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neonacity · 3 years

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LUCID | NCT DREAM ‘00 LINE X READER | CH.6

LUCID DREAMS - A TYPE OF DREAM WHEREIN THE PERSON IS AWARE THAT THEY ARE CAUGHT IN A DREAM WORLD.

Summary: It was supposed to be a harmless, professional transaction. You were to tutor a group of boys, get your pay at the end of the day, and go home to your loving fiance. Kids aren’t supposed to be dangerous, right? So why, then, are you caught up in a web of madness that slowly makes you feel like you’re in a living nightmare?

NOTE:This is a yandere plot featuring NCT Dream ‘00 line which means there will be mature themes in the story as well as obsessive, toxic behavior. If you’re a minor, please refrain from interacting. If this isn’t your thing, then just scroll and skip. In no way am I condoning anything written here— this is not love, this is obsession—nor do I think that any of the people mentioned here will act any way like in this story. This is purely a work of fiction.

Genre: yandere, horror, suspense

TW: abuse, obsessive behavior, toxic relationships, suggestive scenes, stalking, possible kidnapping, mental health. Age gap–though nothing dramatic. Everyone is of legal age, drugs, slight smut for this chapter but nothing graphic, questionable consent (?) I guess? Creepy, creepy, creepy! This will be updated as the story goes along.

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

“EVERYONE HAS A DARKER NATURE. EVERYONE. GOOD MEN FEAR IT, AND EVIL MEN EMBRACE IT.” - JAMES ISLINGTON

The silent hum of the air conditioning filled the space like a foreboding chant. Nothing else but the sound of the hospital machinery and random noises outside pierced the stillness of the room as you stared, unseeing, at the green and orange numbers that blinked on the monitor above the bed.

You barely have any recollection of how you managed to find yourself in the hospital, but you do remember brief memories of Taeyong picking you up from the floor you found yourself crumpled on after you got the call. You remember seeing Jaehyun's parents at a brightly lit corridor and his mother pulling you into a hug as she broke down and his father telling you how his son hasn't woken up since he was brought to the emergency room.

You remember your heart breaking in shock, mind too numb from the godforsaken pills you have been taking and your own injury. So many times you wondered to yourself if you were still caught in one of your nightmares, but every time you tried to break free from it, you're slapped back with the reality of how all of this is real.

Your fingers gently tightened on Jaehyun's hands now as your gaze landed on his face. He looked so peaceful, like he's just sleeping, that you almost wanted to bend over and try to kiss him awake. You don't even have any idea what time and day it is already, but you have barely left his side since you were brought to him. The nightmares and sleeplessness? They're barely a problem for you anymore because right now, you're entirely not resting at all unless your body forces you to crash from physical exhaustion. Even then, you usually only sleep for about two to three hours at best to make sure that you never miss a moment with your fiance.

"Severe traumatic head injury. He was lucky enough that the airbag shielded him from the worst of the impact."

The words of his attending doctor echoed in your head again like a faraway voice. You could only remember bits and pieces of what he said to his parents back then as he reported his findings, but you caught enough context for you to draw a picture of the situation. You remember Jaehyun's mother asking the chances of her son waking up again, her voice barely holding up from her emotions.

"I cannot promise anything, Ma'm. I'd say he has a 60 percent chance. He's fighting."

And he is. You know Jaehyun inside out. He might be unconscious now, but there is no way he is giving up. Not from something like this.

"Keep fighting baby…" you whispered in the stillness of the room as you lifted his hand gently to your lips to kiss. "I'll wait for you. We still have a wedding to do."

The slight creaking of the door barely made you look away from his sleeping face. You only did at the gentle sound of a throat clearing, your eyes slightly widening as you recognized the man who just walked inside the room. Taeil had the same mildly shocked look on him as he stopped on the other side of the bed across from you.

"You…"

"Are you a relative of the patient?" He asked now as he tucked his clipboard under his arm. You simply nodded, watching him quickly glance at the numbers on the monitor before his eyes settled on you again.

"I'm his fiancee."

That made him raise his brows slightly. He pulled a pen now from the pocket of his coat to quickly write something on his file. "What a coincidence. Not a good one obviously. I'm sorry to hear about him. Mr. Jung, right?"

You swallowed. You didn't want to acknowledge anything that he just said so you tried to divert the conversation instead.

"You're not his doctor. Why are you…"

"Oh. He was turned over to me today. I am one of the resident neurologists here but he had to be moved to me because his first doctor has too much in his plate already. Don't worry, I was briefed properly about his case."

Your gaze followed Taeil as he bent over to check Jaehyun's oxygen level as well as the other wires attached to him. You don't know what to feel about him taking over, but at least you already know him previously.

"Are there any changes? Positive ones?" You asked in a frail voice that Taeil definitely didn't miss. You told yourself to not act silly and ask questions that probably do not have answers yet, but you couldn't help yourself now. The man seemed to think over his words first, noticing your state, before calmly giving his reply.

"No particular ones, but the fact that there are no negative developments is… something. I will have to request for some tests to be done on him again tomorrow so we can see if there are positive changes in his brain."

Neutral. Not good, but at least it's not bad either.

"How are you? I was about to check on you again. Is your head okay?"

You were still thinking over his words that you barely caught his question. Looking up, you tried to scramble for an answer to give. To be honest, you haven't given proper attention to your own injury since this happened. You would even only remember to take your medications on your clearest, less anxious moments, which, honestly, isn’t a lot.

"I'm uh… the wound has closed. But the headaches. They're still there."

He simply nodded. "Any other side effects?"

You didn't immediately answer. You didn't want to sound whiny, but it's not like you're going to lose anything by telling him the uglier parts of your recovery. You swallowed to try and dislodge the slight blockage in your throat.

"Nightmares…" you said now, voice soft. You briefly remembered the last one you had back in the manor before you woke up to the bad news and you felt your stomach turn again. "Lots of them. Hallucinations sometimes…"

The doctor watched you carefully and you know he is trying to compute things in his mind despite his face remaining calm.

"Have you been keeping to your schedule with your medications? Are you taking too much?"

You firmly shook your head no to his last question.

"No, I haven't been overdosing. But… I've been skipping my pills the last few days because of...because of this."

"How have you been feeling since you started missing your dosages then? Do you remember?"

That made you actually stop and think about it for a moment. Now that you are paying attention, you did notice how the nightmares have calmed down slightly. Even the hallucinations are almost gone. You frowned slightly to yourself.

"A bit… better actually."

Taeil took his time to observe you a bit more before writing something on a new page of his clipboard.

"You must have had severe reactions to the mixture of pills I gave you. I'm going to prescribe you new ones and ask the nurses to pick them up and bring them to you here. Can you promise that you'll try and take them though? You really need them to fully heal."

You nodded and gave him a slightly sheepish look.

"I will, thank you very much."

Taeil dug his hands into the pockets of his coat and gave you a gentle smile.

"Well, that's it for today. I'll come back tomorrow to give you updates about Mr. Jung." He had already turned and started walking away when he suddenly stopped to look at you again.

"Oh, and another thing. Please try and get some sleep. Recover… and then focus on helping your fiance."

******* You didn't really know what woke you up. Stirring from your sleep, the first thing that registered to you was the sound of distant traffic mixed with the gentle chirping of the morning birds from outside the window. A warm feeling radiated on your cheek and made the back of your eyelids glow red.

You flickered your eyes open and immediately rolled away to escape the ray of sunshine that slipped from the open curtains and shone directly at your face. You easily evaded it as you moved over to the other side of the bed which was empty and cold from the night before.

That was when you finally remembered that you were back in your home, in the same bedroom you share with Jaehyun. The day before, his mother offered to take the responsibility of watching over him so there was a sudden change of plans that finally gave you the reason to check back into your apartment after so long. If it were you, you would have preferred not leaving your boyfriend’s side until he wakes up, but you also knew that your future mother-in-law wanted to spend time with him so you relented.

Of course you weren't thrilled to be home alone, especially with Jaehyun not being there, but the comfort that a real mattress provided—over the small couch you used to sleep in back at the hospital—is definitely a welcome change for your body. You even tried to take your medicine properly, the new ones that Taeil had provided, in the hopes of getting knocked down fast. Your adrenaline and anxiety had been fueling you in the past days, but you know from the way your heart thumped and your hands shook that you need a solid rest.

And you got it. You still feel a little groggy now but your body is definitely lighter and your head clearer. The nightmares didn't even come, and while they were replaced by total darkness or dreams in white that still made you anxious, you are willing to take those anytime over the graphic ones that you used to have.

You gently sat back against the headrest of the bed now and reached out for your phone to check the time. It's barely 7AM but as expected, Jaehyun's mom has already provided you with updates from the hospital. He’ll have some tests taken today as Taeil advised and then they’ll hear more about his progress. From the looks of it, she seems still set on watching over her son, which means you still have at least today free to yourself.

You quickly typed a reply to her and sighed. You’re thankful that even though you weren’t related by blood, his parents have always treated you as if you were their own. Having a family is not something you’ve really experienced in your childhood, so that’s something you’ve always appreciated about them. That is also the reason why you wish for the best out of this situation, because you also couldn’t bear seeing your fiance’s mother and father heartbroken. He’s their only son, after all.

A quick look around your room left you feeling empty. The last week has been so hard that it felt longer and now you’re struggling to find your normal pace again. In an effort to bring yourself to focus, you decided to pick up your phone once more and started flipping through your calendar to check your schedule. It didn’t take long for you to frown when you realized the upcoming dates there. You’ve plotted important academic schedules in advance and one quick look at it told you how much you’ve obviously missed in the past week. You’ve been so lost in the mess of everything that has happened that you’ve entirely forgotten about your job at the manor. You realized that they didn’t even call you once to ask about your absence, probably because they also know about the situation, but even that is not enough excuse for you to entirely fall off the radar.

Biting your lip, you quickly scrolled through your contacts now to look for the number you need. Your thumb hovered over the call button momentarily, but you eventually pressed it anyway. Your eyes wandered towards the clock on the wall, hoping silently to yourself that it wasn’t too early for you to call.

“Rosewood Manor, how can I help you?”

You straightened on your seat.

“Hey, Taeyong. It’s me. Sorry if I called so early.”

The other boy seemed to have been taken slightly by surprise by the way he fell silent at the other end of the line. You tapped your finger against your knee, waiting for him to speak again.

“Hi. No, it’s fine. Work started for me about an hour ago. Are you okay? How’s things on your end?”

You nibbled guiltily on your lower lip and finally got off your bed to walk over to the window. You pushed the curtains open and stared at the slight snowfall that had started falling on the ground. You’ve missed so many days of reporting to them but the first thing he does is to check if you’re fine.

“I um—things are still the same. My boyfriend’s still at the hospital.”

“Oh… I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Look, I want to apologize. I haven’t really reported to work and I didn’t even call about it. It’s just that—things have been so crazy lately, but still that isn��t an excuse for me to just not show up.”

Taeyong, however, was understanding as always. You were about to go off for another round of apologies when he gently cut you off.

“Hey, it’s fine. We know you’ve been dealing with a lot lately so we also weren't expecting anything. Don’t worry too much about it.”

“But, the boys’ examinations and portfolio review is happening in three days and I haven’t really checked in with them. How are they doing now?”

“Oh...that. Well, we actually tried looking for a temporary tutor to help out but I...uh… I think he isn't really cutting it. Maybe because he isn’t the one who started the program with them. But he’s a big help still.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry about that. I should have at least—look, I can drop by today and just try to fix things.”

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to. Don’t you need to be at the hospital?”

You started going around your room now, trying to gather the scattered papers and files that you’ll need. It’s a good thing you woke up early so you still have time to prepare for work. “My boyfriend’s mother is the one watching over him today so I have the day off.”

“And your injury? How is it?”

Your eyes landed on the new bottles of medicine sitting on your bedside table.

“Better. I’m feeling so much better.”

You heard Taeyong sigh in relief over the phone. “Thank god. We were so worried about that. Well, you really don’t need to go, but if you have time, I guess doing it today won’t hurt. It will help us a lot.”

A small smile tugged at your lips now and you switched the phone over to your other ear as you started arranging your bag. “Thank you so much for being understanding. I need a distraction anyway. I’d rather work than stay home alone… Thanks for not firing me.”

That made him laugh a little. “I’ll tell the boys that you’re coming over. Oh, and be careful on your drive here. The roads are a little bit slippery today because of the snow.”

“I will, thank you. I’ll be there by 9.”

******* “Noona!”

You have barely finished arranging your materials on your desk when the door to the room burst open and ushered an anxious-looking Jisung inside. You looked up quickly at him, only barely catching Chenle wobbling with his crutch before your vision of the entrance was blocked by Jisung’s tall frame. His hair looked swept up as if he ran and there was a slight flush staining his cheeks. He stopped right in front of you, stopping just in time for him not to topple you over.

“Hey, Jisung how are—” You tried to give him a smile but he was quick enough to grab your hands between his.

“Are you back? Are you really back for real?” He pressed now, eyes wide as he tried to bend over to look closely at you. He looked like a puppy, the only missing thing being a wagging tail to complete the look. You couldn’t help the brief laugh that passed over you as you tried to calm him down.

“I am. For the day, yes. Sorry I missed so many of your sessions.”

“We thought you left us,” Jisung continued, his lower lip protruding just a bit. Just then, Chenle had finally reached the two of you, a slightly embarrassed look on his face. This is actually the first time you saw him again since the day the two of you had your accident and you’re glad to see him healthy despite his broken leg.

“Hi, Chenle. How are you?”

The boy scratched the back of his head and looked away slightly. “Fine… I’m sorry, noona. I wasn’t able to visit you when you stayed with us. I’m really really sorry about what happened in the forest.”

You tried to give him a reassuring smile and freed one of your hands from Jisung’s hold to ruffle his hair. The action seemed to have calmed him down a little because he finally looked at you again, a small apologetic smile on his own lips.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault. But be careful next time, okay?”

“Are you going to be our tutor again, noona?” Jisung pressed once more and you turned your attention back to him. To be honest, you’re still not sure how your schedule will turn out after this, but you couldn’t really bear to break the poor boy’s heart at the moment.

“Yes… I’m here to teach your big brothers today for their tests though. We’ll have to schedule you and Chenle’s lessons again. Is that alright?”

A brief look of disappointment flashed on his face but he was quick enough to pick it up. Jisung smiled and gave your hand a squeeze.

“Okay. We can wait. It’s good you are back, Jaemin-hyung was so—”

“Yah, don’t hog her by yourself. You’ll scare her away.”

A new voice made the three of you look back to the doorway. Haechan smiled at your little group as he strolled casually into the room followed by Jeno and Jaemin. The three of them joined your crowd and you felt Jisung finally let go of your hand as he stepped away to go over to his brothers’ side.

“Hi. Sorry, I only returned now. Taeyong told me that you—”

You weren’t able to finish what you wanted to say as Haechan gently stopped you mid-sentence. He leaned his head to the side, eyes briefly scanning you from head to toe. Unlike Jisung, he looked calm and only barely excited.

“It’s fine. We knew you’ll come back. How are you?”

“Oh… I’m good. My head is better. I haven’t had the chance to thank all of you for taking care of me when I was here.”

“How about your boyfriend?” It was Jeno who asked this time and you quickly turned to him to address his question. Your eyes briefly slipped to Jaemin who was standing behind him before you could even speak though, and for a moment you had the impression that Jeno was shielding him—or blocking him from you. You blinked a little bit in confusion, wondering if it was just your imagination that was making you think that way.

“He’s still… still unconscious,” your smile dropped a little but you tried your best to keep your voice casual. “We’re getting more tests for him. His doctor said that he isn’t showing bad signs at least.”

“I’m so sorry to hear about him,” Haechan said with compassion and you gave him a grateful look. Your gaze settled on Jaemin again, however, who for some reason had barely looked at you since he came into the room. You know that he can be quiet and reserved at times, but there is something in the air around him that makes you slightly worried. He’s so still, but the way he carries himself makes it seem like he’s so strung up at the same time. It also doesn’t help that Jeno seems to be almost pushing him back from view.

“Hi Jaemin… How are you?” You tried to gently ask him to make sure that he is okay. He didn’t look at you at first, but when he finally did, you felt yourself freeze a little. His eyes looked dark and almost emotionless when he met yours and there were shadows under them as if he hadn't slept properly for days. He didn’t even answer and just simply stared, his gaze blank and accusing at the same time.

Haechan casually glanced over his brother and chuckled. “Our Jaeminie here has been sick for the past couple of days so he’s a little out of it. But he’s going to be fine now,” he put a hand over the other’s shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze as if to calm him down. “Right, Jaemin? We’ll try our best to go to class today since noona is finally back, hmm?”

Jaemin, however, didn’t even seem to hear him. He continued staring at you the same way that kept you pinned on your spot.

“Are you leaving again?” he finally asked and you almost felt goosebumps rise on your skin. It didn’t sound like a question… but more of a threat. You swallowed.

“I’m going to have to arrange my schedule till things get better…” you answered carefully, as if you’re navigating dark waters. That didn’t seem to cut it for him, unfortunately.

“So you’re not leaving. Forever?”

You blinked. To be honest, you’ve been thinking of quitting and just finishing the rest of the month if things didn’t improve, but you don’t think that’s the right answer to give at the moment.

“No… not for now,” you finally managed to say. You watched as Jaemin seemed to visibly relax, his stiff shoulders loosening under Haechan’s grip. He didn’t say anything after that, but he at least looked away, seemingly more satisfied with your words.

“Great. I think we should get to work,” Haechan broke the silence and looked around the room as if the tension you were feeling was just something only you could feel. He nodded towards Chenle and Jisung then. “You guys go back to your own classes. You’ll have your share of noona once it’s your turn.” He then glanced at you, smile still in place. “Should we start then?”

You nodded. “Is Renjun still not back?”

“Not yet. He’s going to be here tomorrow though,” Jeno answered as he took his seat on one of the desks.

“I see…”

Haechan also found his spot, but not before you’ve noticed him urging Jaemin to do the same. Playfully, he took the pencil you’ve arranged on the desk and started tapping it against the wood of the table.

“Don’t worry. We’ll tell him you’re back. I’m sure he can’t wait to have his lessons again~”

******* You looked over the window for the third time in the last fifteen minutes and sighed. The day had been busy with you trying to catch up on the boys’ lessons that you barely even noticed the state of the weather outside. When you finally did, it took you by surprise when you saw how much of the ground was covered by snow—one look at it told you that it is at least a feet deep by now. Your first instinct was to try and maneuver your car out of the lot before your tires get entirely buried in it, but then you remembered that you promised to wait for Taeyong to come back before leaving the manor. The butler requested for you to temporarily watch over the manor while he tries to do some last minute errands back in the city, but it’s been two hours since he originally promised to come back. You eyes glanced at your watch now, then back at the quickly darkening view outside.

“...severe snowstorm has blocked some of the main roads in the city at the moment. Expect heavy traffic and don’t forget to drive safely.”

You turned to the television now to catch the last of the rambling dialogue of the reporter about the weather. You’ve been debating on whether to call Taeyong or not to check on him, but you didn’t want to seem impatient to go home when you only really wanted to make sure if he’s safe. From the looks of it, he’s stuck somewhere because of the hale, too.

You were on your way to get your phone from your bag to at least try to shoot him a message when you suddenly heard it ring. Getting it just in time, you almost sighed in relief when you saw his number there. You quickly took it and went over to the window to answer it to make sure you get some proper signal.

“Hello? Taeyong?”

“Hey. Finally. I’ve been trying to call you for the last hour, thank god it finally connected.”

“Oh, sorry, my phone’s in my bag. I think the signal’s getting bad because of the snowstorm. Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, about that, I’m still stuck in town. The traffic’s so bad here because a section of the main road is blocked. Road maintenance is supposed to come thirty minutes ago but I think there’s a delay because there are other roads they are working on.”

Your gaze drifted back to the television where scenes of the same blocked avenues were being flashed. “Yeah… the news says the same. Are you safe though?”

“I am. I’m really sorry for making you wait. I’d tell you to drive back and not wait for me anymore but I don’t think you’ll also make it home in time with all this traffic going on. I don’t think it’s going to be safe. Do you mind waiting for a little bit more? I’ll tell you once the roads are better.”

You thought it over quickly, a frown settling on your face. You really want to go home, but he’s right. There��s no point in trying to drive back if you’ll only find yourself stuck in the roads for hours. Not being a big fan of night driving yourself, you can already imagine the stress waiting for you if you add a snowstorm to the mix. As much as you wanted to leave, you’re left with no choice, at least for the moment.

“I can… I’ll just wait for you, I guess. Do you want me to do anything here while you’re gone? Dinner for the boys?”

“Oh no, no, you don’t need to do that, that’s not part of your job,” Taeyong sounded abashed when he said that. You stepped away from the window then and took a seat by the fireplace that Jeno started earlier. Half of your concentration was on the news which has now shifted to a different set of reports also caused by the snowstorm. “They’ll know when to go down and eat. Don’t worry about them. Where are they right now?”

“Ah, I think they went back to their rooms? I did tell them earlier that I’ll try to wait for you.”

“I see. Yes, I think that’s better. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you updated. If things don’t get better, I think I’ll have no other choice but find a hostel here and wait for the weather to calm down. You can stay there and just ask for help from any of them. You can stay in the same room just in case.”

You didn’t quickly react to the offer. Instead, your eyes flickered to the doorway of the room before refocusing your attention back to the conversation. It’s not like you have anything against spending the night again at the manor—you’ve done it before, after all—but it’s honestly not really something you’re comfortable to do again. Maybe it’s because you’ve never really been okay with overstaying at strangers’ houses but your gut feel is also telling you right now that it shouldn’t be your top option regardless of the situation you are in.

Still, you didn’t want to come off rude to Taeyong, not when he is only being kind to offer you temporary shelter while being stuck in the middle of nowhere himself. So instead, you went against your initial doubts and offered him your thanks in return. It’s just Plan B that he’s proposing after all.

“I will. Keep me updated though if you need anything you think I can help with.”

“Thank you and I will. I have to go now though. Please make yourself at home. I’ll try to call again after an hour.”

“Okay. Take care.”

You put your phone down now with a worried frown as you heard the line drop. You couldn’t believe this is happening the first day you got back to work but it’s not like you can really blame anyone for it. The only good thing is that you’re sure Jaehyun is being taken care of right now so that is at least one thing off your shoulders. You didn’t really need to rush anywhere, not especially to a vacant home. Leaning back against your seat, you tried your best to relax as your gaze travelled around the room once again. You deliberated on sending a text to your mother-in-law to tell her about your situation but decided against it, not wanting to worry her more. You sighed. For now, you guess you didn’t have any other choice but to wait.

You did try to distract yourself by watching the news for a few more minutes before finally giving up on it. With resignation, you picked yourself up from your seat again and turned the television off. For a moment you simply stood in the middle of the room, trying to figure out what to do with your time when your gaze settled on the door again. Everyone retreated to their own rooms after they finished with their lessons so it means the house is pretty much yours for exploring if you wanted to. You toyed with the idea for a little bit, before finally resigning yourself to it. It’s not like there really is anything else left for you to do, and Taeyong did say you can make yourself feel at home if you wanted to. With a sigh, you finally turned on your heels to leave the room and peered silently into the hallway. It was deserted as expected, but still your eyes travelled left and right to check if there’s anyone out and about at this hour. It was only after you made sure that you were alone when you finally allowed yourself to step into the corridor.

Of course, you have a plan. You’re pretty much sure that checking out the rooms on the first floor is acceptable since it’s where you’ve been rotating your classes so you’re going to stick to those areas. You remember finding a library there once and you focused on finding your way to it to maybe check out some of the books in the collection.

It did take you about five minutes to finally find the place you were looking for. For some reason, the sections in the manor always confuse you no matter how many times you try to memorize each one, probably because of how big and similar-looking they are on the outside. You’ve already tried four doors when you were finally welcomed by the familiar-looking bookshelves at the fifth one. You sighed and gave one quick look around the room before slipping yourself inside after making sure that you’re alone.

There will probably never be a time when you won’t find yourself fascinated by anything in this grand home. If the architecture of the mansion is not enough to convince anyone how rich the family is, their book collection is enough to assure that at the very least. You’ve only ever taken a quick glimpse of it once during one of your lessons with the boys, but one look of the titles in their shelves is enough to make any literature major excited. You looked at the floor to ceiling collection now, your fingers gently running over the spines of the books you could reach with a small smile on your face.

You were about to check out the rest of the collection on the other side of the wall when something in the middle of the room caught your attention. You didn’t really catch it at first because of the shadows that concealed it when you first came in, but you could pretty much discern the outline of a blanket covered standee now from where you stood. You frowned. Taking careful steps, you closed the distance towards it to try and figure out what exactly it is that you’re seeing.

A closer look revealed it to be an easel covered with white cloth. You could see the outline of the canvas where the blanket falls over it while shadows of colors peeked out into the thin fabric from the surface it was covering. How odd… you knew that Renjun had a different art room for his paintings so to see this now here in the middle of the library seems uncanny.

You didn’t know how long you remained standing in front of it, too. You know you should have walked away—after all, the white cloth hiding it away from plain view means whatever is on that canvas is not meant for everyone’s eyes to see, but you simply couldn’t tear yourself away from it. It’s as if there was a silent force asking you to pull that cloth to reveal what’s underneath, the inclination so strong that you could almost hear its voice breathing down next to your ear, unrelenting until you do what it says.

The next thing you know, you had your hand attached to one end of the fabric. You stared at it now, wondering last minute if you should go ahead or not. You swallowed and glanced around one last time around the room. If you’re alone… it wouldn’t hurt if you could take a peek, right? Nobody will know. You just have to see, then cover it back again. Before you could even think about it too much, your arm was finally moving on its own as it gently tugged at the covering. You watched as it fell gently on the floor, like a bodiless ghost melting into the shadows on the ground.

Your eyes couldn’t make out what you were seeing at first. The dim lighting of the room wasn’t helping at all, but you were sure that it was a woman’s silhouette that was staring back at you from the canvas. Colors swirled around her, like some unknown mass trying to drag her back into unknown depths. Shapes and tones jumped from the picture, but her form stood out from the rest, gracefully twisted as if she was in the middle of trying to fight and succumb to it at the same time. You frowned. Taking a step closer towards it, you tried to study its details under what little illumination the lamps above afforded you.

That’s when it all happened simultaneously. Your heart stopped beating the same time your eyes widened as they finally focused on what’s in front of them. It’s as if the ground suddenly vanished from underneath your feet and you were falling, falling, deep into the abyss despite your body being frozen in fear and shock.

You know this painting. You’ve seen it before. It was the same one by Renjun, the one that you saw on your first day working in the manor.

But it was different now. Instead of the unfinished state that caught your attention before, everything about the picture now is in sharp focus. The lines on the woman’s nude body, the hands—which you thought were simply dark swirls dragging her back—and her face twisted beautifully in pleasure and madness stared back at you like a nightmare.

But it was not those which truly shook you to your core. It’s the realization that it was your own face in the portrait that was staring back at you, silently screaming for you to run away.

You stumbled back in shock. Your chest felt tight as you tried to grasp for air while your hands fumbled to find something to hold on to keep you from crashing on the ground. Before you could even take another step, however, something hard hit your back and you felt strong arms wrap around your waist like a vice. You have barely realized what was happening when you felt someone lean over your shoulder, lips pressing against the shell of your ear.

“Isn’t it beautiful? You’re the perfect muse, don’t you think?” Renjun asked softly as he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple.

******* You didn’t know how long you stayed frozen in his embrace. For a brief moment you thought you were dreaming again until you felt his arms slowly tighten around your waist. As if a jolt of electricity shocked you, you immediately turned to push him away as you scrambled to put some distance between the two of you.

Renjun didn’t seem the least bothered when your eyes finally focused on him. He remained on his spot, his gaze on you unwavering. You, meanwhile, were shaking from head to toe, the vision of the painting still branded vividly in your head.

“Renjun—what’s this?” you managed to stutter as you pointed at the artwork in the middle of the room. You couldn’t even spare to look at it again while he merely gave it a casual glance.

“It’s you. I’ve been working on it for a long time. I was about to show it to you but it seems like you couldn’t wait for it yourself.”

You felt nauseous. A part of your rational mind was slowly losing it as you tried to process his answer. Something's not right. Something is so terribly wrong.

“Why—why did you do this?”

Renjun simply stared at you and leaned his head a little bit to the side as if he was only mildly curious of your reaction. Your stomach turned even before hearing his answer.

“You said it’s beautiful.”

“This is not right—!”

“I came home because they said you were leaving for good,” he continued speaking softly, effectively cutting you from what you were about to say. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and you took another step back as you watched him get close to his artwork. You watched in horror as his thin fingers lovingly ran over the corners of the canvas. “Jaemin almost lost it… It’s a good thing I got here on time.”

And just like that, everything seemed to have clicked into place. The glances, the touches, the words that seemed to have a different undercurrent under them… they weren’t just fragments of your imagination. Every little thing that has gnawed at you from the inside came into crystal clear focus and you felt your knees go weak from the weight of it all. It took every fiber of your being to try and keep yourself steady now, your legs moving on their own as they took small backward steps away from the boy staring at you now with dead eyes. You couldn’t breathe, but it was the last words he told you that finally snapped you to run.

“I don’t think you’ve realized it yet. But no, you cannot leave. Ever.”

You didn’t know where you got the energy for it but in seconds you were flying out of that room and running blindly down the darkened corridors. Your blood pumped noisily in your ears and your chest felt like it was going to split from the sudden exertion you put on it, but you didn’t stop, not even looking back as you tried to put as much distance between you and the library. You didn’t even know where you were going. All you’re focused on is to find the exit and leave the house as soon as possible.

A loud bang that sounded off to your right startled you and you screamed, the force of your shock making you whip around and almost lose your balance. Before you could even hit the floor, however, a pair of hands caught you and you immediately turned, grasping at the chest of your rescuer.

You froze. Haechan smiled down at you as he tried to steady you on your feet.

“Haechan,” you gasped as you took fistfuls of his shirt and tried to shake him in your panic. “Renjun—he’s—please, help me. He’s after me—” you gasped out, almost out of your wits. You’re on the verge of a total breakdown that it almost escaped you, the way he simply smiled down on your shaking form. It was only when you felt one of his hands gently caress the top of your head that reality slapped you in the face again. You suddenly stopped struggling in his hold, pupils shaking as you watched him study your features lovingly.

“Shh… it’s fine. I got you,” he whispered and you could swear ice pricked you from the inside. A slight movement to the right made you turn your head and you saw Jaemin lean casually against the banister of the stairs, his face serene. He gave you one quick look before a gentle smile finally lit up his features.

“Has it started?” he asked and you felt Haechan’s hold on you tighten.

“It has.”

You didn’t struggle. It was as if any trace of fight you had left you in that moment and you let your hands fall limply on your sides. Haechan also loosened his grip on you and you stared at the two boys blankly, your chest heaving as if fighting for air. They didn’t move from their spots and simply followed you with their eyes as if relishing the fear and realization flashing in your face.

Trapped.

You’re trapped.

You’ve always been.

You didn’t even realize that your legs had started moving again on their own as the pieces of the puzzle started to fall together in your mind. You were only shaken from it when your back finally hit the front door, the cold metal of the knob pressing against your spine. Jaemin and Haechan remained on their spots still, even as you blindly reached out for it from behind.

You were expecting it to be locked, so you were a little bit surprised when you felt it give way under your hand when you tried to turn it open. Just before you could even entertain the idea of escaping, however, any trace of hope you had quickly died as you turned and came face to face with Jeno standing right in front of the entrance. He didn’t look the least surprised seeing you there, as if he was waiting for you in the first place.

You eyes took in his calm countenance before slowly moving to stare downwards at what he was holding by his side. Your gaze locked on it in fear, and that’s when the flight response in you flared up again.

Jeno’s hunting rifle shone dully in the light of the entryway, his pale fingers wrapped on its handle.

“There’s really only one place you can run, noona, but I won’t advise it,” he said evenly and you felt your blood freeze in your veins.

“After all, no matter where you hide, I’ll still find you in that forest.”

It happened all at once. You broke into a run, your body screaming at you to go faster as you heard gunshots pierce the air.

---

CHAPTER 7

A/N: Good lord, I wasn’t expecting I’d finish this today but I got one large iced coffee and well... things happened. Anyway, enjoy! Let’s hope the format won’t mess up this time. T.T Finally, all hell broke loose~ <3

Tag list!

@negincho, @jhornytrash, @jaeminhyuckiii, @jungwoosswhore, @jsturkey, @aj-7, @pukupukupawpau, @tomiesgirlfren, @vsszn, @those-winternights, @xsnelly, @lihyuck, @laheyspizza, @miyeux27, @haoshitt, @mindofthescattered, @huangberryyy, @d1nne, @choppedupcactus, @neokat, @yutasnabi

#nct dream yandere au #nct dream yandere #nct dream yandere fic #jaemin x reader #jeno x reader #renjun x reader #haechan x reader #nct dream 00 line fic #nct dream 00 line x reader #nct horror au #nct dream yandere imagines #jaehyun x reader #yandere!nct dream #yandere!jaemin #yandere!jeno #yandere!renjun #yandere!haechan #nct-writers #yandere!nct dream 00 line

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scullydubois · 4 years

Text

baby, in your kingdom (for valentine’s <3)

read on ao3 tagging: @today-in-fic @iusedtoknowwhatawishwasfor @scullllaaaaayyyy

Mulder proposes to Scully during the Requiem bed scene.

So you may have seen the text post I wrote imagining a version of Requiem where Mulder proposed and didn’t go off to Oregon at the end...I couldn’t stop thinking about that, so it turned into this. This is my favorite prose that I’ve written for a fic, and it might turn into a series someday because this concept is just so rich and worth diving into. Happy Valentine’s Day, and enjoy a treat on me to numb the pain hehe.

T, 1.7k, more angst than fluff (oops) but the tenderness is there too

----------------------------

He needs to tell her one thing and ask her another. Should be simple enough, except it never is when it comes to words passing between them. It's in both their natures to leave the sweetest sentiments unsaid lest they lose their luster when voice meets air. And what he has in mind is not exactly the easiest of utterances, neither the former nor the latter. One is the kind of admittance we fear when the phone rings unexpectedly, the other a declaration the unluckiest people go to their graves without getting. Delivering both at the same time is a sin if he’s ever committed one. And for once, he cares what count God has against him. What if he isn’t able to see her again, even in the afterlife?

He’s been weighing one decision for awhile, looking for the balance between his conviction and her virtue. He could have done it when she came back to him with her baby-faced blush, accepting the cross he clung to in lieu of her. Or when she showed him the x-rays, and they spelled out no hope. When he cried by her bedside and she didn’t stir--he could have done it then, she wouldn’t have known. But it means nothing unless it means everything to both of them, and she wouldn’t have--no, couldn’t have--given him the answer he wants back then. He holds this as the sacred truth that governed him then and will govern him now. He has no room for regrets.

The scuff of their shoes against the baseball diamond was the first time he realized that maybe, maybe this manic impulse of his had some basis in reality. Not a solid one, nothing they could cross a canyon with, but in time…

And then he was inside her brain, privy to her thoughts, and what was an unsound bridge had become a stairway to Heaven only they could climb. Fuck a safety net, he wouldn’t be needing that anymore.

Then he got the call from Billy Miles, and he thought of her ouroboros, and isn’t that what they’ve been doing this whole time? Circling some greater truth that they’ve always known?

Every circle ends where it begins and begins where it ended. This is what he’s thinking when he spots Billy’s badge, and they glide over the X he painted when they didn’t yet trust each other (but so badly wanted to), and when he lays eyes on Teresa Nemmans and she is not Nemmans but Hoese, and there is a child in her arms.

Seven years. And what do they have to show for it? What they mean to each other has changed, but it’s not like anyone can tell. He called Scully his partner then, and he calls her his partner now. Oh, the time they have wasted.

But it will be wasted no more. Seeing her with the Hoese baby, cooing a lullaby into its precious ear…seven years ago, he told her of the government’s conspiracy and how nothing else mattered to him. That is no longer the truth.

There is a truth they both know that is stronger than anything. When she appears at his door, flushed and shivering like a puppy left out in the cold, his head and his heart finally hit the same wavelength. He will shy away from fate no longer.

She doesn’t wait to be invited in, she knows his bed is hers for the taking. He lifts her shoes off her feet like he’s kneeling at an altar, wraps his arms around her as if it’s what he was put on this Earth to do. Contrary to popular belief, he has quite a reverence for domestic bliss. He’s been searching for it since his own reflection of it was shattered at twelve years old, and it has finally come to him.

He is scared to death that he’ll fuck it up, but not so scared that he’ll back away. In other words, his approach to everything in his life. It occurs to him then, with his lips on her temple, that he would set his own flame to the office and every X-File in it if she asked him to. If that’s what she wanted. He wouldn’t even have stepped foot back in that haunted place after its first burning if she’d given him an indication that it was not her desire.

“Scully,” he starts, nuzzling her neck, “I was thinking about when you asked me if I ever wanted to stop...if I ever wanted to get out of the car.”

“Uh-huh,” she breathes so faintly that he wouldn’t have known if he hadn’t felt it in her lungs.

“Well, I do want that. I’ve always wanted that. Remember when we were in Home and I said I’d like to settle someplace like that?”

Scully chuckles against him.

“Obviously not in Home, but you know, some place with the small-town sentiment without the, uh, familial connection.”

“Mm-hm,” Scully murmurs, sensing a larger point that he has strayed from.

“I just never knew how to get to it--I never thought that I could get to it, because I grew up thinking my parents had that, and then I saw they never did at all.”

Scully tucks his open palm under her chin, listening contentedly.

“So I spent my time chasing apparitions,” he continues, “things I couldn’t see, because I stopped believing in the things that I could. It’s like…the invisible things could surpass my expectations easily, but the visible ones could only disappoint.”

Scully feels cocooned, protected, and warm. She latches her attention to Mulder’s voice to keep from drifting off, kissing his knuckle to show that she’s listening.

“And I’ve realized, Scully,” he says, an edge in his voice, “that it’s a fucking waste of time to live like that. Like doing laps on a lazy susan and wondering why you’re never getting anywhere.”

“I know,” Scully says, her voice quiet but certain.

Mulder laughs lightly. “I know you do, that’s what you’ve been saying all this time...I just didn’t see it before.” He kisses her shoulder, lingering in the final moments before doing what cannot be undone. “And so I have something to ask you, but there’s something I have to tell you first.” Rawness permeates his voice.

At the sound of this, Scully cranes her neck, her gaze falling upon his face for the first time since they laid down. She can barely see his hazel irises through the reflecting pool in his eyes.

“What is it, Mulder?” she asks, concern pressing up against her urgent need to know.

He closes his eyes, the sight of her too much for him in this moment. What he wouldn’t give to feel like he could live with himself if he kept this a secret.

“I’ve seen a neurologist, I’ve had MRIs, it’s all conclusive. My brain is diseased from whatever Cigarette Smoking Man did to me. Fatal, my neurologist says.”

“Mulder…” Scully sits up, her whole being gravitating toward him. She runs her fingers along the space where she knows he bears his scar.

“Who told you this? And when? Have you had symptoms…?”

Clearly, she does not want to believe him, and he understands.

“I’ve been going back and forth to appointments for a few weeks. It was just confirmed the other day, I didn’t want to worry you until I knew more.”

“And your symptoms?”

He recognizes the darkness in her eyes and pucker in her forehead that forewarns tears. “Disorientation, dizziness, memory loss...sometimes I feel like I sleepwalked right through my day. “

‘Why didn’t you tell me?” her voice crackles.

He kisses her hand. “I thought you might go to some dark places if you tried to diagnose me.”

“Well, you’ve just turned the lights out on me with no warning!”

“Shit. I’m sorry, I’m sorry...I didn’t know how best to approach it, I just knew I wanted to cause you the least pain possible.”

“You wanted it to be nothing so you wouldn’t have to tell me,” she notes, not accusing, just speaking plainly.

“Well, yes. That would have been ideal.”

She swallows back tears, wrapping her arms around his neck with grave sincerity. “But now I’m here to fight right alongside you.”

This is what they do--have done, for years. Make his pain her pain and vice versa. Hurt hurts less when shared.

Mulder pulls away first, and it feels like peeling off a layer of his skin. Still, this is as necessary as anything he has ever known.

“That’s why I was wondering--and listening to it now, I realize this is probably the most selfish thing I’ve ever done, but I don’t know, I thought you might understand...will you marry me, Scully?”

Her breath catches and before she can think of anything else, she is careening toward his t-shirt to cover her tears. She clutches at the material, pulling it from his midsection to her face.

As far as Mulder’s concerned, there’s an elephant stuck in his throat. “I really don’t know what that means,” he stammers.

Scully lets him see her, tear-stained skin and all. “Yes, Mulder, my god yes! Do you honestly think I’d say no to you?”

“I would, especially in this situation.”

It’s a classic Mulder comment, but Scully’s not laughing. She pulls him in again, just wanting to feel his skin against hers. Their breaths slow in time with each other’s, their heartbeats matching pace. Scully’s lips brush his mole.

She speaks into his skin. “You saved me when it was impossible. I will do the same for you.”

Mulder thought he might hold it together until those words slipped from her lips. The elephant in his throat turns to stifled sobs.

With silent tears still streaking down her cheeks, Scully runs her thumbs along his lips. Just as she did when they thought his brain was getting better. The love in her eyes is equal to then too.

“My constant, my touchstone, remember?” she professes. “Then, now, and always.” She presses her lips to his forehead, and he thinks she must be healing him.

#yes it's valentine's but it's a pandemic valentine's #so have some angst with that fluff #the x-files #txf fic #txf fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #mine #requiem

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mandelene · 3 years

Note

✈️

I went off on this one, lol. I decided to incorporate the request an anon made a while back asking me to write about Alfred developing epilepsy in high school so here it is, and I hope it's okay!

Just Another Midday Emergency

Word Count: 1580

Arthur can count on one hand the number of times Francis has called him in the middle of one of his shifts at the hospital, and they have always been for emergency reasons, so when he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket as he’s finishing up changing a dressing for a post-surgical wound, his throat tightens and his feet go cold.

He steps out through the double doors of the unit to the waiting room, braces himself by taking a deep breath, and picks up the call. “Hello? Francis?”

“Alfred’s not well and is being taken to the hospital. He collapsed in class and had a seizure.”

The information reaches his brain, but he fails to process it for several seconds. Panic washes over him, but he quickly shakes it off. He has to stay calm and focus for Alfred’s sake. “A seizure? What kind of seizure? Was he awake and aware or confused? Did he have motor symptoms?”

“I don’t know. You know you’re asking the wrong person. The teacher described it as him having spasms, and Alfred didn’t seem to recall exactly what had happened after it was over. He also hit his head on one of the other desks in the classroom.”

“Okay, so he wasn’t aware, and he did have motor symptoms, then,” Arthur confirms, running a nervous hand through his hair. What could have triggered a sudden seizure? Alfred’s never had a seizure before… “Where is he now? The high school called an ambulance, I presume?”

“Yes, he’s in the ambulance. I asked them if they could tell the paramedics to bring him to your hospital. I didn’t even have a chance to see him, but I called him and he was very shaken over the phone. I’m leaving the house now.”

“Good. You did wonderfully, Francis, thank you. I’ll tend to him. Try to remain calm, all right?”

“You as well.”

“Be careful on your way here. See you soon.”

He hangs up, finds someone to cover for him temporarily, and heads for the emergency department. His timing is impeccable today and the universe seems to be working in his favor because Alfred is just being brought in on a stretcher when he reaches the nurses’ station. He’s about to greet Alfred and ask the EMT and paramedic tending to him about his status, but just as he reaches Alfred’s side, the boy has a staring spell, and Arthur can tell he’s no longer alert.

And then, he begins to seize again, arms and legs jerking erratically on the stretcher. Arthur rolls Alfred’s head to the side and holds it still with both hands so he doesn’t aspirate or hurt himself against the side rails of the stretcher, heart pounding.

“Do you want me to give him—?” the paramedic begins to ask, but Arthur shakes his head.

“Wait a moment,” he says, glancing at his watch to track the time.

And then, as suddenly as it started, Alfred abruptly stills once more.

“About thirty seconds,” Arthur reports, a bit relieved. At least the seizures are relatively short, and he’s not in status epilepticus. It could be worse.

He removes his hands from Alfred’s head and brushes his hair away from his eyes. “Alfred?”

“Mrghh…Dad…” Alfred mumbles, looking exhausted.

“I’m here, love. We’re going to take good care of you, all right? Can you hear me?”

Alfred groans quietly and reaches out an arm toward him, so Arthur leans over and embraces him carefully, giving him a gentle hug.

“...Dad…”

“I know, darling. You’re probably very startled,” Arthur says before he notices a nurse standing behind him and steps aside for a moment to let her properly triage him. When that’s all done, and the nurse assigned to his care arrives, Arthur helps her move him to a room. He’s pleased to find out that Dr. Gilbert Beilschmidt will be the pediatrician checking on him. Gilbert is good. He’ll do what Arthur asks him to do.

And apparently, he wastes no time in coming in to assess Alfred right away.

“Oh, kiddo. What happened to you, huh?” Gilbert says by way of greeting. He gives Arthur a nod of acknowledgment and asks, “Why is it always your kids, Kirkland? Something's always going on with them, it seems like.”

“They like to keep me on my toes,” Arthur replies, staying glued to Alfred’s bedside. He can’t imagine how frightening this must all be for him.

“The nurse gave me a rundown, but can you tell me what happened in your own words, Alfred? I wanna hear it from you.”

Alfred nods, which then triggers him to wince. He has a welt on the left side of his forehead from when he collapsed. “I was in history class and I dunno…It’s a blur. I remember hitting my head on the desk across from me and then my teacher standing over me. And then they called an ambulance.”

“And you’ve never had a seizure before, right?” Gilbert asks, examining Alfred’s forehead before pulling out a penlight and shining it into his eyes.

“No.”

“Okay, look at the light for me, kiddo…I’m gonna put a finger up and I want you to follow it with your eyes, ‘kay…? That’s it…Good. Now, I’m gonna ask you some more questions, and I need you to be a hundred percent honest with me ‘cause I won’t be able to get you the help you need if you don’t tell me the truth. You want me to kick your dad out for this part?”

Alfred seems a little panicked at the idea of Arthur having to leave his side. “No! I mean…He can stay if that’s okay.”

Gilbert gives him a knowing smile and nods. “No problem. So, have you been trying any substances at school? Maybe there’s something your friends have been taking and you wanted to experiment with it? Anything like that at all?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. I swear.”

“How about any recent falls or injuries? Did you get in an accident somewhere and hit your head, and maybe you didn’t wanna tell your parents about it ‘cause you were afraid they’d worry?”

“No. Just today when I fell out of my desk in class.”

“Okay, kiddo...Let’s get you some bloodwork and a CT scan to make sure you didn’t seriously hurt your head and to rule out any masses. Then, we’ve gotta get neuro in here to have a look at you. They’re gonna want an electroencephalogram at the very least.”

Alfred furrows his brows. “Electroencepha—what?”

“It’s a test where they’re gonna attach little electrodes to your scalp and check your brain activity for any abnormalities. It takes like an hour or two, and it doesn’t hurt—I promise,” Gilbert explains, giving Alfred’s knee a comforting pat. “Odds are we’re not gonna be able to find out exactly what’s wrong with you or give you a clear answer. You might never have a seizure again, or you might be developing epilepsy—it can happen at any age and sometimes we don’t know why it happens suddenly, it just does. If everything checks out and we don’t find anything serious, we’ll send you home with some anticonvulsant medication to take and have you follow up with a neurologist.”

“…Okay.”

“All right, kiddo. I’ll be back to check on you later. Don’t stress. Your dad’s gonna keep an eye on you for me,” Gilbert says. Then, he turns to Arthur and adds, “I’ll let you know as soon as I know more. I’m betting on epilepsy onset though based on what he’s told me. Don’t freak out, even though I know you will anyway.”

Arthur nods, bids Gilbert farewell for now, and sits down on the edge of Alfred’s stretcher with a sigh. “It’ll be all right, love. Whatever happens, we’ll take care of it,” he assures before placing a concerned kiss on Alfred’s brow. “Also, just a word of warning, your papa is going to be here any moment and will likely be in a panicked frenzy.”

Alfred musters a laugh. “Yeah, he always does that.”

“It’s because we both love you and worry about you.”

“I know. Thanks, Dad…Is it okay to be kinda scared?”

“Of course, it is. Anyone in your situation would be. But the good news is that there’s a very strong chance you’ll feel better with some medication and that there are ways to manage this.”

And then, Francis arrives, pale and trembling. Arthur does his best to explain the situation to him and set his mind at ease, but he might as well not have bothered because Francis runs over to Alfred’s side and starts fussing over him to no end anyway. He strokes his head, tucks him in snugly with the thin hospital blanket that’s covering him, and smothers him in a series of hugs.

Gilbert’s predictions turn out to be mostly accurate. The CT scan comes back fine, and the electroencephalogram confirms a change in brain waves, suggesting epilepsy. Neurology decides to put Alfred through an MRI as well, but as suspected, they’re unable to find a concrete reason for the seizures, which is actually positive news in Arthur’s opinion. At least this means Alfred doesn’t have any tumors or cysts causing the issue and no other physiological abnormalities.

He’s still going to watch him like a hawk from now on though and make sure he stays on top of taking his new medication.

Gilbert was right. Why is it always his kids?

#hetalia #aph england #hws england #hws france #aph france #hws face family #aph face family #aph america #hws america #aph prussia #hws prussia #drabbles #hurt comfort #alfred with epilepsy #reaching out for someone #only 18 more to go lmao 😅

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miracleonice87 · 4 years

Text

Begin Again

a Mathew Barzal song fic

a/n: a one shot based on “Begin Again” by Taylor Swift. obviously I don’t own any of Taylor Swift’s music/lyrics! I’m not even a big Swiftie anymore (edited: lol dying bc I wrote that before she released folklore and evermore and sucked me RIGHT back in) but I love her “Red” album and always listen to it in the fall. also, the NYC traffic/parking/location situation in this is purely fantasy BS, lol.

summary: Mat Barzal meets Hayden Parker (fictional) in a coffee shop, and they start something new.

warnings: swearing. talk of a concussion/migraines/weight loss — otherwise, complete and total fluff.

______

With a deep breath, you glanced at your reflection in the mirror hanging near your front door before you left your Brooklyn apartment. You hadn’t worn these heels for several seasons now — he hadn’t liked it when you wore high heels. You had let his opinions — on your clothes, shoes, music, books, movies, and friends — dictate how you lived for too long. You smirked now, admiring how the pointed-toe snakeskin stilettos looked paired with your raw cut black jeans and silky pink blouse. He would’ve hated this look (“too gaudy,” he would have said), which made you love it that much more.

You popped in one AirPod and flipped the inside lock on your door before pulling it closed. You made your way down the hall as the lyrics started to flow.

There is a young cowboy, he lives on the range

His horse and his cattle are his only companions...

You fought the urge to roll your eyes thinking about your former flame’s constant unwarranted comments about this classic ballad which often wafted through your apartment from the record player in the living room.

“I don’t get this song — like, is he singing to himself?” he would ask. You never bothered to tell him the real background and meaning — you loved the song, and you got it. You always had.

Emerging from the main entrance of your building, you hummed along to melodies from your favorite playlist, and walked the three or so blocks to your destination. Soon, you were stepping in from the bustle of the street to find solace in an only-slightly less busy coffee shop, one you had come to frequent because of its location — sandwiched within the six blocks between your apartment and the fashion magazine where you were interning this semester.

“Hi, one large double shot mocha, please?” you requested, stepping up after the man in front of you paid for his order. You tapped your AirPod to pause your music, just in time to hear: “Nice shoes.”

You lifted your head and glanced toward the pick-up section of the counter, where a classically handsome man in his twenties stood donning a well-tailored navy blue suit. Your heart lurched in your chest as you realized he was looking straight at you.

“Me?” you inquired softly, just to be sure, as you slipped your bank card back into your wallet. He nodded, smiling. “Yes, you. Nice shoes.”

You bit your lip involuntarily, slowly walking his way to wait on your coffee. “Thanks. You’ve got nice style yourself,” you complimented, and you were surprised by your own boldness in that moment. Something about his confidence made you confident, too. And something about his model good looks seemed unsettlingly familiar somehow.

He extended his hand as you took your position next to him. “I’m Mat,” he greeted. You couldn’t help but smile, nearly breathless from his innate charm.

“Hi, Mat,” you replied, engaging his handshake. “I’m Hayden.”

“Hayden. Pretty name for a pretty girl,” Mat mused, holding onto your hand for just a moment longer than was customary. You knew it was silly — God, was it silly — but you felt yourself blush at his flattery.

“Large Americano,” a barista called out. Mat stepped forward, thanking her and stuffing a bill — you couldn’t help but notice that it was a large one — into the tip jar atop the glass pastry display. He turned back to you as he unfastened the lid and blew gently on his coffee. Another thing you couldn’t help but notice — his perfect pink lips.

“So, Hayden, are you a native New Yorker?”

Hmm, you thought. Why isn’t he running for the door after getting his drink? You decided to play along, feeling more daring than you had in ages.

“I am not,” you confessed. “I’m from Maine, actually.”

“Ah, still an East Coast girl,” Mat remarked with a grin. “I’m from the West — near Vancouver.”

You arched your brows. “Wow, Canadian, huh?” Mat chuckled.

“Born and raised. You know what they say, though: opposites attract,” he commented, hazel eyes piercing into you even as he took a cautious sip from his cup. You studied his face — he seemed more familiar with each word he spoke.

“They do say that, don’t they?” you retorted, skirting his inference. Just then, the barista set your mocha on the counter.

“Thank you so much,” you said, also pushing a tip into the jar, thankful that Mat’s attention was on grabbing a cup sleeve from the island nearby instead of on the much smaller bills you had to offer the staff.

You turned toward the island, too, reaching for the cinnamon. Mat offered you a sleeve as if it was second nature, and you graciously accepted, trying to relax the muscles on your face that seemed to have permanently turned upward into a smile since you’d been in the man’s presence.

Suddenly, you gasped.

“Islanders,” you whispered under your breath as Mat watched you stir your cinnamon into your drink. He froze.

“What?” he asked with a nervous laugh, wondering if he had heard you correctly. Your eyes darted around, making sure no one within earshot was paying attention.

“You play for the Islanders. Right?” you asked softly. He nodded, silent, ducking his head a bit; you began to backpedal.

“Oh, God... I didn’t mean - I, uh... I promise I’m not like a hockey fangirl, or anything,” you choked out, cheeks flushed. Your hands started to shake slightly as you replaced the lid on your to-go cup. “I just, uh, my brother. My brother played hockey. He always talked about you, and, uh, I just realized that that’s why I recognized you.” You winced.

“This... this isn’t as weird as it sounds, I swear,” you insisted. “It’s just that, my brother played in the Q. He was good, and, uh, I knew about all the other good hockey players, because of him.”

Mat’s demeanor had quickly changed — from slightly uncomfortable to giddy. He was smirking at you while you sputtered, taking a sort of masochistic pleasure in watching you squirm. His grin was infectious.

“What’s your last name?” he asked when you finally stopped talking. “Parker,” you responded, the two of you stepping away from the island and taking up residence near the front windows of the cafe.

“Parker... Parker,” he repeated. You were distracted by how good your name sounded falling from his tongue. Then, he gasped, too.

“Oh shit, your brother’s Nick Parker? Damn, how’s he doing?”

Your brow quirked as you watched the light flicker on in his eyes when he pieced it together. A National Hockey League star recognized your brother’s name, your name. What the hell was happening?

You cleared your throat, attempting to come back into orbit. “Uh, yeah, he’s good now. He, uh... it was a battle there for a couple years. He had migraines every day for about 16 months... lost a lot of weight. It was... it was tough,” you told him, your voice lowering noticeably. Mat watched you carefully, concern written all over his striking features. It was evident that Mat knew your brother’s story.

Your older brother Nick had been a top 20 prospect in the Quebec Major Junior Hockey League as a teen, playing forward for the Halifax Mooseheads. But after a nasty late hit during a playoff game, he had been left with a debilitating concussion and, after a long period of unsuccessful rehab, had been forced to walk away from the game just as he was entering his prime.

Those troubling days hung like a thick, black fog over your family’s history, and you suddenly recalled being 15 again, cross-legged outside Nick’s bedroom door for hours, begging him to let you into the dark room to hold onto him as he cried, both because of the pain and because of the weight of his unrealized dreams. It had taken countless neurologist appointments, physical therapy, and your parents’ unwavering insistence that he regularly see a sports psychologist for him to return to some semblance of normalcy after a long road to recovery.

Now, minus the occasional treatable migraine, Nick was thriving. You beamed at the thought, your well-polished black nail picking at the corner of the cup sleeve on your mocha as you looked back to Mat and continued.

“But he’s finishing law school now, seeing a therapist and keeps himself in great shape, which helps. He’s getting married next summer to this great girl,” you finished, pride swelling in your chest at how far your brother had come. Mat’s eyebrows lifted, his worried expression morphing into elation.

“No shit!” he exclaimed. “Damn, I’m so happy for him. Tell you what, lotta guys wanted nothing to do with him when he was tearing it up. And we were all gutted for him after it happened.” You gave him a grateful smile.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “I’ll have to let him know you said that.” Mat nodded, then pressed on. “Maybe I’ll get the chance to tell him myself one day,” he added brazenly, casually taking another sip.

No response came to your brain, so you curled your fingers around your own cup and took a long draw, eyes darting to the activity outside the window, Mat’s never leaving your unsure face.

The church bells chiming from a nearby steeple were the only thing that could pull Mat’s gaze from you, as he checked his large-face Rolex. He seemed angered by the time staring back at him, and he ran his hand aggressively through his hair as his eyes rolled just slightly.

“Listen, Hayden, I hate to do this,” Mat began with a sigh. “But we’ve got a game in Pittsburgh tomorrow night, and the team plane leaves in like half an hour.”

You’re surprised by how deflated you feel in that instant, casting a downward glance at the shoes Mat had complimented only minutes ago, before you’d started feeling like maybe you’d known him your whole life.

A quiet, “Oh,” was all you could muster, still not meeting his eyes.

His hand then came to rest on your upper arm, and it’s only then that you noticed how big it was, long fingers curling easily around your bicep.

“But hey... I’ll be back late tomorrow night. Whaddya say we grab coffee here the next morning? Wednesday. Maybe 8?”

You turned your eyes upward to take in his face. He looked hopeful. He was hopeful that he’d see you again.

You nodded. “I’d love to, Mat. I’ll meet you here.”

Mat beamed, a relieved breath falling from his lips. “Good,” he commented. “I’ll see you then.” He leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, leaving you reeling when he pulled away.

“Bye, pretty Hayden,” Mat said with a wink before turning and exiting the coffee shop, walking down the block to the Cadillac he’d just unlocked. He was still in sight when he glanced over his shoulder and threw you another breathtaking grin. You smiled back, frozen in place as you watched him drive away.

_____

Mat was going to be late.

At least, that’s what you had convinced yourself at some point within the last 48 hours.

He was either going to be late or he was going to stand you up altogether. So even though you woke up at 5:30 and initially felt the need to rush through your routine to get down to the coffee shop as quickly as possible, you didn’t. You forced yourself to slow down. Because Mat was going to be late. Or, he wasn’t going to be there at all.

So you were surprised when, after throwing on a red chiffon dress with tiny white flowers and a cognac leather jacket, you walked through the coffee shop door at 8:02 and heard, “Hayden!”

Your head snapped up.

At a corner table in the back of the shop was Mat, dressed in a smart grey sweater and distressed black jeans, a silver chain looped around his neck, standing to wave you over with a broad smile across his face.

He came. And he’d arrived before you did.

You walked over to Mat and he embraced you warmly, the two of you exchanging kisses on the cheek. He squeezed your elbow affectionately as you stepped back from him.

“Oh, here. Let me,” Mat said as he pulled your chair out and motioned for you to sit.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, his chivalry catching you by surprise. Once you were seated, he pushed your chair in slightly before taking his place across the table from you.

“I got you a mocha,” he told you, nodding at the cup in front of you. “Double shot, right?”

You nodded. “You’re sweet. Thank you,” you said, the two of you beaming at each other for a moment, lost in a daze.

“So how was the game?” you inquired, pulling you both back to earth. Mat cleared his throat before answering you.

“It was good! We won. It’s usually a tough battle with them but we kinda dominated, which was nice for a change,” he spoke, looking pleased.

“You score?” you asked teasingly as you sipped from your cup.

“Uh, yeah, actually,” he told you with a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Two goals and an assist.”

Your eyebrows lifted on your forehead. “Mat, that’s amazing! So my brother was right. You are good.”

Mat shook his head, trying to shrug you off.

“Ah, nah. I kinda think it had more to do with a good luck charm I met this week,” he remarked slyly. You licked your bottom lip before biting on it gently. Mat took notice, mirroring your motions as he stared at your lips.

“So, how’s work been this week?” It was Mat’s turn to deflect.

You told him how hectic it had been, with you arriving at the office around 9 and leaving at 6 on the day you’d first met, then departing after 7 yesterday, despite it being only a part-time internship in addition to the five classes you were taking online. He asked about your combination of on-campus and online learning throughout your college career in order to accommodate your dream internships, and he was already in awe of what a hard worker you were.

You pointed out that you weren’t the only one at the table with a crazy schedule, and you asked him how he balanced hockey with his personal life. He answered you easily, launching into stories about his teammates and his family and his friends who all kept him grounded in different ways. There was one name he kept bringing up — Tito. He told you that you’d have to meet him. Before you could hesitate, you said you’d like to. His visage brightened at that answer. He reminded you of sunshine.

He continued to regale you with a vast array of stories, stopping often to ask you questions and invite you to tell him stories of your own. It took a bit of time, but soon you were opening up about your own life — your parents’ recent and shocking divorce after 30 years of marriage, and your struggle with your grandmother’s death last fall.

It wasn’t all dark, though. In fact, most of it wasn’t. You also told him about the crazy theater actor roommate you’d had when you first moved into the city to study fashion at NYU, and how her frightening antics had eventually pushed you into accepting your uncle’s offer to pay for your own apartment in the city, as he was single and childless and had always delighted in spoiling you and your brother. You told him about your only two cousins on your dad’s side, two siblings bracketing you and your brother in age, and how the four of you were more like siblings than cousins. You told a slightly off-color joke at your own expense that most of your friends and coworkers would never laugh at, but it left Mat breathless, throwing his head back with boyish giggles flowing from his mouth like your favorite song. This caught you off-guard — you couldn’t believe he actually seemed to think you were funny. The last one certainly never did.

At some point, the conversation shifted to music. Mat’s jaw dropped when you told him that you own every James Taylor album on vinyl, after he told you that that’s one of his favorite artists of all time. He said he’s never met anyone who has as many James Taylor records as you. You simply shrugged. You explained that you and your mom have seen every tour James Taylor has been on since you were eleven and had started playing guitar. Mat’s eyes went wide — he told you that he dabbles in guitar, too.

After this, you quieted a bit. He noticed. It comes off to him as shyness, but you know what it really is. It’s fear. All at once you realize just how far you’ve let your guard down with this stranger. You’ve only just met this person, yet you have more in common with him than anyone you’ve encountered since moving into the city.

He sensed that something was off, so, in the silence, he reached a hand across the table and took yours in his grasp, stroking the back of it with his thumb. You looked into his mesmerizing eyes, and your hesitance melted.

After several more minutes of easy conversation, you check the time. You need to be at work in ten minutes.

“I’m sorry to be the one to break this up this time,” you started, and Mat sat back, looking understanding though disappointed. “But I’ve gotta get to work. Thankfully, it’s just right down the street.”

“Let me walk you,” Mat quickly insisted. You smirked at him, digging in your purse to find your office key.

“Didn’t you drive here?” you asked, chuckling. He simply shrugged. “Yeah, but if pretty Hayden works just down the street, I might as well walk her to the office and spend a few extra minutes with her,” he told you with a smug grin. You felt your cheeks get hot.

“Sounds good to me,” you admitted quietly. Mat nodded, then rose from his chair, reaching for his wallet to leave another tip.

“Thank you,” you said, putting your hand on his forearm tenderly. “For the coffee. For this.”

He smiled down at you. “You’re welcome,” he replied.

The two of you walked out the cafe door, which Mat pushed open even from behind you. You pointed in the direction of your office building and the two of you fell into step, side by side. Your heart leapt when Mat reaches for your hand. It felt unbelievably natural — which terrified you.

Your recent relationship history flashed through your brain all at once, like a film reel. Your brain screamed, “Slow down!” while your heart whispered, “Relax.” You weren’t sure which to believe. You opened your mouth to bring him up, to give a fair warning, to tell Mat that you might not be ready for... whatever this was.

Then, he started to talk about the movies that his family watches every single Christmas. You weren’t at all sure what had brought that subject to his mind — maybe your earlier questions about his younger sister back in Coquitlam — but you’re grateful for the diversion from your own messy mind. You decided to engage him on that topic instead, rather than bring up your last boyfriend who’d shattered you then walked away.

And for the first time in eight months, you decided to leave what’s past, in the past.

Like a pinball machine, Mat had already bounced to yet another new topic — his practice later this morning. As he finished a story about pranking Tito in the locker room after a skate last week, you bubbled over with giggles. He watched you with admiration and wonder coursing through his entire being. You eventually observed how he was gazing at you, and you sensed that he had something more important to say than his joke on his teammate.

“Hey, so, uh,” Mat started, clearing his throat. Your suspicion had been correct. “What are you doing tomorrow night, after work? We have a home game tomorrow at 7:30 and I, uh, I wanted to see if maybe... you wanted to go? I requested a ticket for you... just in case you want it. If you do... I was thinking maybe we could grab dinner after?”

The sentences Mat spoke seemed to be rolled into one giant question mark. His unwavering self-assurance had seemed to falter slightly for the first time since you’d met him, surprising you. You only needed a moment to consider your answer.

“I’d love to come watch you play,” you told him, wrapping your hands around his upper arm affectionately. You watched him exhale, a smile slowly overtaking his face.

“Thank God,” Mat breathed, making you both burst into hysterics as he leaned his head down to touch yours for a moment.

Bewilderment overcame you as you realized that you hadn’t felt this way about anyone in... you couldn’t even remember how long. You’d thought it might never happen again. That for you, this feeling might just be... gone.

You couldn’t believe that on a Wednesday, in a cafe, you’d watched it begin again.

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elisaphoenix13 · 4 years

Text

Once Upon A Summer (Ch.1)

This first chapter is for @chocopiggy (thanks for the commission, and hope it's to your liking)! This actually won't be connected to the Mama Bear AU, but Stephen will always be a mom in my heart. 😂

It all started because of an alert that Tony received from Friday. It wasn't one that told him that Peter was in danger...just that something had happened with his suit. Maybe a malfunction? Friday couldn't tell him either but she made sure to let him know that the teen was safe. When Tony checked Peter's location, his eyebrow shot up.

"What the hell is he doing out of Queens?" He mumbles to himself.

When the little dot shows no signs of moving, Tony walks over to his balcony and suits up to go check on the teen. Peter never really left Queens and if he did, it was to visit Tony. Well...until now that is. Peter now permanently resided in the tower penthouse with Tony and now the roles were kind of switched. He patrolled on the way to Queens, stayed there for a few hours, and then made his way back to the tower. Then again, Greenwich Village wasn't really out of the way. Maybe Peter followed a perp in that direction and...got lost.

Tony was even more confused when he landed in front of a building that he knew housed a couple of sorcerers he only really knew about. He never actually met them but he supposed now was as good a time as any if his tracker was accurate. He stepped forward and knocked on the door, and the door opened to let him in.

"Great. Place is haunted." Tony says as he walks in.

"It took you long enough." A voice says and he looks to the side to find one of the sorcerers.

He was the first thing Tony noticed because press photos didn't do Stephen Strange justice. He was much more attractive in person and Tony could feel butterflies in his chest. Not his stomach, because that would just mean he was nervous, but his chest...it warmed. It had a tingly feeling that was nice and unconcerning for a change. Stephen's eyes were beautiful and it was even more attractive to see him make butterflies fly around...a baby? A baby wearing the Ironspider suit…

"What did you do to my kid?!" Tony accuses immediately.

"Not me. Another sorcerer." Stephen dispels the butterflies he had been keeping baby Peter occupied with. "He was caught in a crossfire of spells and this happened."

"The enemy tried to turn you into a baby?" Tony asks.

"I have no idea. Possibly. Or he was hit with a different spell that affected him differently."

Stephen carefully picks up Peter, who looked to be about six months old, and carries him over to Tony. He wasn't sure what to do with a baby, but he took him regardless and Peter cooed as he reached for Tony's sunglasses.

"Why haven't you changed him back?"

"This is something that needs to wear off on its own." Stephen replies with a sigh.

"How long will that take?" Tony asks suspiciously.

"Anywhere from weeks to months."

Tony balks. "What?! No! I'm in no way qualified to take care of a baby. At least for that long! You're a better option Doc."

"I'm a neurologist Stark. Not a pediatrician."

"I'm sure you've made the rounds though." Tony says and moves his head back a little to keep Peter away from his sunglasses. "This is partially your fault."

"He'll be fine." Stephen huffs.

"What if there are some magical side effects?" Tony counters. "That's apparently your area of expertise and you have to help until he's back to normal. I swear if he grows a tail-"

"He's not going to grow a tail."

Tony could practically see the thoughts running through Stephen's head and he watched as the sorcerer finally sighed. They both knew Tony was right and that Stephen had to take some kind of responsibility for what happened. If some magical side effect came up, Stephen would be the one to deal with it, and he kind of was a better choice to take care of a baby. Tony was willing to do what he could, but there was very little he knew about babies.

"Alright. I'll check in every day." Stephen acquiesces. "Fortunately it seems his powers are dormant so neither of us will need to pry an infant from the ceiling." He points at the baby. "He's been diapered and fed but he'll likely be hungry again soon. I'd get baby supplies if I were you."

"Guess we're going shopping, Doc."

"...we?"

"Who's the medical doctor here?" Tony huffs. "I know less than you do about child rearing. I'm not sure what to feed him or anything like that!"

Stephen answers with another sigh and nods. With some magic, he changes into some normal clothes and walks over to the front door. It was enough of an answer for Tony and he followed Stephen out of the Sanctum and to the nearest store that sold baby items. From food to furniture. Which happened to be a Target. To Tony's relief, Peter was old enough to sit up by himself so he could sit in the shopping cart and Tony's arms could get a break. Stephen simply led the way to the furniture items first and both men looked at the collection apprehensively.

"Am I the only one who feels like we stepped in some strange land?" Tony jokes.

"Good to know it's not just me." Stephen mumbles. "I may have worked with babies before but that doesn't mean I know what half of this stuff is."

"Bare essentials then." Tony grins and grabs a set of plastic keys that they walk by and he hands them to Peter. "Here you go kid."

Peter babbles as he accepts the keys, immediately stuffing them into his mouth, and both Stephen and Tony watch as some drool drips from the baby's mouth.

"Bibs." They say in unison.

"Oh, you know what those are?" Stephen asks immediately after and Tony rolls his eyes.

"Oh very funny wizard."

"Sorcerer...and it's Stephen."

Tony smirks. "I know. I like watching your eyebrow twitch when I call you wizard though."

"You would." The younger man scoffs.

"So what's the bare minimum I need? Crib?" Tony asks, changing the subject.

Stephen shrugs. "I suppose you could buy a portable changing pad to change him on instead of getting a table."

Tony winces. Right. Peter wasn't currently potty trained anymore and the thought of changing him made him a little uncomfortable. He didn't know how to change a diaper in the first place and he didn't raise Peter from birth. His kid was just a temporary baby…

"It's going to have to happen eventually." Stephen says, as if reading his mind.

Maybe he was.

"Maybe a playpen too. It's portable and it can keep him out of trouble if you have to take your eyes off of him to make dinner." Stephen continues.

"That's definitely coming." Tony says as he grabs the box to throw in the cart.

Stephen, meanwhile, stands in front of Peter and gently sticks his thumb in the baby's mouth. Peter babbles around the sorcerer's finger and Tony watches curiously as Stephen gently opens his mouth. It was clear the doctor was looking for something, but before he could ask, Stephen removed his finger, earning an audible protest from the mini human. When it became clear that Peter wasn't getting the finger back, he turned his attention back to his plastic keys as Stephen grabbed another toy off the rack.

"He's at the age where his teeth are coming in." Stephen finally explains. "You can put this in the freezer and also get some teething gel to numb his gums. You might be in for some long nights."

"Not like I have a regular sleeping schedule anyway." Tony bemoans.

"If you're lucky, a little gel before bedtime should do the trick."

They finish up in the baby department by grabbing some bibs, toys, burping cloths, bottles, and even a sippy cup before heading to the area of the store with the food and diapers. Stephen showed him what size diaper Peter would need, the cereal and fruit purees he could try feeding him, and also grabbed formula. It was still important at his age since it had the nutrients a baby needed. Once they finished by grabbing some wipes, they had to go back to the previous baby section because they realized they had forgotten to grab clothes. Onesies, pajamas, tiny shirts and tiny pants...Tony couldn't decide whether to freak out, tear up, or laugh when he saw the socks because it was a reminder that Peter was currently tiny and fragile and was relying solely on Tony (and Stephen) to survive.

He considered buying bubble wrap.

"I can't believe I'm going to say this...but kids are expensive." Tony remarks as they wait in line.

"Incredibly. People do it multiple times too."

"They can't be trusted." Tony jokes. "Anybody who puts themselves through that over and over again are closet sadists."

"You're an idiot." Stephen rolls his eyes as Tony unloads the cart onto the belt.

The cashier, and even a few nearby customers, gave them both a curious glance but nothing more was said. Probably because it was him buying baby stuff and was accompanied by another man. Fortunately they were in a day and age where for the most part, people didn't bat an eye when they saw a child with a same gender couple. Of course, Tony decided that he was going to have fun with it and looked over at Stephen who had grabbed a magazine to flick through.

"Honey, can you grab the keys from-" The billionaire is promptly interrupted when Stephen rolls up the magazine and smacks Tony with it before tossing it on the belt as well.

Peter found it hilarious and laughed which made Stephen smile and Tony to get that fuzzy feeling in his chest again.

"You can pay for that too since I had to resort to ruining it." Stephen huffs and gently takes the keys from Peter.

It was a quick ordeal. Peter had the super strength that every baby seemed to have when they didn't want something taken from them, and when Stephen finally won, his lower lip wobbled dangerously. The doctor held out the toy so it could be scanned without the cashier having to touch the drool covered keys, and then given back to Peter before his fussing could turn into full blown crying. Stephen may have some experience with children but it was like he was made to be a parent.

It kind of turned Tony on.

Which was weird? Sort of. He appreciated both men and women, and he and Pepper broke it off for the final time a while ago so it wasn't like he was in a relationship. But he barely knew Stephen. All he knew was what the tabloids had of him on his work, his car accident that ended his career, and then his supposed disappearance. Tony only knew about Stephen's new "career" because of chance. They very briefly fought together when Stephen had a mystical threat to take care of and Tony had been in the area, but everything happened so quickly that he didn't get a proper look at the sorcerer or a proper conversation.

Tony didn't mind looking at all.

"Do you mind?" Stephen suddenly asks, holding up a chocolate bar.

Tony motions to the belt. "Not at all."

"We should get water too. I didn't feed Peter so I'm sure he's getting hungry." Stephen says as he places the chocolate on the belt and grabs a couple of water bottles from the small fridge nearby.

"Oh, yeah. Good idea. I don't think those keys will keep him occupied much longer."

It didn't take long for the items to get scanned and for Tony to pay, but when they got outside, he realized his predicament. He flew to Greenwich Village in his suit. He couldn't fly back with a baby and all of the items he suddenly accrued. But then Stephen directed him to the side of the store where they would be out of sight and opened a portal. To his kitchen at the tower from the looks of it. Tony was a little uncomfortable with the idea of using magic to get home, but it was efficient and he didn't want to be caught in the middle of New York with a baby in the dark. The sun had nearly set.

So he takes a deep breath and gets the purchases through the portal as Stephen carefully pulls Peter out of the cart and walks through the portal. Tony had the mind to return the cart to a nearby corral before following the sorcerer through, and he watches as Stephen looks around the penthouse as the portal closes behind Tony.

"A playpen was a good idea." Stephen finally says. "This isn't exactly a baby friendly environment."

"I should probably set that up." Tony says. "I have a feeling holding him doesn't feel too good on your hands."

"Let me make him a bottle first."

Stephen hands Peter to Tony and digs through the bags on the counter to fish out the needed items to make him a bottle. Tony made sure to watch closely and listen to the amounts Stephen said to feed Peter and soon enough, the sorcerer took the baby back and sat on the couch with him where he handed Peter the bottle. He fortunately didn't have any trouble holding it himself and was able to drink from it while Stephen held him on one of his legs and Tony set up the playpen and the crib. The latter he was told to set up in his bedroom.

When he finished (to his enormous relief, there were some things he never cared to put together again), he exited his room to find the tv on a child friendly cartoon and Peter bouncing happily on Stephen's knee while he watched the pretty colors fly across the screen. What was surprising was seeing the younger man looking so content as he wipes Peter's mouth with one of the burping cloths. No irritation. No expressions to betray that he hated every second of this. In fact, Tony was pretty sure Stephen was enjoying it.

"Want to stay for dinner?" Tony blurts out and Stephen's head snaps up in surprise. He recovers quickly and shakes his head.

"I have things I need to do. Thank you though." Stephen gets up with Peter and holds him out for Tony to take. "I'll come by tomorrow."

"Alright," Tony replies, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "See you then."

"Good night."

And he was gone through another portal. Just like that.

"Bud…" Peter looks at him and Tony smirks. "I think you're going to end up being my little wingman."

#ironstrange #stephen strange #tony stark #baby peter parker #peter parker

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wu-sisyphus-gang · 3 years

Text

Motion Sickness Chapter 70

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"So they're letting you out?" Ruby asked.

"Well I've been in out-patient care and I got out of in-patient care." I shrugged. They were giving me my weapon back with a hefty fine and time-served. I guess they were desperate for reformed huntsmen on the right side of the law.

And my psychiatrist had eagerly pressed me through as truly reformed. I'd had to sit in front of a judge for my sentencing but my psychiatrist had explained who I was and the extenuating circumstances I had been through. A mind control semblance was the declassified word.

Horrifying.

"That's it then? You're free?" Ruby wondered.

"All horizons," I told her.

"Atlas law requires you to see a therapist for nine weeks minimum," Weiss cut in on my other side. "For the PTSD related issues."

"This fucking continent." I clenched a fist.

"It's for your own good. Better to not fight it and come out of it with something." Weiss said.

"I can't believe you're getting off so easily," Blake muttered.

"Hey did you get a deal like this once?" I asked. "And you weren't even mind controlled."

She looked away and said nothing. Truly reformed huntsmen were hard to come by and it was easier to snatch them up where they appeared. My psychiatrist, therapist, and neurologist all greenlit me.

"Speaking of, how are those meds they have you on treating you?" Weiss asked.

"They're sedating. But I'm managing. The ones they had me on before this batch gave me terrible nightmares."

"Is that how it works?" Weiss wondered.

"It's not an exact science. There's some guessing involved to find some that work for you."

"And these ones work for you?" Yang asked.

I waggled a hand. "I miss THC and CBD but this seems like a close second."

"The doctors said that those were both exacerbating your symptoms," Weiss wedged in.

"Those doctors have never had an alien goddess in their mind." I was met with a loud silence. They weren't sure what to say when I said something like that. No one was. Because no one knew what I was going through besides my sisters wherever they are. I paced forward. "So this is Atlas Academy?"

"We'll have to talk to the General about getting you a room," Ruby muttered.

"Oh I'm sure he'll be happy to see you." Yang rolled her eyes. "I mean, no offense."

"Yeah well I have to serve my time somehow. Military service is probably it for somebody like me. With my particular set of skills."

"But will he trust you?" Weiss asked.

"Better question. Should I be trusted or will I sell you all out to Salem again?" I asked.

"You didn't sell us out. You brought us the relic," Ruby said.

"I… I killed Ren and Nora, Ruby." I couldn't believe her. She still believed in me.

"That wasn't you," she denied. Maybe she even believed it. I couldn't be sure with Ruby. Well I could. She was just hard to look at because of it.

"It wasn't not me. I have a lot to atone for, and I might do it again."

"You broke her control over you once," Weiss reminded me. She led the way through grey halls up to the headmaster's office.

"I keep telling everyone I have no idea how I did that though."

"You're not exactly selling me on this. On you," Blake informed me.

"Not really trying to. I'm trying to remind you how dangerous I really am. How much of a liability I could be. It's important."

"Cloud, how does this whole time served thing work?" Yang asked.

"That's a little up to Ironwood. He could send me anywhere but he sort of has to accept me somewhere. That's what the judge ruled. He's not a dictator. Not yet at any rate."

"It'll probably be better if you don't talk to him like that," Weiss said. "He won't appreciate it."

"You're probably right." I sighed. We took a grey elevator up to his office. It provided a scenic look out over the tundra and parts of Mantle.

Neo was out there somewhere. I contacted her and let her know I was watching for Cinder from this side and promised to let her know if anything was going down. I was sure she was managing just fine without me though. I was on the inside now. I could watch for Cinder better from here. I'd just have to trust that Neo would show up when it was opportune. I just hoped she wouldn't think I was abandoning her or the cause. Because I wasn't. I was still in camp ‘murder Cinder’ and she was a big girl, she could look after herself if only for as long as this charade lasted. It couldn't go on forever. Eventually I'd slip up and something Salem related would happen.

I also let her know I was getting some serious psychological help for the psychosis. She seemed neutral about that, though. Maybe she thought I was doing just fine. I hadn't been but I was glad she thought that.

Ironwood wasn't in when we arrived. That left us waiting outside for a bit. You couldn't really expect him to be in at all times.

Winter Schnee was there though. She gave me an icy glare and I just smiled back at her wolfishly.

"Oh, it's you," she said.

"Right back at you. How's the throat?"

"Just fine, thank you. You won't surprise me again."

"I don't need surprise to beat you," I told her. "You're fragile. Like glass. I was worried about breaking you. On accident. And don't think that becoming a maiden will bail you out. I almost killed Cinder and I was weaker then by a country mile."

"Weiss, you told him?" She looked shocked.

"He already knew. All about the bunker and what was in it." Weiss responded calmly.

"Neo and I did some digging in that department," I said.

"Ah yes, your criminal partner. Any idea where she is right now?" Winter asked.

"I have no idea." I told her honestly. "I have had no contact with her since my voluntary imprisonment," I then lied. I mixed the truth with lies.

"I see. Well should you remember anything Atlas would consider that necessary information."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I ought to teach you respect."

"Many have tried. Like my Mother. "

Her eyes gleamed, spotting weakness. "You meant Salem, I am sure."

"I did…" I trailed weakly.

"Winter, that's enough. Leave him be. Family is complicated and he didn't ask to be born to that monster. You and I should have some empathy for that," Weiss said.

Winter sighed down at Weiss. "Weiss…"

The general walked in and spotted us. He noticed Jaune armed with his weapon.

"They gave you your weapon back, so soon?" Ironwood asked.

"A week and half isn't that soon," I muttered. "I'm here for my assignment."

"I see. And team RWBY is…"

"Moral support," I granted.

"Have a seat Mr. Arc."

"It's Strife now."

"You changed your name, then."

"Arc was a fake name anyway. It was the name my parents gave me." I took a seat. There was a lot to unpack in that sentence I just said. Most people were given their names by their parents. Most people just didn't hate their parents like I did.

"I can respect that. Ozpin has recommended an assignment close by for you. I'm less convinced."

"He did? Why?" I asked.

"He wants to see if you are capable of his and Salem's kind of magic. He wants to train you if that is that case."

"Oh," I hadn't thought of that. "Well I did give his current body some training. Maybe he just wants to pay it forward."

"Perhaps. And he's done a great deal to protest your innocence. You should be grateful to him."

"Then I am."

"I have decided you will work out of this Academy. For the time being at least."

"You want me where you can keep an eye on me," I deduced.

"Things will go smoother if you have more trust in me than that. I am sure your therapists will have been trying to work through your paranoid thinking with you. Not everyone is trying to watch you, Mr. Strife." He steepled his fingers.

"But I'm pretty sure you are." Weiss elbowed me fairly hard in the side. "Regardless of your reasons for doing it I am grateful."

"I was hoping we could talk more about how you were made. You explored Merlot's laboratory and might have insights for me," he probed.

"I actually explored two different labs. I ran into someone in the second, near here in Solitas. Near a place called Nibelheim. He was a man with a mustache and a navy suit with yellow trimmings. He had green eyes and dark hair. I didn't see his weapon, though. He never used it. He said he was the one who made my sisters before he tried to use the laboratory…” I struggled for the word. “Defenses? To try and kill me."

"I see. But you found no more information on you or your sisters there?" He asked.

"No. Just more of my father's usual experiments on the Grimm. Something to do with turning them blue. I'm really not sure. The lab in Anima was like that too except he was turning them green and there were humanoid Grimm that he had designed. They were loose and in tanks in the facility. Tanks not dissimilar to the one he grew me in."

I felt a hand on my shoulder. Weiss's comforting aura drew in beside mine. She tasted like whipped cream and clear crisp crushed ice.

"And he grew you in one of these… 'tanks?'" Ironwood asked.

"An incubator of some sort, I'm sure. But to me they were just these sort of pods. Merlot's book has more notes on the one he used for me. It was a bit different than the others. He grew me from a fetus until I was nearly an adult in just a year," I said.

"That would make you young. Like Penny Polendina." His brow went up at me.

"Yeah. Something like that. I'm between three and four years old. I don't have an exact date for my birthday either. Don't remember if they ever gave me one or if it really matters considering I didn't have a birth," I informed him. "Anything else you'd like to know?"

“A great deal. About your origins. How you came to Beacon. Whether you have any insights into Salem’s weaknesses.”

“I don’t really know. And I’ll remind you that I am just a failure, after all." I wasn't really meant to last. I was just a prototype.

"Cloud..." Ruby whined behind me. The noise she made sounded like she was sad for a dog. It wasn't a good sound.

I ignored her. "I don’t really know how I came to attend Beacon. I don’t have any insights into Salem’s weaknesses. From my perspective she seems pretty unstoppable."

"It's impossible to say." Ironwood returned. "But if we should come up with a way to divorce you from her we will let you know."

"Thank you for telling me," I said.

"Of course. Now, let's see what you can do Mr. Strife."

"Finally, something I'm good at."

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

I glid through the training chamber at one of the Ace Ops members. I hadn't learned their names but he had a boomerang rifle and he was a dog faunus.

I caught up to him and swung twice horizontally in two enormous strikes that buffeted him around when he tried to block.

He jumped back and tried to fire at me but my profile was low as I came at him in an unrelenting fashion. I palmed a dust crystal and hit him with a lightning bolt that knocked him to his knees.

I came at him with a diagonal cut when another Ace Operative grabbed me with extensions of his aura. He tried to stop me in place but I jumped and twirled and cut at his golden aura. I severed the extended hands and the removed parts dissolved into fading golden light.

I front-flipped, moving on to the new target. I landed up on some of the glowing cubes in the training room. He reformed his hands and tried to beat me but I just sliced through. I flew at him with both hands on my broadsword.

My sixth sense called out to me and I flicked my sword up to block the boomerang rifle. It rebounded back to its user and he opened fire on me as I went after the wacky inflatable arm guy.

I closed the gap on the pillar he stood on and slashed through his aura arms that got in my way. I kicked him off the pillar and brought my sword down on his head. I cleaved deep into his aura and still I chased him as I blew him to the ground level with a massive overhead attack.

He had a lot of aura. He might be the only person I'd ever met in my own percentile of aura. He might even have more than me.

I chased him as he fell from when I slammed him and I beat him to the ground. I Cross Slashed him before he hit the ground. The devastating combination caught him up. The five move slashing attack tore away at his golden aura.

My Limit Break activated.

The dog faunus came around a corner and opened fire on me. I switched opponents again as I flew at him. I held my weapon between us and blocked most of his bullets. The few that got through pinged off my aura. I slashed upwards at him and he rolled to the side with a yelp.

I just stepped up on him again and swung upwards once more. Once he was airborn I had him right where I wanted him. I juggled him once. Then twice. Then again. He couldn't escape from the aerials I swung up at him.

I jumped up to match his height and Octa Slashed him with my Limit Break. He flew towards the ground and slammed into a pile of the boxes.

His light blue aura flowed to place over him before it vanished. I flew down on him in a swooping fashion and tackled him and carried him all the way to a wall of the arena. I stabbed my sword into the ground and beat the aura out of him with my fists. I punched him in the jaw. Then the stomach. Then I picked him up and slammed him into the ground.

Golden arms wrapped around me and picked me up and threw me across the room. I slammed into a pile of boxes back first. My head rocked back against the boxes. I stood up and put my sword against my shoulder.

The wacky arm guy landed next to the dog faunus and helped him to his feet. They turned to stare at me. I stared right back.

A golden arm slithered towards me across the ground and snagged my leg. It picked me up and slammed me face first into the ground. Then it rotated me and slammed me into the ground the other way.

Then it held me in the air and I got rocked by a boomerang to the face.

I snarled and cut myself free.

I landed on a pocket of air and descended towards the ground. I flew at the two of them through machine gun fire. An arm slashed at my side and I grunted but I cut through the next one and kept flying.

I landed between them and just to flex I charged my semblance to full. Then I swept my sword through the dog faunus's aura. He went down in a light blue crackle. He was lucky I hadn't hurt him for real.

I came at the next guy with a front-flip. I brought my sword down on him and he blocked with his aura. Even still my sword bit deep. I kicked him in the middle of the chest and he stumbled back a step. Then I flew at him with a knee and caught him in the face.

A golden claw slashed me to the ground but I never hit. Instead I floated on a pocket of air and rotated in place. I swept my blade around me and forced him back a half step.

The dog faunus stood up. "Marrow, don't!"

'Marrow' opened fire right into my back.

I whipped around and glared at him. I snarled. I hit him in the head with the blunt side of my weapon and he crumpled like a sack of bricks with a large bruise forming on the side of his head.

"Do you want to call this here?" I asked the one still standing. "Or do I have to beat you into unconsciousness, too?"

"I'll surrender. You fought well." The remaining man said sibilantly.

I nodded and put my weapon in the harness on my back. I hope there was more to Ace Ops than this.

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-WG

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fortheloveoffanfic · 4 years

Text

Heaven, Hell and You

John Constantine x OFC (A/n- Just gonna toss in some cheesy tropes to move things along)

Masterlist Chapter 2

Warnings- Brief mentions of mental health

Chapter 3

John had made several mistakes in his life, though he couldn't determine if bringing Valerie back to his loft was one of them. She'd been eerily silent throughout the car ride, keeping closer to the door with her head cast towards the window as John drove in silence. And even when they'd reached his building, as led the way up to his apartment, she hadn't offered him the slightest pea. He needed her to talk though, so he could decipher what or who she was.

Valerie had to be special. Between his all too life like dreams and her being attacked by a demon trying to escape into their realm, she couldn't just be any regular human. Besides, she'd understood Latin as if it were English, and the only time he'd ever come across that was with angels. Nephilim, it was the only plausible answer. How could she not know though?

Taking off the whistling kettle from the stove, John filled up two mismatched mugs, both with tea bags he'd been surprised he'd had, leaving room for milk and sugar in one. He had never been the most hospitable, and usually preferred to not entertain guests, but he also supposed that the least he could do after essentially dragging her to his car was try to make her stay comfortable. And of course, get her to trust him so she'd talk.

After a while, he didn't really note how long it had been, Valerie emerged, wearing what he'd left out for her after offering to let her use his shower. Well, at least half of it, "I couldn't fit in your sweats," she blushed, certainly noting the way his dark eyes had landed on her exposed legs. Her very smooth, toned legs.

Clearing his throat, John tried to shake off the perverse thoughts, "Its fine," he dismissed, "Tea?"

Nodding stiffly, Valerie relieved him of the cup, only stirring in a spoon of sugar before bringing it to her lips, "Thanks," she smiled, her face half hidden by the ceramic mug, "And um……thank you for everything else too."

"No problem," he obliged, gesturing for them to sit, "Just part of the job."

"The job?" Her brows knitted in question.

"I'm an occult detective," and when she still showed no sign of understanding, he carried on with explaining, "I do exorcisms, investigate the supernatural, that kind of stuff.”

“I….” Trailing off, she tried to make sense of it all, “Exorcisms? The supernatural? That’s,” exhaling softly, John could already see that the little bits he’d given were too much for her, “That stuff isn’t real,” Valerie shook her head dismissively, though, he could see that thing in her frightened eyes, that thing that told John she wanted to believe him.

“You’ve got a better explanation for what happened back there?” Leaning back in his chair, John crossed his legs at the ankles, waiting for an answer.

Straightening her back, Valerie set the mug down, “Schizophrenia could easily explain that boy’s behavior, and it’s commonly associated with-”

Cutting her off, John interrupted her rambling, “And what about you understanding a language you’ve never learned?”

“Well there’s there’s not a lot of medical research on it, but I assume that a neurologist would suggest a brain tumor, or an-”

Chuckling dryly, John shook his head and folded his arms across his chest, “So you’d rather believe that you have a brain tumor than believe that demons and that stuff,” he quoted mockingly, “Is real?”

Clenching her jaw, Valerie stood abruptly, “That’s bullshit, that’s all nonsense and babble from the bible. Things meant to scare people into obedience,” emitting a dry, husky laugh, she rolled her eyes, “You expect me to believe that there are demons and one of them just knows me by name and decided to come after me. Cause that’s so believable!”

John stood too, fuming at her stubbornness. To think he’d actually thought he could like her! “If it’ll save your ass then yeah!”

“Save my ass from what?” Her yell was louder than his, and for a hot minute, all sorts of tension building between them, they just stood there, both red in the face, fuming.

“You should be telling me!” Running fingers through his hair, John turned away, walking over to lean on the skin, “You’re the one they’re after!”

“They?”

“Hell,” he clarified, “And maybe heaven too, I don’t know. Look,” his tone softened as John desperately tried to reason. Despite Valerie being extremely difficult, he still had the gnawing urge to help her. There was just something about her, he just couldn’t put his finger on it, “I know it’s a lot to hear in just one night, but believe it or not, they’re after you. And you’re the only person that knows why,” he sighed when she sat again, the gravity dawning on her just as she really started to let his words sink in, “Look, that couldn’t have been the first time-”

“It was,” she sniffled, swiping at her eyes, “I mean, it sort of was. I guess…..” Swallowing tightly, Valerie continued slowly and reluctantly, “I hear things sometimes…..they say they’re coming for me. Sometimes I see people that aren’t there, but the doctors-”

“Gave you a bunch of pills and told you it was all in your head?” John knew the story all too well, after all, it had been his story too.

“Sort of,” she shook her head, voice teary and smaller than before, “They said that I was being paranoid at first, and then this doctor that I went to when I was in college, gave me antipsychotics. She said that was delusional and when i graduated, my grandparents had to pay for the records to be suppressed so I could even get this job; no one’s gonna hire a crazy nurse.”

Her story, as little of it as she’d told, tugged at John’s heart. Going through something like that alone couldn’t have been easy and he didn’t want to upset her further, but the more he knew, the better he could help her, “Do you see things too?”

Thinking on it in silence, Valerie eventually nodded slowly, avoiding his gaze, “Yeah,” blinking away tears, “The meds never helped, so I stopped taking them. And now I just try to ignore it, but it’s so scary sometimes,” her already soft voice dropped to a sorrowful whisper, “Gosh,” her voice broke, “You must think I’m crazy.”

Finally pushing off the edge of the sink, John dragged the chair closer to Valerie’s tentatively resting his hand over hers on the table. It was so foreign for him, taking someone’s hand like that and the last hand he held was Angela’s, when they’d tried the whole dating thing, but holding hers didn’t feel half as right as holding Valerie’s and John, for the slightest second, though he could get used to it. If only he’d let himself. “I don’t,” he eventually reassured, causing her to look up at him with wide, hopeful eyes, a couple drying locks falling over her delicate features, “I see them too, when I was a kid, my parents sent me to a mental institute. They tried everything, electrotherapy,” at that, she gasped sympathetically, “Meds, but nothing helped. And I tried to kill myself.” It was hard to avoid the sympathy that welled up in her gaze, and the way she turned her hand beneath his, so she could circle his fingers in a loose grasp. He hated the vulnerability that came with telling someone the truth about himself, but though his mind protested, John came clean in one go, hoping it would help her open up.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, squeezing his fingers, and suddenly, she was the one comforting him, “That couldn’t have been easy, but now you have a second chance, right?” Finally, she was starting to admit that she, at least partly, believed him, “Not a lot of people can say they have that.”

“Right,” just realizing how close they’d gotten, both leaning over the table and hands still locked, John pulled away abruptly, resigning to the back of his chair at the kitchen table, “And I’m trying to make the best of it. But this isn’t about me-” When he caught her staring, frown down-turning full, pink lips, he furrowed his brows, “What?”

“You’re hurt,” as quickly as she stood, Valerie was dropping to her knees in front of him, their position leaving John a little more than flustered, “Let me see your arm.” Without his permission, she was already holding on to his left hand, undoing the cuff buttons of his dress shirt, ripped on the sleeve from the earlier confrontation, pushing it up to his elbow, revealing his tattoo along with a large slash running for about six or seven inches at the top of his arm, “It looks like it’s only just started to bleed through the fabric, but it’s bad. It doesn’t need stitches though. You’re lucky, it’s not close to the vein and not too deep either. Do you have a first aid kit? I have supplies in my car, but…..”

“I brought you here in mine,” he huffed. She was so close, and with her looking up at him like that, wide doe eyes so sweet and innocent and plump lips barely agape, it was kind of hard to think, “I have some things,” he breathed, feeling like he should be looking anywhere but at her face, lest he submit to whatever spell that it exuded, the only one he wasn’t immune to. “But you don’t have to-”

“I insist, you saved my life,” she smiled faintly, “Though, if you’d prefer an E.R, I could go with you, my Id’s in my bag so it wouldn’t take too long.”

“No,” he dismissed,” I mean,” floundering for his words, John fought to uncloud his mind, “I can take care of myself, you should get some rest.”

“Look, I’m staying with you so you can do your job, right? You want to help me because its your job?” Sitting back on her heels, Valerie’s hold on his hand continued, “Well since I’m here, you should let me do mine, please.”

Thinking on it, John could tell that Valerie probably wasn’t going to give up the matter so easily, thus, he submitted, “Okay, there should be some things that you can use in the medicine cabinet, above the sink in the bathroom.”

“Good,” she all but leaped up, scuttling off barefoot into the bathroom, only to return minutes later with John’s beat up first aid kit clutched in her small hands. Setting it down, Valerie pulled her chair even closer, so close that when she sat, one of his knees parted hers legs slightly. And when she leaned over to look over his wound, John could smell his soap mixing intoxicatingly with her natural scent. She’d put her hair up with a tie from her purse, and her eyes were trained on his arm, concentration equally reflected in her steady hands, gently dabbing his wound with Hydrogen Peroxide, trying to bring as little pain as possible, “Does it hurt?”

“A little,” He returned lowly, slightly wincing, “It did before, but I didn’t notice the bleeding until you pointed it out.”

“Okay,” when she was through with cleaning it, Valerie rummaged through the kit again with gloved hands, looking for an antibiotic cream or powder, searching for a while until she found something satisfactory, “There’s some bruising, it shouldn’t cause too many problems, but it’ll still hurt and we should keep an eye on it.”

“Alright, thanks,” John kept his eyes on her, admiring how she worked with a tenderness that he found often absent in other medical personnel. It was like, she cared in a personal way, as if he meant something to her already. He wondered if the treatment was exclusive to him, or if it was just something she carried within her. “So, you’re a nurse?”

“Nurse practitioner,” Valerie corrected, “I work in the ICU at Los Angeles General, most of a doctor’s work for half their pay,” she chuckled lightly.

Without warning, John found himself mirroring her smile, the mood lightening. “So why aren’t you a doctor instead?”

After a moment, she shrugged her shoulders, moving on to wrapping a bandage over his arm, to keep the gauze in place “When I was kid, my mother was an N.P in the E.R, I used to want to be just like her,” Valerie’s face fell, “She always said that I had…..healing hands, whatever that meant.”

By the time Valerie was done, she still held onto his wrist, her thumb tracing circles into his skin, “Can your mom…..or any of your other family see….things?”

As he asked the question, Valerie’s smile, as faint as it was faltered, “No, she couldn’t. I’m actually adopted, and my mom died when I was thirteen.”

“Oh,” his shoulders slumped as John realized that figuring out exactly what she was, was going to be much more complicated than he'd anticipated. Usually, it was easy for him, he could see past the surface, but Valerie, as far as he could see, was perfectly human. And who knew how much her parents, or at least her dad, would know. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it was a long time ago,” her forced smile was enough to tell John that Valerie was done with the topic, and when she moved her hands, starting to pack up everything she’d taken out, “And um, you should take something, for the pain, and try not to get it wet when you shower,” the chair scraped on the worn tiles when she stood, “Thank you for everything but maybe I should see if my dress is dried and-”

“You have to stay here,” John objected hastily, frightening her in the slightest, “I mean,” he tried to broach the matter again, “I mean, it might not be safe for you to get back or stay alone, we still don’t know why that demon was after you, and something else could come just as easily, you really should stay.”

“I couldn’t impose like that,” she shook her head, desperately not wanting to overstay her welcome.

Standing too, John placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, causing her to meet his gaze once more, “You wouldn’t be. Stay tonight, and tomorrow, we can talk about this some more, when you’ve gotten some rest. Please?”

Hesitating for a moment, Valerie weighed the options; go home alone at nearly two in the morning and possibly get attacked by something she knew nothing about, or stay with a somewhat trustworthy though abrasive, handsome stranger and be safe. "Fine, but I have to get my car, first thing tomorrow morning."

"Okay," he determined, "I've gotta take a shower, but you can take the bed."

Giving John's place a sweeping look, she noted his mismatched furniture; a rickety kitchen table with four chairs, a long sofa with a couple worn throw pillows nearby in front of her, and behind her, near the furthest window was a bed, haphazardly made. "Where will you sleep?"

"Couch," he gestured to the sofa behind him, trying to move around her, only for Valerie to grab his bicep, stopping him suddenly.

"You don't have to do that, we can share it," when his expression suggested that he wasn't readily on board with the idea, she offered, "Or I can take the couch, whatever is better for you."

It was weird, sleeping in an unfamiliar bed with a man she didn't know. Valerie had only ever had one, one night stand and even then, she'd been too drunk to care whose bed she'd fallen asleep in. But that night, with John, the alcohol had already subsided and though they'd come close to kissing, she was pretty sure he wasn't interested in her like that.

She'd been laying beneath his thin covers, pillows wedged between his sleeping body and her annoyingly awake one for nearly an hour and a half, and not once had her eyes felt heavy. Valerie was wide awake.

The digital alarm clock on her side, with its glowing red numbers told her that it was nearing three am and all Valerie could have mustered up by then was, at most, five minutes of shutting her eyes tightly and hoping for the best. Though, the best never came.

She laid like that for a while more, that was, until John started fretting in his sleep, mumbling incoherently as beads of perspiration gathered on his brow. "John?" Valerie sat up, shifting to face him, too scared of his reaction to rouse him. "John?" She called a bit louder, her worry building. Valerie had seen people have nightmares before, ex boyfriends or patients during a night shift, but they much unlike the one she was witnessing right then. John was thrashing, occasionally yelling.

When he eventually shot up it was minutes later with wide, disoriented eyes, hands reaching out wildly, and maybe she'd heard wrong, but her name leaving his lips in a babbled cry. It took him a while to settle down, but even when he did, Valerie threaded carefully, "Are you okay?"

Her hand lingered in his shoulder, actually itching to cup his cheek, and John gazed at her intensely in the darkness before speaking again, like he had to be sure she was really there, "Yeah," he swallowed thickly, chest dominated by deep, heavy breaths, “It was just a bad dream. You should get back to sleep.”

Ignoring his advice, Valerie squeezed his shoulder affectionately, scooting closer despite her better judgement, jamming her thigh against the makeshift barrier keeping them apart, “Do you want to talk about it? What was it about?”

Once again, their faces were too close, and it felt too comfortable, so comfortable that neither John nor Valerie showed any signs of moving away from each other. His throat felt tight and dry, though his heart was slowing with every second that her hand remained on his bare shoulder. Healing hands. She was there, and she was okay. When the word finally fell off his lips, lonesome, quiet though speaking immeasurable volumes in the silence, they just stared at each other, not knowing if to lean in or pull away, “You.”

******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea @luxx-aeterna

#keanu reeves #Constantine #constantine 2005 #constantine fanfic #keanu reeves x reader #constantine x reader #constantine x ofc #keanu reeves x ofc #ff #fanfic #keanu reeves fanfiction #heaven hell and you

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magioftheseas · 3 years

Text

Stick It To Dis Bear!

Summary: An alternate/bonus scene about THE STICKER in Chapter 25 of Super Danganronpa 2: Matsuda Yasuke’s Battle of Despair and Wits.

Rating: PG

Warnings: None really.

Notes: I just didn’t feel right leaving out the stupid sticker. I still haven’t gone to a theater in over a year. For obvious reasons. I think I’m done with theaters. Like, forever. The last film I saw was Birds of Prey. That was good. I don’t need to see another movie.

Read this fic among others HERE

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They managed to get all the testing done in one day, although if Hinata played along in hopes of being told everything, he ended up sorely disappointed. Another to add to the list of people who found Matsuda in general to be a disappointment as a person. At least, Matsuda had an inkling that such was how the chestnut felt.

He was dealing with his own disappointment—with Komaeda still dragging his feet even after Hinata got too exhausted to keep fucking around with them.

“I feel like nothing of value actually happened,” Hinata groused.

That’s because it did. So little happened that it’s barely worth a passing narration, Matsuda thought.

“You’ve done well, Hinata-kun!” Komaeda chirped. “Great work! As expected of an Ultimate!”

“Shove it,” Hinata snapped. “It would’ve been nice if any of that felt like it mattered.”

“Aw, Hinata-kun...” Komaeda does pout, and it visibly gets Hinata more flustered and frustrated. “I really am sorry that you feel like your time was wasted.” Komaeda turns the full force of that pout to Matsuda. “Hinata-kun feels that his time was wasted. Isn’t that sad? Don’t you feel sad?”

“Yeah,” Hinata agreed through gritted teeth. “Doesn’t that make you sad?”

What romcom bullshit did I wake up in now?

“...I guess... It’s sad?”

“It’s so sad!” Komaeda exclaimed emotionally. “Matsuda-kun, you must make up to him! If only it’d abate his pain a little!”

“I mean, I guess it was a pretty big pain,” Hinata agreed with that, too, even if he seemed more confused about it. “It’d be...nice if I got some compensation...”

“What the hell?” Matsuda balked at the idea. “You volunteered?”

“I don’t REMEMBER that!” Hinata shot back. “For all I know, you lied to my face AGAIN! You do seem to like lying if it benefits you!”

Matsuda opened his mouth but hummed thoughtfully. When he went to speak again, he thought against it and hummed some more.

“C-Can you at least pretend you’re ashamed?” Hinata asked, exasperated. “Like, if you agree, surely you see that it’s wrong...”

I don’t really care.

He especially doesn’t care to pretend he cares. That said...

Komaeda was pouting at him. Lower lip stuck out, puppy eyes, the works. For a kid who looked half on death’s doorstep, it shouldn’t have been that effective. What the fuck.

Matsuda sighed loudly.

I don’t really care, but...

“Alright. Compensation. I guess I can do that,” he said before muttering, “What kind of compensation, though...? Do you want a coupon or what?”

“What would I use a coupon for?” Hinata asked, raising an eyebrow. “I mean—I would’ve been fine with just an apology.”

“Oh, Hinata-kun, such a martyr...” Komaeda gave him a pitying look. “You need to raise your standards.”

Hinata flinched for reasons beyond the current conversation.

“...I guess...”

“Yeah, you’re not getting an apology when I’m not sorry,” Matsuda said. “Pick something else.”

“Seriously?” Hinata gave him a look. “I... What the hell am I supposed to ask for?”

“A raise!” Komaeda exclaimed. “Extra vacation days! Or maybe a cruise!”

“I’m not paying for a fucking cruise,” Matsuda snapped. “Just how much money do you think I have?”

“Eh? But, Matsuda-kun, you’re a renowned neurologist,” Komaeda pointed out. “Even if you’re still a minor, you should be making a considerable amount of money...”

“Paid intern,” Matsuda corrected. “I could afford rent and instant food without having to pick up a parttime job on the side. Better than most...other people of my status...” He paused, having to stop himself for a moment before continuing, “I’m still not living the fancy life, though.”

Living as an orphan is never easy, especially in this country.

“That seems unfair,” Komaeda pointed out.

“What rock do you live under? That’s just how it is,” Matsuda scoffed. “Maybe if I had rich parents or even grandparents, it’d be different but I don’t.”

My worthless dad fucking ran the second shit got only a little difficult. Come to think of it, how did I manage after...?

“Rich parents,” Komaeda echoed as Matsuda rubbed his temple irritably. “I see.”

What now?

“Oh nothing!” Komaeda chirped, waving his hand as he was stared at by both Matsuda and Hinata. Right. Hinata.

This was supposed to be about Hinata.

“I, uh, don’t know much about making money,” Hinata confessed rather pitifully. “I’ve done some job-hunting...and I guess I’ve helped out at a convenience store? But only because my parents knew the owner...”

“How down to earth,” Matsuda remarked. “I knew a convenience store owner who gave me a sandwich because she felt sorry for me.”

“The one I knew hated me,” Komaeda chirped. “She said I was cursed! Which I guess was true!”

Both Matsuda and Hinata stared at him again, this time harder than before. Despite that, Komaeda remained bouncy and cheerful.

“Since financial compensation isn’t an option, I guess the best we can do is find something on the island to give Hinata-kun!”

“There’s a supermarket,” Matsuda pointed out dryly.

“I can just go there myself and grab whatever I want,” Hinata said. “I don’t need you picking up anything for me.”

“Do you want to be compensated or not?” Matsuda snapped.

“You’re not the kind of person who gets easily taken advantage of, right?” Komaeda asked, looking at him pityingly again.

“I’m not answering that,” Hinata griped. “But yes, I want compensation, I just... I don’t think I’m going to get the kind of compensation I actually want...”

Komaeda looked at Matsuda next.

“Sucks,” is all he had to offer.

Hinata grumbled, but wasn’t one to give up easily, almost as if he was motivated by a higher force.

“There’s stuff to do, right? Like, go to the beach...”

“I guess I can take you a beach and toss a frisbee for you to fetch,” Matsuda conceded.

“O-Or maybe relax at the park!!”

“Oh, should I bring a leash instead?” Matsuda asked, head tilted.

“T-There’s the movie theater!” Hinata exclaimed in a fit of desperation. “Let’s try that! Let’s go to the movies!”

Matsuda stared. Komaeda stared. Hinata took their silence as agreement.

“The movies,” he decided. “L-Let’s go to the movies.”

Matsuda and Komaeda traded looks.

It was decided, but not without reservations.

“Surely there’s more than one film showing,” Hinata said, looking up at the sign. “I mean... I know I wanted to come here but... This film is supposed to be really bad, right?”

“It is,” Matsuda confirmed.

“It really, really is,” Komaeda agreed. “No offense, Hinata-kun, but you’re going to have to watch this alone if you have your heart set on it.”

“I-I thought I was supposed to be getting treated?!” Hinata protested. “And—I won’t want to see it anyway! I just...” He trails off. “I just...thought it might be nice to watch a move... I wasn’t thinking about...”

Wasn’t thinking is right. I’m also surprised you have the energy.

“Guess it can’t hurt to check,” Matsuda said as he made his way inside. “Of course the main issue is asking...”

Komaeda whistled before Matsuda even had a second to truly dread what came before.

“WHAT AM I, A DOG?!” Monokuma shrieked. “Call me by my NAME or at least a TITLE if you can MANAGE IT?!”

“Why would I when you already answered?” Komaeda retorted. “I just wanted to ask some questions about any films playing?”

“Why? So you can break my fragile little bear heart all over again?” Monokuma sniffled. “Critics are vultures! Vultures, I tell ya!”

“Get the fuck over yourself,” Matsuda snapped. “We’re only here because this dumbass wants to see a movie.”

“I-I’m not a dumbass!” Hinata protested, but Monokuma looked at him as if he were, in fact, a dumbass. “What?! Do you have a problem with that?!”

“Eheh... Upupupu, and here I thought you didn’t want to watch it!” Monokuma cackled. “You were just being tsundere all along! Should’ve known!”

“I don’t want to watch that film, just a film,” Hinata hurriedly corrected but Monokuma just squealed.

“Such a tsundere that you even threw away millions for a sticker!”

“Millions...?” Matsuda echoed.

“For...a sticker?” Komaeda wondered, wide-eyed.

“Don’t worry about it!” Hinata yelped, waving his hand frantically. “I-It’s nothing to worry about!”

“I think tsundere syndrome IS pretty worrying!” Monokuma exclaimed, smacking Hinata on the ass and retrieving the one and only sticker. “I mean, honestly! Imagine paying 150 million yen for this lovely sticker just so you don’t have to watch a movie! Check it, check it!”

“Stop, don’t!” Hinata shrieked, but Monokuma couldn’t be deterred, flinging that sticker into Matsuda’s face.

Matsuda got a good look at it, as did Komaeda. The Monokuma sticker grinned back at them, with the cheekily written following words underneath: I’m sorry, I was born stupid.

Matsuda stared. Komaeda stared. The sticker smugly kept on staring back, radiating contempt and malice.

“H-Hinata-kun,” Komaeda began shakily, sounding close to tears. “You bought this for 150 million yen?”

“I-I had to take out a loan,” was Hinata’s pitiful explanation. “I didn’t...pay for it upfront...”

“What were you going to do if it accrued interest?” Matsuda asked blankly.

“And what are you going to do now that you’re gonna watch the movie anyway?!” Monokuma exclaimed. “All that money—wasted!”

“I can’t believe you’re going to go bankrupt over this shitty sticker,” Matsuda lamented, feeling genuinely apologetic for his cruel fate. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

And Hinata.

Just.

Screamed.

“ARGH FORGET IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!!”

In the end, Hinata ran out of the theater. In the end, Matsuda and Komaeda wordlessly left as well. In the end, Monokuma surely laughed his furry ass off.

Another day largely wasted.

“Do you think Hinata-kun’s going to want his sticker back?” Komaeda asked, grimacing at the thing as if it had committed great offense. Which it had. Simply by existing. “Monokuma didn’t write up a contract. His word isn’t legally binding. Hinata-kun might not have to pay.”

“Hm.” Matsuda stuffed the sticker into his mouth, chewing it and swallowing it much to Komaeda’s awe. “It’s his word against ours. I can at least afford a lawyer.”

“I’ll pay for legal fees! Just for Hinata-kun!” Komaeda exclaimed, fired up now. “And—!”

“Once we get out of here, we’ll take him to see an actual movie,” Matsuda said.

Komaeda shut his mouth.

“Once we get out of here,” Matsuda repeated.

Komaeda said nothing else for the rest of the day, but there was a particular glimmer to his gaze. One that Matsuda took note of, and couldn’t help but hope for a greater significance.

#yasuke matsuda #hajime hinata #nagito komaeda #MatsuKomaHina #sdr2 #Magi fics #Protag Matsun

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gravedangerahead · 3 years

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Vent post, I don't even know what to tag this for content warnings. I just can't stand doctors anymore I can't do this I hate this

First there's no more digital appointments because apparently the pandemic is over and I'm the only one who didn't notice, so I had to go all the way there to see that asshole in person and stay in a waiting room with a bunch of people

The psychiatrists available through my health insurance keep changing and there are less and less of them, so I went to a neurologist, and he said he only prescribes adhd meds to children because adults understand they have to control themselves and slow down their minds. He recommended meditation and when I said I already do meditate there was no part 2 to his brilliant plan to just fix my mind myself.

He did end up giving me a prescription for my adhd meds just this once, I was actually surprised, but not not the antidepressants, so I'm gonna try to see a psychiatrist again.

I once had a psychologist tell me to "just focus" before I got my diagnosis. I could have killed her. That's brilliant, why didn't I think of that. I do know I should focus, and I also knew I shouldn't have suicidal thoughts and for some reason just knowing that didn't make me better. The meds helped. The adhd meds helped me focus, and the antidepressants helped stop constantly wishing I was dead.

I know that medication shouldn't be the be all end all, and that you have to put in the work and develop healthy coping mechanisms and all that. And I do my best to do all that and no doctor has helped me with that AT ALL. At most I got some vague suggestions that I meditate with not even any recommendations on how to start and maybe got told to exercise.

I did all the research for techniques to help by myself, listening to other people who deal with the same things, even though I worry a lot about getting misinformation, but it's not like there's anyone else to help me.

I think I should probably go to therapy again and that could he helpful, but therapist I went to for the longest, mentioned above, pretended to respect my sexual orientation only to start trying to cure my asexuality months later (well, she was probably doing it the whole time, but I was an idiot and I trusted her), she didn't "believe in diagnosis" or labels in general I guess. After I was diagnosed and started taking my meds she wanted to help me so I "wouldn't need them anymore, and could stop taking them" even though she had a fucking year to treat me before I started taking them and her best attempt to help me was to tell me to just "go there and focus".

After that, whenever I try to start therapy again on the very first appointment they ask me about my romantic life, and when I say I'm not dating anyone they tell me "that's important" so I just panic and don't show up again.

I actually think I improved a lot recently, and it definitely started with the meds, but I also got fired, and that sucked, but I think not working there anymore helped a lot. But I have much less work now and that's not sustainable, I'm not getting enough money and my parents are wasting their money on a 25 year old when they don't even have their retirement all set

I'm gonna move to a different state soon,but I don't know exactly when because there's a bunch bureaucratic bullshit to figure out, so I don't know when I need to get an appointment there instead of here, when I should be setting them up well in advance because it's been hard, and how I'll even get a doctor there since my insurance is for my state only

I can't even complain to anyone about it because the doctors' opinions will just confirm the idea that yes I shouldn't psychiatric meds, I should just live healthier and yes my asexuality is a problem that should be treated because there's something wrong with me, and I'm so tired, I'm so angry

Just give me my prescription and I'll figure myself out. No, I don't particularly wish psychiatrists would actually pay attention and ask questions and try to research things to help me any more, just give my prescription and let me go. Just don't make me prove that I actually have ADHD and that I'm not just trying to score meds every time I have to get a new psychiatrist AGAIN

#there are whole paragraphs of this nonsense that are in the wrong place I don't care anymore #what do I even tag this god #vent tag #if anyone wants to block that that's the general one #tw: suicidal ideation #tw: medical #that's a pre-existing tag medical what I don't know #mental health #aphobia #is adhd denialism a thing #adults have it but they can just fix because they know better seems like denialism to me #he thinks adhd meds are dangerous but gives them to children and not adults #wtaf #I do feel better writing it out #ask to tag any other content warnings

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fictionaffliction · 3 years

Text

Better Forgotten

Chapter Four

Summary: Dr. Ingrid Hansen is a respected psychologist struggling with the aftermath of the Snap as well as her own trauma from an accident she endured many years ago. Her world is thrown into utter chaos when she meets a dangerous man posing as a client. Dr. Strange is reluctantly tasked with protecting her, but in order to do so, he must first help her recover who she truly is. While she is grateful for his help, she has to wonder, are some things better forgotten?

Rated M

Chapter Warnings: Canon typical violence, memory loss, chronic pain, ophidiophobia, thalassaphobia

It was only when the sun rudely shone on Ingrid’s face through the open curtains that she woke up. Normally, she wasn't one to sleep in, but her sleep that night had been frequently disrupted by sudden bursts of anxious energy that shook her awake like an earthquake. She did not have a moment of forgetting where she was when she awoke, but she envied the temporary forgetfulness enjoyed by characters on television when they briefly do not remember the previous day’s events after waking. Maybe if she shared that condition, she might be given a moment of rest from the terrible sense of dread constricting her chest.

She checked her phone. No messages. Not even an email from a patient. Soren and the others must’ve kept their word and taken care of things at her office. Annoyed at the dead silence of her inbox, she threw the blankets off of herself and got up. After getting dressed and doing her makeup (which seemed to appear on the dresser the moment she realized she didn’t have any with her), she headed into the hallway.

She slipped her phone into her back pocket and was wondering where Dr. Strange might be when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned, ready to say something but yelping in surprise instead when she was met with the sight of Dr. Strange’s cloak, floating on its own in front of her. The cloak’s edge folded and waved at her, mimicking a hand beneath it. Unsure of what else to do, she waved back.

“H-hi,” she stammered, not wanting to be rude--that is, if one can be rude to a cloak. The edge folded again, gesturing for her to follow. She obeyed, careful to keep her hands clasped in front of her so as not to accidentally disturb any of the artifacts. They found Dr. Strange and Wong with a number of books surrounding them, sitting below the large circular window she had seen from outside the day before. They looked up when they heard her footsteps.

“Oh, good. We can get started,” Dr. Strange said.

“With what?” she asked apprehensively.

“Getting to the bottom of whatever the hell Loki wants with you,” he replied. “But we’ll start with those migraines.” He held out his hand in invitation.

Ingrid suddenly felt unsure. A million questions ran through her mind as she felt herself move a step backwards. The cloak scooped her up and carried her closer to them before settling on Dr. Strange’s shoulders.

“Have a seat, Dr. Hansen,” he said, gesturing to a wooden chair behind her that had not been there a moment before. She did so, still feeling uneasy. He settled in a chair across from her, Wong remained standing, watching them both closely. “When did you start getting migraines?” he asked, his tone suddenly clinical.

“About thirteen years ago,” she said. She was familiar with this conversation. She’d had it with a dozen neurologists before him.

“What prompted them?”

“A boating accident.”

“Tell me more about that.”

The conversation was practically verbatim each time she’d had it. This time was no exception.

She sighed heavily. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not go into the specifics.” It was painful to recount each time.

His eyes narrowed at her refusal. “Oh come on, Dr. Hansen, you know how this goes,” he said. She stayed quiet, keeping her face neutral but resolved. He let out a breath in exasperation. “Fine. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” He removed his gloves to reveal five long, pinkish scars etched into the back of each hand, running from the tips of his fingers to his wrists.

Staring at his hands, she nodded slowly. He kept his gloves off. “I don’t remember much,” she admitted.

“That’s okay,” Wong said kindly. “Just tell us as much as you can.”

She swallowed and took a deep breath. “My parents and I liked to go fishing and my dad wanted to go out on the water for a few days to celebrate...something.” She struggled to remember but it was hazy. The two men watched her carefully as she squinted at nothing in particular, searching her mind. “A birthday maybe? Anyway, we rented a little small boat and when we went out the weather was clear, but then...” she trailed off. The two men waited patiently for her to finish. “It got stormy on the second morning. We tried to get back to shore, but we couldn’t beat it.”

She recalled the lightning crackling across the sky as her father attempted to navigate the huge wave that slammed into the side of their boat. She heard her mother cry out for her as she reached for her hand. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she fought back the panic that kicked at the inside of her chest. You’re safe, she reminded herself, though safety seemed relative at this moment.

“The last thing I remember is getting hit in the back of the head and hitting the water.” she finished.

“And your parents?” Dr. Strange asked.

She shook her head. “They never recovered them or the boat,” she replied quietly, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. Wong offered her a tissue, which she took with a rueful smile. Dr. Strange and Wong exchanged a look before he continued with his interrogation.

“I appreciate you telling me,” Dr. Strange said, his arms crossed firmly across his chest. “That can’t be easy to live with. I seem to recall that you were interested in dementia treatment. Do you happen to have any memory issues?”

“You remember that?” she asked. He nodded. She was impressed. “Yeah, I do,” she admitted. The sorcerer’s eyes narrowed. “The doctor at the hospital diagnosed me with some retrograde amnesia following a traumatic brain injury.”

“Nothing shows up on any scans?” he asked skeptically.

She shook her head. “Nope. They couldn’t figure it out either. According to them, there’s no detectable reason for my memory loss or my migraines.”

Dr. Strange blinked in disbelief. “Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“Not you. Them.” He got to his feet and nodded at Wong, who nodded back and stepped closer to them. "Amnesia this extensive doesn't come without significant brain damage. It would show up on CAT Scans and MRIs." Dr. Strange made a circling gesture. As he did, the air around them cracked into a hundred prisms that constantly shifted, reflecting soft rainbows around them. Ingrid gasped, jumping to her feet. It was beautiful, but that didn’t stop her from feeling unnerved.

“What is this?” she asked, reaching out to touch the edge of one of the prisms. Her fingers slipped through it, but did not break through. Wong watched them, or rather, watched in their general direction. He did not seem to be able to see them.

“This is the Mirror Dimension. Anything inside it cannot be perceived. The only way to open and close it is with one of these," he said, gesturing with his index and middle fingers. Across them was an aged gold ring with a simple bar on top. Had she seen it on the street, Ingrid would have thought it was a subtle set of brass knuckles. "This dimension will keep us safe from Loki as we’re working. He won't be able to track us. Well, he shouldn't be able to. If he does, we'll deal with it,” he explained with a shrug.

Her eyes were wide as he went over a couple of book passages in preparation for whatever he was about to do. He looked up and took in her frightened face and felt his expression soften to one of earnestness. He put his hands on her shoulders, and the warmth and weight of them helped calm her nerves.

“Dr. Hansen, I know this is a lot to take in and it's scary, but you've got to believe that I will protect you, okay?”

“Okay,” she squeaked. “What are you going to do?”

He thought for a moment. “You know, it’s easier if I just show you.” He placed his hands on either side of her face and she felt a strange warmth seep into her skin. For a moment she thought her face was flushed, until she noticed the soft electric feeling tingles that accompanied it.

She blinked, and suddenly she was standing with Dr. Strange in what seemed to be a dark expanse of fog. Muffled voices echoed around her and she whipped her head around to look. Two adult figures passed by, their forms faded and shadowed so that their features were only vaguely distinguishable. Ingrid gasped and moved closer to her companion, who watched closely. Another group of figures huddled around a table appeared from the mist, accompanied by a chorus of “Happy Birthday”. The little figure seated at the head of the table was the only one easily recognizable.

“That's me,” Ingrid realized, taking in the mess of blond hair and the single freckle on her right cheekbone. She touched her face where it remained. “What is this?” She asked, turning to face Dr. Strange.

“Your memories,” he said simply. “Though I must say, I wasn’t expecting them to be so…”

Another faded image of what looked to be a high school graduation appeared. “Say ‘diploma’!” the muffled voice of Ingrid's mother said.

“Eerie?” Ingrid offered, watching as it faded away.

“I was going to say few and far between,” he corrected. He put a hand on her back, urging her forward. “Come on, let's see if we can find something we can use.”

The sounds of a storm echoed to the right. A small sailing boat was caught in a swell that it had no hope of out maneuvering. She heard her own voice screaming out to the shadowy figure of her mother.

“Ingrid!” her mother screamed. “Hang on!”

Fear froze her veins as Ingrid helplessly watched her own body plummet into the frothing waves below.

“No, wait!” she yelled, taking a step toward the boat that was already fading away. Dr. Strange grabbed her wrist.

“It’s just a memory, Dr. Hansen,” he reminded her.

She looked at him with wide eyes and swallowed, but stepped back again as they watched another memory unfold. This one was more vivid. Ingrid’s too-pale body lying on a rocky beach as lightning flashed across the sky and waves threatened to wash her back out to sea.

“Hey! Are you alright?” a man’s lightly accented voice shouted over the storm. An aged hand pressed against her neck, searching for a pulse. “She’s alive. Call 911!”

The memory of Ingrid opened her eyes, blinking. Her face was dazed, devoid of any expression besides the wide-eyed confusion. Dr. Strange recognized severe shock when he saw it. The faces of the people faded in and out of focus. A man dressed in a tan windbreaker was bent over her. His hair might have once been red, though age had robbed it of most of its color. A woman dressed in a flannel jacket with long caramel-colored hair joined him. A girl with long dark hair and glasses stood close behind them, already yelling into her phone.

“Don’t worry, you’re going to be okay,” the woman said. “Just hang on.”

The memory faded away and Ingrid’s face looked almost as pale as it had in the memory. Dr. Strange knew couldn’t keep her here much longer. She wasn’t prepared. He looked around quickly. “Come on, we need to keep moving.”

She swallowed and nodded, following closely behind him.

They walked, though it felt like they weren't getting anywhere. Ingrid reminded herself to trust him, but she could not stop the dreadful feeling from gnawing at her gut. They halted as they heard a different voice, very far away. It sounded like that of an older woman and as they listened closer, they could hear someone sobbing. Was she soothing them?

“Where is that coming from?” Ingrid asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Her throat was tight with terror.

“Not sure,” Dr. Strange replied as he continued forward and she grabbed his arm instinctively. He allowed it, if only because her fear was so palpable.

The mist grew thicker and darker as they continued. There were no more sounds or figures of faded family members. Ingrid felt the keen sting of loneliness and loss as she saw how barren her memories were. Suddenly, there was a hiss from the darkness. She looked about, wide-eyed. Her hands tightened desperately on Dr. Strange's sleeve as her head began to ache. Another hiss, this one louder and closer, and the sound of something moving across the ground.

“What is that?” Ingrid’s voice was shaking. There was a flash of black and grey to their left. Another hiss. Dr. Strange shoved Ingrid behind him and pounded his wrists together before he landed in a fighting stance with brightly lit orange sigils spinning about his fists.

Out of the darkness rose a large pair of red eyes that glowed with a hatred like Ingrid had never seen before. Slitted pupils reflected the light of Dr. Strange's magic as it came closer, revealing a massive snake.

They watched in horror as it reared up, its forked tongue flickering out of a mouth that could easily swallow them whole. It opened its maw revealing two gargantuan fangs dripping with darkly colored venom, a set of frills at its neck expanding as it lunged with a terrible high-pitched hiss. Ingrid screamed, not just at the beast but at the terrible, splitting pain that struck at her head as Dr. Strange spun and pulled her to his chest.

The next thing she knew, she felt cold stone beneath her body and the world was suddenly brighter, even through squeezed shut eyes. She was sobbing, from fear or from pain, she wasn't sure which. She turned with some effort and pressed her face to the cool floor, desperate for any kind of relief.

“Hansen, it’s okay, you’re back. You’re safe,” Dr. Strange’s deep voice said from above her as he put his hands on her shoulders to try and sit her up. She waved him off weakly, clutching her head with desperate hands.

“What's wrong?” Wong asked, rushing over as the Mirror Dimension closed around them. He knelt at her side.

“My head,” she whimpered. She felt the pain throb with every pulse of her bloodstream. She opened her eyes to look up at them, but found that the room was suddenly far too bright. There was a greyish spot over part of her vision in her left eye. She clamped her eyes shut against the pain again as the two men kept trying to ask her questions. Nausea roiled against her stomach as she tried not to wretch.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed,” Dr. Strange said. “Can you stand?”

Her mouth didn’t want to form the words that her brain told it to. “I-I don’t know,” she stammered slowly, struggling to enunciate.

Wong helped her sit up slowly, then steadied her as she tried to get to her feet. Her legs wobbled and she nearly fell over, but Wong kept his grip on her as she took a few steps toward her room. “Do you need to be carried?” he asked gently.

“No, it’s fine,” she slurred.

“Liar,” Dr. Strange said as his cape unhooked itself and scooped her up into its aged silk lining. She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the cape’s magic carpet ride was certainly better than having Wong and Strange watch her struggle all the way to her bedroom.

When they got to her room, Wong hurriedly shut all the curtains, blocking out as much light as they could manage. The lamps were kept off, and Ingrid was placed gently on the bed by the cape, which dutifully returned to Dr. Strange’s shoulders as the man sat down on the bed next to her and conjured an ice pack.

“You didn’t tell me your migraines got this bad,” Dr. Strange said, keeping his voice quiet as he handed it to her.

She took it and gratefully pressed it to her forehead with a sigh of relief at the coolness against her skin. “They usually don’t.”

He and Wong exchanged a look and after telling her that he would be right back, Dr. Strange met Wong in the hallway.

“Something is very wrong here,” Dr. Strange said.

“I can see that,” Wong responded impatiently. “What happened, Stephen?”

Dr. Strange massaged his brows. “I took her into her memories and it was practically a ghost town. Most of them weren’t vivid or even whole, and then there was this...serpent. It attacked us.”

Wong frowned. “Was it a memory?”

Strange shook his head. “I don’t think so. It was too tangible, too aware of our presence.”

Wong thought for a moment, searching his own memory for a clue as to what this might mean. He clapped his hand to his friend’s shoulder. “Looks like we have work to do. You keep an eye on things here, I’m going to follow a few threads.”

Dr. Strange nodded as Wong hurried off deeper into the Sanctum.

#Better Forgotten #my fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #fanfiction #loki x oc #loki x ofc #doctor strange #stephen strange #Marvel #marvel fanfiction #loki #fanfic #mcu fanfic #slow burn #romantic plot

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omg-imagine · 4 years

Text

⊱ Forget Me Not (4/15) ⊰

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Summary: After you wake up from a coma and realize that your memories from the last five years have been erased, Keanu works to bring back what you have lost.

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: Angst, migraines

A/N: Sorry if there are any mistakes. I’m currently running on three hours of sleep today lol. Hope you enjoy!

Part 3

Home was supposed to be a place where one felt the most at peace. It was supposed to be filled with warmth and love, laughter and joy. Home was a place where you could be yourselves without judgment and where memories could be made to look back upon in the future, perhaps with a tear or a smile.

Keanu could look at any room inside the house, and recall almost everything that has happened in there. The talks and the fights. The kisses and the sex. The pranks and the tender moments. Like a movie, a memory would play in his head, reminding him of what home meant, what home truly was.

And to Keanu, home was you.

But ever since the night of your accident, home didn’t feel like home anymore. It was different, both in a physical and emotional sense. The house became a reflection of Keanu’s crumbling state of mind during those three agonizingly long weeks. It had become disarrayed the moment you had walked out of the front door, lacking the sense of comfort it usually had. Barren and cold, the house was also filled with the most unbearable silence, nearly deafening.

Keanu hated being there when all it did was remind him of you at happier times. He felt suffocated by the four walls surrounding him. Walls, which, aside from him, currently held secrets of the past. It knew every hurtful word and action that you had now forgotten. Keanu wasn’t sure whether or not he should be relieved that the walls couldn’t talk. Because if they did, he wouldn’t be ready for you to come home.

It would only tell you the truth. A painful truth that Keanu still had not shared.

For the last two days, Keanu did his best to tidy up around the house, getting it ready and clean in time for your return. He was running a bit late due to folding the laundry, but he wanted to make sure that the place was immaculate.

The floors had been vacuumed meticulously, leaving the hardwood gleaming under the recessed lights. The dishes were all washed and stored away. Every surface was dusted, every pillow was fluffed. Keanu had even ordered a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers as a surprise and had them displayed in a vase on the coffee table.

Looking around one last time, Keanu realized how more alive the house seemed to be, and he couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight of it.

Before leaving to pick you up from the hospital, Keanu quickly checked himself in front of the mirror, also wanting to look presentable for your homecoming. He had trimmed both his beard and his hair yesterday, the dark circles under his eyes were also beginning to brighten up. He was looking more like his usual self now than in the past weeks. It was as if seeing you awake and wanting to stay in Los Angeles with him brought life back to Keanu again.

As Keanu drove to the hospital, scenes from that late stormy evening invaded him. He could never forget the hurt in your eyes, the quivering of your lip as you stared at him in utter shock and disappointment. At times, he could still hear the sound of the front door slamming shut when you left the house, leaving him behind. Then, there was the immense fear and lack of certainty flooding his mind as he rushed to the emergency room after receiving the call.

He had never been so scared and so angry before, and if there was one memory Keanu wanted to forget, it would surely be of this.

Since you woke up, you had never really asked about the events of that night. You only knew bits and pieces from your parents, but not the entire story. There would come a time that you would be so inclined to learn the details of it, and Keanu dreaded for that day to come. He had almost lost you, and if you found out exactly what had happened, he might lose you forever.

And that was the reason why Keanu couldn’t tell you the truth just yet. He was afraid to lose you, despite believing that he didn’t deserve a second chance. Truth be told, he didn’t come back to the hospital after you woke up because he was at war with his own conscience. A part of him wanted to tell you everything and deal with the consequences. But there’s the other part of him that couldn’t handle the thought of letting you go. He wanted to make things right again, undo the damage that he had caused even though the guilt still crept up on him.

One day he would tell you, Keanu promised, but just not today nor the next. For now, he’s focused on bringing back all of the best memories, the ones he knew you both cherished the most.

Parking his car near the entrance, Keanu cursed under his breath when he saw five men lingering by the door with cameras in their hands, acting nonchalantly. He didn’t care that the paparazzi would take pictures of him dashing inside. However, he was more worried about you when it came time to walk out of the hospital. You hadn’t been exposed to this ugly side of fame, and something like this would feel overwhelming.

Putting on his shades, as soon as Keanu got out of his vehicle, he heard the familiar camera shutters around him. He hung his head low as he headed towards the front of the building at a brisk pace, ignoring the overlapping questions that were being shouted at him.

How’s Y/N doing, Keanu?

Keanu, are you still doing that thriller movie later this summer?

Can you update us on Y/N’s condition?

How do you feel about this situation, Keanu? This must be hard on you.

Why was Y/N out driving during that storm?

We thought you and Y/N broke up months ago. Did you two reconcile?

It was only until when Keanu reached the elevator and stepped inside did he finally experience some quietness. Pushing his shades up onto his head, he then pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling a deep sigh simultaneously.

It was moments such as this when he would regret being a public figure. He was extremely grateful for being able to do something that he loved, but there were times when he would ask himself if it was all worth it. Keanu valued his and your privacy, and at a delicate situation like this, that’s what you would need.

The elevator doors opened, and swiftly he walked down the hall to where your room was. He stood by the door for a second, peering into the small window and seeing you laughing with your parents inside. It warmed Keanu’s heart noticing how happy you were because it had been a while since he last saw you that way.

You glanced his way by the door, catching his eyes before gesturing for him to come in.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Keanu began, stepping into the room and shutting the door close behind him. “Are you all set to go?”

“I’m super ready. I haven’t felt the sun on my face in literally weeks,” you announced, hopping off the bed with a grin. “Dad actually suggested if we could have a late lunch together before their flight. Is that okay with you, Keanu?”

“Of course. What are you guys in the mood for?”

“Oh, we could go to that amazing Italian place. I think it’s nearby,” Nancy suggested before turning to her husband. “Pete, what was that restaurant called again?”

“La Cucina,” your father answered. “The food there is the best! You and Keanu treat us there whenever we’re in town. I say, let’s keep up with tradition, shall we?”

“Sounds good,” you replied, reaching down for the set of luggage on the floor.

Keanu held his hand out, signaling for you to stop. “Don’t worry about that. You shouldn’t be lifting heavy things so soon. Here, let me help.”

“Son, it’s fine,” Peter swatted Keanu’s hand away and picked up the bags. “Nance, and I will handle them. They’re our bags after all. We decided to bring them now so that we could get dropped off the airport right after eating.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, can I just borrow your car keys so I could load them in the trunk?” Peter asked before inching closer to the actor, speaking in a voice low enough for only Keanu to hear. “I saw the men outside waiting. I’ll bring the car out in the front so that Y/N doesn’t have to go through them.”

Nodding, Keanu took out the keys from his pocket and handed them over to your father. “I drove the SUV today. It’s parked by the edge in the third row.”

“Great!” Peter said before turning to you. “Okay, sweetheart. Your mother and I will bring the car to the entrance. We’ll pick you two up from there so that you don’t have to be on your feet.”

“Dad, I can walk,” you told him with a slight giggle.

“I know you can, but I need you to take it easy for me, Y/N. You promised that, remember?”

Sighing, you pouted at him until eventually, a smile appeared once again. “Okay. I’ll see you and mom downstairs.”

Before your parents left the room with their bags, Peter shot Keanu a look, indicating to him that he needed to warn you about what might happen outside. Now alone in the room, Keanu approached you, a soft smile on his lips, mirroring your own. The sun streaming through the window illuminated your face, the light hitting your eyes in such a way that made them sparkle. You were simply stunning just standing there, your mere beauty causing all thoughts to elude him.

“You’re staring,” you pointed out, and Keanu felt the warmth of his blush as it crawled up his neck. “Is something wrong?”

“Uh, n-no,” he stuttered. “I, um… I’m just excited that you’re finally coming home.”

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as your gaze dropped, a common habit of yours whenever you felt nervous. “Me too. I still have several neurologist appointments in the upcoming weeks, but at least I’m out of here.”

“How are the migraines today?”

Smiling softly, you glanced back up at Keanu. “Haven’t had one since yesterday, actually.”

“That’s good,” Keanu whispered, sitting down on the mattress next to him and watched you do the same. “Your dad’s right. You should be taking it easy for the next couple of days to be safe.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m planning on doing. Just take one day at a time.”

Keanu stayed silent for a brief minute before his mouth opened to speak. “Y/N, I have to warn you that there are going to be cameras outside. They’ve been hounding by the entrance after word got out that you were in an accident.”

The smile on your face fell, your brows furrowing. Without hesitation, Keanu reached out to hold your hand, immediately intertwining his fingers with yours. He ran his thumb along the back of your hand in a soothing motion. He knew that it was something you enjoyed him doing whenever you were starting to feel stressed out. It never failed to bring you comfort, and based on your calm expression, it worked yet again.

“Sorry, I’m still not used to it… dating a celebrity, I mean. Who would have thought I’d fallen for Keanu Reeves?”

“It’s a crazy idea to wrap one’s mind around,” he joked, hoping that it would lighten the mood. “It’s nothing to worry about. We’ll only be out there for a quick few seconds.”

“Okay,” you could only say. “You must be tired of the paparazzi.”

“They’re just trying to make a living,” Keanu reasoned. “Still, it’s quite annoying, but you learned to ignore them over time.”

The two of you shared a small laugh together before getting back up on your feet, ready to leave the hospital for good. As Keanu walked down the corridor beside you, he couldn’t help but feel relieved. He would have never imagined being in this position almost four weeks ago. He was fortunate that the worst thing that could possibly happen didn’t occur, but instead he was left to face a serious challenge. So far, none of your memories have returned. Though he was hopeful that a miracle would happen somewhere along the way, he was reminded of the chance that this might turn out to be permanent.

“Everything’s going to be alright, Keanu,” you assured him as you took the elevator down to the ground floor. “The doctor said that it can take a while, and we have to be patient with this.”

“I know,” he said softly. “We’ll take it one day at a time.”

You smiled when you heard Keanu echo your words from before. Once the elevator stopped, Keanu led you to the exit where he could see both his car parked out front and the group of men waiting nearby. He paused in his tracks and turned to you. “Are you ready?”

“I guess,” you whispered tentatively.

Keanu grabbed the pair of sunglasses on his head and placed them over your eyes. “Better?”

You readjusted them a bit on your face before nodding. “Let’s get out there.”

True to his word, you and Keanu were outside for less than five seconds. The cameras clicked and flashed, taking pictures of the two of you quickly walking out of the hospital until you climbed inside the front passenger side. Meanwhile, Keanu took the driver’s seat while Peter joined Nancy at the back. The windows were darkly tinted, shielding you from the prying eyes of the people outside before the car finally pulled away from the curb.

“Are you okay?” Keanu questioned you as he drove further down the street, the sight of the hospital disappearing from the rearview mirror.

“Yes,” you responded, taking off the shades he had given you. “I’m okay.”

Sighing, Keanu knew you all too well. Even though you had said that you were okay, your eyes told an entirely different story.

This was going to be much more complicated than he had initially thought.

---

“How’s the food?” Keanu asked you once you finished chewing.

“Oh my god, this is delicious,” you praised excitedly, twirling another forkful of pasta on your plate. “Best Italian restaurant, hands down.”

Nancy chuckled from across the table. “I told you it beats Mario’s from back home. Eating here is one of my highlights every time we visit California. Only coming in second after seeing you and Keanu, of course.”

“I remember the last time we came here, I had seven of their breadsticks!” Peter added jovially. “I couldn’t even eat half of my chicken marsala because I was too stuffed by then.”

Laughing, Keanu then turned to his side where you were sitting. “You know, Y/N, the first time I had brought you here, you used those exact words; ‘best Italian restaurant.’”

“Well, I have to thank you for introducing me to this place,” you replied, lifting your hand up to gently squeeze his arm. The touch was electrifying, and judging by the look on your face, you had felt it too.

For a moment, you and Keanu locked eyes, and he swore that it felt like the two of you were the only ones in the room. A smile tugged on his lips, and he could sense his cheeks flushing as you stared at him with bright eyes. Seeing a splotch of red sauce on the corner of your mouth, he gingerly wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. His hand lingered by the side of your face, nearly cupping it when Peter’s voice sounded, breaking the entrancement.

“I’m going to the restroom, be right back,” he spoke before excusing himself from the table. “Go order some dessert!”

Keanu heard you giggle as the heat rose to your face. Hearing it made his heart flutter, and suddenly, he felt like a giddy schoolboy around you. What he was feeling at the very second was similar to when you and he went on your first date. It was a sweet reminder of that special night nearly five years ago, and he could only wish that one day, you would remember it too.

“Shit,” you cursed, your eyes clamping shut, and you used the palm of your hand to cover your face. Your body tensed as your breathing grew heavy, an alarming sight to see.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Keanu inquired before glancing at a worried Nancy.

“My head…” you muttered, the pain too intense for you to elaborate.

“Where’s her pain meds?” Nancy wondered, checking her purse to see if she had them.

Keanu grabbed the car keys from his pocket and slid it across the table. “It’s in her bag. She left it under her seat.”

Quickly, Nancy left the restaurant to retrieve your pills as Keanu did all that he could to bring you some comfort. Shrugging off the jacket he wore, he placed it over your head so that the lights inside the restaurant wouldn’t hurt your eyes. He then called a waiter over, asking for a glass of ice.

“What’s happening?” Peter reappeared shortly after, kneeling down next to you, voice laced in concern.

“Migraine. Nancy’s getting her meds from the car.”

Peter nodded, standing up on his feet as the waiter came back with the ice. Keanu urged you to rest the cold glass against your head in hopes of easing the pain. Luckily, the tables around him were empty, and he wasn’t drawing too much attention to you.

“Shh, Y/N,” Keanu murmured softly, draping an around behind your shoulder with one hand resting on your upper arm. “It’s okay. Keep breathing for me, alright. That’s it, baby. Just relax, you’re going to be fine. You’re strong, you can fight this.”

Minutes later, Nancy returned with your medicine in her hand. Fortunately, the migraine was subsiding, and you swallowed two pills, which soon brought you much-needed relief. Eventually, you were able to sit up straight again. Once you convinced your parents that you were feeling better, they left the restaurant to drive the car up to the front as Keanu paid for everyone’s meals.

“Thanks, Keanu,” you said in a soft tone, your eyes showing that same sparkle from earlier. “I appreciate what you did back there.”

“It’s no problem,” he responded, not realizing that he was still holding you close in his arms. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to take up your space—”

“Don’t worry, no harm was done,” you assured him, reaching up to place your hand above the one on your arm, and you had yet to move away from him. “I’m just looking forward to coming home. I feel pretty exhausted all of a sudden.”

Keanu used his free hand to brush a loose lock of your hair from your face, his lips merely inches away from your delicate ones. He fought back the strong urge to lean down and capture them in a sweet kiss, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable. Again, he was technically still a stranger to you.

“Well, once we drop off your parents at the airport, I’ll take you back home. To our home.”

“I can’t wait.” You smiled softly at him before tilting your head up, pressing a brief kiss on his cheek, which made him feel warm all over.

Has it really been that long?

---

“Have a safe flight, guys,” you hugged both of your parents tightly as Keanu took their luggage out of the trunk, wheeling them to where you three stood in the airport terminal.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Nancy kissed your forehead, wiping the tears that were escaping your eyes. “Aww darling, don’t cry. What’s wrong?”

Shrugging, you then let out a little laugh. “Nothing, it’s just I’ve never been this far away from you and dad before.”

Peter sighed, putting his hands on your cheeks to cradle your face. “You’ll be okay. Remember, we’re one phone call away. If there’s anything that you need, call us. I don’t care if it’s at three in the morning or even if it’s for something you think might be ridiculous. We’re here for you even if we’re thousands of miles away.”

Wrapping your father up in a close embrace, Peter glanced at Keanu, who was standing behind you. He quickly kissed the side of your temple before pulling away. Keanu then watched as Peter leaned in to whisper into your ear, and he couldn’t make out what he was saying. Not long after, Nancy invited him to come over and join them in one last group hug.

“You take good care of our daughter,” Peter stated, lightly tapping on Keanu’s shoulder. “Update us if anything happens.”

Keanu nodded. “I will. You have my word.”

After your parents headed inside, you and Keanu got back into the car and drove out of the terminal. For a while, he noticed you staring out of the open window. You were wearing his sunglasses again, smiling at the way your hair flew into your face as the fresh breeze blew around you. From time to time, he would steal a glance as you bask in the warm sunlight hitting your skin. You seemed so peaceful and so happy as if nothing had happened and things were normal.

“Eyes on the road, Reeves,” you quipped when you caught him staring.

“I can’t help it,” he chuckled, his focus returning to what was in front of him. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I truly am,” came your reply, and moments later, you closed the window back up before turning your head to the side. “Hey, I know you’re wondering what my dad was whispering to me back at the airport.”

“You caught that, huh?”

You gave him a nod as you pushed Keanu’s shades on the top of your head. “He was just reminding me that you’re a good man, and you would take care of me. How you acted when we were at the restaurant was clear proof of it. That's why my parents aren’t worried about leaving me here behind.”

Keanu smiled softly at your words. “I’m really glad that you decided to stay with me.”

“Me too,” you returned. “You’re nothing like my last boyfriend, Eric, and I’m starting to see why I fell for you so soon.”

Eric. The sound of his name still made Keanu feel sick to this day. He would never understand how someone could treat you the way Eric did. But then again, how was Keanu any better for what he had done?

Minutes later, silence filled the car, and when Keanu glanced your way, he saw your eyes drifting close. It had been a long day that’s for sure, and you needed rest. Soon, you had fallen asleep in your seat, leaving Keanu with his wandering thoughts. For now, he cast them aside, choosing to deal with them some other time when he was ready.

With a deep breath, Keanu continued driving down the freeway as the sun began to set over the hills of Los Angeles. Finally, you were on your way home.

Part 5

Tags: @penwieldingdreamer @fanficsrusz @toomanystoriessolittletime @awessomness @meetmeinthematinee @ringa-starr @iworshipkeanureeves

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves x you #reader insert #my fics #rpf

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wyrdify · 4 years

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Epilepsy Fact #2

November is Epilepsy Awareness month, so I will attempt to make one post each day regarding it to help others learn about it. Please note that I am not a medical professional. I’m just a person who has epilepsy (started in 2007 and officially diagnosed in 2010).

These posts WILL be tagged with #medical tw for blacklisting purposes.

Today, I’m not going to share a fact so much as talk about why this matters to me. That brief introduction paragraph says a little, but I want to paint a bigger and more detailed picture. I’ll try to make this brief, and I will note that topics such as neglect and abuse will be prevalent. They will be tagged as well, and I’m putting everything under a readmore to be safe.

So... let’s get started.

In March of 2007, when I was sixteen and still a junior in high school, I started experiencing myoclonic seizures. These showed up as both of my arms involuntarily jerking. I had no idea what they were at the time and just thought of them as muscle spasms. They only happened in the morning, always in clusters, and I wouldn’t have them again for at least a couple of weeks. At the time, I thought they were merely annoying since they made it a challenge to eat my breakfast, and conversations with my friend on the way to school a little odd (thankfully she drove).

My parents eventually noticed, and someone from their cult group had a biofeedback machine. Nothing came back that showed epilepsy; I’m not even sure what the machine did. All the person told me was that I might have a slight dairy allergy, and that might be causing issues. This translated to, “My [child] has a dairy allergy that’s causing muscle spasms, so I must remove dairy from [their] diet,” for my mother. As my parents are rather anti-doctor, this was the closest thing I saw to a medical professional outside of my high school nurse for years. I did see a pediatrician as required by my school, and she was pressured by my mother to tell me that my seizures weren’t neurological.

Fast forward to the summer of 2007. I fell down the stairs in my parents’ house because of seizures. Outside of a bruise on my right leg, getting the wind knocked out of me, and soreness that followed for a few days after, I was relatively unharmed. The fall didn’t stop the seizures--no, those continued. Instead of taking me to a hospital, or otherwise calling a doctor, my mother sat me down on my living room couch so she and my younger sister could perform reiki on me. I was also forbidden from using the computer for a few days.

As the years went on, the seizures started getting worse. The clusters would last for longer, and I’d have them nearly every day. They didn’t just happen when I had a poor night’s sleep. Soon, it wasn’t just my arms jerking either, but my legs giving out from under me too. Then, I started having them in the middle of my college classes seemingly out of nowhere. What started out as annoying spasms to me because terrifying.

Still no doctor. Still no diagnosis other than me doing extensive research and coming to the conclusion that I probably had juvenile myoclonic epilepsy. According to my parents, though, my seizures were the result of spending too much time on the company, of being lazy, or not sticking hard enough to my dairy-free diet. If I fell in the shower due to a seizure, it was my own fault, and I knew better than to shower while they were happening.

2009: my then-boyfriend (now husband) moved out of his parents’ house in California and started living with my family. Part of that was to be closer to his grandparents who lived a little more than an hour from me. We started dating in May of 2009, and he moved in around August. Operation “Get [Kai] Some Medical Help” was now underway. Before I could see a doctor, though, my parents wanted me to do three things:

1. See our family chiropractor, who happened to be a doctor, for his professional opinion. 2. See my massage therapist to rule out toxins in my body causing the “muscle spasms.” 3. Go to the gym 2-3 times/per week for two weeks.

The result? Both the chiropractor and massage therapist told me that the issue was neurological--my father went to see the chiropractor after we left just to confirm this. Seizures continued despite exercise. Finally, I got to see a doctor who referred me to a neurologist. In December of 2009, I had an MRI and EEG. Once he received the results of my EEG, my neurologist called me and told me that it showed unusual electrical activity in my brain.

January 5th, 2010: I officially received my epilepsy diagnosis. Shortly thereafter, I started on my first anti-convulsant. Two more anti-convulsants, and two trips to the EG due to allergic reactions, later, and I finally had my seizures under control. I stopped having them. In summer of 2011, I got my first job. In 2012, just a week or two before my birthday, I finally got my driver’s license.

My life changed drastically after I received my diagnosis. Not only did I have medical professionals telling me that this wasn’t my fault, but I had control over my body again. I could finally be a part of the world again, and I didn’t wake up every morning feeling like my brain was going to kill me. Knowing what made my arms involuntarily jerk was powerful (not that we know what causes my epilepsy, but that’s another discussion all together). It was liberating.

Do I like that I have epilepsy? No, it makes certain aspects of my life difficult, and I’ll live with it for the rest of my life. If there are any positives to take out of my story, it’s that knowledge is power, a diagnosis can be life-changing in multiple ways, and awareness can literally save lives. If my story can help someone else, then I’ll keep telling it. I’ll keep sharing. I’ll keep persevering.

In later posts, I will talk about some specific topics I brought up here: photosensitive epilepsy, what myoclonic seizures are, different anti-convulsants, and an EEG is like. As always, if you have any questions related to epilepsy, feel free to ask! I’ll answer to the best of my ability.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. It is greatly appreciated. 💜

#thewriter; post #medical tw #epilepsy #seizures #epilepsy awareness month #abuse tw #implied abuse tw #neglect tw #[ me: I'll try to be brief #me 1000 words later: oops ]

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heauxplesslydevoted · 4 years

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Heart to Heart

Missing scene from the latest chapter of The Nanny Affair. My MC comforts Sofia after being publicly embarrassed by her father. I hated that scene, and I hate that Sofia is such a one dimensional character.

Background MC (Luna Stafford) x Sam Dalton, but only if you tilt your head and squint.

Tags: @choices-lurker @paulfwesley @zodiacsign1 @thatysn @ermidc @badchoicesposts @senseofduties @canknot @drakewalker04

~v~

Luna can’t enjoy the fact that she’s drinking her salary in fancy champagne, enjoying a rooftop dinner with some of the richest people in the tri-state area. Any other day, this would be a dream come true, but in reality, she’s stuck in a nightmare.

For the past two hours, they’ve been forced to listen to Paolo make snide remarks on everything under the sun from her nannying skills to Sofia’s business acumen. Luna is not a fan of Paolo Russo. He seems like a miserable, stuffy old man whose only joy in life comes from whining and looking down on other people.

She casts a quick glance at Sam. The always poised and out together man looks as bored as she feels. His elbows are on the table, a finger lazily tracing the rim of his champagne flute. Gone are the manners and the fine dining etiquette that’s been drilled into him since infancy.

He looks up, sneaking a glance at her. An easy grin adorns his features as they lock eyes, and she quickly looks away, heat blooming on the apples of her cheeks. It’s rare that Sam is so unapologetic in his flirting with her, especially in the presence of his kids.

The sound of a knife hitting the stem of a champagne flute is all it takes to pull Luna out of her thoughts. Paolo is standing at the head of the table, waiting on everyone to watch him with rapt attention.

He clears his throat obnoxiously, “Ahem. Thank you all for coming to congratulate my beautiful daughter and her future husband on their upcoming nuptials.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Luna sees Sofia sit up a bit straighter, eagerly awaiting the praise she’s sure her father is going to heap onto her.

“Sofia has been run ragged at Russo Industries for far too long,” Paolo continues. “Now she can finally fulfill her purpose to become a wife and mother. After all, a woman in a position of power in the business world is like an unstable explosive, especially around that time of the month.” The older man turns toward Sam, hoping to get a co-sign on his speech. “Right, Sam?”

Luna clenches her fist tightly underneath the table. She can’t believe the unmitigated fall that his man has. “Did he really just say that?”

Sam turns to her with a mournful expression. “Unfortunately.”

Luna isn’t the only one at the table embarrassed by Paolo’s speech. Sam’s mother Vivian leans over to her husband, whispering harshly. “Mason honey, I thought you talked to him about this.”

“I tried, but you know how it goes with Paolo.”

Luna balks at the scene unfolding in front of her. So they all just let Paolo get away with talking like this? It’s just talk, that they all chalk up to Paolo just being Paolo?

Paolo, the arrogant man, is far too caught up in his own spiel to notice that they’re all openly horrified. He just keeps going. “...A family disarms the bomb! That’s why it’s called a biological clock.”

Luna wants to scream. She wants to hit something. She wants to do anything else but listen to this man continue on with his horribly misinformed and misogynistic speech.

“Finally we’re getting to the good stuff.”

“I predict a Sofia meltdown in three...two…”

The countdown doesn’t have to finish as Sofia all but slams her champagne flute down on the table. The noise startles Luna and she flinches slightly.

“I’ve heard this speech before. I don’t need to hear it again.”

Sofia scrambles, attempting to gather her belongings. Luna notices that her hands are slightly trembling and her eyes are glossy, tears threatening to spill.

Before she can stop herself, she’s opening her mouth, “Actually Paolo, men and women have the same brains. Neurologists have been searching for differences for years, but nothing ever turns up. And this society makes girls lesser than men, which is a gross assumption that’s pushed by men like you.”

The admonishment causes a faint blush to appear at Paolo’s neck. “And what does that have to do with my daughter’s role at Russo Industries?”

Luna shrugs. “Even I can tell she would make a great CEO. In fact, I bet you’ve already seen gains under her management.”

“My daughter’s abilities aren’t in question. It’s a matter of right and wrong. Women belong at home. It’s why you became a nanny, right?”

“Paolo, you are way out of line,” Sam says, his voice taking on an uncharacteristically gruff tone. “I won’t have you speaking to Luna like that.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Luna sees Sofia rush off, heading back into the country club, not sticking around for any more of the conversation.

“It’s fine, Sam,” Luna says. The last thing she wants to do is cause a confrontation. It’d raise too many questions. Why is Sam so quick to defend the nanny and not his own fiancée? “This conversation is done anyway.”

Pushing her seat back, Luna throws her napkin on the table and gets up, leaving behind an awkwardly silent dinner party.

Sofia is a very fast walker, but Luna manages to keep a decent pace behind her, her platinum blonde hair making her an easy target to follow. The older woman heads to the restroom, angrily pushing open the door. Luna weaves through patrons of the club and various waiters carrying trays until she reaches the bathroom as well.

Luna is instantly swept up in just how fancy this restroom is. The lighting is dim, it smells like eucalyptus and mint, there’s soft music playing, and she’s pretty sure the faucets are made of real gold.

It isn’t until she hears a sniffle coming from one of the stalls that she is reminded of the reason she entered the restroom in the first place. Taking a peek under the stall, she sees Sofia’s signature Louboutin heels.

“Sofia, I know you’re in there.”

“Go away,” Sofia orders. Her tone doesn’t have its usual bite or chill. Luna frowns at how small she sounds. “I don’t need you here to coddle me.”

“I can’t do that. My conscience won’t let me leave a sad woman crying in the restroom alone.”

“I’m not crying!”

“Sure you’re not. But my point remains, I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

A minute ticks by and Luna is met with silence. Sofia is just as stubborn as she anticipated, maybe even more so.

She leans against the marble countertop, careful to not lean against any wet spots. “If anyone knows how you feel, it would be me.”

More silence.

“I’m a black woman in STEM,” Luna continues, not waiting for a response. “I don’t know what it’s like in the business world, but if I got a dime for every time a man, and sometimes other women, told me to not pursue chemistry, I’d probably be able to afford your shoes.”

“Really?”

Luna smiles to herself. Sofia actually responded to her! She’s making progress! “Really. I was told to focus on nursing or a social science, like sociology or anthropology by multiple teachers, classmates and counselors. Not saying there’s anything wrong with those fields, I think they’re great, but that wasn’t the path for me. I’ve always loved chemistry. I’ve had the periodic table memorized since I was in 3rd grade. Thankfully I have parents that support my passion, because everyone isn’t so lucky.”

Sofia scoffs. “Got that right. I got my BA from Yale, I graduated summa cum laude and I went to Wharton for grad school, but let my dad tell it, I simply wasted 6 years and half a million dollars in tuition costs. Those degrees mean nothing to him because he’s the stereotypical, conservative and traditional Italian man. I’m not the correct sex or gender for him. In a perfect world, I’d be the perfect song but instead, I’m his fussy daughter. I’m not supposed to do anything other than get pregnant and cook, and how dare I want anything else out of life.”

“I say this with the utmost respect, but your father is a sexist jerk,” Luna deadpans. “You can yell at me for saying it, but I don’t regret it. And I’m shocked Russo Industries is still standing because I can only imagine the HR complaints and harassment lawsuits against your father over the years.”

“There’s no need to apologize because it’s the truth. My father doesn’t respect me. He doesn’t respect women at all. My mother was never allowed to have an opinion, and mine isn’t all that valued either.”

“I thought taking the initiative and getting engaged to Sam would make him respect me,” Sofia adds. “I wanted to do this in order to prove to him that I’m worthy. I thought he’d see that I’m a go-getter, and I’m ambitious, and I want the Russo family to thrive, but he doesn’t care about the business aspect of the merger like I do. He’s just glad I found a rich husband.”

Another bout of silence falls between the two women, but this time it’s not as awkward as before. it’s almost peaceful. Luna still hears the occasional sniffle, but she doesn’t call any attention to it. Crying is too vulnerable for Sofia to be open about.

“Besides, I don’t know if things will even pan out the way I want them to,” Sofia says. “The boys aren’t that fond of me, and Sam is just so...cold. I’m trying to make this a decent transition, and I’m trying to find out where I fit in that family dynamic, but it’s not working. He didn’t want me around for his birthday, he doesn’t respect my opinion on how to raise Mickey and Mason. More times than not, it feels like he’s counting down the minutes until he has to be in my presence anymore.” The stall door opens up and Sofia steps out. Her eyes are bloodshot and her nose is red and raw. Luna averts her gaze quickly, not wanting to draw too much attention to it.

“I don’t even know if this is worth it anymore. I’m exhausted, and I’m trying to sustain a relationship all by myself. Sam can barely sustain a conversation with me, and my dad isn’t impressed, so what’s the point? What am I doing this all for?”

Luna frowns. Sofia has always seemed so...bold and intimidating, like nothing ever rattled her. But looking underneath the perfectly put together surface, Sofia is just a woman trying to fight and claw for every inch of success, despite the lack of a support system.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Luna says. “I think you’re smart, and I think you’d make an excellent CEO of Russo Industries. And I don’t think you need Sam at your side to do so.”

That shocks Sofia. Her eyebrows shoot up past her hairline at the compliment. “You really think so? You have that much faith in me?”

Luna doesn’t know if she’s giving Sofia this advice because she truly believes in it, or if a selfish part of her wants the other woman to leave Sam alone, so they can finally be together. Her stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought, full of guilt. Does this count as manipulation?

She swallows thickly, pushing down whatever guilt is trying to bubble to the surface and nods. “I do. You don’t need a man to be successful and fulfilled. You don’t need your dad’s approval. And you don’t need to feed into the bullshit cycle of misogyny that your dad perpetuates.”

Sofia walks over to the sink and turns the faucet. After she splashes cool water on her face, she turns back to Luna. “Thank you, I guess. No one has ever talked to my dad the way you did, especially not in defense of me. And thank you for coming in here.”

“You’re welcome. Even the rich and powerful Sofia Russos of the world need 5 minutes to vent and cry.”

“Never mention to anyone that you’ve seen me like this,” Sofia orders sharply. No one, especially people in New York high society, can know that the ice queen herself shows emotion.

“What happens in the ladies’ room, stays in the ladies’ room. Scout’s honor.”

“Good.” Sofia sighs and straightens herself up. Luna watches the cool facade slip back into place as Sofia fixes her makeup and runs a brush through her hair. Sofia is back to being the poised, elegant woman everyone knows.

Once she’s done, she straightens out her clothes and heads to the door. Hesitating, Sofia lingers by the door. She turns back to Luna, her eyes softer than the younger woman has ever seen them. “You know what? Maybe I misjudged you. You aren’t as bad as I originally thought.”

A soft smile tugs on the corner of Luna’s mouth. “That’s high praise coming from you. I’ll take it.”

Without another word, Sofia sweeps out of the restroom, leaving Luna all alone, the sound of her heels clicking against the floors now an echo. With the presence of the other woman no longer stifling her, Luna lets out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding in.

She didn’t know what to expect coming in here to comfort Sofia, but now everything feels much more complicated.

#playchoices #choices: stories you play #the nanny affair #tna #sofia russo #sam dalton #pixelberry

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