left her bike laying in the front yard after you told her twice to put it up. And that was somehow the tipping point.

Another summer had slipped by.

And Josie wasn’t at preschool for half a day. There was no rushing to pick her up. She was in school, where she’d be every day during the school year, until she was eighteen.

And then she'd go to college and move out.

Somehow that led you down the path about your own age and Javier’s. He’d be in his early sixties when Josie went to college.

Before you knew it, both of your girls would have lives of your own and you and Javier would be old empty nesters.

Javier reached over and rubbed your back. “And you thought you weren’t gonna get emotional about our kid going to school.”

“Fuck off.” You laughed, wiping at your teary eyes before you slapped at his leg playfully.

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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teacup-crow · 4 years

Text

The Christmas Runner

On the 12th Christmas Eve after the world ended, Molly and Carena told someone the story of the Christmas Runner. Major end of S3 spoilers, very minor spoilers for early S5.

I spent all day in bed and this happened? Will probably go on AO3 once I polish it (and when it’s actually close to Christmas). Promise it’s wholesome!

(In my headcanon here Carena is 15, Molly is 13 and Sara is 7)

“Sam’s givin’ you how much to watch her?” Carena Skeet spluttered, towering over the younger girl, leaning her hands over her head on the brick wall of the housing block. The moon was a sharpened, thin crescent, and lights winked in the guard towers. Over in the main barn, they could faintly hear the twanging of a slightly out-of-tune guitar and some tipsy singing, suggesting the grown-ups’ Christmas Eve party was already in full swing.

Everyone said that Molly Harrison was the prettiest girl in Abel, with blonde curly hair and eyes blue enough to knock out zoms, but right now she was shifting foot-to-foot, looking more irritated than anything else.

“A loaf of crusty bread and a pot of blackcurrant jam, and… you’re not having any of it, Caz.”

“Dr Cohen only promised me a bloody book!” Carena pouted, but avoided stomping her foot. She’d about grown out of that. Nobody would dare call her pretty, but she was too, in a fiercely intimidating way. It was two months until she turned sixteen and could finally start Runner training, and she’d already begun practicing first thing every morning, tearing around the training shed when the sun had barely risen. Where Molly was soft and homely, she was angled and muscular. “You can read it if you let me have a spoonful.”

“That’s a rubbish trade and you know it! I won’t always go along with everything you tell me to do, you know, it’s not fair-“

“Oh blah blah blah, quit whinin’, let’s just get the job done before they realise they double-booked.” She dropped her hands and stalked away. Her foster dad’s old fireman jacket was too big on her, but wearing the king’s clothing added to her swagger.

“You don’t like kids,” Molly pointed out, stumbling a little behind her as she strode off to the front door.

“Kids is fine. Kids is kids. I have, like, fifteen siblings. I know what I’m doing.”

“Yes, and you don’t like any of them. And they’re all the same age as you!”

“What can I say, I’m not good at sharing.” She turned and gazed pointedly at Molly, who shrugged it off. “It doesn’t take two people to babysit a seven year old.”

“Yeah, so go away, Caz. You don’t even want a book.”

“Gotta get on Dr Myers’ and Sam’s good side if I want to be recommended for Runner, don’t I? Janine respects their opinion more than anyone else except Runner Five.”

“So go and sit on guard duty with Runner Five and earn their approval.”

“You jokin’? Five’s batshit.”

“They’re also the only reason we’re not dead, so maybe you should be a bit more respectful.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t try to tell me what to do, Molly Harrison...” Carena’s tone was affronted, teetering on nasty. Then she stopped herself. “But yeah, you’re right. Five’s batshit bonkers, but they’re awesome.”

“And scary?” Molly added.

“Yeah, if you’re a wuss.”

They’d reached the green wooden door of Maxine and Paula’s apartment, a wreath on the outside, a menorah in the window. Sara had hung paper chains all down their part of the corridor. It made both the teenagers smile for a second or two.

Carena knocked, to no reply. She tried again.

“That’s weird,” she muttered.

“Sara, you in there?” Molly tried, peeking through the window.

“Sara, we brought chocolate!”

This caused a patter of feet to charge towards the door. Carena grinned. “First rule of kids is lie through your teeth.”

“MOLLY!” Sara sprang through the door in a bright blur of red sweater and green trousers, and jumped into Molly’s outstretched arms. “Did you bring Galileo too?”

Years before, when Archie Jensen had lost Mildred van der Graff to an explosion, Five had managed to get their own chicken back to Abel relatively unscathed. Molly, already interested in animals even as a small child, had adopted Galileo Figaro, a now-geriatric menace with a beak that had lasted longer than anyone expected. The hen had strong memories of her dinosaur roots, and, apart from Molly, Five and Sara, would attack almost anyone who dared enter the coop.

“Galileo’s an old hen, she’s resting.”

“She went cluck-cluck-cluck over the rainbow bridge to Ed Harrison’s stomach, you mean.”

“Caz! Dad would never!” Molly looked scandalised as Carena burst out laughing at her own joke. Thankfully, it went over Sara’s head as she dropped down from Molly’s arms and stared up at Carena’s jacket in awe. Caz ruffled her mop of springy hair affectionately. She liked this kid, at least. It was very difficult not to.

“Hello, baby Sara, how’s it goin’?”

“Good, Princess Caz! I’m making a jigsaw puzzle. It’s got a million trillion pieces!”

“Sounds like an absolute riot. Tell you what, Molly can finish it with you and I’ll heat up the rations.”

Molly nodded despite herself, taking the pudgy little hand in hers and stepping into the cosy apartment. “Okay, let’s go, hopefully we have all the pieces...”

“Daddy had to remake some of the missing ones but he said you can barely tell the difference, sort of! Anyway, you said you had chocolate?”

This was still one of the oldest housing blocks in Abel, but instead of enough bunks for eight people the two rooms comfortably housed the little family of three, bathroom splitting a bedroom on one side and a family room on the other with a table and a bookshelf and warm candle-lit lamps too high for Sara to knock over on the mantelpiece. Woollen throws covered the kind of battered armchairs you sank into and artwork lined the walls. There was even a tidy kitchen corner with a kettle and a camp stove and a stack of chipped plates and mugs. It was one of Carena’s favourite places: better even than sharing a room with some of the roller girls on a rare trip to see her foster dad in London; much better than her own springy bunk in the children’s dorms, the wall behind her chequered curtain plastered in pictures and photos and plans but still not private enough to block out the whining and crying of the little ones all night. It was nice to see a place where a real family lived. When she stood in the centre of the room, she could squeeze her eyes shut and almost picture the faces of her real parents, her actual bedroom, the kitchen they’d had with a white-tiled floor. Or was it sand-coloured tiles? She wasn’t quite sure, not that she’d admit it. Whenever anyone asked, she always said she remembered the pre-zombie world perfectly.

“Caz? Are you heating up the food or...?”

“I’m getting to it!” She stomped towards the stove, where Sara’s parents had already left a few crumbling Tupperware containers of pea soup from the kitchens, and Molly had brought a bowl of eggs to hard boil if they felt snacky. Not particularly inspiring, but then food had been limited for the last week as the kitchens saved all their supplies up for Christmas Day. And none of them knew how to be fussy: Sara and Molly did not remember a time when food was plentiful, and Carena’s last remnants of pickiness had been starved out of her when the Ministry occupied Abel. She’d been nine, and her stomach hadn’t stopped rumbling for that whole terrible ten months. It ached again a little just thinking about it. She wondered if that had left her weaker, permanently damaged her chance to become a Runner or a roller-girl. As if her asthma wasn’t enough of a handicap. Well, she’d do it anyway. Nothing was going to get in her way, least of all the legacy of those who had hurt her foster father.

“Three bowls of green soup, coming up!” She added a lick of salt, and stirred the metal pot. The ruckus from the square was louder now, almost matched by the younger girls playing with the puzzle behind her.

“I can’t tell if this is supposed to be a man’s face or a rat.”

“Daddy’s not a very good draw-er.”

“I mean… he could use some practice, to be honest. Any clue on where this piece should fit, Caz?”

Carena doled out the bowls and spoons. “Looks like a squiggle with earmuffs to me. Sam’s crap at art.”

“Don’t swear in front of Sara!”

“She’ll be fiiiine,” Carena rolled her eyes. “Lighten up, Molly.”

“Yeah, lighten up, Molly!” Sara echoed jubilantly. “Crap, crap, crap.”

“Okay, you can cut it out now. Eat your dinner.”

Molly changed the subject, sensing another mischievous outburst of swearing on the horizon. “Are you excited for Christmas, Sara?”

“Yeah! Did you hear that we’re going to have a hog roast and potatoes?! And games! And, and, Ms Marsh knitted me a hat and mittens!”

“How do you know about that?” Molly admonished. Sara immediately looked caught in the act.

“I… maybe heard her and Mama talking about it.”

“Did you ‘maybe hear’ or were you spying on your Mama?”

“I wasn’t spying! People just think kids can’t hear stuff!”

“Hey, spyin’ is a great skill, don’t knock it, Mol. Don’t worry, we won’t tell.”

“I wasn’t spying!” Sara drank down the last of her soup, licked the bowl, and pouted adorably. It was hard for the babysitters not to laugh.

“You know, I think that piece might actually be a clockwork mouse. I think it goes down at the bottom…”

They finished the jigsaw with only four missing pieces. “It’s… a big man in a red coat with a white beard! With lots of toys. I’m going to call him Mr Bob.”

“Sara, that’s Santa. Do you not know about Santa?”

“Father Christmas?” Molly tried, although she wasn’t completely confident either. Sara looked blank.

“You know my father is called Sam Yao?”

“No, baby, Santa Claus is different. He brings things to good children at Christmas.” In the back of her mind was an image of Ed in a terribly cobbled together Santa suit, a tiny Molly on his shoulders. A good memory in a flock of bad ones. It twinged in her chest.

“He’s a Runner?”

Carena sighed. “Basically. Yeah. Santa Claus is just another name for the Christmas Runner. Every Christmas Eve, he goes from township to township, leaving gifts for all of the children.”

“How does he get through the gates?”

“Well, duh, he lets the township leaders know what time he’s going to come on Rofflenet first. And he’s really fast, so he doesn’t need to worry about Raiders or zoms. He’s got a big sled drawn by nine dogs for all the presents!”

Sara’s eyes sparkled. “What are the dogs called?”

“Well, the main one is Rudolf, and he’s an, an Irish red setter. Or he wears a red jumper, like you. Something to do with red. The other ones…” she looked to Molly for assistance, and realised the blonde girl was just as enraptured. “The other ones aren’t important.”

“Caz!”

“Fine! Dasher, Dancer, Prancer… Victor?”

Her mind drew a complete blank. Somewhere in her subconscious, a woman’s voice read the words of Twas the Night Before Christmas, but she couldn’t quite make them out. “Um… Gold, Frankincense, Myrrh and Spam?”

Molly snorted in surprise, her face contorting and shoulders shaking as she tried to hold back a peal of laughter. At least Sara seemed satisfied. “Okay, so how come I don’t hear them all?”

“He sneaks in with magic and only when you’re extremely tired so it’s, like, impossible to stay up to hear. But if you leave a sock on the end of your bed he’s guaranteed to put sommat cool in it.”

“How will he know what I like?”

Molly looked thoughtful. “Maybe you should leave him a list? But you like a lot of things.”

“And my socks are quite small.” Sara looked pensive, kicking her feet in the air to check the size of them. “You two should write lists as well!”

“I’m too old to write one-“ Carena tried, but Sara was already insistently jabbing a pencil and an old receipt at her from a scrap paper drawer in the cabinet.

“These big long lists from the olden days are perfect, we can use the back.”

Carena’s eyes flitted over the receipt. Morrisons. Mango, papaya, hummus, avocadoes. All words she didn’t recognise, foods she would never get to try, and, suddenly intimidated, she laid it down on the table. She wasn’t the strongest reader or writer at the best of times - she’d learned too late, and it was difficult with so many new things in a row. Sara sounded out the letters on her own list as she wrote, her reading already confident.

“Dear Christmas Runner. Thank you for all your hard work, and for taking so many risks to deliver presents…”

Molly glanced over at Carena with a dash of awkward concern. They’d shared a schoolroom as children, and again for the last few years, and had some of the same frustrations, although Molly struggled more with maths and numbers and the purpose and point of algebra and geometry than writing and words. “Can I write both of ours, and you do the pictures? Your drawings are really good.”

Carena nodded, and got up abruptly to wash out the pot and make some tea. Outside, the town choir had drummed up enough numbers to give a few carols a go. She cracked open the window a little to let the sound filter up.

“I would really like some bubblegum but I know it is hard to find and my mothers don’t like it so don’t worry if you can’t find any. I also like marbles and you can fit lots of them in a sock!”

“You’re already running out of space!”

“Okay. Lots of love from Sara Myers-Cohen-Yao, kiss kiss kiss! What are you going to ask for?”

“Nicer soap,” Molly said, quite serious. “And I need a new metal bucket for chicken feed and milking. Mine is close to holes.”

“A bucket won’t fit in a sock!” Sara scoffed with childish mirth. “That’s ridiculous!”

“I don’t know, she has really big feet.” This made Sara giggle even more, and slide off the chair to look at Molly’s feet more closely.

“Ha, ha, ha,” Molly gave Carena a mock-withering stare. “What do you want, Caz? I’m doing yours now.”

Carena thought as the water began to bubble. All she really wanted was to be a Runner. To explore. To get buckets and soap and marbles and gum and make faces back in the township light up. All she wanted was her lungs and airways to do as she commanded, her muscles and heart to work with her, to let her push past exhaustion.

“Eh. Shoelaces would be nice.” She smirked at Molly. “Or some chicken fat.”

“Make one more threat to my chicken’s life, Carena Skeet and you won’t be getting anything from the Christmas Runner!”

“I surrender, I surrender!” Carena laughed, and poured the tea. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be in bed by now, Sara? If we’re going to get this Runner to come at all.”

“But I’m not even tired,” the small girl yawned, still on the floor with her head on the chair and cuddling one of the throws her mothers had stacked on the sideboard.

Molly grabbed the rest of them. “Come on, we’ll build a blanket den, have our tea in there, and Caz can tell you more about the Christmas Runner.”

“Startin’ to feel like Caz does all the work around here,” Carena added, stirring in milk and honey and using the puzzle box as a makeshift tea-tray. “Go on then, lead the way.”

Five minutes later, they’d constructed a large blanket fort and, huddled together inside it, Carena began to tell them everything she remembered from the world before, embellishing the odd detail or ten.

“You’re lying, there were no flying snowmen.”

“Well, I saw a film about them!”

Eventually, Sara curled up and fell asleep, thumb in her mouth, dreaming up a jumble of tinsel and angels and dancing snowmen and turkeys.

Molly smiled, sleepy herself. “You know, you’re actually really good with kids.”

“You’re actually good at lightenin’ up.”

“Yeah! This was fun. I had a really nice evening.”

“Molly…” Carena began, and stopped. She tucked Sara’s blankets around her a little tighter. She didn’t know how to say how safe she felt, maybe for the first time since she lost her brother, warm and wanted and hopeful, surrounded by the peace she wanted so badly to fight for. “I think tomorrow is gonna be a really good day.”

The bell in the square jangled once, twice, twelve times and for once they didn’t panic. It had been years since a horde went anywhere near the gates. This was midnight.

“Merry Christmas, Caz.”

“Merry Christmas.”

***

Carena awoke under a pile of blankets, her head on the end of Sara’s bed, the sound of Dr Cohen humming in the kitchen as she fried the eggs for breakfast, and caught three bulging stockings out of the corner of her eye. A lump came to her throat as she saw the book, as promised, bound in ribbon, that she recognised even without reading the words.

The Abel Runner’s Handbook, fourth ed.

She nearly knocked the wind out of the doctors in her rush to hug them.

#zombies run #zr #carena skeet #molly harrison

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desperationandgin · 5 years

Text

Strawberry Wine (Part 1, Chapter 10)

Rating: Mature

Author: desperationandgin

Previous Chapter

Also Read On: AO3

Summary: Claire and Jamie settle in their separate locations and write to one another.

Chapter 10: Kisses With Dreams

September 1, 1938

Jamie,

I promised I would write the moment I moved into my dormitory, and I can assure you that my unpacked suitcase is at the foot of the bed. Thank you for the surprise photographs of us in my purse; I hadn’t realized your father took any at the gathering, though I’ve never been more grateful. I realized belatedly that while I had two wonderful photographs of you, I didn’t have any of us together. It caused a tearful moment on the train. Fortunately, there was a kind Reverend sitting beside me; he distracted me with his own recollection of Jacobite history. It was interesting, but only made me want to return to you more.

I’m no stranger to new beds in unfamiliar places, though this is the first time I can’t unloosen the knot that’s formed in the pit of my stomach. I’ve never missed someone before, with so much of myself. That last kiss at the station, in front of God and everyone no less, will have to get me through until December, won’t it? I think even Jenny blushed.

I hope you’re settling alright. Were you and Ian able to share an apartment as you’d wanted? Do you have a wonderful view? By the time you receive this, you’ll have started your classes; please tell me how you’re finding them, and I’ll let you know how school is here, as well, in my next letter. We begin on Monday, and I’m not sure if I’m worried or if it��s just nerves causing me to doubt myself. What if I’m not capable enough when it comes to real-life scenarios? What if I have the drive to help others, but am rubbish at nursing?

I already know you’re shaking your head in protest. It’s nerves, and by this time next month, I’ll be settled and things will be fine. That is what you were going to say, wasn’t it?

In half an hour, I’ll have to attend an informal dinner to meet my fellow classmates, so I suppose I should at least unpack a suitable outfit. I don’t want to stop writing; if I stop writing, then I’ll have to face the fact that you’re not really here, listening to everything I’m telling you.

Sorry for the smear of ink. I’m homesick, I suppose, only you are my home, and I already miss you desperately.

Please give my best to Ian. Write soon, and put me out of my misery.

Yours,

Claire

The weekend before I left for London, Brian hosted a two-day party of sorts for all the tenants he rented land to. It was grand and festive, with enough food to feed an army and no shortage of laughter. Old friends arrived, including a delightful man named Mr. Raymond whom I could remember cropping up throughout my childhood; someone who brought me rare toys and exotic candies when visiting. He hadn’t expected to see me, I knew, but still managed to gift me something unique: a dragonfly encased in amber. When I tried to find Jamie to show him, he was busy watching his father, gaining real-time experience as the future laird of Lallybroch. I was captivated by him, the way he drew people in. His eyes seemed to meet every single person’s in the room when he addressed the group at large, and he always seemed much wiser than his age suggested.

Privately between us, the things that could come out of Jamie Fraser’s mouth were like lines from old, romantic poems. Sonnets written in 19th-century fields of heather. The best part was that he always spoke true. He meant those fantastic things he said, and it made me love him all the more.

The first night of the festivities, we’d stolen away to a hayloft, drinking pilfered Drambuie straight from the bottle.

“Did you know this is the secret drink recipe of the Bonnie Prince Charlie?” I’d asked slowly, my speech a bit languid in my not-quite-drunkenness.

“Oh? I only ken my uncle Dougal enjoys the drink verra much, it’s why there’s so much of it for the weekend,” Jamie’d informed me before taking another swallow from the bottle.

“Well, when he escaped to the Isle of Skye, he was offered protection by – oh, which clan was it?” Pausing, I’d looked out at the sky, squinting before remembering. “Clan MacKinnon! Clan MacKinnon sheltered Prince Charles, and as thanks he gave them this very recipe.”

I had been given a kiss for my useless historical knowledge – and a bit more.

Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I sealed the envelope, fished a stamp out of my handbag, and neatly scrawled Jamie’s address, plus my own. It took a half-hour to settle on a suitable dress for supper, and I made my way downstairs, intending to keep to myself. Taking a seat at the far end of the dining room table, I listened as the rules of the dormitory were laid out (no non-familial men in our rooms unchaperoned, period. No alcohol except for one glass of wine with supper) and studied the other women. All of us seemed to be about the same age, and the one next to me leaned over to speak.

“What do ye think, could we sneak a flask in our brasseries and get away wi’ it?”

My eyes widened first at the accent, and then at the suggestion.

“You’re Scottish?” I asked somewhat dumbly.

“Aye. What gave it away, the accent or the flamin’ red hair?”

I couldn’t help but laugh, though I stifled it quickly to avoid the attention of Mistress Hildegarde.

“My name’s Gillian,” my new acquaintance introduced herself. “We’re roommates, you and I. I was down the hall when ye were comin’ out of the room earlier.”

She had hair not quite as red as Jamie’s, a fair complexion, and definite mischief in her eyes.

“Maybe down my knickers,” she mused, and I hid a laugh behind my napkin. While eating (an unfamiliar to me meat dish and potatoes), I decided if I was to live here for four years, perhaps befriending at least one person would be nice.

I was proven correct over the next few days; Gillian was smart and took good notes, but had a penchant for knowing when to throw down our study materials and go out for a drink. On a Friday evening after the third week of classes, we were planning to go to the cinema until the mail call happened.

“Ms. Beauchamp, one letter, one parcel.”

When Mistress Hildegarde said my name and I saw the handwriting on the envelope, I apologetically canceled my plans with Gillian and ate my supper in record time before racing upstairs. The package was a square box, and I put it aside in favor of reading Jamie’s letter first.

September 17, 1938

My own,

You are correct; I was shaking my head at what you said of yourself. And was I right? Was it nerves and are you settled? I know you can do anything, and I am eager to read all about your classwork. Your roommate as well, is she a nice lass?

Ian and I are faring well and do share a small apartment. He’s writing to Jenny now as I write to you. A few things are as I thought; the Latin exams will not be very easy to pass with top marks. I’m not sure speaking Latin will come up much in daily farm life, but I suppose for Mass it will be nice to know exactly what is being said. At least it may be something that could impress Father Bain.

Hopefully, the parcel I’ve sent along makes it as well. Inside is a wee bit more than chocolate, all things I thought you might enjoy. I had the idea, as well, to take a flight to London before Christmas, then together we could go to Scotland for the holidays, perhaps even spend a night in Edinburgh before going on to Lallybroch. We can work out the details a bit closer to the time, it is only that I’m eager to see you now. Being apart from you feels as though something is missing – even at Lallybroch I felt it, on the days we weren’t able to see one another save for breakfast and supper, only not as keenly. I miss you, Sassenach, down to the very marrow of me. I’m glad you have photographs; I have one of you in my back pocket always. Sometimes, I need to see you.

Do not weep, lass. Soon, it will only be the two of us.

The next few months will go by in record time, though perhaps I will be able to find a way to see you sooner. I love you, Claire, and you’ll do well to remember it. Write to me soon, a nighean.

Yours always,

Jamie

His name was a flourishing signature, and down in the very corner of the page, he’d drawn a small heart. Touching it with the tips of my fingers, I smiled softly and read the letter again. It was comforting to read something so normal, that everything was going perfectly well so far. Folding the letter and tucking it back into the envelope, I tore the parchment paper off of the box next, removing the lid. Inside was something wrapped in pale pink tissue, and when I unwrapped it, found four white handkerchiefs with lace, scented to smell faintly of roses. They were beautiful, and only after closer inspection did I realize my initials were embroidered in the corner, though not CB.

CF.

After taking a moment to whisper my name with his aloud, I tucked one into my purse, another into my coat pocket, and slipped the other two into my dresser. Digging through the rest of the contents had me finding all sorts of different chocolates, beautifully hand-painted postcards of Parisian landscapes, and a book: The Postman Always Rings Twice. There was another note, written on the inside of the cover.

Sassenach,

I wasn’t sure if you’d read it, but you mentioned wanting a good mystery novel to puzzle out. This one is controversial, if you’ll remember. I read it, and I can see why Boston went up in arms. Don’t go getting bawdy ideas.

–JAMMF

I laughed aloud at his last sentence and laid the book to rest on the nightstand. Looking at my bounty, I quelled the urge to write back for a mere twenty minutes before sitting down at my desk once more. I went on about my schoolwork, about the things I was learning and told him about Gillian, then reassured him all was well and I had indeed settled. I promised to write more once I’d finished the novel, then changed into my nightgown early, tucking into the book. Hours later and over half-way through, Gillian returned home, letting herself in and flopping down on my bed across my legs.

“Have fun?” I asked, putting down the book for now and stretching.

“When isn’t watching Fred Astaire a delight? Though, it wasna the best of his films, ” she informed in response, filling me in on the plot of Carefree. I half-listened, my thoughts on the book, which she called me out for.

“Where’s yer mind, Claire? Surely a book cannae be that good that ye–” Her gaze drifted toward the box, eyes wide by the time she looked back to me again. “Is that from yer fella, then? Let’s see, what did he send?”

As I proudly showed off my bounty, she touched the embroidery on one of the handkerchiefs. “Yer wee fox cub truly wants ye, I’m jealous. Does he have a brother, by any chance?”

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. “Only a sister.”

“Is she available then?”

We laughed at the joke together before scrubbing our faces and turning in for the night, a picture of Jamie tucked under my pillow.

The weeks rolled by, my latest letter arriving on October twelfth. It was short, mostly about how hard he’d been studying and all of the places to eat he was eager to take me to. There was no parcel this time, but he promised something would arrive in time for my birthday.

On the twentieth, I could hardly sit still in my classes, eager to get home and see what had arrived for me. As soon as my day was over I raced to the dormitory, calling out even as I opened the front door.

“Mistress Hildegarde, have you got any parcels for me?”

Her voice rang out from the parlor. “Yes, I would say so, Ms. Beauchamp. Come, it is here, with me.”

Removing my hat and placing it on the hook near the front door, I was pulling off my gloves as I entered the room and paused in shock. “Wot?”

“Mind the rules, my dear,” Mistress Hildegarde reminded on her way out of the room, and I merely nodded, a slow smile spreading so wide it made my cheeks hurt.

“Happy birthday, Sassenach.”

NEXT CHAPTER

#outlander #outlander fic #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire fraser #strawberry wine #my fic

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ladykeane · 5 years

Note

for the fic prompts: reg and bertie adopting a cat!!!

Prompt filled!

I decided to cut to the chase. ‘I could not help but notice the pamphlet from Battersea sitting on the coffee table.’He now simpered at me boldly. ‘Come on, Reg… you know how dearly I want one! I’ve already cleared it with Mr Manglehoffer. Anyway, he has those yappy shih tzus. Couldn’t you just imagine curling up on the sofa with a little ball of fur, purring sweetly away in your lap? We can get it some toys and a scratching post, and stick its litter tray in the second lavatory. I could even get one of those mini vacuum cleaners to deal with the fur.’Clearly, he’d anticipated all of my possible protests.

For the majority of my life, I have considered myself a fairly guarded and self-contained man. Coming from a large and boisterous family, with siblings that loudly vie for attention and prominence, I have instinctively adopted the role of careful observer. Learning to read human character, and applying that knowledge to best improve my own situation, has become a lifelong skill that has aided me in both my career and social standing.

By contrast, Bertram is naturally carefree and open, largely unconcerned by how his interactions with others affect his own situation. I theorise this may be due to his status as an only child and an orphan, who has had to seek out love and approval by pleasing his extended family and his peer group. The claustrophobic clamour of my own demonstrative family has driven me to be quite guarded.

Of course, that is not to say that Bertram entirely lacks guile. I have noted his novice study of the psychology of the individual (I am not too humble to say that my modus operandi has been his primary inspiration), and he has slowly become more canny in his negotiations.A prime example of this occurred only last week.

I returned home from work. Instead of encountering the usual disarray of empty mugs, unfolded laundry, and errant clutter strewn about the place, the flat was impeccably tidy. The strains of my favourite Tchaikovsky concerto floated from the stereo system, interspersed with muted metallic clangs echoing out from the kitchen. The sound of my beloved singing to himself could also be discerned.

‘What ho, Reg. Dinner will be on in about five. Just got to finish the potatoes. I thought we could eat in the dining room tonight.’Curious, I peered into said space. The table was set for two, accented by a swathe of lit candles and a fresh bouquet of white peonies as a centrepiece. This sort of ceremony was usually reserved for birthdays and other such occasions. As I put away my work things, I pondered what Bertram’s motive could be. I prayed that he hadn’t broken anything irreplaceable. Or, even worse, invoked the wrath of one of his aunts, thus requiring my help to, as he is wont to say, ‘pull him from the soup.’

As I crossed back towards the dining room, I spied one piece of clutter which remained conspicuous on the coffee table: a pamphlet from Battersea Dogs and Cats Home. It reported on the unfortunate spike in abandoned animals that occurs after each Christmas, as well as the purported advantages of taking in a rescue animal as a family pet.

Bertram met me at the table with two plates of juicy sirloin, and an attractive smile. He had donned his pale blue, fitted Cuban collar shirt, which displayed the graceful lines of his neck and collarbone most fetchingly. ‘There’s tiramisu for dessert, too. The one from Angelo’s!’

As we dined, I fought between savouring the exquisite trappings that Bertram had laid out, and the fizzle of exasperation at the imminent pitch that I was in for.Bertram has always been enamoured of cats, and I had long known that I would have to deal with his desire to adopt one as a pet. I am certainly not averse to the animals - in some cases they are charming companions, elegant and affectionate, and less intrusive to a household than a dog. However, they can also possess a changeable temperament, and the scratch-marks and fur they can leave on one’s furniture is, at least in my view, a major detriment. Not to mention the ghastly odour of their litter trays.

I pushed a mound of green beans about my plate, and huffed to myself. There are a number of inadvisable fancies that I have striven to cure my fiance of: garish fashion choices, toxic acquaintances, and not least of all a phase where he attempted to learn the banjo. But this, I fear, was more deep-seated.The poet Baudelaire had much to say about the comfort of feline companionship: ‘Viens, mon beau chat, sur mon coeur amoureux.’ Likewise the prophet Mohammed, Catherine the Great, even the sublime Freddie Mercury. My Bertram counted among this group. His beautiful loving heart was eager to make a comfortable home for some lucky beast. While my fastidious habits still balked at the adjustments of taking on a pet, I knew deep down this was a battle I could not win. Especially considering that a softer part of me would be delighted by the little creature’s presence, despite any potential mess.

He interrupted my rumination. ‘I mean, since we’re well settled in to our flat now, and will soon don the spongebag trousers to exchange our vows… I figured it was about time, you know. Expand our little family and all.’While I knew the pleading look in his large blue eyes to be mostly a crafty design, it still had the effect of melting me utterly.

‘Well…’ I said slowly, ‘I insist that I be present at the selection of the animal. I should like to have input as to which one we choose, and the chance to assess its temperament prior to adoption.’‘Of course, old thing, I wouldn’t have it any other way! It’s going to be your cat, too.’‘Be that as it may, cleaning and feeding will fall entirely to you, my poet.’‘Right ho.’

One upshot was that he washed the dishes entirely by himself, and later allowed me to undress him and ravish him in all the ways that pleased me best - though I warrant this last perk was certainly a mutual one.

***

‘Oh Bertie, I’m ever so glad that you’ve come to rescue one of our little sweethearts!’ Ms Bassett, eyes shining, led us cheerfully through to the cattery. ‘You know, Roddy and I just found the perfect baby brother for Piglet, a dear little fox terrier cross named Snowy. Just like the doggie in “Tintin”!’A thoughtful mien passed across Bertram’s face.‘A doggie, eh?’‘No, Bertram.’‘Oh, alright.’

The cattery was a bright, clean space, with the cats kept individually in large perspex enclosures. I confess I was not unaffected by the rows of bright emerald eyes and twitching velvet ears that we beheld.‘Let me know if you would like to meet any of these precious angels, and you can go in and introduce yourselves,’ Ms Bassett informed us.‘I say, I like this one!’

Bertram had already been drawn to one inmate, who’d padded right up to the front of the enclosure to gaze up at him curiously. A small, delicate thing, with grey tabby markings on her mask, back and tail, and white underbelly and legs. As Bertram kneeled to greet her, she chirruped away in a light, dulcet voice.‘Puccini likes you, Bertie! She’s not usually so friendly with visitors.’‘Puccini, eh? We could call her “Poochy” for short, eh Reg?’‘Most amusing, Bertram.’

We entered her enclosure, and she wasted no time in winding herself about Bertram’s legs, still chirping at him. She was rewarded with a gentle scratch on the head, and she purred loudly. I could sense that this was love at first sight.‘Who’s a good Poochy, then? Do you behave yourself for Ms Maddie?’‘Mrowr.’‘Jolly good.’

He plopped himself down, and spent the next hour playing with Puccini. He giggled as she batted at his outstretched wriggling fingers, stroked her plush fur as she gently headbutted his arm, and even let her lick his face with her sandy pink tongue. All the while he cooed at her, while she responded in kind with a lyrical stream of mews and tweets and squeaks.‘Little chatterbox, isn’t she?’‘Like attracts like, Bertram.’

It seemed inevitable - we would not need to see any other cats. After a while I approached Ms Bassett. ‘I believe we have made our selection.’‘More like Puccini has made hers,’ she remarked. ‘But I’m afraid that it’s not that simple. Puccini came from a house full of cats, you see, and doesn’t do well on her own. The policy for adopting her is that she must have another kitty housemate.’

My heart dropped to my stomach. One cat was enough of a compromise, but two cats could be potential bedlam. My mind roved to images of troublesome cartoon siamese, broken ceramics, and overwhelmed house guests.

But then my gaze settled on Bertam cradling the purring Puccini in his arms, a look of pure bliss cast across his lovely face. A heavy sigh escaped me.‘Bertram, we must adopt a second cat in order to take Puccini home. Shall we select one?’

He looked up at me, partly surprised and noticeably moved.‘Oh… are you sure, Reg? I mean, I’d be over the moon to get two of them, but…’I swallowed my diffidence down. ‘I could no more bear to part you from your new friend than I could part the Red Sea.’‘Reg… you are a marvel. Well… since I chose this one, why don’t you choose the second for yourself?’

I left the two of them to seek out our next adoptee. Here I rallied my sound judge of character. Puccini appeared to be bubbly and perhaps a little capricious, so I reckoned that a cat with a steady, serene temperament would prove to be the best influence for her.

I passed the rows of prospective pets, paying careful attention to demeanour and body language. The friendlier, more extroverted cats I discounted right away - they would no doubt prove to exacerbate Puccini’s friskiness. I instead paid attention to the cats who remained calm and still. Some were simply grumpy, and they would not do. Nor did I consider the animals who were sluggish and entirely unresponsive - that could possibly be a sign of poor health.And then, I saw him.

Perched atop a tiered scratching post, this long lean beast was the very picture of feline elegance. He was pure white, with a long tail that was swishing about slowly and gracefully. His face was not soft and round but aquiline, almost lionesque. His eyes were closed in contemplation. The long neck was tilted slightly to the side - all the better to show off his wonderful profile. Had I not known better, I would have deemed him a fine marble sculpture.‘That’s Vasily. Handsome, isn’t he? Would you like to say hello?’

Ms Bassett let me into the enclosure, and I carefully approached him. ‘Good day, Mr Vasily.’At this he opened his eyes, and I was astounded to discover they were a similar hue to Bertram’s: brilliant, summer sky blue. He meowed at me, a low, husky drawl.‘Vasily is a nice chap, very calm. I think he’s the least anxious cat I’ve ever seen,’ said Ms Bassett.

I held up a hand to him, which he gently headbutted. His coat was like silk. He purred at my attention, deeper and more resonant than Puccini’s delicate timbre.I could well picture myself lounging about with a good book and a glass of wine, with this exquisite animal draped upon me. He had a look of such serenity and intelligence, the exemplar of his species.

While I was not eager for his white fur to meet my dark apparel, I spent some time with Vasily, basking in his natural tranquility. Ms Bassett suggested introducing Puccini to him.The smaller cat eagerly jumped up to join him on the scratching post platform, making a very forward introduction in licking the fur on his back. He responded to this by drooping in ecstasy.‘They are both desexed, are they not?’Ms Bassett nodded, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Well, Reg, I think we’ve found ourselves a fur-baby family, what?’

***

We brought our new pets home with a cosy sort of excitement. The first task was, of course, to allow the cats free reign to explore the flat, and get comfortable with their new home. I had made Bertram set up the litter tray that morning, to prevent any accidents.

They padded cautiously about, sniffing at the furniture and seeming to conduct a little conversation of their own:‘Meow.’‘Mrowr?’‘Miiiaow.’‘Prrrt!’

Bertram sat upon the sofa, encouraging them to join him. Puccini quickly snuggled into his lap.‘Awfully nice spot to watch telly here, Poochy. Or possibly listen to a good recording of “Madame Butterfly!”’

It was at this juncture that a magnificent crash sounded from the kitchen.I rushed in to find my elegant Vasily clambering about on the workbench, knocking down the tea things with his long swishing tail.‘Mr Vasily!’‘Miaow?’‘Get down from there at once!’

He blinked at me with serene, uncomprehending blue eyes.I shooed him off the counter, and he leapt to the floor, spilling a jar of tea leaves in his descent. As he scooted out of the kitchen, he bumped into the rubbish bin.

Once I had cleaned up the mess, I found the culprit sitting next to Bertram on the sofa. Puccini was still curled up on his lap, her tail swishing as she dozed. It was inadvertently smacking Vasily in the face. Each time he was hit, he recoiled with surprise. But not once did he think to get out of the way. It was almost comical to watch this cycle of stupid endurance.

‘That was Vasily making a racket in there?’ Bertram asked.‘I regret it was.’‘Hm.’ He examined the feline, still being helplessly swatted by his new housemate’s tail. ‘You know what, Reg? Not for the first time, I think you’ve fallen in love with a blue-eyed himbo.’

***

Thus far, Vasily has broken three pieces of glassware, one mantlepiece clock, shredded Bertram’s favourite purple long-sleeve tee (no great loss), knocked several books off their shelves, and repeatedly interrupted Bertram and I in flagrante. He has also accepted his place as the second banana, as Puccini has asserted herself as pack leader without room for argument. Last night, he spilled my cup of tea across the dining table, almost ruining my laptop.

And yet, every time I look into his blue eyes, completely helpless as to the chaos that he leaves in his wake, I pang for the sweet, silly creature. He has very quickly claimed a place in my heart. Upon cleaning up his messes, he is all too eager to snuggle with me as I peruse Spinoza or Wilde, and his purrs are deep and soothing. Without malice, without coldness, and without any bloody common sense. My Vasily is a welcome addition to our little family, and with him I am a less guarded, more loving man.

***NOTE: Vasily and Puccini are inspired by my brother’s cats (I being the owner of a darling doggie). Vasily crossed the rainbow bridge in 2018, but he has a happy forever home with Jeeves and Bertie. I can attest that the real Vasily was just as much of a clumsy, heedless dumbass, while also being singularly beautiful (reminds one of a certain Drone, no?)

#jeeves and wooster #jooster #prompt filled #fanfiction #reginald jeeves #bertie wooster #cat #cats #kittehs

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vmheadquarters · 5 years

Text

We’re going to play a game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors will take turns telling this story. Each writer will craft a chapter (with no prior planning) and then “toss” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected! Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. — Chapter Three of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @saoirsekonstantin

And stayed tuned next week for Ch.4 from @chikabiddy -tag, you’re it!

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CHAPTER THREE by @saoirsekonstantin

The sleet changed over to lacy flakes of fluffy snow that drifted from the sky, further covering everything in a thick blanket of white as far as the eye could see, while the owl flew overhead. It did a cautious circuit over the house before deciding it wasn’t safe there anymore. Flying to the left, it grew tinier in the stormy night sky until it moved out of sight, but Veronica didn’t notice; instead she raced around the back of the house toward Gia’s scream.

Logan and Wallace ran right beside her through a foot of snow, and all three came to a screeching halt when the light of their flashlights found a male body covered, in part, by snow. Blood stained the snow surrounding him, turning it a muted maroon color. A tree branch almost as long as Logan’s arm protruded from the man’s chest.

Tucked between two fingers, and sticking up out of the cup of his palm, was a photo of two men being intimate. It reminded her of the image she’d seen of ‘Joe the Boss’ Masseria with the playing card in his hand, in her favorite vintage crime scene photo. An overzealous crime scene photographer staged the infamous picture of him lying dead on the floor of a Coney Island restaurant, with the blood-spattered Ace of Spades posed resting between two fingers of his bloody hand.

She suspected a similar, if not more sinister, scenario here. There was no way a body that big had fallen without the impact dislodging whatever was in his hand. Despite the ever-deepening snow surrounding the body, from her spot a few feet away she saw cuts and abrasions on his hands, implying he fought back; so that would make him holding onto a photo even less likely.

About five yards straight ahead, past a few longer tufts of dead grass breaking through the snow, the red soles and three-inch heels of Gia’s ‘cute’ but useless boots stuck out of a shadowy snow bank.

Veronica stepped over to the snow-covered male body and crouched down. After removing her glove with her teeth again, she brought her fingers to the man’s wrist, which was protruding out of the snow. While trying in vain to find a pulse, she took a deep inhale of the crisp, snow-filled air and called out, “Gia, Can you hear me? Are you okay?”

The gusting wind caused the branches of a nearby tree to shift, and snow cascaded down on both bodies. Gia gave no response to her voice, or to the heavy snow falling onto her.

Veronica glanced up at Logan and Wallace when she still found no pulse on the guy, she shook her head before rising and stepping around the body.

Her foot hit a slick spot, and she slipped, almost falling—except Logan was right beside her, and reached out, grabbing her. “I got you.”

With a soft up tilt of her lips she admitted, “You always do.”

He grinned at her. “For better or for worse, I always will.”

She glanced away, and they resumed taking cautious steps towards Gia. They reached her lying in the snowbank and discovered that when she fell, her face had turned just enough to keep her from suffocating. Veronica reached towards her, and Logan helped her roll Gia over. With Gia’s eyes closed and the lack of worry lines, she could have been fast asleep.

Veronica watched while Wallace reached down and touched Gia’s wrist. She crossed her fingers and offered a prayer to whoever would listen, ‘Please let her be alive,’ while waiting for him to say Gia had a pulse beating against his fingers.

He let out a heavy gust of air. “She’s alive.” He leaned down and peered at her chest. “And she’s breathing.”

Veronica gave a single jerk of her head. “Good, now let’s look at the dead body real quick. Take a few pictures before getting Gia out of the cold.”

Logan held out his arm for Veronica, who grabbed hold of it before taking the few steps back to the body. She took out her phone, and snapped pictures from every angle of everything she thought the police might want, even zooming in on the branch sticking out of the dead guy’s chest and the photo in his hand.

She took a deep breath of the crisp night air and furrowed her brows, uncertain whether the metallic tang in her mouth was from the snow in the air or the blood on the ground.

When she took the last photo, she leaned in closer to the guy’s snow-covered face. After hoping the police would forgive her for touching the body, she brushed the snow from his face before gasping. “Crap! Logan, it’s Norris Clayton.”

Dick and company chose that moment to come clamoring over through the snow drifts. “We heard a scream. Who’d you kill now, Ms. Black Widow? Shit! I was kidding but isn’t that the guy who had a crush on you in school? See, Logan, I was right. She’s a spider waiting to eat you alive when you let your guard down.” He affected a high-pitched voice. “Come into my parlor, so I can devour you.”

With a frown, she shook her head, ignoring Dick. “Dad said, Norris is a Deputy Sheriff now; so we’ve got a dead Deputy and a dead P.I. who used to be a deputy.”

Dick wandered over, trudging through the foot of deep snow, and after leaning closer to the body he grabbed the photo. “Hey, what’s this?”

Veronica reached for it, but it was too late, Dick was already getting his wet fingers all over it.

Dick cackled. “Dude, Luke, what the hell? You prefer dudes over chicks?”

Luke snatched the photo out of Dick’s hand, and without more than a quick glance at it, moved to tear it in half; but Veronica swiped it out of his grasp. “I don’t care who you like or what gender you prefer. However, I also don’t care how embarrassing you find a piece of evidence, or how much you want to keep something a secret. You destroy evidence and I’ll make sure the authorities hear about it; and you’ll need to explain publicly why you tore up a photo of you and Conner Larkin in flagrante, which I can describe with perfect clarity. And now everyone here knows it, so think twice before you go touching my evidence again.”

While she pocketed the picture for safekeeping and took her taser out of her messenger bag, Luke scowled. “Your evidence? Listen here, you little know-it-all bit—”

Logan interrupted. “I’d watch what you say if I were you and show a little respect.”

With a raised eyebrow, Luke asked, “Why, you going to beat me up?”

Logan, chuckled, and shook his head. “Won’t have to. She’ll splay you out in the snow with a jolt from Mr. Sparky, which is already in her hand.” She waved her taser at him with a smirk, while Logan continued. “Make no mistake, I might make a habit of jumping in and protecting Veronica, but she can take care of herself, especially against the likes of a pretty, pampered, rich boy like you.”

Luke scoffed. “Oh, like you’re not just as pampered and rich as I am?”

With a low, bitter laugh, Logan said, “I’ve got way more money than you could ever hope to have, but no one ever pampered me. Daddy Dearest made sure of that. I can take care of myself.”

Veronica smirked. “You’re also prettier than he is by a long shot. Those arms, hubba-hubba.”

Logan laughed. “Why, Mars, are you objectifying me?”

She smirked but didn’t answer. Dick leaned over Gia’s prone form, and while he glared, asked, “So, did you kill Gia, too?”

Veronica crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t kill anyone, and Gia’s still alive. Which brings us to the matter at hand; which of you strong strapping men will carry Gia into the caretaker’s house?”

Cole took a step back. “Not me. Can’t we just leave her here until she wakes up?”

Veronica rolled her eyes and articulated each syllable with crisp clarity. “And not only leave her unprotected, but let her die of hypothermia instead?”

Logan took a step forward. “I’ll do it.”

With a shake of her head, Veronica said, “No, you and Wallace are at my back and sides since you’re the only ones I’m certain aren’t killing people. It’s got to be someone else who carries her, or…”

She marched back over to Gia, slipping, and landing in Logan’s arms. While he righted her, she said, “See, I need you watching my six.”

He chuckled and helped her over to Gia. She leaned down and slapped Gia a few times, with increasing force. “Come on Gia, nobody has time for you to be lying around while bodies are dropping like it’s going out of style.”

On the fourth slap, Gia moaned. “Ugh, stop already. I told you, Veronica Mars, they do not make these boots for hiking through snow. What’d I trip over, anyway? I would have been fine, but I hit ice.”

Dick leaned closer. “Another of Ronnie’s victims… sorry, boy-toys. Norris somebody.”

Veronica stood back up and faced Dick. “He and I hardly knew each other. I cleared his name when a dirty ATF agent tried to frame him, but I spent all of an hour talking to him in my time in Neptune. And I didn’t kill anyone.”

With a smirk, Dick crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking her. “And I didn’t say you did. I said he was another victim of yours, as in you broke his heart, just like that Leo guy and Piz, and Troy, and Logan.” Wagging a finger at her, he said, “If you get my boy killed, I’m gonna be pissed. You already got my dad and my brother killed. Logan dies because of you and I’m gonna go ninja on you.”

When she began raising her arm with Mr. Sparky in it, Logan grabbed it. “Don’t, he’s not worth the trouble of explaining why you tasered him after this is all over. And if you taser him now, we’ll have someone much heavier to carry than Gia, since he won’t be able to walk. And to make matters worse, he’d play that card for as long as possible.”

He turned and faced Dick, eyes hard, his voice steel. “And for the record Dick, I’m tired of you always blaming Veronica for every little thing that goes wrong in your life. Your dad was a crook who died in prison, because even at rock bottom, he couldn’t dial back the elitist bullshit. And your brother was a rapist and murderer, who took a stroll off the roof of a building all on his own because he was too much of a coward to face the consequences of his own actions. Both were their own people, who made their own choices and paid the price for them. Veronica had nothing to do with either of their deaths, even if Cassidy twisted the knife a little deeper by forcing Veronica and I to bear witness to his end.”

Dick took two steps closer to Logan and snarled. “But if she had minded her own business, no one would have figured out what Dad was doing. And Cassidy was a victim, too.”

Logan shook his head. “They would have figured it out; only he would have had time to add even more victims to his list of innocents, who lost their life savings because of him. Kendall was talking to the authorities. And Veronica was Cassidy’s victim, not the other way around. Yes, he was Woody’s victim; however, you don’t see me or Veronica using our status as the victims of grown men misbehaving as an excuse to blow up a bus full of kids, do you? Your brother may have still been a kid, but he made grownup decisions and hurt people.”

Dick threw up his hands and stomped off through the ever-deepening snow, while calling over his shoulder, “Whatever, dude. When you become another casualty of hers, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The surrounding snow dampened his voice and it faded on the increasing wind with his every step away from the group.

Logan took a step towards him, but stopped and glanced at everyone who was staring between him and Dick’s retreating form. “I’ll let him cool off.”

Gia pouted. “Did you have to bring up my dad?”

He shook his head. “Just stating the facts. What your dad did wasn’t your fault, but I’m not going to pussy-foot around the fact he took advantage of and hurt innocent kids for his own pleasure. I’m hoping he and my dad are roasting in hell together.”

Veronica took his hand in hers and squeezed. “If there’s any justice they are. Now, we need to look inside the caretaker’s home. There might be a phone, or something else that might prove useful.”

Susan frowned, her arms akimbo. “And how are we going to do that? We checked, both doors are locked.”

With a smirk, Veronica rifled through her messenger bag and pulled out her lock-picking kit. “Do you think a locked door has ever stopped me?”

Logan chuckled. “I know for a fact that not even an armed security system has stopped you. Though I still maintain you just wanted to see me in nothing but a towel.”

She batted her lashes at him and brought her free hand up to her chest. “Moi?”

He nodded, and she tilted her head and gave him a once-over before returning the nod. “With those arms, the way they are now? I might pay good money for that, just to see what else has improved with time.”

He gave her his patented smirk and said in a sing-song voice, “You think I’m hot.”

She giggled before slapping her hand over her mouth, and saying though her fingers, “That never happened.” He smirked but didn't contradict her, so after lowering her hand, she eyed him again. “And you know how good you look, with or without clothes.”

Wallace scowled. “Hey, you think the two of you can stop flirting long enough to figure out a way off of this death trap of an island? I may not have been the next victim, but statistically, as the only Black man here, my number is coming.”

She grinned. “Don’t worry, Papa Bear, I’m not letting you or Logan out of my sight, so neither of you will shuffle off this mortal coil anytime soon.”

After turning, she led them back through the snow drifts to the front door of the caretaker’s house; and after handing her flashlight to Wallace he pointed it at the lock, while she took off her gloves and went to work unlocking the door.

Within a minute she pushed the door open and took back her light before stepping through the doorway. She turned and flashed the light on the wall by the door. “Dammit. Nobody touch anything. I think there is blood by the light switch.”

With a shaky hand tucked inside her jacket sleeve to keep both the blood from her hand and her prints from the bloody light switch, she reached out flipped it on, confirming her suspicions. Blood smears covered the wall, as if someone had dragged a bloody hand along the wall while trying to support him or herself.

After turning and facing the rest of the room, she narrowed her eyes and picked her way through the wreckage of overturned furniture and living-room debris, including a smashed flower vase with the wilting flowers covered by the shards of blue glass and several magazines thrown into the air, and allowed to land where they would. She reached the satellite phone on one of the few upright pieces of furniture beside the couch in the room. She pushed the on button but nothing happened. After picking it up, she turned it over. “Everyone keep your eyes out for the battery.”

Wallace used his boot to move some magazines. “Like the one over here smashed to smithereens?”

She skirted around the large triple blood pools on the floor. One of them had drag marks leading up the staircase. For the time being she ignored that and leaned closer to the shattered rechargeable battery on the floor. “Yeah, like that.”

Logan stood inside the door. “Is it just me, or is there one blood pool too many for the number of bodies we have? And what can I do to stop you from following the trail of blood up the stairs?”

Her lips turned up at the corners. “Not a thing. I will turn over every stone, look through every closet,” She picked her way around the room, her eyes scanning everything while she continued talking. “And, hello, rifle through every backpack hiding in plain view behind an overturned chair. I won’t miss any clues if I can help it. Your life and Wallace’s may depend on it. And I’ll be damned if I get either of you hurt.”

Logan dropped his voice an octave, to that tender voice he reserved for Veronica. “You know, you don’t have to save everybody.”

With a shake of her head, she said, “Not trying to save everybody, just those who matter to me, those I love and would be nothing without. Those who are the air that keeps me breathing.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, straightening up. “Are we doing this now?”

She gave him a shrug while she crouched and unzipped the backpack. “It’s as good a time as any, and I need you to know I still need you and I miss you. I—I still love you, always have. Even if you don’t take me back, I need to say it to your face at least once. You deserve that much from me, after everything I’ve put you through. I need to pull on my big-girl panties and admit, to your face, that you’re the only man I’ve ever truly loved; and the only one who not only gets me, but has always supported me, even when you thought I was being stupid and reckless.”

He shifted on his feet and took a step closer to her. “What changed? You’ve never admitted to any of this before, not in so many words, at least.”

She flashed the light into the bag, and after making brief eye contact with him, glanced into the backpack. “Life without you in it sucks. I hate it and want to go back to the world I had where you were always there. And I’m tired of fighting my feelings; somewhere along the way, I realized that the fact you scared me with all your feelings meant I felt something worth experiencing. Living safe is boring and never taking emotional risks makes me stagnant. If I can take risks in every other aspect of my life, why shouldn’t I be just as brave in this instance and take the one risk that matters most? If I’m right, and my life is a shallow empty shell without you in it, imagine what my—our—lives, together, can be... if I grow up, and act like a mature grown adult who isn’t too scared to commit, or even say I love you.” She made eye contact again. “I do, ya know? I love you so much.” After glancing back at the almost empty bag, she continued, “It hurts when we’re apart, and that’s what scared me. That you’re so vital to my happiness. Sue says,—”

“Wait, who’s Sue?”

With heat rising in her cheeks she ducked her head. “Sue is my therapist. Anyway, she said my fear of feeling emotions so much is a product of everything that happened to me—to us—and it amazes me you went the other way and feel so much. But I want to experience that. I want to be free of all the baggage, and I want to be free with you if you’ll have me.”

He stood there staring at her for a solid minute, his eyes flickering over every inch of her face, as if memorizing each curve. Then with a smirk he put her out of her misery. “I’m not saying no, but how do you plan to work around the fact you go to Stanford while I go to Hearst? What about the distance?”

Veronica shrugged, her gaze staying down, but her voice lowered. “Wallace already drives up every weekend, so it’s a doable weekend trip. We could switch off weekends, back and forth. Or if that doesn’t work, you could transfer or I could transfer, either is a possibility.”

Without waiting a beat, he shook his head. “Stanford is your dream. You always wanted to go there. You’re not allowed to transfer because of me now that you’re there.”

Her lips turned up a little. “I will ignore that ‘allowed’ part, because I’m sure you don't mean it in a controlling or bad way, and I don't want to start a fight over something so petty as a word. But, for the record, I would. I would switch out of my dream school, if it meant being with you for the rest of my life. I would give up Stanford and anything else that might get in the way. You shouldn’t be the only one in this relationship making sacrifices and personal changes to compromise and make this work.”

She finished that statement by taking two ID’s out of the bag and standing. “I choose you, Logan, now and always if you’ll have me. And I choose to be your partner in this, a fifty-fifty–” She paused. “No that's not right. I want a one hundred-one hundred partnership. No more lopsided relationship where you put in all the effort and make all the compromises, with me just taking from you without reciprocating.”

He took the five steps to her and pulled her into his arms before crushing his lips to hers. They stayed like that until he pulled back, gasping for air. “I got into San Jose State University It’s half an hour away from Stanford.”

She beamed before her lips turned down. “Why did you apply to transfer there?”

With a smirk he said, “You’re not the only one who felt empty and stagnant. I was hoping to convince you to give us a try one more time. Our story is epic…”

She giggled again. “Spanning years and continents. Lives ruined, bloodshed…”

“Epic.”

Her eyes darted to the pools of blood. “Well, we’ve got bloodshed, and lives ruined in spades today; and, now, I’m even more determined to get you and Wallace out of here in one piece. We’ve got a future to work on, together.”

He leaned in and gave her a tender kiss, and they stood there amid the destroyed living room, enjoying being on the same page, before a scream ripped through the small house. They pulled apart and took each other’s hand before turning towards the scream.

Wallace smiled at them. “I hope it works out for you guys. You suck apart, both of you bellyaching about not being with the other. Do a brother a favor and stay together, so I can focus on my love life instead of yours.”

They laughed before the three of them climbed the stairs, stepping on the edges of the steps to avoid trekking through the bloody drag marks. When they reached the top, everyone else clustered around a doorway. The girls all cried, clinging to each other, and Cole and Luke both bent over and threw up in the hallway.

The three friends pushed their way through the crowded hall and entered the bedroom before looking around the room; bed against the wall, a desk in the corner, bureau standing against the wall the door was in. It appeared normal, except for the bloody drag marks leading to the only other door in the room.

Veronica let go of Logan’s hand, strode to it, and opened it, before staggering back and slamming her hand over her mouth. After fighting her own gag reflex for a minute, she said, “Duncan! What the hell?”

She turned towards Logan, blinking rapidly to keep her tears at bay. The last thing she wanted was to shed tears in front of the other oh-niners. She’d save them and share them with Logan, the other remaining member of the Fab Four, later. For now, she said, “Maybe I am the Black Widow. Perhaps Dick is right for the first time in history and you should get as far away from me as you can.”

Duncan Kane’s bloodied face and lifeless eyes stared out of the closet at them. With quick steps, Logan moved behind her and gathered her into his arms, holding her tight. “Not a chance, Bobcat, wild horses won’t drag me from you now.”

Her lips turned upward before she glanced at the two IDs still in her hand and she lost her smile after she did a double take. She pulled back from Logan enough to hand them to him, but still stay in the circle of his arms, before asking, “Recognize these two jokers with a penchant for hurting people?”

He took the cards with one hand, the other holding her to him tighter and stared at them. “Who are Adam Rodriguez and Peter Hanson?”

After shaking her head, she said, “No idea who the names belong to but look at the pictures. Their names aren’t Adam and Peter.”

He peered at the top card. “Dylan, Dylan Goran, the ass who hurt Trina and got a beat-down from Dear Ole Dad.”

She inclined her head, so he shuffled the cards so the second one was on top and sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Gory Sorokin. Crap! What are these doing on this island, out in the middle of nowhere? You don’t suppose the assholes are here, do you?”

She took the cards back from him and examined them, even holding them up to the light. “These are top quality fake IDs, Logan. They paid good money for these. If these cards are here, I’d bet my college scholarship and your trust fund that Dylan and Gory are here somewhere, too—lurking in the shadows, and possibly killing people associated with me or both of us. Remember, Leo first stole and then sold you Lilly’s sex tapes, and while not directly connected to Clayton, you led ‘the torment Veronica’ campaign at school that he tried to intervene in, or you could even get to him through the ATF agent. You gave Ben a beat-down while he was setting Clayton up for terrorism. And Duncan, he was your ex-best friend and while he was also my ex-boyfriend, Sue showed me that what he did was rape.”

She took a deep breath and released it even while she gripped his arm tight. “He raped me. Somehow, I made what he did okay in my mind, because I couldn't face the fact that my former best friend hurt me like that. And then—then I dated him. Logan—I'm so sorry that I fell for his good boy, perfect choir boy routine. I'm so sorry I ran from you and my feelings for you.”

He pulled her back into his arms. “I forgave you for that a long time ago.”

She sniffled into his chest before pulling back. “Thank you. I’m not sure I deserve that but thank you.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m not sweeping it under the rug or forgetting about it. However, I’m seeing a therapist too, Jane. We’ve been working together on my forgiving those who have hurt me and myself, too. So, I forgive you, because I believe you’re sorry, and Jane has helped me see how much you’ve been hurting, how confused you must have been trying to deal with everything that happened to you, including me turning the school against you.”

He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I’m sorry for that, and, now, you’re sorry for the things you did in our relationship, too. Jane taught me that holding onto that hurt and anger will only hurt us both. So I propose we both work on letting go of the pain and rage and heal together. You and I have always been better together. The problems between us always crop up when one of us forgets that and I want us to work this time 'Ronica. It won't always be easy, but you're it for me, my one true love, and I'm willing to work for us if you are.”

She fell into him more and, damn the consequences, she sobbed all over him even with the oh-niners looking on.

A few minutes later that seemed like a lifetime, a weight lifted off her shoulders and she straightened, and kissed his chin, before she pulled back, straightening her shirt. “Thank you. We’ll talk later about all this when we don’t have more pressing matters to deal with… like bodies piling up.”

With another glance at Duncan’s body, she said, “So, Duncan’s connected to both of us, too. Clayton is, I admit, a stretch, but the other two aren’t and if we include Troy and Piz, we’re both connected to them as well. Troy dated me and stole the steroids after visiting Mexico with you and Luke, and you gave Piz a beat-down when you understandably thought it was him who recorded and distributed the video of him and me making out.”

The door downstairs creaked while it opened before it slammed shut and Veronica did a head count. Everyone but Dick was in the hallway; she waited a moment for him to come upstairs, but he never did. She gave a heavy sigh. “We need to go see who came in.”

Logan’s eyebrow rose. “You don’t think it’s Dick?”

With a shake of her head, she said, “Wouldn’t he already be up here mouthing off?”

“Crap, you make a fair point.”

She turned in his arms and hugged him before pulling back. “This time we all need to stay together for real,” she said, before leading the group back down the stairs.

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

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anderson-residence · 4 years

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Another Super long Easter headcanon

Human kid Connor, Carter, and Niles what they got for Easter 2020. Based on my main human au timeline. In 2020 the boys were living with Hank after they lost their parents. The twins, Connor and Carter are nine. They turn ten this summer. Niles is a bit younger at eight years old.

Hank didn’t do traditional baskets and got a lot more stuff than he normally would and there are more necessaries than fun stuff but he tried to get a good mix. He got bags instead of baskets and didn’t do any paper or plastic fake grass. He used tissue paper. He didn’t want to buy baskets because he didn’t know if they would be with him next year (this was before they were adopted and it was just supposed to be a temporary foster situation he and his wife were doing) He got them toys and treats because of course, you have to get kids those goodies on Easter but also got them things they needed. There were out growing some clothes and didn’t have some things. His wife bought some, he bought a lot and there was a bit of arguing but it’s all well in the end.

Basically, this is the “Oh shit I’m adopting 3 kids and don’t really have anything for them or know their likes time to go shopping and it’s also Easter” Easter baskets. Connor’s bag:

Blue bag, A super soft squishy plush dog (Hank has learned the boy likes dogs), a water bottle in blue with sharks (there wasn’t many options and Hank didn’t know what to get any of the boys. He knew Connor likes blue and aquadic life so he got a blue/shark one), a egg filled with snickers, water balloons, new sneakers that are dark blue with an orange trim, a 3 pack of socks that are striped and one pair is blue, 3 pack of underwear (not pictured plain balck briefs), a red and blue tank top, a striped t shirt, jeans, navy shorts, blue swin trunks, sunglasses, pushpop, an egg filled with skittles, a kite, m&ms, a glow sword, 2 glow sticks in blue, water guns (mini in a 2 pack), gold fish crackers, plain potato chips, sour cream and onion chips, 3 air heads, a big bubble wand, fruit snacks, a bath bomb, sleep shorts and a sleep shirt (matching, shark theme shirt says “midnight stealth mode” Hank felt like it was fitting he often finds the kid up in the middle of the night and didn’t hear him get up or the kid comes into his room and Hank didn’t hear him come in), new sandals in dark blue and tan, pink starbusts, chalk, a chalk holder, mini m&ms, noisy putty (makes fart sounds. The boys aren’t really into it but Hank figured it was worth a try because he’s seen plenty of kids into it), and a light rain jacket that is bright blue and black with white stripes. Carter’s bag:

A green bag , A super soft squishy plush (Hank didn’t know what to get Carter as a plush and wanted to get all the boys simiar things. He got him what was advertised as a cow)), a water bottle in blue with music stuff on it (there wasn’t many options and Hank didn’t know what to get any of the boys. He ended up getting something that was blue and orange.), a egg filled with snickers, water balloons, new sneakers that are blue and white, a 3 pack of socks solid colirs with a few stripes, 3 pack of underwear (not pictured, plain black briefs), salmon and green tank top, a striped t shirt, jeans, blue shorts, blue swim trunks, sunglasses, pushpop, an egg filled with skittles, a kite, m&ms, a glow sword, 2 glow sticks in green, water guns (mini in a 2 pack), gold fish crackers, plain potato chips, sour cream and onion chips, 3 air heads, a big bubble wand, fruit snacks, a bath bomb, sleep shorts and a sleep shirt (matching, dino themed. He didn’t know what the kid would like but the saying on the shirt, ‘snacks before bed’ seemed to fit him well), new sandals that are tan, pink starbusts, chalk, a chalk holder, mini m&ms, noisy putty (makes fart sounds. The boys aren’t really into it but Hank figured it was worth a try because he’s seen plenty of kids into it), and a light rain jacket that is dark blue with white stripes. Niles’ bag:

A yellow bag , A super soft squishy plush kitty (He noticed Niles took to the neighbors cat), a water bottle in gray (there wasn’t many options and Hank didn’t know what to get any of the boys. He saw that Niles like whites, grays, and blacks so picked a gray bottle), a egg filled with snickers, water balloons, new sneakers (gray because again its a color Nilies likes), a 3 pack of socks (striped and multi color with gray), 3 pack of underwear (not pictured, just plain black briefs), a teal and gray tank top, a striped t shirt, jeans, gray shorts, blue swim trunks, sunglasses, pushpop, an egg filled with skittles, a kite, m&ms, a glow sword, 2 glow sticks in orange, water guns (mini in a 2 pack), gold fish crackers, plain potato chips, sour cream and onion chips, 3 air heads, a big bubble wand, fruit snacks, a bath bomb, sleep shorts and a sleep shirt (matching, black spaced theme that glows in the dark Hank got it because it was a color Nilies likes), new sandals that are greenish tan, pink starbusts, chalk, a chalk holder, mini m&ms, noisy putty (makes fart sounds,. The boys aren’t really into it but Hank figured it was worth a try because he’s seen plenty of kids into it), and a light rain jacket that is gray and black.

#headcanon #hank muse #connor muse #carter muse #niles muse #human connor #human carter #human niles #long post

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singingunderthecurtain · 7 years

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DIAMOND (CEO AU Baekhyun Series) Part 5

Also on AFF

Previous Chapters (1) (2) (3) (4)

Photo not mine, found it on Google.

Author: @julietsoddeye AU: CEO!Baekhyun Genre: Angst | Smut | Romance Pairing: Baekhyun x Lee Soojin (You/OC) Trigger Warning: Smut on future chapters. Mentions of car accident. Mentions of being blind. Baekhyun being an a-hole. Word Count: 2,203

Plot: After 10 years of exile to another country, you are finally back home and you were surprised to find out that you are engaged to the son of your father's long-time friend and business partner.

Diamond Mini Masterlist

“I can’t believe you’re actually moving in with Jongdae?!?!?!” Hisako’s jaw drops while Yanmei starts messily packing her stuff inside her suitcase and duffle bag.

You and Mia, cradling Yanmei’s millions of skincare and makeup stuff in your arms, are helping your friend move just 2 doors down from her original shared bedroom. It hasn’t been 2 hours after their, uh, getting-to-know stage and Jongdae already asked her to move in his room for the rest of the vacation. You guess she really did something good to Jongdae or he’s just a really easy guy to manipulate. You believe it’s the latter, but who cares. Now you have a spy so you can find out stuff about Baekhyun without him noticing anything.

“Oh my gosh Hisa, why are you so dramatic? I’m only moving into his room, not his house! We’re probably going to forget about each other after we get back to America…” Yanmei rolls her eyes and smiles at you with malice. You smiled back with the same expression she gave you.

“Sooj, are you really allowing this? What if that guy ruins Mei-mei for good? Like emotionally I mean because we all know she’s already ruined physically.” Hisako clears her throat as she masks a laughter with her own remark, but after recovering her face turned sour again as if she drank spoiled milk.

“Bitch.” Yanmei hissed silently at Hisako’s remark.

“Hisa, if anything it will be the other way around and you know that.” You said in a matter-of-fact tone, stuffing all the products you have in your arms inside your friend’s bag. It’s true Jongdae will probably be emotionally attached to Yanmei, asking her to move into his bedroom is a clear sign that she’s got him under her spell already.

“Ms. Hisa, I’m sure Ms. Mei can handle herself well.” Mia tried coaxing Hisa as she rubs her arms soothingly, the same she always does to you when you panic about something. Hisa smiled sadly at Mia, her face not relaxing one bit.

“See, even Mia knows me and it’s been, what, only 4 days since we met her.” Yanmei gave Mia a ‘thank you’ grin and Mia replied with a thumb’s up.

“Look Hisa think of it this way, you have more room to stretch your long-ass limbs on the bed now.” You held both of Hisako’s arms as you shake her a little bit.

“Just trust me; I know what I’m doing. I mean how many frat boys have cried on my feet while we just casually stroll along the university as we travel to and fro between classes?” Yanmei purses her lips as she reminds her friend of those funny moments.

“A lot,” Hisa said while silently counting the men Yanmei disregard like trash. A lot of those guys are trash anyways; Yanmei is just giving those guys a taste of their own medicine.

“And how many times have I cried because of a guy?” Yanmei asked again.

“Not counting that one time you cried when Jack froze to death on that ocean, that bitch Rose didn’t share that plank with him. Nope, you never cry because of any guy.” The defeat in Hisako’s voice made Yanmei dance slightly in celebration.

__________

You were planning on locking yourself in your room again and just continue reading your book, but Jongdae, Yanmei, and Jongin convinced you to join them outside. The boys were barbecuing assortments of meats and sausages and Hisako whipped up her delicious avocado and kimchi salad. You can’t say no to that and it’s been a long time since you last ate it.

“Get a fucking room!” Chanyeol hisses and shoots daggers at Yanmei and Jongdae’s direction. Yanmei is comfortably sitting on Jongdae’s lap as she feeds him the meat, kimchi, and rice she wrapped with perilla leaf and lettuce.

“Oh, we will do that later, don’t worry Chanyeol.” The ever quick-witted Yanmei hoots with a teasing grin. Jongin, Sehun, and Baekhyun roar with laughter while Jongdae almost choked on the wrap, with what Yanmei said.

“They already got a room this morning.” Hisako loudly whispers with a scoff, sporting the same frown as Chanyeol, causing more laughter from the three guys and Yanmei.

“Ew,” Chanyeol replies with a sour face.

“I know right?” Hisako reiterates.

“How about you two get a room instead?” Yanmei teases, making Jongdae cough and spill the beer from his mouth to his chin and down his shirt. Yanmei quickly grabs a paper towel and dab the absorbent material to clean her new boy toy up. Chanyeol and Hisako’s cheeks blushed simultaneously, shutting them completely up.

“Ohohooo look at Yeollie and Hisako blushing!” Baekhyun teased along while flipping burgers and samgyeopsal with Sehun, giggling like an idiot beside him in front of the grill.

“They totally like each other!!!” Jongin jived along, making lewd kissing sounds. Chanyeol threw a piece of baby potato at Jongin but he dodged it quickly.

“Hisa and Chanyeol? I totally ship that!” Yanmei picks on some more, sticking out her tongue at the fuming Hisako.

“Shut up, shut up!” Hisako folds her arms against her chest and frowned like a child.

“Where can I get friends like yours, Soojin?” Jongin asks you with an obnoxious howling laughter.

“America apparently.” You shrug and answer his question with a silent laugh.

“Soojin-ssi, can I talk to you privately for a few minutes?” Mia slightly taps your shoulder as she whispers in your ear.

“Sure Mia.” You said as you stand from your seat. The bantering of your friends slowly dissipates in the background as you both trudge along away from them.

“I just talked to the private investigator we hired. They already found information of your brother’s whereabouts, including contact information. I’ll give you his number so you can talk to him.” Mia excitedly announces but with a hushed tone, as if someone will hear her.

“Oh my gosh that’s great news, Mia! Thank you so much.” You spread your arms and wrap them up on her smaller frame. Mia hugs you back as she pats your back soothingly.

“We better get back to them and discuss the details later,” Mia said as both of you pull away from the hug.

“Yeah. I just hope he’ll talk to me. The last time we had a conversation was two years ago. He told me about the girl he met and fell in love with. I miss my oppa.” You smiled thinking about that memory. You and your brother were close and he was the only one in the family you kept in contact with besides your mother.

“I’m sure he misses you too.” Mia sympathetically smiled at you. The same smile she always gives you whenever you talk about your fucked up life with her.

__________

You know that feeling of being followed? Yeah, that’s exactly what you’re experiencing right now. You don’t even dare look behind you, afraid of seeing a sea monster of some sort. As ridiculous as it sounds and being a fucking grown up who does Hapkido really well, there is something about mythical creatures that scare you a little bit. Well more like, amazes you in a way. You’ve always wanted to be a mermaid when you were young. In college and up until recently, you’ve colored your hair crazy colors. (You and Yanmei always love bleaching your hair until you’re both bald) But since you’re now in the corporate world; your mother made you color your hair back to black.

“Soojinnie…” Much to your disappointment, it was only Baekhyun following you, not a sea monster. And what the hell, did he just call you “Soojinnie”? You pretended not to hear anything and ignored him, and continue your night stroll.

“Are you really still ignoring me?” Baekhyun said again, now walking beside you. The desperation in his voice made you twirl your head towards him and regretted it immediately because he’s smiling, really adorably, down at you. It almost made you wanna smile back, but you remembered that you hated his guts and he hates you back and he’s obviously faking it, which is really weird because you’re alone right now. Unless your parents secretly wired both of you so they can spy your every conversation.

“Are we being followed? Do they have some sort of invisible camera floating in the air and following us around on this island?” You scowl at Baekhyun and he tilts his head to the side, his face getting eaten by confusion.

“What?” He asks with a laugh. A laugh that is genuinely happy? Definitely a first from Baekhyun.

“Don’t talk to me as if we’re friends, Baekhyun. We only pretend when we’re in front of our parents and other people.” You look ahead of you now and pick up your pace, Baekhyun following close behind you.

“Look Soojin, I’m trying to be nice here. Don’t test my patience.” Baekhyun suddenly grabs your arm, twirling you around so you can face him.

“Don’t touch me Baekhyun!” You tried pulling your arm away from him but his grip tightened and you wince slightly.

“I told you to cooperate with me, didn’t I?” Baekhyun says through gritted teeth, you can almost see smoke coming out of his nose and ears with anger.

“I am fucking cooperating!” You screech and a tear rolled down your face, still shaking and pulling your arm off his grip.

“Then why are you being such a bitch?” He shrieked back at you and your free hand involuntarily reach out to slap his cheek really hard, making him twist his head to the side.

Baekhyun’s face flushed, the part you hit redder than the rest and he returns his gaze to you, his eyes fuming with rage. That’s it, his thin ice of a tolerance is now broken. You can feel his anger radiate through the cold and humid night air, his sharp eyes not blinking one bit.

When Baekhyun’s other hand suddenly grabbed the back of your head, you instantly closed your eyes, awaiting your incoming demise. But your legs turned into jello when you felt his lips crashed onto yours. You tried wiggling off, but his grip tightened even more and his tongue pried your mouth open.

You let out a tiny whimper, you’re not sure if it’s out of fear or lust when his tongue swipes with yours. His hand that was previously gripping your arm is now snaked around your waist as he pulls you closer to him. The heat of his body made your hands to grudgingly grip his hair. He moaned into your mouth as you did so and a quick burst of fervor made your stomach whir.

One thing led to another, you are now sitting, legs intertwined under Baekhyun’s on the cold sand still kissing. Slowly Baekhyun started palming your breasts over the thin cloth of your bikini top. That feat made you jolt back to life and you abruptly pull away from his lips. Baekhyun groaned at the loss of your touch and he opened his eyes to question you.

I— what are you doing? What are we doing Baekhyun…” You gulp down and you shift your head, pretending to be enamored by the ocean.

“Kissing… We’re kissing, Soojinnie.” Baekhyun answers and gingerly grab your chin to make you focus on him again.

“Why did you kiss me?” You ask again, removing your stare from his sharp look. Your eyes fell on his lips that were red and swell from the kiss.

“Why did you kiss me back?” He requites the dreaded question to you as he tucks a few locks of hair behind your ear.

“Don’t call me that!” You scowl at him all of a sudden.

“Call you what?” He questions, his eyebrows threading together in befuddlement.

“Soojinnie, don’t call me that.” You frown, remembering that it was what your father used to call you.

“Why do you hate me so much?” Baekhyun now frowns.

“I hate you? No Baekhyun, you hated me first!” You push away from Baekhyun’s hug and stood up. Baekhyun also stood as you brush off the sand that sticks to your butt.

“I hated you, really? I saved you from fainting on stage when they announced our engagement to the public.” Angry Baekhyun is back, flaming at you.

“Well isn’t my cooperation with you enough payment for that? God, Baekhyun! You are so aggravating; I swear to my mother and father, you are the bane of my existence!” You spit out the words as if it’s venom in your mouth.

“You’re a handful too, you know!” Baekhyun grimaced and kicks your crocheted shawl that was on the sand.

“You’re a fucking asshole Baekhyun!!!” You grabbed your shawl and the both of you stomp your way back to the house.

#Baekhyun #Byun Baekhyun #CEO Baekhyun #kpopwritingnet #CEO Byun Baekhyun #Smut #Angst #Romance #EXO #EXO-M #EXO-K #EXO Scenario #EXO Fanfiction #Kpop Scenario #Kpop Fanfiction

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jazzyyyjones · 7 years

Text

The start and the end

*Thomas x reader *Modern *Word count: 4488 (wow guys) Summary: How it all started and then how it all ended.

Author’s Note: So I suck at summaries and titles! Whoo! This was really hard for me to finish because I wasn’t exactly sure how to end it and I wanted it to be perfect. I’m really proud of how this fic turned out and I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :)

Warnings: Death, Swearing, Sadness, Angst, way too much italics... You’ve been warned (Feel free to message me and yell at me because honestly,,, I deserve it with how many angsty fics I’ve been putting out lately)

Masterlist // Request Something!

Six. Thomas was six years old when he first met her, he remembered clinging to his mother’s leg and watching the girl do the exact same, peeking her head out from behind her mother shyly and making eye contact with Thomas. He felt a grin slowly forming on his lips as he met her gaze, cocking his head to the side when he saw the girl do the exact same thing.

He remembered slowly making his way towards the small girl, letting go of his mom’s leg and watching her do the exact same thing, meeting each other halfway.

“I’m Thomas,” he spoke, smiling brightly at the smaller girl as he held his hand out for her to shake, something his father had taught him to do.

“Y/n,” she whispered, shaking his hand before quickly retreating it, looking down at the wooden floors. Thomas frowned, furrowing his brows, why isn’t she talking much? He thought, his lips curled downwards as he stared at her. He shrugged it off and shook his head, wrapping his short arm around her shoulders, making the girl flinch. She hadn’t been expecting him to do that as she felt their mothers eyes watching them, looking down at the pair with soft smiles gracing their lips.

Thomas pulled away, only to gently grasp her hand and pull her in the direction of his playroom. He motioned for her to sit on his Thomas the Tank Engine chair as he went to the baskets filled to the brim with toys, pulling one of his favorites out, his Optimus Prime action figure. “My daddy got this for me for my sixth birthday,” he said proudly, motioning to the toy in his small hands. He turned back to the basket and rummaged through again, only to pause and turn back to Y/n.

“I don’t have any girl toys though because those have cooties.” He stated simply, shrugging as he recalled the word cooties, which was something his friend had said at recess the other day. Y/n stayed silent, only nodding her head occasionally. “And cooties are bad for you, you know, but I’ve only heard stories!” He rambled, waving his arms around to get his point through to Y/n.

“But only girls have cooties,” he quieted down, looking over the small girl. “But you don’t, because you’re cool.” And with that, Thomas turned back around to look through his toy chest again.

Seven. Thomas was seven when Y/n transferred to his school. It was the first day of fourth grade and James, his best friend in the entire world, was chewing on his sandwich noisily as he spoke, only to finally swallow and turn to Thomas. “Did you hear that a girl totally punched Aaron today?” Thomas shook his head as he bit into his sandwich, frowning at his small friend. “Girls can’t punch boys,” Thomas scoffed, setting his lunch back down in his Transformers lunch box.

James shook his head, giving Thomas a pointed look as he sneakily stole one of Thomas’s Doritos. “But this girl can, Thomas, I saw it with my own two eyes.” He stated seriously, pointing to his eyes to further prove his point. “Nuh uh!” Thomas argued back, turning his small body so he could look at his friend. Before James could say anything else, the bell rang, signaling it was time for the second recess of the day. Thomas hurriedly packed his lunch box before Samuel tried to steal his Oreos again. And he wasn’t going to let it happen again.

Thomas and James made their way over to the playground, his gaze landing on a small girl, sitting in the field and picking at the weeds growing by the fence. He furrowed his brows when he recognized the girl, looking over to see James distracted by four square, Thomas then quickly turned back to look at Y/n and made his way over to her.

“Hey, I-” He paused when Y/n turned to him, narrowing her eyes. “Why are you talking to me? You’ll get cootithes.” She frowned, trying to block her eyes from the hot sun, her lisp evident as she looked back down at the green grass. “No I won’t,” Thomas argued back, sitting down by her. “I told you that I’m immune to cooties.” He stated simply, then looking down at the plants she had been playing with.

“People haven’t been talking to me since I punched Aaron this morning.” Y/n muttered bitterly, pouting her lips and crossing her small arms.

Thomas frowned, “well Aaron deserved it,” he said, his fluffy hair bouncing as he nodded his head. “Aaron stole my Spongebob lunchbox last year. He had it coming.” Y/n laughed softly, nodding her head in agreement. “He said that bows were for sissies.” She huffed, her smile fading as she repeated what Aaron had said this morning. Thomas looked at the blue bow in Y/n’s head, before looking at her with a soft smile. “I think it looks cool.”

Nine. They were nine years old when Y/n stopped coming to school for awhile, and both Thomas and James had noticed it, but they never understood why. Thomas remembers his mother picking him up from school one day, nodding her head softly as he blabbered on and on about what he did today, and of course, he had mentioned Y/n every once-in-awhile.

“And today, Ms. Rosa said that we were gonna start learning about Fossils. Y/n needs to come back, she’ll love it--” His mother sighed, looking over at Thomas before turning her gaze back to the stoplight in front of her. “Thomas, Y/n probably won’t be returning to school for awhile.” Thomas frowned, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked up at his mother. “Why?” He asked, cocking his head to the side as he didn’t understand what she meant by that.

“Y/n’s mommy is…” Mrs. Jefferson trailed off, biting her bottom lip as she tried to find a way to figure out how to word what she was going to say correctly. “Her mommy is very sick,” she nodded her head, pressing on the gas when the stoplight turned green. “And Y/n is staying with her mommy for as long as she can. Her father told me to tell you that she misses you and can’t wait to come back and see you.”

Thomas stayed silent and looked straight ahead as his lips curled downwards, why couldn’t Y/n see her mommy after school? And see me during school? Thomas turned to his mother, looking up at her to see she was already looking down at him with a soft frown playing at her lips. “Can we go visit them?” Mrs. Jefferson shook her head, sighing. “I don’t think so, Tommy. Not today, at least.” She ran her hand gently through Thomas’s curls, knowing he loved it. Thomas sighed in defeat, nodding his head as he got out of the car and stomped towards the house.

It was a week later when the counselor came into his classroom, explaining to the kids why Y/n hadn’t returned to school in the last few weeks. “Y/n’s mommy was very sick and she recently passed away… I ask that when Y/n comes back, you all treat her with respect and make her feel welcomed.” The class simply nodded their heads, and with that, the counselor left the room. Thomas looked across the room to meet James’s eyes, frowning. “Her mommy is very sick,” he recalled his mother saying a week earlier.

When Y/n finally returned to school, she was silent. She wasn’t blabbering on and on about the braid her mother taught her how to do or what her new kitten had done earlier that morning… No. She was silent, she kept her head down, and she didn’t speak in class, but the one thing that caught Thomas’s eye was that she wasn’t wearing her regular blue bow-- Or, she wasn’t wearing a bow in her hair at all.

“Hey Y/n,” Thomas smiled sadly, wrapping an arm around his friend’s small shoulders. “Hi,” she whispered weakly, looking up at Thomas with a tired expression on her features. “I’m tired,” she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder as they sat under the large red slide on the playground. Thomas nodded his head in agreement, sighing a bit. “Yeah, so am I,” he mumbled, looking down at her. “I’ve been worried about you.”

Y/n hummed in acknowledgment, nodding her head slowly. “Don’t worry about me, Tommy,” she mumbled, using the nickname Thomas had grown so fond of. The nickname Thomas had reserved for Y/n and Y/n only.

“I’ll be fine… We’ll be fine…”

Oh, if only he had known then that wouldn’t be true.

Eleven Eleven was when Y/n started to change, she seemed… happier. Yet for some reason, it was almost as if she had mastered the art of faking it. Thomas could always see through her because after all, she was his best friend. Yes, James was also a good friend, but he could never compare to his friendship with Y/n.

“I have a plan,” Y/n stated simply, grabbing a potato chip from the bowl they were sharing and turned to lay on her back, staring at the “stars” they had made themselves to put in their treehouse. “What do you mean by a plan?” Thomas wondered, turning over to face Y/n even though she never turned to face him.

She simply shrugged, before letting out a deep sigh and turning onto her side to face Thomas, her crooked smile slowly appearing as she thought about her “plan.” Thomas simply furrowed his brows, waiting for her to tell him at least something about this amazing plan of hers.

“When I graduate from high school, I’m going to travel. Far, far, away from here and no one will ever see me again. But,” she paused, sitting up to run her small hand through Thomas’s curls, grinning from ear to ear. “You can come with me.” She said it so softly that it came out like a whisper, and Thomas quickly sat up, his once confused frown replaced with a grin that matched Y/n's.

“Really?” He asked, looking at Y/n with excited eyes. He immediately knew the first place he wanted to go to France.

Y/n nodded, giggling a bit. “Yeah, we’ll go wherever we want, and no one can stop us. It’ll be just you and me against the world.” She sighed dreamily, reaching out to squeeze Thomas’s hand. Thomas returned to gesture, looking down at their joint hands before looking back up at Y/n, his grip tightening a bit as he examined her facial expressions and her appearance. Her flowing hair and her eyes that shined brighter than the stars in the night sky. Y/n opened her eyes and looked at him, smiling as well.

They stayed like that for awhile before Y/n looked out the window of the treehouse, frowning a bit. “I have to go, Tommy.” Thomas frowned, huffing a bit but released her hand reluctantly. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, alright?” Thomas nodded, smiling when Y/n leaned over to press a soft peck to his cheek.

And so it began, Y/n and Thomas started saving up for their trip to get as far away from this town as possible. Y/n would have occasional Lemonade stands and Thomas would clean cars, at the end of the day, they’d meet at the treehouse and put the money in the jaw that was labeled “a trip to somewhere.”

James noticed the pair would always spend time together, as much as possible. They’d whisper to each other during passing periods and they were secretive around James. They said that if they told him their plans, it would all be ruined.

“We’ll tell you someday, Jimmy.” Was all Y/n said, to which Thomas agreed with by nodding his head. “But not yet. We have to make sure everything will be ready before we can think about telling another soul.” James simply nodded his head, copying Thomas’s action as he nibbled on his bottom lip.

“Just… Don’t do anything stupid.”

Y/n and Thomas laughed, shaking their heads just as the bell for fourth period rang. “When have we ever?”

Thirteen. Thomas was thirteen when Y/n came to school without her regular bright smile. The smile that always made her stand out in the crowd of tired students. This time, she looked like the rest of the kids pushing each other to get through the doors.

Tired, sad, and bitter.

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked gently, throwing an arm over her shoulders as they walked side by side down the hallway. Y/n let out a shaky sigh and shook her lead, both of them stopping in front of Y/n’s first-period class as she looked up at him with sad eyes, quickly wrapping her arms around his neck, “I’m sorry Tommy, I love you. Meet me at our treehouse tonight.” With that, she pulled away from Thomas and walked into her class to greet her other friends, talking to them as she pulled out her notebook. Thomas glanced around the hallway and frowned. What had she meant by that? Before Thomas could question it, even more, the first bell rang signaling it was time for everyone to be in their first class of the day. Thomas shook his head and hurried down the hall to his first class, his mind never leaving how odd Y/n had been acting.

Later that night, Thomas kept his agreement. His legs shook with both fear and anticipation as he climbed up the old ladder to get to the treehouse he shared with Y/n. When he pushed through the door, he saw Y/n curled up in the corner of the small space, holding her knees to her chest as she quickly wiped away her tears when she noticed Thomas was there.

“Thomas… Hey.” Y/n tried to smile but failed at doing so. She quickly looked back down at the floor and took a deep breath before looking at him, reaching out for him to come sit by her. “Come. Sit. I have… a lot to tell you.”

Thomas slowly crawled over to her, what with him being too tall to stand and walk over to her. He sat down by her and wrapped an arm around her, letting her lean her head onto his shoulder. She let out a shaky breath as she closed her eyes and stopped trying to stop the tears from falling, whispering incoherent words under her breath. Thomas frowned, looking down at her and gently moved away from her, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

“Hey… you can tell me anything, y/n. We’re best friends.” Y/n sniffled and looked up at Thomas, trying to smile, but she couldn’t. “Thomas, I…” She trailed off, nibbling on her bottom lip as she ran a hand through her tangled hair. “I’m sick, Tommy. The doctor’s don’t know how long I have had it or how long I have till I…” She choked on her words, unable to finish her sentence.

Thomas’ mouth formed a slight ‘O’, his whole body freezing at her words. “No, no, no…” He mumbled, shaking his head repeatedly as Y/n’s sobs grew louder. “No. You’re going to be okay, Y/n. Everything will be okay.” He nodded his head, trying to reassure her that she would be okay - even though they both knew she most likely wouldn’t - and brought her into a tight hug, petting her hair and whispering incoherent things into her ears.

“I love you, Tommy.” She whispered, burrowing her face in his neck.

“I love you too, Y/n.” He whispered, his eyes wide. “So much.”

Fourteen. They were both fourteen when Y/n started getting weaker. The doctor’s had said it was a miracle she even managed to make it this far, yet Thomas stood by her every step of the way. He watched as her body grew feebler and her hair began to slowly fall out in clumps because of the treatments.

“I’m going to die regardless,” Y/n whispered as she sat up in her bed, coughing a bit as she slowly turned to face Thomas. Thomas’ head shot up and his eyes narrowed at her words, he shook his head quickly. “No. You won’t die.” He stated, as if he was completely positive that was true. Though they both knew it wasn’t.

Y/n smiled sadly and reached out to grip Thomas’ hand, squeezing it with as much energy as she could. “Hey,” she whispered, motioning for him to get in the bed with her. He slowly got up, laying down next to her. “Whatever happens Tommy,” she paused, nibbling on her bottom lip. “Just know that I love you… So much. And I couldn’t pick a better person for a best friend.”

Thomas felt tears cloud his vision at her words. It was like she completely gave up. It was as if she was letting cancer win.

“I love you too…” He mumbled, his voice cracking a bit. “Why are you giving up so easily? Why are you letting it win?”

She was silent for a few moments, her breathing was unsteady as she thought on how to answer his question; “Because it’ll win regardless.” She murmured, looking up and meeting his sad, hopeless eyes. “Even if I manage to beat cancer…” She trailed off, laughing bitterly at the words. “The treatments will probably end up killing me.”

Thomas stayed quiet after that, letting her burrow her face into the crook of his neck like she did when she first told him she was sick.

Y/n hadn’t gone to school in months, her father taking her out because she was too sick to attend all of her classes and walk home. Of course, Y/n insisted on it as well. Because she knew that it wasn’t worth it anymore.

“Tommy?” She questioned, looking up at him with wide eyes. He hummed and looked down at her, “what is it?” She smiled a bit before speaking again. “Will you sing for me?”

Thomas froze at her question. He had never liked his voice, even though Y/n always said she did. He sighed, nodding his head in defeat before taking a deep breath and began singing one of their favorite songs~

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray….” He paused and looked down at her again, to find her leaning against his chest with soft and uneven snores emitting from her lips.

He smiled sadly before he began singing again; “You’ll never know dear, how much I love you, so please don’t take my sunshine away.”

Fifteen. He was fifteen when he lost her. He was fresh-faced and ready to enter his first year of high school, and although he always kept his hopes up that she would be better enough to attend with him, everyone always told him not to get his hopes up.

“She’s very sick, Thomas.” His mother would remind him, and whenever she did, his memories would flash him back to when she said the same thing about Y/n’s mother all those years ago. “There’s a chance she might not make it-”

“Don’t say that.” He spat, cutting her off as he turned to glare at his mother. “Y/n is healing. She’s going to get better.” He felt his mother’s eyes on him for a short period of time, hearing her sad and defeated sigh, and then the silence of the car before he started talking about high school and Y/n.

Those always seemed to be the only two things on his mind lately.

When he reached home, he ran straight to his bedroom, reaching to grab his phone and dial her number. It rang for a few seconds before it made a clicking sound and someone picked up. Except, it wasn’t Y/n. “Hello? Thomas?” A deep voice asked, which he recognized as Y/n’s father. “Hello, sir,” Thomas cleared his throat. “Is Y/n there?”

There was a sad sigh that went through the receiver, causing Thomas to freeze a bit. “S-she… She was admitted to the hospital this morning, Thomas.” And with that, his whole world stopped. He stayed silent, his harsh breathing the only thing audible. “Thomas? You there?”

He cleared his throat, finally speaking up. “Why didn’t she tell me?” Thomas whispered, his body shaking a bit. Her father sighed, staying silent for a few seconds before he spoke; “She wanted to wait till she was released. Said she didn’t want to worry you.”

Thomas let out a shaky sigh. “C-Can... Can I come visit her? Please?” Y/n’s father mumbled something under his breath before he spoke up again. “Yeah, I’m sure she’d like that.”

And with that, Thomas was racing out of his bedroom and grabbing his mother’s car keys, not stopping for a second as he raced past his mother. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Thomas finally made it, breathing heavily as he made it up to the receptions desk. “I’m looking for the room with Y/n Y/l/n?” The woman looked up for only a single second before she looked back down at the out-of-date computer, typing something before looking up again. “Are you family, sir?” Thomas looked around exasperated before he spoke up. “I’m her best friend. Please, her father told me I could come.”

The receptionist sighed, looking up at Thomas and saw the desperation in his eyes before speaking. “She’s in room six-o-two on floor six.” Thomas breathed out a quick ‘thank you’ as he rushed towards the elevator, making his way to Y/n’s room.

As soon as he caught sight of her father, he began running until he couldn’t anymore, leaning against the wall and breathing in a large gulp of air. “I told her you were coming… It doesn’t look too good, Thomas.” Her dad said, his eyes blood red as he ran a hand through his graying hair. He looked as if he hadn’t gotten sleep in days. Thomas nodded softly and made his way into her room slowly and cautiously as if he was scared to move any faster.

Y/n looked up at him with tired eyes, her chapped lips slowly rolling up into a weak smile. “Hey you,” she whispered, licking her lips as she slowly reached out to grip his hand, squeezing it as tight as she could with the little strength she had.

“How are you doing, sunshine?” Thomas pulled up a chair beside her bed and began stroking her hand soothingly. Y/n closed and opened her eyes a few times before she moved her blood red eyes to look up at him. “I’m… I’ve been better.” She tried laughing, but her weak laughter formed into a fit of coughs. Thomas froze up, yet still helped her sit up as he rubbed her back soothingly. “Shh, shh, it’s alright, sunshine. You’re alright.” He whispered, tears beginning to cloud his vision at the sight of his best friend.

“T-Thank you..” She managed to form those two words through her coughs, the fit slowly calming down as she began leaning back into his hand. “I’m glad you’re here.” She whispered, her lips quirking up a bit. “Why didn’t you tell me you were admitted into the hospital, Y/n?”

Y/n didn’t speak for a moment, her eyes fluttering as she thought of what to say. “I didn’t want to worry you, Tommy.” Out of everything she could’ve said, she chose to say that. Thomas closed his eyes and took a breath before opening them to look at you. He stayed silent as he took in the sight of you; A cannula in her nose, an IV in her wrist, that awful hospital gown she had been wearing a lot lately… Yet she still looked as gorgeous as she did before cancer struck.

They stayed like this for awhile, rarely speaking as Thomas squeezed her hand every once in awhile, especially when the doctors came in and checked her stats. He squeezed her hand reassuringly when the doctor’s face went grim and they both watched as he made his way out of the room to go talk to Y/n’s father. It was silent until the door burst open and in long strides, her father came in with tear stained cheeks as he went to go grip her other hand. “I love you Y/n, so so much.” He cried, and Thomas looked up at them with a confused glare until he turned to Y/n and he finally understood.

She was dying.

“I love you too, papa..” Y/n whispered, smiling at him as the heart monitor began slowly slowing down. Y/n’s father turned to look at it and began crying again, stepping away as he covered his face with his hands. Y/n turned to Thomas and looked up at him with tear-filled eyes that matched his.

“Don’t cry, Tommy..” Y/n coughed, blood slowly dripping down the corner of her lip. “You’ll make me cry too.” It was silent again before Y/n spoke up. “Please sing for me, Tommy. Please.” Y/n begged, looking at him with broken eyes. For once, she couldn’t hold up the strong persona she had been holding for three years. She was broken and scared.

Thomas nodded his head quickly and wiped away her tears with his thumb, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her cheek. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray.” He continued singing the song, his voice cracking as he watched a soft smile form on your lips as your eyes began fluttering shut.

“Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

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cosmosogler · 7 years

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hi guys. not much time to write today. i put off my homework for too long and it’s due for real tomorrow. these assignments take like 12 hours and i decided to wait until an hour ago to do the second half!!! because i am dumb!!!!!

REALLY not feeling good. like maybe worse than yesterday. not sure. maybe about the same.

i regretted not asking for someone to take my shift for this morning yesterday. had to bike in to work while feeling like junk and it was so hard to get moving that i ended up being late... to one of the longest labs in the semester. i felt awful.

at least it was cool out today. i guess it suddenly decided it was autumn overnight. i didn’t look like i’d jumped in a swimming pool by the time i got to campus at least.

i accidentally scratched my face a couple times idly but it didn’t bleed so that’s good.

it felt like i was forgetting something all day... just to not have to be on my feet i guess. i’m used to being up and about until well into the afternoon.

and... i guess i was. i don’t know why i felt like that.

at 1:30 i hopped up and went down to colin’s lab. that’s the guy’s name, who offered me the position. he described the machinery to me and some theory for an hour. i wanted to fall asleep. i kept yawning even though i hadn’t been tired when i went down there.

it was horrible because this was really cool and exciting and i tried to shake it off by asking a lot of questions. i hope he just thought i was sleep deprived and not bored. i was getting very, very tired after standing and poking things for an hour straight though, after teaching for two hours where i was up and on my feet and poking things.

colin’s not very good at explaining things. i think i understand what their experiment is kind of about though. i joked that i’d need it explained to me ten more different ways and he kinda laughed and said that’s how it was for him too.

i went back up to the office and basically did NOT MUCH!!! for several hours. i felt like i was working? but time was passing SO FAST and i felt like i hadn’t gotten anything actually done. i had my timer on for an hour and a half... and i worked for most of it. i got another grading rubric done and this one came out to exactly 20 points which is great. and i got a full classical problem done, out of 5. when everyone else left for dinner i was like “yeah!! i’ll bike home and that will get my blood pumpin and then i will make a great dinner and then i’ll sit down and get the rest of this knocked out!!!”

yeah well. i made it home i guess. just didn’t feel the energy i needed to go fast until the last stretch when there was a downhill bit that let me pick up momentum. i dunno what happened, i just could not make my legs go any faster than like 50 cycles a minute for most of the ride.

that’s not very fast at all, just so you know.

i made a microwave dinner. it was red curry and it was great! i think i will buy it again. i also had some caffeine free tea to try to relax. because i am feeling lethargic, of course, but not relaxed at all. all wound up but not able to go anywhere, physically or mentally.

then i just... didn’t work! i diddled around with a puzzle for about 45 minutes than i’d wanted to. then i don’t remember what i did but it was basically nothing. i didn’t even get my books out of my backpack. at 9:10 i remembered that i do, actually, need to finish this classical assignment tonight so i got out my notebook with a groan and started working more. it’s going fast since suzanne sent her notes... i am making sure i define more things and show every single step though so it’s still kinda slow going. like, showing more work than she does. i mean, i don’t want to not do the homework.

i only skipped half a problem so far. suzanne did over three pages of work for it and still didn’t get an answer and i just don’t have the time. no one answered it as far as i know.

uhhh that was my day. i’ve only been writing for 15 minutes. it feels like it’s been forever.

last night i dreamed i was in one of those tonka toys. i know they don’t make houses, or house-sized objects, but it was the same kind of plastic and the same... scenery i see in their advertisements. i was trying to get an old ms dos preschool game to load up on a computer the size of an arcade machine. i didn’t have much time but i wasn’t sure why. i didn’t understand how the computer worked very well. there were people around but i wasn’t really paying them much mind.

it’s a game i’ve played a few times over the last... i don’t know. it’s popped up a few more times in the last few weeks though. i don’t know what i’m trying to get out of it. it was like the mr potato head/play do/etc mini game compilation disc i had as a kid but with the graphics of a magic school bus game.

the mini game i keep coming back to is some kind of conveyor belt where when you pick up an item it tells you what it is. the computer doesn’t have speakers though so i never actually hear it.

i found out why i didn’t have a lot of time. my mouth started really hurting and felt like it was full of cotton. i rode my bike into town and started trying to get all my chores for the day done before my head exploded. my parents kept trying to drag me down a country road into the fog but i wanted to stay in town. there was a sunny beach but it was also snowing and the thick foggy forest was in the distance. i was picking out a bike seat when my teeth started falling out and blood filled my mouth. i had to keep stopping to spit out blood but as soon as i closed my mouth i was choking again. i tried to clench my jaw to keep my teeth in but that just jammed my remaining teeth into the black moldy holes in my gums and that hurt worse.

i was trying to collect the teeth that fell out to maybe take them to a doctor and figure out what was wrong, or if they could be put back in... they were flaking away in my hands, chipping down into flat discs and then dust. the people around me just kind of stared like i was an interesting bug. then i woke up.

i’m not sure how to approach it. yet again.

google says it is a sign of serious self destructive behavior in waking life. yeah. i guess that makes sense. another site suggests a loss of vitality. but that was never there to begin with.

my cheeks have been swollen all day and i keep pinching them between my teeth when i close my jaw. so that’s been hurting a lot. there’s scar tissue there from my braces so it gets in the way sometimes and then it gets in a cycle of biting it, getting inflamed, and thus easier to bite on accident again.

anyway, that was my day. it’s 10:30 now so i guess i spent enough time writing for now. group therapy is tomorrow. then the thing. then friday i got pushed up to see danielle at the drc a week earlier than we’d planned. so that’s something to look forward to i guess? i have my quantum midterm that day too. not feeling great about it. i haven’t done much to study. i guess my brain doesn’t see the point. i’ll have to sit down with some practice problems tomorrow.

a good thing. uh. i’m not lazy. i’m not lazy. i’m not lazy. i’m not stupid.

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mapowrites · 6 years

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Misericórdiae (Erwin Smith/OC)

Chapter 8: Seed

[ I ] [ II ] [ III ] [ IV ] [ V ] [ VI ] [ VII ]

The sharp sound of a small explosion cracked through the air, interrupting the concentrated silence of the work space. Hanji, Moblit, Nifa, Rashad and Lyor practically jumped out of their stools at the sudden blast, and they peered across the squad’s laboratory, in the direction of the sound. Rick emerged from underneath an engine, his face covered in black soot, to stare back at his coworkers.

“… and that’s lunch.” Rick declared, wiping his face with his work apron. Nifa laughed at him, closing up her books to bring him a clean rag. Hanji looked at her watch.

“It’s already 1:30?” She commented. Hanji stretched out her limbs, groaning, as the rest of her squad began to pack up their workstations. “Time to eat.”

“Oh, thank god. I’m starving.” Rashad rolled out his shoulders and winced at the foul sounds of his joints popping.

The squad cleaned up their work space before gathering outside in the hallway, Hanji locking the door behind them. As a group, the six of them made their way to the mess hall, pleasantly engaged in casual conversation. They each retrieved a tray and were served their meals: mashed potatoes, carrots, and fish.

Lyor took a seat beside Nifa, who sat beside Rashad, at one of the mess hall tables, while the other three sat across from them. They ate and conversed, laughing at another one of Hanji’s anecdotes.

“Where are Keiji and Abel? I haven’t seen them since last week.” Rick finally asked, downing his glass of water.

“Abel’s stuck training the new recruits this week and next. Keiji got caught past curfew so he’s been pulling stable duty.” Moblit explained as he pulled apart his bread.

“Idiot.” Rashad grunted.

“It’s not like we’ve seen much of your tribe either. Wilhelm and Heinrich haven’t been around much.” Nifa added, raising an eyebrow at Rick.

“Oh, come on, we’re all a tribe now, Nifa.” Hanji interjected. The smaller girl grinned in response.

“My father can only work on his days off, which have been getting rarer and rarer, and I heard Heinrich’s granddaughter is in town. Isn’t that right, Rick?” Dipping her bread into her gravy, Lyor answered Hanji. Rick nodded.

“Well, it’s nice of you to finally join us full time now that you’re out of school,” The brunette smirked at Lyor. Hanji whispered, covering her mouth from the man sitting beside her. “Rick was starting to miss you.”

The dark haired man scoffed, and before he could comment, Lyor spoke, laughing.

“Actually, that reminds me. My graduation ceremony is this weekend,” She rummaged through her bag that she had placed on the empty chair beside her, and pulled out a piece of paper. She slid it across the table to her friends. Upon showing them the flyer for the ceremony, Lyor suddenly felt a bit embarrassed; though she had grown quite close to her teammates these past few months, she wasn’t sure if they were close enough to invite them to a celebration quite yet. “You’re, uhm, all welcome to come. If you have the day off, that is.”

Their reactions brought her instant relief. “Yes! I have Saturday off!” Hanji chimed.

Moblit offered her an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid I have to miss it — I’ve got horse training all day.” Lyor dismissed his apology, letting him know it wasn’t a big deal.

“Me, too, Lyor,” Nifa expressed with remorse, but she seemed to perk up as a thought entered her head. “But why don’t we go out that evening to celebrate? We’ve all got extended curfew that night. We could also celebrate Hanji’s promotion to squad leader while we’re at it!”

“Hey, that’s right! How come none of you have taken me out yet? Ungrateful subordinates!” Hanji huffed, pounding her fist on the table.

“Because you refuse to be taken out anywhere but to Bricks.” Moblit muttered, disgruntled. This placed a look of resolution on Hanji’s face.

“Brix’s Bricks!” Hanji proudly shot her glass of water in the air, spilling some on Moblit, who repressed a grumble.

“Why’re you saying it twice?” Nifa scoffed.

“That’s the full name of the bar!” Replied Hanji.

“Brix’s Bricks? I never knew that.”

“It’s repetitive.” Lyor added, taking the last bite of her meal.

Rashad replied. “And redundant.”

“It’s repetitive.”

“And redundant.”

“We certainly are entertaining, sir.” Lyor spoke in a haughty accent.

“Indubitably, madam.” Rashad punctuated, mirroring her accent.

“Come on, you guys! It’ll be fun!” Hanji whined, a pleading look in her eyes.

“Hey, I’d never pass up an opportunity to drink.” Rick spoke, and Rashad nodded in agreement. Lyor, being finished with her meal, packed up her belongings as Rashad and Nifa bickered, the younger girl having accused him of being an alcoholic.

Lyor stood and tucked her chair into the table. “Great. I’ll see you all on Saturday, then. I have to run — I have to finish moving my stuff back to my father’s house today.”

“Oh, since his office is on your way out, can you drop this off to Erwin for me?” Hanji asked her, pulling out a multi-paged report from the inside of her uniform coat. She flashed the engineer a guilty smile. “I have to go straight to Schoenberg’s project inspection after lunch, and I promised I’d have it to him by three o’clock.”

Lyor took the report from her and smirked. “I can’t exactly say no, now that you’re my boss, can I?”

Hanji blinked at her before her face broke out into a huge grin, and Lyor heard her exclaim as she walked out of the mess hall. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how to be a proper underling!”

As she made her way down the hallways, Lyor found herself happy to have an excuse to see Erwin. The pair’s friendship had blossomed over the several months she had worked there; they often spent time catching up when they saw each other, and now that Hanji held the same rank as he, it wasn’t completely abnormal for him to sit with them in the mess hall now and again during meals. In fact, Lyor didn’t even mind the strange looks they got when she had lunch with him alone — although those instances were rare. However, with some sort of recruiting ordeal unfolding, she hadn’t seen Erwin in several days. She had meant to return his first edition Voltaire to him, which she pulled out of her bag during her walk. She was still oblivious to the fact that Erwin had bought it for her.

This visit also gave her the perfect excuse to invite him to her graduation, and her heart fluttered excitedly as she pictured his handsome smile. She made her way up the last flight of stairs that led to the hallway of Erwin’s office, and her heart’s fluttering was quickly silenced when she spotted Markus’ well-built silhouette, and his aid, exiting said office.

She thought about turning around before he saw her to avoid any interaction with him, as she usually tried to do. For the past several weeks, the brigadier general had insistently asked her to accompany him on outings — dinners, strolls, theatre performances, you name it — to which she had always politely declined. For the life of her, Lyor couldn’t figure out why the officer refused to give up. Not only was she not interested in him, being twenty-five and he in his late thirties or early forties, she also wasn’t ready to be the object of a scandal.

Before she could make a decision, his eyes fell on her, and Lyor steeled herself for the walk down the hallway to face him, clutching Erwin’s book to her chest. She threw on her best fabricated smile and strolled towards him as he carefully watched her, a bewitching grin scrawled on his face while he advanced.

“Ms. Reichart! A pleasure to see you, as always,” Markus greeted brightly, his aid offering a small nod behind him as a greeting. “Here to see Smith?”

Lyor looked up at him with a diplomatic smile, meeting his piercing green eyes. “Yes, sir.”

“Perfect timing — I was just with him to discuss your research’s progress. He’s quite proud of you folks, you know,” Markus commented before his eyes fell on the book she held, the title of the book turned outwards for him to see. “Well, well, aren’t we a fan of the phonics?”

Lyor had trouble swallowing the nervous lump in her throat, and she gripped the book tighter and avoided his gaze. “Yes, sir.”

“Also a fan of the monosyllable, I see,” His grin never faltered. “No matter. You’ll have to let me borrow it one day; I’d love to get my nose into a book I know you’ve read.”

Her eyes snapped to meet his, sending a shiver of pleasure down Markus’ spine. The flame of her effrontery thrilled him. “I’m sorry, brigadier general. This book doesn’t belong to me.”

Markus repressed a chuckle as he saw the perfect opening to toy with her. She must’ve been returning Erwin’s book; he had seen them together quite a bit these past few months. Markus had suspected Lyor was enamoured with the blond; from the way she carried herself around him, to the way her eyes drank in every detail of his person when they interacted. Markus knew he had no chance, unless he planted his seed.

“I see. It’s Erwin’s, isn’t it? I should’ve guessed; it looks just like the books Marie used to give him.”

Lyor felt her stomach lurch. “Marie?”

“His old sweetheart,” Markus stroked his short beard with his gloved hand, recalling his memories. “Ah, the poor fellow, I believe she went on to marry his best friend at the time. Nile Dawk — he works with me now. Dawk told me all about how it ruptured their friendship. Love can be such a horrible thing, can’t it?”

The tall man watched her face fall for a split second before she iced over her features.

“I suppose.” She replied, her voice not betraying her cool and calm facade. However, Markus knew the damage was done. He smirked to himself.

“Speaking of, when are you going to let me treat you to dinner?” He flashed her a toothy smile.

With as much calmness and poise as she could muster, Lyor retorted with a half-hearted smile. “If only I hadn’t just joined a convent, sir…”

Markus let out a deep laugh. “Wicked girl…” He answered with a smirk, walking past her as his aid and long coat trailed behind him. “Give my best to your father.”

Lyor stood in the hallway, her shoulders heavy with disappointment as the officer walked away. The blow Markus had indirectly dealt her was one of the worst she had received in years. Forget hearing about Erwin pining for another woman, how could he give her one of his ex’s gifts? Lyor wasn’t foolish enough to hope Erwin had any feelings for her, but she found it completely unacceptable for him to present her with such an item — even as a simple platonic gift. You don’t do that to a friend.

Dejection now turned into irritation, Lyor knocked on Erwin’s door. Lyor opened the door to find him sitting at his desk, after he allowed her to enter. His striking eyes rose to meet hers, and she buried the impulse to simply toss the book and report on his desk and leave without a word. Instead, she disguised any emotion in her face with diplomacy, and calmly walked over to his desk.

She watched him part his full lips to speak, but she interrupted him. “Hanji sent me to give you this.” She reached across his desk and handed him the report, her voice and face stoic. He took the report from her and placed it on his desk, thanking her. She then presented the red and gold book she held in her arms. “I also want to return your book.”

Erwin watched her motionlessly, trying to dissect her demeanour. He knew something was bothering her. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, folded his arms across his powerful chest, and spoke. “No, keep it. I told you; I want you to have it.”

Lyor fought the urge to knit her brows. “It’s a first edition book, and it belongs to you. I can’t accept it.”

“I won’t take it back.” The blond retorted, his eyes — his most defining feature — holding no sign of emotion. He noticed the irritated twitch that pulled at the corner of her mouth.

“Why not?”

Not wanting to admit to her that he had bought that book for her, it was a difficult question to answer. He decided to offer a simple answer. “I don’t want it.”

This only fuelled Lyor’s resentment — he didn’t want to take back something that reminded him of the woman he loved, she interpreted. With a prideful glare and all previous thoughts of inviting him to her graduation gone, the brunette exhaled. “Fine. If you’ll excuse me, sir.”

Lyor bowed her head, squared her shoulders, tucked the book under her arm, and turned on her heels. She left the room without another word, briskly walking through the hallway, feeling misled and fooled. She brushed her hair out of her face and made her way down the stairs with dignity — she wasn’t the type to fall apart because a man didn’t want her. Finally, she crossed the courtyard outside, on her way to the headquarters’ exit, and spotted her favourite brigadier general speaking with a scout — the man’s posture impeccable and his hands folded behind his back. Her interaction with Erwin hadn’t been very long, and it had permitted her to involuntarily catch up to Markus.

With an air of resolution, she marched over to the seductive man, who turned at the sound of her steps. He smiled and began to articulate whatever asinine comment came to him before she shoved the book he had seen her with into his chest.

“Here.” She spat, and he scrambled to keep the book from dropping to the ground. She was already several feet away from him by the time he could answer. Markus looked at the book in his hands, then watched her walk away for a few moments. He felt a sneer pull at his lips.

That evening, Erwin walked into his commander’s meeting room. He was early for his meeting, so he was a bit surprised to find the room occupied when he opened the door. Markus sat at the table, his feet lazily kicked up, his coat draped on the back of his chair, and a book balanced in his hands. Lyor’s book. Erwin nearly choked, but the soldier never let his mask fall, and when Markus’ emerald eyes lifted to meet his, Erwin was making his way to his seat. He pulled out a chair and set his reports and documents in a neat pile in front of him. He sat across from the higher ranking officer, and the two men seemed to glare at each other for a split second, their heights identical and their eyesight level.

“Hello, Smith! Bring any coffee?” He exclaimed, breaking the tension and placing the book down on the table as he draped his arm over the back of the chair beside him.

Erwin watched him placidly. Tactful and poised, and his presence imposing, he replied. “There’s coffee in the kitchen across the hall. Please, help yourself.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Markus swung his feet off the table and stood, groaning loudly as he stretched. “Man, I didn’t see the time fly! I guess that’s what happens when you get sucked into an excellent book,” The man walked himself to the door after patting said volume on the table. He opened the door, and before exiting, he sneered at Erwin over his shoulder. “I’ll let you borrow it sometime.”

Notes: Comments, questions, concerns?

#erwin smith #erwin smith x oc #erwin smith/oc #oc #aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #fanfiction

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