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betweentheracks · 3 years

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Updates//Recent Inactivity

Hello all! This is me finally taking some time to sit down and offer up a rundown on how life is currently going as a means of explaining my inactivity. This is a personal post that is guaranteed to be both rambling and emotional so if that is not your cup of tea, I understand and happily advise you just skip over this post as it is not relevant to the actual content this blog was intended for.

EDITED: After reading this back I now realize this is really just me spilling the tea on my own life and is laughably dishy in details which is extremely not my usual stance on my personal privacy. But idk, it was cathartic so I'm leaving it as is despite the urge to redact 70% of what I say.

I'll start with the good news that I am officially out of lockdown and have remained COVID-19 free since my return home from the hospital. This also means my son finally was allowed to come home to me which is dazzling and exciting and also a little terrible too. He's at a precocious age where tantrums are the cool way to communicate and having been gone for so long completely thrashing his established routine has caused friction. He came home and his parent was not the same as when he left; is much weaker and less energetic than before, paler and shaky - but also there's the addition of my best friend having moved in to assist and take care of me/him while we all do our best to muddle through.

The readjustment has been rough and a lot of this week has made me incredibly thankful to have practically zero memory of how I was as a child. There have been injuries: I have been whacked in the face with the metal cover for a floor vent while dozing on the sofa instead of paying rapt attention to whatever silliness he was showing off to me, there was his complete dismissal of me asking him to stay back and away from the hot oven as I pulled lunch from it's fiery jaws only to then be faced with a toddler quickly approaching with his hand raised to touch so I naturally made a move to block him and in the process I let go of the oven door which slammed upward and clamped my arm tightly between it and the inside cavern of the oven while it was set to a roasty 400 degrees Fahrenheit - earning me a mangled arm with burns of varying degrees, and then we also had that fit where it seemed like a much more grand idea to scale the babygate cordoning the stairs and I had to rush up them to stop him from tumbling face first down two flights and of course did the falling all on my own and did it backwards then slammed painfully into the wall of the landing. This all happened within a 48hr time frame and makes me wonder why I am so catastrophically inclined.

I have bruises that range the majority of my spine courtesy of the wall and stairs, two minor first degree burns on my forearm that are in the shape of an equals and quite large despite the lack of actual pain I feel from them, and the underside of my forearm was instantly blistered then popped then melted down into a horrid glob of skin mush and sticky red-orange and is a second degree burn that I have been assured is no real cause for concern as long as I tend it with care. In all, I managed to escape my momjuries relatively unscathed and with a child that was scared senseless at having hurt his momma and is quick to listen and never stops cuddling me in the time since. Here's hoping he isn't significantly traumatized from this since exactly none of this is especially his fault and is due to my clumsy, accident-prone status in life.

So yes, The Toddler has returned home to me and after some happenings we have settled and are happy. However, his blast from the past father has suddenly just decided to reemerge after more than a year of radio silence and static and has slapped me with a custody petition. Hooray. While I have no worries on this matter due to my mother working for one of the top custody lawyers in the state and snagging him as my representation, and the utter lack of competency on my estranged baby daddy's end clearly being displayed in literally anything and everything the idiot does/says, I do have to now go through the overhaul of a custody case and that is just so weak and exhaustive. Not to mention the basis of his claims that I am not fit to raise a child are founded in my health concerns and the crazy work schedule I keep; ironically, my health is making it so that I have much less insane hours and makes this fairly moot but to each their own I guess. Also worth noting on this matter is that he only did this now because he was recently placed under penalty for child support back pay and nothing in this world matters to him like his money and this is his special way of getting one over on me for tampering with his meager earnings. (He's a wannabe musician - the soundcloud rapper sort, just so we are all on the same page here). If I thought for even a second this was a genuine desire to be an active and stable parent I would be a lot less pressed to act in favor of making it legally binding that he can only see him under a supervisory condition and share time evenly, but it just is not believable in the slightest.

So the thing is - my health is actually quite dismal presently. I'm due in for open heart surgery on the 8th of April and until then I have been doing my utmost to mind all the nagging I get from doctors, PT specialists, the surgeons that will be slicing and dicing me, and my in-family medical practitioner that sometimes remembers he is also my brother and not just an MD. But like, you guys, this surgery is terrifying and technically is two surgeries rolled into one. They'll be cracking my chest open and then stopping my heart while they lift it from where it sits sweetly unhinged and lopsided in my body and very finely shave away some of the excess muscle that has built up around the wall of my heart as well as some unfriendly scar tissue that has lingered since my last surgery years ago. Granted there is no accidental slip that nicks my ugly gargantuan heart and renders me as good as dead, once this first part is finished the other surgeon will need to be deft and very quick to place this ventricular assisting piece in the valve that has all but given up on functioning altogether and do so in the time remaining before the time limit for my heart being essentially unplugged from by body is up, which would also feasibly mean my death. Lots of exciting and terrible sounding consequences, am I right?

Well let's bear it in mind that I am just below 30 in age and therefore not duly experienced in the realm of facing down my own mortality via making all necessary legal arrangements and managing my affairs and assets so that, in event of my untimely death, the custody case still doesn't stand a chance of snatching my son away to the sad misfortune of being raised by a man that has stated openly he only has interest in his kids so far as what they can do for him/get for him in terms of benefit and that he would be unwilling to be hypocritical and never deter his children from drugs and a lifestyle of extremely questionable moral integrity and hygiene alike. Eugh. But I also have had to make sure there is a DNR in place just in case things go wrong during the operation, my will has also been finalized and notarized, all my savings and financial/material assets have been squared away to come into my child's inheritance when he is of age and, most importantly, a document that states clear and direct instructions for him to be placed in care of my mother or, if she is unwilling or incapable, he will be under custodial order and guardianship of my best friend whom he has always viewed as a pseudo-dad anyway. Legally binding and even in light of the paternity petition this document supersedes parental right by way of the provided evidence I have submitted to prove a lack of parental credibility. That's right, I spent days lowkey stalking and sleuthing about to capture what I needed to show this man for what he actually is and I have precisely zero guilt or shame for doing it; this is my child on the line and that means momma doesn't have to play by the rules of snitches getting stitches or whatever other scary street rules he tosses at me as idle threats. (He's done this routinely for all the years I have known him, and it is somehow both pathetic and hilarious because he knows for a fact that, if I wanted, I could throttle him in less time than it would take for him to form a rational thought between his drug soaked braincells - I was also a person of less than savory character not too long ago and can handle myself very well. But I digress because I am losing my track of thought.

After the surgery I will have so damn much PT and rehab, all of which will be specific to varying parts of my body that will need to be reworked and strengthened. Weeks, months of it really. This surgery is major and hits heavy enough that I will be in the hospital for at least 10-14 days just recovering from it without taking into consideration any number of complications that could pop up. Hell, if they get in there and find a situation worse than they currently have an understanding of in the limited capacity of cardiology tech can provide of such a gnarled beastly heart and realize they can't really do anything with it after all, I'll be added to the transplant list. I think this is more daunting to consider than the surgery, honestly.

In that way that doctors have about them, I was "comforted" by being informed that this was an inevitability and I would have been faced with this in a matter of years - less than a handful actually - but the way COVID-19 chewed through me sped it up. I'm sure my years of substance issues were also very helpful in this endeavor, but either way I still am unsure whether I feel better knowing this or not? Mostly I think I feel conflicted and hopeful tempered with the caution of life being super shady in the ways it has often brought me to the doorsteps of dying in situations that seem like odd chance. I also am gifted with being so capable in jinxing myself that I brought myself to COVID-19 ("The way life is going I'll probably square up with Rona next week or some bullshit." Positive test flagged within the following week) and also into labor ("Watch me go into labor on Labor Day since that would be the sort of universal pun that would strike my bad penny having ass." Indeed hatched my youngling on Labor Day of that year) by saying some things within the scope of my bad humor that instantly manifested as reality so I'm not taking any risks here lol.

The gist is that life is really stirring up the winds over here and so I haven't been online and posting anything that would make my blog valid in a fat minute. I do apologize for this and also for the fact that this post took me nearly a week to type up, but when things calm a little I will be back in full. For the time being I will be sporadic and do what I can when I can!

Thanks to anyone that read this mess all the way here! And a big thank you to all of you still supporting me!

#racks chats #entirely too long and too personal

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afni-fics · 3 years

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In Hindsight: Chapter 7: In the Present... Lie in Ruins

In Hindsight: Chapter 7: In the Present... Lie in Ruins by C_R_Scott Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tim Drake/Tam Fox, Jack Drake/Janet Drake, Janet Drake & Tim Drake, Jack Drake & Tim Drake, Lucius Fox/Tanya Fox, Tim Drake & Tam Fox Characters: Tim Drake, Tam Fox, Janet Drake, Jack Drake, Lucius Fox, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Tim Drake-centric, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Family Feels, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Childhood Memories, Childhood Sweethearts, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Good Parent Janet Drake, Bad Parent Jack Drake, no beta we die like robins, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent

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Story Summary: What if Tim Drake was originally raised by his maternal grandmother for the first eight years of his life due to "circumstances" involving his biological parents? What if Tim's grandmother was also the next door neighbor and occasional sitter for Lucius Fox's family?

Chapter Summary: Jack Drake had lied to Tim about his grandmother's death. However, Jack is also dead himself. Tim attempts to cope with the aftermath of learning the truth of what his father had done. Fortunately, he is not alone.

...

"Jack lied."

Lucius's words were stuck in Bruce's head as Alfred drove him into Gotham City from the Manor. They kept repeating themselves over and over and over again. After about ten minutes of focused brooding, Bruce finally voiced the question he knew he couldn't run away from.

"How did I miss this?"

From the driver's seat, Alfred glanced at Bruce via the rear-view mirror. "You had no way of knowing."

"I should have known."

"How?" Alfred's brow furrowed. "Tim didn't even know? His fa--" The old man choked on the word with a grimace, as if he'd bitten into a piece of bitter melon. He huffed irritably before continuing. "--Jack lied to him for years, and gave none of us any reason to suspect anything coming out of his mouth was false."

Bruce shook his head as he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts before selecting one. After three rings, the line finally connected.

"You do know it's not even noon, right?" Barbara Gordon grumbled. "What could you possibly want at this ungodly time of the morning?"

"It's about Tim."

There was moment of pause. When Barbara spoke, drowsiness had been replaced with concern in her tone. "What's wrong? Is he alright? Is he having a delayed reaction to the new Fear Toxin?"

Bruce hesitated before answering, making a quick mental note to double check Tim's bloodwork as soon as he could. If Tim was suffering a delayed Fear Toxin reaction on top of everything else, that could further complicate his son's compromised emotional state.

"It's not about the Fear Toxin, though that could be exacerbating the situation in the background," Bruce said finally. "I need you to do some digging into Tim's family history."

"You're asking me to investigate Tim? Why? What's going on?"

"Tim was never an orphan."

"WHAT?!"

"We just discovered today he has a living maternal grandmother," Bruce explained. "But for whatever reason Jack Drake lied to Tim and his mother eight years ago and told them both she was dead. From what I've been told, his grandmother was supposed to have had full custody of him back then. Then she got hospitalized. When she was finally well enough to be released, Jack had managed to sever all ties between her and Tim."

"Jesus Christ," Barbara breathed out softly. "Does Tim kno-- Never mind, of course he knows otherwise you wouldn't be asking me to do the investigating. Is he with you now?"

"I'm going to his place in the city with Alfred to check on him. Tracker says he's stationary at the Nest."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Do a deep dive into the history between Tim's parents and his grandmother. Her name is Susan Klein. We need to learn what exactly triggered the original custody arrangement, as well as how Jack managed to take custody away from Susan and hide the fact that she was alive from both Tim and his mother. I also want to know why the hell the courts and CPS didn't get involved back then to return Tim to his grandmother, especially after Jack died."

"You also want to find the rest of Jack's skeletons," Barbara inferred. "Because if Jack lied about something this big to his own son--"

"--What else did he lie about?--"

"--And how much damage could this do to Tim if it's brought to light?" Bruce could hear Barbara indulge in a weary sigh. "Holy shit... Ok... Ok... Ok... Give me an hour to get a shower, coffee, and food. Then I'll start digging. This is all cold case kinda stuff, so it's not going anywhere. Keep me posted if you pick up any new leads from Tim."

"Thanks Barbara."

"Oh, by the way... Who else knows about this?"

"Alfred, Lucius, and Tam."

"Alright. I'll keep this on the down low from the rest of the fam until you can check on Tim. Take care of him, Bruce."

"I will."

With the call ended, Bruce leaned back and closed his eyes. What was he going to find when they finally got the Nest? He didn't have to wait long. About ten minutes later, Bruce and Alfred found themselves being led through Tim's home by a deeply concerned Tamara Fox.

...

Three months and twenty-eight days.

That's how long it took for Tim to travel around the US and the world, investigate multiple archaeological sites, survive the Council of Spiders, cripple the League of Assassins, save the girl, and return home with proof of his adopted father being alive. So much mileage, blood, and lives lost had gone into the journey to recover Bruce Wayne from the time stream Darkseid had sent him into.

Nineteen minutes and thirty-nine seconds.

That's all the time it took for Tim to find evidence his grandmother was alive and well and still living in the same house she always had for the past fifty years. He didn't have to leave Gotham. He didn't even have to leave his workstation. All the information was at his fingertips online. All the evidence pointed at the conclusion that his grandmother (and the truth) had always been just a few keystrokes away.

But that couldn't be right. If that was right, that meant his father lied to him and his mother. Jack Drake wouldn't have done that. So it had to be wrong. Tim just couldn't figure out how the evidence was wrong.

"Recognized: Tamara Fox. Alpha-Zero-Two. Entrance: Garage."

"Recognized: Verified Guest. Alpha-Zero-Two-Dash-Zero-One. Entrance: Garage."

"Recognized: Verified Guest. Alpha-Zero-Two-Dash-Zero-Two. Entrance: Garage."

The voice of Tim's AI security matrix echoed through the cavernous space of Tim's brand new "Nest", the hidden vigilante base of operations tucked behind his renovated theater home. The young man barely acknowledged the announcements, though, as he sat motionless at his workstation with his elbows propped up on the desk and his face buried in his hands. Slowly, his hands shifted, sliding down his face over closed eyes to linger over his nose and mouth. Tim drew in a breath through his nose and tried to release it slowly through his mouth. Despite his attempt at control, his breath shuddered audibly as he exhaled. Desperately, he squeezed his eyes shut tighter and shifted his hands to press against them. The adjustment exposed his mouth pressed into a grim, trembling line as he struggled to keep any sound from escaping.

Despite his best efforts, a thin trickle of moisture escaped his hands and coursed down his cheek.

Tim heard the hidden door that connected the Nest to his living room slide open, and blindly identified the footsteps of three people walking into his inner sanctum. One of them he was certain was Tam, and he had his suspicions about the other two.

However, in order to confirm them, he would have had to remove his hands and open his eyes...

...and he was not ready to do that just yet.

...

The moment Bruce laid eyes on Tim, he felt his heart ache at the sight before him. There was his son, sitting alone at his workstation, and everything in his body language was silently crying out with shock and dismay.

For a brief few seconds, Bruce froze. His mind was a panicked jumble. What could he do?! What could he say?! How was he going to fix this?!

Then Tim slowly lifted his head from his hands, and he when he looked over at Bruce, the older man's breath got stuck in his throat. His normally confident and unwavering teenager looked so dazed and hurt and utterly lost.

"B?"

A single letter, barely whispered, partly a question, but mostly a plea, was all it took. Bruce's feet were no longer rooted to the floor, and he quickly closed the distance between himself and his son, because his boy had called out to him.

Tim rose to his feet as he saw Bruce approach, and he let himself be wrapped up in his adopted father's arms. Bruce could feel Tim lean into him, could feel the anxious tension in every muscle in his son's back as the boy buried his face into his chest.

"I'm here, Tim," Bruce murmured as soothingly as he could as he stroked Tim's hair. "It's going to be ok."

"I... I don't know what I'm doing wrong," Tim whispered mournfully.

"Wrong?"

"Dad said she died. He wouldn't have lied about that. He couldn't have." Unconsciously, Tim's hand fisted into Bruce's shirt, as if he were hanging on for dear life. "But Lucius says she's alive... Been alive this entire time. And the evidence..."

As more words spilled out from his boy's mouth, Bruce heart broke at the brittle desperation in Tim's voice.

"I have to be missing something. I'm doing something wrong. I'm making a mistake somewhere and I don't know what it is." Tim drew in a shuddering breath. "Or maybe it's the Fear Toxin. An after effect? Maybe it's making me hallucinate? Mis-hear... Misinterpret things?" He turned his head from Bruce's chest and gazed uneasily at the workstation monitors. "Maybe I'm just seeing things? Maybe I'm just losing my mind?"

The fact that Tim's voice took on a hopeful edge at the thought of going crazy sent a stab of deep concern through Bruce. A quick glance at the workstation monitors showed him all the evidence Tim had dug up on his own since leaving Wayne Tower. A lump rose to his throat. When he spoke, he could barely force his own voice above a hoarse whisper.

"You're not hallucinating, Tim. I... I can see the evidence myself."

Tim's eyes widened at the screens, then he shut them tightly before shaking his head. "No... No no no no no..."

"Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce glanced over to Tamara, who looked close to tears herself, but was managing to just barely hold herself together. She had one arm wrapped around herself and the other held her cell phone. He could see Lucius's name on the screen as the current active call.

"Yes?"

Tam swallowed hard before answering. "My dad's on the line. I told him we found Tim. He... He's with Nana... Tim's grandma... right now."

Bruce felt Tim freeze in his arms. He felt his own heart stutter as well.

"She... would like to speak with Tim, if he's able. She understands though if he's too overwhelmed right now."

Tim turned his gaze to Tam's phone, his red-rimmed blue eyes wide and warring between longing and dread.

Bruce stroked Tim's back. "You... don't have to if you don't want to," he murmured. "We can wait until you feel better... Until we figure things out on this side."

For several seconds, there was nothing but tense silence in the air. Bruce could practically see the gears turning and grinding in Tim's mind. He could see the war play out on his son's face as he struggled to make a decision. Then, finally, Tim uneasily reached out and offered an open hand to Tam.

Tam nodded and raised the phone to her own ear first. "I'm handing my phone to Tim now." Then, she carefully gave Tim the cell, watching as he wrapped his fingers about the edges of the device and raised it to his own ear.

"H-Hello?"

Though he was still holding Tim closely, Bruce wasn't close enough to hear much of other end of the call. He could tell it was a woman's voice, but couldn't make out most of the words. But he could see his son. He watched, helpless, as after a moment Tim's eyes filled immediately with tears and spilled over onto his cheeks. One short anguished sob escaped him before he used his other hand to clamp his mouth shut. Though it stifled the sounds, Bruce could still see and feel the sobs wracking his boy's entire frame.

As Bruce held him tighter, he could hear the tone of the woman's voice shift to something so soothing and maternal that his own heart ached along with his son's. It had the desired effect of calming Tim enough so that the could finally find his voice once more.

"I love you, too, Nana," he whimpered softly. Then, he stretched out his hand and gave the phone back to Tam, who was in tears herself as she took it back.

Once his hands were free and the phone was pressed again to Tam's ear as she spoke with her father, Tim crumpled to the floor as he burst into tears once more, this time without restraint. Bruce followed him down to control his fall and let his son cried brokenheartedly against him.

"He lied," Tim keened between sobs. "He lied... He lied... He lied..."

Tears coursed down Bruce's face as he watched his son come apart at the seams. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Alfred gazing at him with love, sorrow, and tear-filled eyes as well. Though long dead, Jack Drake had broken their beloved boy's heart, and they would be damned if they didn't do their best to put the pieces back together again and make things right for everyone involved.

...

Author's Notes:

Author's Note: This was a challenging chapter to write. I hope I did Tim's breakdown justice. Things will, hopefully, start looking up for him from this point onward for a bit.

As for the length of time I put down as Tim's search for Bruce during the origin Red Robin run, this was just a wild guess on my part. In the comics, there was a map on a page in the first issue showing a map with pins on where he had previously investigated. Based on that, I estimated he had been travelling nonstop for at least several months before being intercepted by Ra's and getting dragged into the League and Council drama along with Tam.

#tim drake#tam fox#tim/tam#red robin#fanfiction#wip#rr: in hindsight#batfam#batfamily#lucius fox#bruce wayne

#rr: in hindsight #tim drake #tam fox #tim/tam #red robin #fanfiction #wip #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #batfamily #batfam

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mieran-sanctuary · 3 years

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Update

Hey guys. It’s been a long time since last I posted actively here, and with my return, I figured I could update Tumblr a little bit of the most noteworthy stuff that’s been happening since I poofed in 2019.

For anyone interested, you can read a life update from my side under the cut below.

I honestly have no idea how to get everything that’s happened down in words. To explain it all in a simplified way. It’s been one hell of a ride, but I’ll try to summarize it quick and easy.

It all technically started in the summer of 2019. My girlfriend and I lived in our own apartment when we learned that her already sick mother, had been diagnosed with a very rare type of cancer. Over time we’d also learn that they would never be able to find the source of it, leaving out surgeries as an option. We simply did not know what to remove to help fix it. It was pretty harsh news, on top of my girlfriend’s dad also having a serious heart attack the year prior to this.

Ever since then, our lives have been more unpredictable than ever. We’ve never really been able to fully relax or settle down since then. All we’ve ever been able to do these past two years is taking it day by day, or hour by hour.

But our lives kept going as usual, but with the outbreak of COVID-19 in the beginning of 2020, it was decided that we would go back home to our families. So I was picked up by my family, while my girlfriend returned to hers.

Some of you may already know that I’ve struggled with mental illness and physical weakness half my life, preventing me from functioning normally and has been a big stopper in my art life in general. Well, after I came back home, I started to suffer a lot from gods know what. I started to get so physically ill and scared, that I went to the emergency room seeking help. I was hospitalized shortly after to make sure I had people around me 24/7 and get me back up on my feet. I was signed out after a couple of weeks, feeling much better, but that was when the anxiety kicked in, more harsh than I’ve ever experienced it. I’ve never felt so horrible in my entire life before. It didn’t take long until I was back in the emergency room and hospitalized for another three weeks. (Making it five weeks spent there in total during two months)

I managed to get through it with lots of help. Breaking through barriers I’ve been stuck with all my life since I’ve never had people around to support me like that before. It gave me the safety I needed to grow more stronger mentally.

After that, 2020 went on, but the situation with my girlfriend’s mother was all over the place, leaving us on edge most of the time. All I could really do was trying to be there for them and give support in any way I could. It was also during that summer my grandfather suffered from a heart attack after being ill for a while. This turned out to become another wild roller coaster of ups and downs. We thought he would be much better after a surgery, to then suddenly get way worse.

My girlfriend and I returned to our apartment in September 2020, as she needed to continue her education. We tried to keep it somewhat normal, but we were still kept away from our internet activity. My grandfather would get worse and hospitalized the next months, now lying on his deathbed at this point.

And then, on December 3rd, my girlfriend got a phone call from home that evening, saying that her mom had gotten worse to the point they had to perform an emergency surgery within the next 1-2 hours. There was a slim chance she would survive, and even if she did, they were unsure she’d last many days after.

We took a plane back to her family early the next morning. She survived the operation and got “better”, but we were told she didn’t have much time left. But against all odds, we would eventually get her out of the hospital and back home to celebrate Christmas, New Year’s eve, and my girlfriend’s birthday. All from a hospital bed we had set up in one of their living rooms.

My grandfather passed away on December 7th, and I took a plane back home to attend his funeral on the 18th, saying my final goodbyes, before returning to my girlfriend and her family to celebrate Christmas and stay with them.

And after so much pain and fighting, being told she’d only survive for a few weeks, so many hardships and obstacles, 20+ different chemotherapies in only a year... my girlfriend’s mother passed away in January 2021 after holding on for a year and a half.

She was one of the strongest people I’ve ever known, and after a lifetime of fighting illness, she has finally found peace.

I... honestly don’t know how to put things into words. My grandfather, my girlfriend’s mother... Hopefully the way I’ve summarized it doesn’t sound too cold. There is simply too much to be told about both of them, but I try to keep it very short and simple.

We’re still recovering from our losses, the war against cancer and illness, fighting some pretty bad financial issues that follows, and we’re not sure when our lives will return to something close to normal.

But we will try. And I really want to try and return to art. Including some activity on Tumblr where I focus on DA:I related stuff, as I never really got to express myself fully of that world and my OCs there.

I’ll just decide to end my writings here, and hopefully it’ll shed some light on where I’ve been, what’s been going on and why it might take some time to return.

But I hope I can get back to it soon. Thank you so much for reading this long wall of text and for your time. I sincerely hope you’re all hanging in there in these absurd and insane times. Please take care and look after yourselves, and may 2021 be more gentle towards us.

#Mieran writes #Long post

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captainscanadian · 4 years

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Exception | Carter Baizen x Reader (Part 6)

My Masterlist

Summary: You needed Carter. You needed BOTH of them.

Word Count: 6100+

Pairing: CEO!Carter Baizen x Lawyer!Reader, Nate Archibald x Caroline Baizen, Chuck Bass, Lily van der Woodsen, Serena van der Woodsen (mentioned).

Warnings: Swearing, Gossip Girl References, Drugs, Infidelity, Car Accident, Blood, Trauma, Hospital, Teenage Pregnancy

A/N: This is my entry for @baezen‘s writing challenge. A lot of you have been calling me out on things and I must admit that I’m impressed. I’m so glad you all seemed to figure out that there was a child involved. And for those of you who didn’t... SURPRISE, MOTHERFUCKERS! Y’all might get Dad!Carter in this fic! I don’t own the gifs. ELIF, GO AHEAD AND YELL AT ME… SAB, I LOVE YOU. THEORY ANON, LETS SEE WHAT YOUR THEORY IS NOW. :P

It was no joke that Caroline Baizen had spent so many months planning her perfect wedding to Nate Archibald, but she had spent many more months planning her perfect honeymoon with him. It was supposed to be just the two of them in their honeymoon suite at the Burj Al Arab Jumeirah, soaking up the sun on a yacht at the Dubai Marina and making love to each other like the newlyweds they were before they both had to return to the chaos that was the Upper East Side of Manhattan. All of that planning went to shit the moment she got that phone call, saying that her brother had been hit by a car outside of the Gramercy Tavern and had been rushed to the hospital.

Though the police officer who had been kind enough to contact her did not have many details about Carter’s condition, Caroline could not help but hope for the best while expecting the worst. Her heart was beating right out of her chest as she feared for her brother’s life, her husband holding onto her as she sobbed against his chest. It was as though the limo was moving way too slow as she and Nate were on their way to the hospital. She was worried, and scared, for she did not want to lose the only family she had left. Losing their parents in a car accident had been bad enough as it was.

Carter and Caroline never shared the best of sibling relationships, not since he had first cut ties with their parents and left the Upper East Side for good. But when he had returned from being held by the Buckley’s, she had seen that he was a changed man. He had promised her that he would change his ways and do right by everything in his family; he would do right by their parents and he would do right by her. He had done just that since then. Losing their parents had been hard on the two of them, but they got through it together. They had always had each other. But now, even when she had Nate, Caroline felt alone. She did not want to lose her big brother.

To say that Nate had been worried sick about the fate of his brother-in-law would be an understatement. But he was also aware that Carter had plans with you that evening, thanks to Annalise and her commitment to updating him about what was going on between you and Carter since the wedding.

A part of him was worried about you as well. After all, he knew how much he meant to you. Even though in the exterior, you acted like you hated him, Nate knew that you would always love him. Perhaps that was why he had been calling your cell phone ever since Caroline had come crying to him about her brother. But unbeknownst to him, your phone had slipped out of your hand during your fall and shattered on the side of the road, and you had abandoned it for the man who had just saved your life in the matter of seconds.

The man who had saved your life in a matter of seconds was also the man whom you had always believed to be your apocalypse. You had always believed that he was the final destruction of your life. You had blamed him for ruining your life for years, but now he had saved it too.

The reason why you were possibly alive at this very moment was because Carter Baizen had pushed you out of the way and taken the hit from that speeding car. It should have been you and your stupidity. You took all the blame for the fact that your ex-boyfriend of fifteen years was now laying in an operating room with his skull open.

It was as though the guilt that you had been living with for the last fifteen years was not enough. It was as though you needed to be punished even more for having run away the way that you had and for keeping your secret for as long as you had. As if the fact that your whole truth had been eating you alive was not painful enough that it kept you awake at night, you had to face the worst of the consequences that had been caused by your mistakes.

How were you supposed to live with your whole truth like this, especially after Carter had now saved your life? Perhaps it was a blessing and a curse – a blessing was that you had survived the accident with a few scratches and the curse would be living in a world where Carter Baizen was dead. You did not want to live in a world without him.

He could not die, not like this. He had been alive when you had found him lying in a puddle of his own blood. He had been holding onto his dear life and then you had also been holding onto his dear life in your hands when the ambulance had driven you down to the nearest hospital. Your hands had been laced with the crimson fluid that had bled out of him. His blood in your hands, literally.

A team of doctors and nurses had rushed Carter upstairs to operate on him the moment you had arrived at the hospital. His head injury had been a priority. Meanwhile, another doctor had managed to bandage up your bruises.

You made no noise while the exhausted ER doctor worked on you. You did not yell. You did not cry. You did not expel any of the emotions that urged to spew out of you as you held a clean tissue against your nostrils, blotting the last of the blood that dripped down as you had finally stopped crying.

The doctor thought that your newfound calmness it was because you were still in shock from the accident – you were frightened by witnessing your loved one getting struck by a car. It was common for most patients to experience such trauma. But the way you had managed to respond to her queries in with the nod of your head or one word at a time made her realize that you were indeed... lucid. You were not completely traumatized, but you clearly knew how to stay in control of your emotions.

You wanted to break down. You wanted to cry. But what was the point in that? Carter Baizen, the love of your life, the father of your child, was lying lifeless in an operating room somewhere. The father of your child. He was the father of your child and he was lying lifeless in an operating room somewhere...

What kind of a mother had you been? What kind of a mother keeps the secret of becoming a mother from the whole world? What kind of a mother willingly chooses to keep the father of her child as far away from her child’s life as she possibly can? What kind of a mother puts the life of the father of her child in danger? What were you going to tell the fourteen year old you had left behind in London when you had boarded that plane back to New York City? What were you going to say when the child you had birthed and raised on your own gets here in a few days and asks you about her father?

Once the doctor had finished up with you, a handful of nurses had helped you get cleaned up. You could see the pity in their eyes as they helped you into the shower. They must have known from the lifeless look in your eyes, that the man who was being operated on was someone who meant so much to you.

Carter was not some guy you had once dated, no. He was the only man you had ever loved truly. He was the only man who made you weak and vulnerable. He was the only man who knew the real you. He was the father of your child.

Turning on the water, you watched as Carter’s blood dripped away from your skin. The scrubbing may have removed his blood from your hands now, but metaphorically his blood was still on your hands. It was your fault that he was lying lifeless in an operating room right now. He was the father of your child.

Apparently the doctor had told the police that you were in no emotional state to provide a statement, so the kind sergeant who needed to file the report had decided that it was best to give you some time to recover from the incident and return in the morning. Needless to say, you were grateful for that. While you had changed into a fresh pair of scrubs that the nurses had handed to you, you hoped and prayed that Carter would make it out alive from this.

You had always wanted the best for him, even when you had loathed him. Even when you hated him, you loved him. Even when he had ruined everything you had planned for your future, you had wanted him to have a good life.

You never wanted him to suffer for what he had done. You never wanted to punish him even more than you already had. You had convinced yourself that he not knowing that he had fathered a child was punishment enough for the way he had treated you fifteen years ago.

But now, you knew that this punishment was not for him. It was for you. You were being punished for keeping this from him for as long as you had. The possibility that Carter might even die not knowing that he had a child was weighing you down like a boulder. He might even die not ever meeting his child and it was your entire fault.

The moment you arrived in the waiting room to see a crying Caroline Baizen rushing over to you, a worried Nate following right after her and a concerned Anne Archibald grabbing onto your numbing body, that was when you had finally broke down. You knees were weak and your legs were growing numb. You felt your body losing all of its strength as you finally let out the emotions that you had kept bottled up for the last fifteen years all at once.

“Y/N!” Chuck Bass was quick to rush over to you before your knees hit the tiled floor of the waiting room, helping you up and leading you over to the nearest chair so that you could sit down. His lips curled into a frown when he saw you in this state, for he had always known you as this strong spitfire of a young woman before you had fled the Upper East Side. The Y/N he knew never broke down like this. But he also knew that you had always loved Carter and seeing him get hit by a car must have crushed you.

Lily van der Woodsen had sat down right next to you, her arm wrapped tightly around you as she let you sob against her shoulder. Perhaps her maternal instincts had kicked in when she had seen you like that. She had always seen you as another child of hers, perhaps because she had once dated your father.

While you had been against her relationship with your father as a whole and had rejected all of her attempts to be a part of your life, she still felt some kind of love for you. She had forgiven you for being that selfish seventeen year old she knew. She knew that you had grown up now and you had apologized for the way you had treated her then. That was all that mattered to her. She knew that your mother was out of town and at that moment, so she figured that you probably need that kind of support.

No one in the Upper East Side was a stranger to what you had with Carter Baizen. The two of you had been the closest friends since you were young. You had dated during your high school years and you had both fallen in love with each other. While no one knew how your relationship had ended or why you had left New York for good, they all knew that Carter being in this condition would have been hard on you. So, they were all there to offer you the support that you needed while either of your parents could be present.

“It was all... m-my fucking fault...” You whispered between the sobs, the salty tears dripping down to your burning lips as your head began to feel heavy. “I was... crossing the street and... I wasn’t paying attention, I...” You could not get yourself to replay those scenes in your head.

Seeing the way he had been thrown off into the air and the way he had looked up at you before he had fallen unconscious had been burned into your memory forever. He made you realize how wrong you had been about everything for the last fifteen years. He was no apocalypse; he was your savior. “C-Carter... saved my life... he... h-he...” As you felt another sob, Lily hugged you tightly.

You cried as much as you could, in order to be rid of your guilt. But no matter how much you cried, your tears could not make up for the time that you had lost with Carter. Your fifteen year old stupidity had now cost him his life and the woman whom you had refused to accept as your new step-mother back then was now the one who was comforting you. This was your punishment.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. He’ll be okay...” Lily rubbed your back, gently. “I just spoke to William. He’s in surgery and they’re working on him. He’s going to be okay...”

“No, he’s... he was bleeding so much. His head, he... his head was bleeding.” You looked down at your hand that had been drenched in his blood earlier. Even though it had been clean, you could not forget the image of his blood all over it. “He’s... he’s...” You pulled back from the hug to look over at Caroline, your lips curling into a frown as you realized that you had taken away from her the only family she now had left.

You felt like a monster for being the reason behind her brother’s accident. Everything that had ever happened to you had been your doing, not his. “He’s... he saved my life.” Your lips quivered as you stood up from your seat and made your way over to the younger Baizen, your heart breaking at the sight of that little girl whom you had grown to love as a sister long before she had even married into your family. “Caroline... I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. It was my fucking fault. I wasn’t looking and now he... he saved my life but it should have been me. It should have been me.” You fell down to your knees as you grabbed her hands, sobbing louder as you looked down. “It should have been me...”

Caroline shook her head at you. “Y/N, no... Don’t say that. He... he must have had a reason for doing what he did and I respect that. He’s not a selfish guy and if he thought that saving you was more important than saving himself, then I respect that.” She admitted with a nod, sobbing harder as she held onto your hand.

“He’ll be okay. He needs to be. He’s made his mistakes but so have we all. He should be able to live his life like we all do. He’ll be okay.” Even though she felt lost and confused without her brother by her side, she was hopeful. Carter had been through so much and he had turned out alright. She knew that this was just another obstacle that her brother had to cross before he got to live the life he truly deserved.

A few hours had passed as you sat in the waiting room with Nate and Caroline. Lily and Chuck had both left once you had calmed down. You knew that the only reason the two of them had even bothered to be at that hospital in the first place was for you and not for Carter.

While Lily had been a close friend of your father’s over the years, your knowledge of the feud between Carter and Chuck was also reason enough for you to believe that Chuck had no respect for Carter. But you appreciated that they cared for you, considering what you had done.

You had loathed the Upper East Side and the people in it when you had run away so abruptly. But now, not only had the Upper East Side had welcomed you home with open arms, you had also had an entire support system of people to make up for the lack of familial support. You did not deserve any of it.

It had been early morning when you had finally received news from the nurses that Carter’s surgery had come to an end. You overheard the neurosurgeon that had operated on him telling Caroline that he had suffered a traumatic brain injury – while he was alive; they could not be so sure that he would wake up from that. They had given him forty-eight to wake up, and if he did not wake up by then, Caroline had some decisions to make.

While a part of her had been glad that her brother was out of surgery, Caroline broke down once again at the revelation that Carter might not make it. You might not have been a medical expert but you had witnessed just how bad he had been injured; you knew that he was not going to make it out of it that easily.

But you did have some hope that he would make it out alive. You needed him to make it out alive, for your sake and for the sake of your child. The realization that you had indeed taken Caroline’s only family away from her had dawned on you suddenly. But Carter was not only her family. He was yours too. As she broke down in tears again, so did you. But you were quick to step out of the waiting room, away from her gaze.

You found yourself in an empty hallway by a medical supply closet and you began sobbing once again, pacing back and forth as you realized how much you had fucked up. You had fucked up. You knew you had fucked up. And now there was no going back. There was no going back in time to fix the mistakes that you had made.

Nate hugged his wife tightly as she sobbed, rubbing her back as he watched you step out of the waiting room. He turned over to look at his mother with a frown, hoping that Anne Archibald would finally come to her senses and have some empathy for her new daughter-in-law.

The woman gave him a nod as she walked up to the two of them, her hand gently placed on Caroline’s back. “Sweetheart...” She frowned, pulling her into a hug.

“Anne, I can’t lose him...” Caroline shook her head as she cried. “I can’t...”

As he let his mother calm down his wife, he made his way out of the waiting room for a moment. He looked around the hallway before he heard your soft sobs, and following the sound of your quiet cries, he found you leaning against the wall next to the medical supply room. “Y/N...” He frowned at the sight of you, immediately rushing over to your side. He pulled you into a tight hug. “Y/N... come on, you can’t break down like this.”

“Nate, I never wanted any of this to happen...” You admitted as you sobbed against his chest. “I wanted Carter to be away from... I never wanted him to... no, not like this.”

He stroked your hair as he began to tear up; remembering the last time you had been a crying mess like this. It had been fifteen years ago now, when you had called him before you had left for London.

You had confided in him your secret, which he had kept with him since then. Not even his own wife ever came to know the truth, even though she did have every right to know of your whole truth. “Y/N... you need to calm down. The doctors did say that... whether he wakes up or not... it’s not like they were sure that he won’t wake up. They just said that... all we could do right now is wait.”

“I’ve waited long enough, Nate.” You sniffled as you pulled back from his embrace, wiping away your tears as you felt a drop of blood streaming from your right nostril. “What even is the point of waiting anymore? He might not even wake up. He...”

Nate was quick to reach into his pocket and grab a handkerchief. He handed it to you as he sighed, wrapping his arm around you as he held you close. He had always been your pillar of strength when it came to Carter. He had kept your secret for fifteen years now. But he knew by now that it was about time that you told the truth to everyone. He knew that you must have been thinking about that, as he was too.

You dabbed at your nose as you fought back the tears. “I need to call Carter.” You let out a sigh as you nodded your head, trying to convince yourself that you were sure of what you were about to do. “I need to call Carter right now.”

“Y/N, are you sure?” He asked you, biting down on his bottom lip. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“What even is the point anymore, Nate?” You asked him as you broke into another sob and shook your head. “He might not even wake up. He might not... he might never know and it’s all my fucking fault!” You cried. “I was such an idiot, Nate! I was such an idiot for doing what I did and... now he’s... what am I going to do? What am I going to... I have to call Carter.”

Nate gave you a nod as he agreed with your decision. He had always stood by the decisions you had made for yourself, even then and even now. Even if he did not agree with the choices that you had made, he had kept your secret for as long as he had.

He often wondered why you had chosen to call him that night and tell him the truth. Perhaps, it had been for an unforeseeable reason. It was because he was the only one who could give you the support at this very moment.

“Nathaniel... it’s me.”

“Y/N?!”

“Nate.”

“Y/N, what the fuck?! Where are you?! We’ll all been worried about you!”

“Nate, calm down... I’m okay. I’m fine, I... I hopped on a boat from Santorini and got back to Athens. I’m taking the train in a bit... going up to... T-Thessaloniki in the northern part of Greece. I’m going to be on the move for a while so I wanted to speak to you before I left on this journey. I had to speak to you, you know, in case I never get to speak to you again. I wanted to say goodbye.”

“Y/N, what the fuck is going on?! What? Are you running away?!?!”

“This guy... Spiros... he told me that I could get to Romania from Thessaloniki in like a day... and then I’ll be in Bucharest for another day and then I’m taking another train to... Budapest and then another day to Munich. Paris, I can get there in like ten hours...”

“Y/N, what the hell is wrong with you? Why are you taking a train trip around Europe like this? What’s going on? Your dad’s worried. The cops found blood in your hotel room and Carter was questioned.”

“I... I know that there’s a lot going on right now and I hate to do this to you. Don’t tell him... either of them... but uh... I’m going to London. I’m going to see my mom.”

“Y/N, you’re... couldn’t you at least call your dad and tell him that you’re okay before you leave?! He’s been worried sick!”

“Nate, listen to me... I can’t talk to my Pop about anything right now. He... He’s in love and it’s blinded him. If I told him what happened, I know he’s not going to take my side in this. I need to get to London. I need my mom, okay? I really need my mom right now!”

“What’s going on?! Carter’s been asking about you... what happened between the two of you? He said he’s worried sick! What happened?!”

“Nate...”

“Y/N, please tell me the truth. What happened that night? Why did you leave Santorini?”

“Nate, I... I can’t tell you.”

“Y/N, please... we’re family. You called me for a reason. You have to tell me the truth.”

“Promise me... that you won’t tell anyone. No one can know, not my Pop and not Carter. Not your mom or dad. Not even Chuck.”

“Y/N...”

“Promise me, Nate!”

“Fine... I promise. I won’t tell anyone. You have my word, Y/N. Now tell me what’s going on... please?”

“... I’m pregnant.”

“What?!”

“Nate, I’m pregnant... I’m pregnant and it’s Carter’s. And I can’t do anything about it... because he... he cheated on me, Nate! He cheated on me with Serena. He went to a party and she got him high and they... he told me that he loved me and he went off and slept with Serena. He told me that I was his one exception and he knocked me up. He slept with me and now he slept with Serena. I... he cheated on me with Serena and I’m fucking pregnant with his child!”

“Y/N, what- that son of a bitch! Why haven’t you told your dad? Why haven’t you called him?! Please, just fucking call him! He’s worried sick!”

“Because... he loves Lily and... if I told him the truth, I’m scared that he’s going to take the van der Woodsen’s side over mine. Believe me, Nate. He’s done it before and... He treats Serena like this perfect princess and I can’t live through that. He’s never treated me like his daughter ever since she came into the picture and... it’s only going to get worse now. I know I disappointed him. I know that he had all these plans for me and... I went off and got pregnant. I can’t go off to Yale now and take over the company like he’s always wanted me to. He’s going to hate me.”

“Y/N, you can’t leave... you can at least talk to him about it. You can try to figure things out. Come back to New York and figure it out.”

“I can’t go back to New York, Nate. I can’t... Carter is no fit to be a father. He’d rather go off and party and get high than... he’s not going to change his ways. I know him. I thought he had changed and that he loved me but... he went off and cheated on me. I’m not going to bring his child into the world thinking that he’d want a part in that. I’m done putting my faith in him.”

“Y/N, come on... you don’t have to tell him if you don’t want to. You don’t owe him shit! But you can’t leave New York over this! You have your dad, you have... all of us. We’re not going to let you do this alone.”

“I’m... leaving, Nate. I’m leaving and I’m never going to come back. I know that... New York is home but... the Upper East Side is not a paradise like I always thought it was, Nate. I’ve had some time to think about this. Our parents gave us a shit tonne of money since we were kids... credit cards with no limits and trust funds... we were spoiled rotten. I was spoiled rotten. I was so caught up with spending my dad’s money and having the time of my life that I never thought about the consequences of any of this... I was an idiot. I was a spoiled, irresponsible... stupid little shit and I ruined my own god damn life. It was all my doing, Nate. I don’t know... what any of our parents were thinking when they raised us the way they did. But... I’m going to be a mom now and there’s a child that’s growing inside of me... a child that’s going to come into this world because I was stupid enough to fall in love with the wrong person. Now I’m seventeen and I’m pregnant, all because of the way I was raised. I don’t want my kid to grow up the way I did... I don’t want my kid to... have a credit card at thirteen or... weekly shopping trips to Saks. I don’t want my kid to... be exposed to alcohol and drugs at a young age. I don’t want my kid to... get drunk at prom and get knocked up in the back of a limo or... get high after a party and cheat on anyone. I don’t want my kid to be any of what I’ve become, Nate... that’s why I’m leaving. I’m not going to let the Upper East Side ruin my child’s life like it ruined me. It’s for the best.”

“Y/N...”

“I love you, Nate. I love you so fucking much, don’t ever forget that. I’ll always be the big sister you never had but... I might not see you again for a while.”

“Y/N, don’t leave... Y/N, please don’t do this.”

“I’m going to miss you, Archibald.”

“Y/N... please...”

“You’ll come visit me in London, right? You won’t forget about me... right? Come see me when you can, okay? I don’t want you to... I love you so much, little bro. But this is for the best. It’s best that I stay away from all of this, for the sake of... your niece or nephew.”

“I love you so much... and please stay safe. Please... don’t leave me hanging. Call me when you get to London and... Call me? Talk to me every now and then... just so that I know... that you’re okay. Y/N... please... don’t let me go like you’re letting go of the Upper East Side.”

“I... should get going, Nate. My train’s about to leave soon and... be careful out there. Tell Chuck not to get in too much trouble and... Don’t let him get you in too much trouble either. I know that Blair Waldorf has a thing for you but... don’t sleep in your feelings for Caroline. Get your shit together, Archibald... because your big sister’s not going to be there to give you any relationship advice. You’re on your own now and you’re going to have to figure shit out yourself.”

“Y/N...”

“You’re going to grow up without me... but I know that... you’re going to make me and all the van der Bilt’s so fucking proud. I’m sure of it, Nate. I love you so much and I’m going to miss you so fucking much!”

“Y/N, don’t go- Y/N!”

Nate Archibald pulled out his phone as he looked over at you. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

You nodded, wiping away your tears and holding the handkerchief against your nostril. “I should have done this fifteen years ago, Nate.” You admitted.

You should have done this long before. Even though it was probably too late now, it was better late than never.

Nodding his head, he dialed the number that he had saved in his phone for years now and put his phone on speaker. He had not called this number in a while, probably ever since you and he had a brief fall out regarding his mayoral race.

But the moment he heard the call go through, his heart began to race. He knew that the moment this call had been picked up, every single one of your lives would change in an instant.

“Hello? Uncle Nate? Uncle Nate, is that you?”

“C-Carter...” You breathed out a sigh of relief, hearing you daughter’s voice at a time like this. At least you could say that one of them was alive and well.

A part of you was worried about how to break the news to her. Your relationship with your daughter had already been rocky in the last few days, ever since you had left her in London and moved right back to New York.

She had not been happy about you choosing to stay in New York for your father’s sake. After all, London had been where she had been living since she had been born, not to mention the fact that you had sent your mother to bring her to New York instead of being the one to do that. She had been pissed at you for days.

“Mom? Mom, why are you calling me from Uncle Nate’s phone? I told you, I don’t want to hear it! I’m getting tired of telling you and Nan over and over again. I’m not leaving London!” Your fourteen year old daughter groaned into the phone.

“Carter, sweetheart... just listen to me for a sec...” You bit down on your bottom lip as you fought back the tears.

Nate rubbed your back gently as he held you close. “Come on...” He mouthed, knowing that you have to be the only one who should be informing this to his beloved goddaughter.

Carter Eleanor Lydia Y/L/N, even though she was now his niece by marriage, is his goddaughter and that was never going to change. As the only one who had kept in touch with you since you had left New York for good, Nate had been the only one other than your parents and Annalise who knew of her existence. He had been honored to have been asked to be your child’s godfather. After all, he knew that you had trusted him with your child’s life even though you had not even trusted her own father with that.

Not even her own father knew that he had a child and if he does not wake up now, he might as well die not even knowing that he ever had a child. You had told yourself that you were punishing him by keeping your little Carter away from him, but you knew that the only ones who had been punished by this were you and your daughter.

You had always told her that Carter Baizen was her father and you had told her why you had purposefully kept her away from him. While she did not agree with your decisions at first, as she grew older, she began to understand why you had made the decision to raise her on your own. As much as she missed having a dad growing up, she knew that her mother was strong and resilient. She respected that.

But that did not mean that she did not ever want to have some kind of relationship with her father. She wanted to know him as much as she wanted him to know her. But you know that the chances of that happening now were slim. You needed her to come to New York now more than ever!

“Mom... is everything okay?” She asked you, worried about the tone of your voice. Your daughter knew you well enough to know that your voice was trembling. She wondered if something must have happened to your father and not hers, for your father’s health had been the reason why you had returned to New York in the first place and insisted that she move here for the time being as well. “Mom, what’s wrong? Is it Pop? Is he okay?”

“Carter... i-it’s... Pop’s fine, he’s fine... But... C-Carter, it’s your dad. He was in an accident last night and... it’s not looking good.”

“What?! Mom, no... no no no, mom...” She broke down. “Mom... he can’t... no... he doesn’t even know me! He can’t... mom, don’t lie to me!”

“Carter, I’m not... why would I lie to you about this? I’ve always told you the truth when it comes to your dad. I never lied to you about who he was. You knew everything about him... since you were ten. I’m... I’m sorry, baby. This is all my fault, I know... but I need you right now and so does he. C-Can you... can you... your Nan has the private jet on stand-by and she’s packed up most of your things already. Can you... I need you to come to New York as fast as you can, baby.”

“... I’ll be there.”

#togwc #exception #aj writes #carter baizen #carter baizen x reader #carter baizen x you #carter baizen x y/n #carter baizen fanfic #carter baizen fic #carter baizen fanfiction #carter baizen fluff #carter baizen series #nate archibald #gossip girl fanfic #gossip girl fic #gossip girl fanfiction

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megalony · 4 years

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Family ties- Part 10

This is the next part of my dad! Ben Hardy series which I hope everyone is enjoying so far. Feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) were single parents but they are trying to raise their kids together as one big family. Now they’re finally having a baby of their own, but that proves hard when there’s a problem with their baby.

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Enjoy.

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"Are you ready to see your mum?" Ben leaned his frame against the living room door, his eyes set on his three kids whose heads all snapped round to see him. Each of them surprised that he was here since they didn't hear him enter the house.

None of the kids had seen Ben for just over two days now since he had had to rush off to the hospital. His mum had graciously agreed to look after the kids until Ben could come back home since he desperately wanted and needed to be at the hospital with (Y/n). He hadn't been able to come home because he was waiting for news on Billy and then he and (Y/n) had gone down to see him. Ben had hung around until this morning just to make sure (Y/n) and Billy were both okay before he ventured home to grab them both some stuff and get the kids to take them to see her and Billy.

Ben knew it was still very early days yet, Billy was only just over a day old and was recovering from surgery but he had surpassed the doctor's expectations by even making it through the thirteen-hour operation. Ben wanted to stay at the hospital but he also wanted to see the kids so he thought he could take them to see Billy and be with (Y/n) for a few hours.

"Daddy!" Ellie squealed, bounding off the sofa so she could tackle Ben and wrap herself around him like a vine. Gently nudging her back a little, Ben bent down on his knees so he was level with her which allowed him to wrap her up in his arms.

He smiled when he felt Cody wrapping his arms around Ben's neck, laying himself on his dad's shoulder as Hugo hurried over and hugged Ben's other side.

"The baby's okay then?" Hugo whispered when Ben leaned back so he could look at them all, his eyes diverting to look at his eldest who had a glimmer of worry in his eyes. Hugo was a bit older than the other two, he understood that both his parents had been worried that the new baby wouldn't be okay whereas they had led Cody and Ellie to believe that even though the baby was sick, he would be fine. It had been a risky decision for the couple but it was easier in the long run rather than to have Cody and Ellie afraid something was going to happen.

"He's okay."

"Did they make baby's heart better?" Ellie asked, tilting her head up to look at Ben with her big blue eyes that made him melt every time.

"Yeah, princess, they made his heart better. But he's still not very well so he has to be looked after by the doctors. Your mum's missed you all, shall we go see her?" In the blink of an eye, Ben watched as all three kids disappeared behind him to go and grab their coats and get their shoes on so they could go as quick as humanly possible. None of them had liked not seeing either of their parents for two days, especially when they knew something was going on with their new baby brother. They weren't passing up the chance to go and see (Y/n).

Pushing himself to his feet, Ben smiled at his mother who walked through into the living room when she heard the commotion. Ben stuffed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans as he leaned his weight on his left leg, his eyes softening at his mother's calm but worried expression.

"How are they both?" His mother leaned her head to the side as she folded her arms over her chest. Ben didn't have to sugar coat anything when talking to his mother, he didn't have to put on a brave face and act like he was coping if he wasn't. If the operation had gone wrong Ben wouldn't have been able to pretend he was coping at all and his mother would have known it, but even though it had gone well, Ben didn't think he was coping amazingly well.

He felt as if he was simply waiting for something to go wrong and he couldn't shake that feeling no matter what he did. Whenever Billy's heartbeat fluctuated and went too high or too low, Ben thought 'this is it, I'll lose him' and he couldn't stop himself from panicking and going into overdrive. Whenever a nurse came to check on Billy he assumed something was wrong and Ben just knew something was bound to happen.

"(Y/n)'s doing good, she's actually sleeping now. And Billy... he's stable, we get to hold him in a week or so." A small smile pulled at Ben's lips at the thought of being able to hold his fourth child. With both the boys Ben had instantly been able to hold them so to have to refrain from trying to take Billy out of the incubator made Ben feel odd. It was like there was an itch deep inside his chest that was only going to go away when he held his boy in his arms.

Billy was still dosed on a lot of medication and the anaesthetic wasn't worn out of his system yet so he wasn't moving and he wasn't awake yet. But when they got his medications under control and his heartbeat was stable, then the parents could hold him.

"That's good news, tell (Y/n) I'll be in tomorrow to see her."

Ben nodded but as much as he felt his lips curving into a smile, he could feel the tears welling in the corners of his eyes. He snapped his eyes closed when his mum wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug that simply made him want to cry.

"Hey, he's going to be okay. He's gotten this far, you've just got to wait it out now." With a nod, Ben kissed her cheek before he pulled away and headed into the hallway to sort out the kids.

Ben rubbed at his eyes to make sure any stray tears were gone so that the kids didn't think something was wrong before he bent down on his knees in front of Ellie who was sat on the stairs. He took her shoes from her hands and helped slip them onto her feet, seeing she had her ruby red coat on already and the boys were rearing to go.

"Right, are we all ready?"

It didn't take too long to get to the hospital which Ben was rather thankful for. As much as he was happy that all the kids were enthusiastic, their questions about Billy got a little too much for Ben because he didn't have any of the answers. He couldn't tell them when Billy would be able to come home, when (Y/n) was coming home, if Billy was going to need special care or if he was still going to be poorly when he came home. He couldn't tell them anything about Billy's condition and that hurt because Ben had the same questions and he wanted the same answers they did.

Ben settled Ellie on his hip and held Cody's hand as they all entered the hospital. He guided the four of them down the corridor to get to (Y/n)'s room although both Cody and Hugo ran ahead when Ben told them which room was (Y/n)'s.

Ellie leaned her head on Ben's shoulder, smiling when he bounced her on his hip as he followed the boys into (Y/n)'s room.

"Surprise, mummy." Ellie kept her head resting on Ben's shoulder but she waved her hand out at (Y/n) as she giggled, knowing Ben hadn't told (Y/n) he was bringing the kids in to see her. He thought a small surprise might make her smile.

"Hey baby, come here." (Y/n) waved her arms out to Ellie when the boys ran over to her and burrowed into her arms on either side of the bed. She kissed the top of their heads as she hugged them both tightly to her chest, feeling like she was going to cry. It had been a few days now since she had seen the kids and that was before she'd had Billy. She missed them all, she wanted to be back home with them and to take Billy home with them too. But at least whilst she was here she could go and see Billy whenever she felt like it since he was only down the corridor.

"Princess, don't lean on mummy's tummy." Ben warned when he sat down on the side of the bed, letting Ellie crawl from his lap over to sit next to (Y/n).

Ellie glanced at (Y/n)'s stomach, clearly trying to avoid touching her before she wrapped her short arms around (Y/n)'s neck and tucked herself into (Y/n)'s arms. Cody scrambled up onto the bed too as Hugo sat down on the chair in front of Ben.

"Y-your tummy d-deflated." Cody stated quietly, tilting his head to one side as he looked at (Y/n)'s stomach. His words caused both parents to smile and caused Ellie to blink in realisation as she also turned her attention to stare at (Y/n)'s stomach. Her stomach was still round and she had a bump but she looked like she was four or five months gone.

"Yeah, the baby's not there anymore honey, my stomach's going back to normal now." (Y/n) rubbed her hand over her stomach, being mindful of the stitches that littered horizontally across her stomach just below her belly button. She couldn't stretch or twist around too much in case she pulled the stitches but due to the meds she had taken, (Y/n) could hardly feel any pain or discomfort yet which was a good side to this.

"Where is baby?" Ellie looked around the room without pushing herself up since she was laid down against (Y/n). The little girl looked confused when she couldn't find the baby in the room with them.

"He's in another room being looked after by the doctors, sweetheart." (Y/n) responded, leaning her head on top of Ellie's as the little girl hummed in response.

"C-can w...we see him?" Cody turned his head to look at Ben, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes as he suddenly wondered what his baby brother looked like and whereabouts he was in the hospital. But his face fell at the expression on Ben's face that he had seen too many times before. Ben was happy that Cody wanted to see Billy but at the same time, he didn't think it would be the best idea.

Cody and Ellie were still young and seeing Billy laid motionless might confuse and upset them. He had a tube up his nose for breathing, stickers and needles connected to his skin and his chest which also had stitches running down his very small chest. The sight wouldn't be something Ben really wanted his two younger kids to see in case it upset them since the sight made Ben want to cry at the best of times.

"I don't think that's a good idea, buddy. Billy isn't very well, you wouldn't be able to hold or touch him and he's sleeping at the minute."

"Can I see him dad?" Hugo looked over at Ben, a pleading look in his eyes as he hoped Ben would agree. He was older then the others, he would be able to see Billy and not be scared or confused and he wanted to go and see him. Hugo hadn't initially been pleased about the prospect of another sibling but he knew both his parents were so thrilled at the thought of a baby together and Billy was his brother, he wanted to go and see him since he was ill.

"Are you sure you want to?" Ben sighed through the words, knowing that if Hugo really wanted to then he was old enough and mature enough to go and visit Billy even if it was only for a minute. "Alright, come on I'll take you now and then we'll come back here."

Ben stood up and motioned for Hugo to get up as well, he would take him down now and then could come back here and take all three kids back home soon when they were ready. Leaning over, Ben pressed a kiss to (Y/n)'s forehead before he rested his hand on Hugo's back and guided his eldest out of the room.

"So... what's actually wrong with him?" Hugo tilted his head up to look at Ben when they were safely out of the room. He didn't want to ask when his siblings were around because he knew they were the reason that Ben and (Y/n) were so vague with saying what was wrong and he didn't want to upset (Y/n) either by asking. Hugo knotted his hands together in front of him as his curiosity made him wonder what was wrong but Ben's reluctance to talk made him wonder if he really wanted to know or not.

"You know where your heart is?" Ben tilted his head down to look at Hugo as they walked down the corridor slowly. Hugo nodded in response, unsure where Ben was going with this. "Well... Billy's heart was on the outside, not the inside."

How was Ben meant to explain it to an eight-year-old?

"What, on top of his chest, like, his ribs? And it still works?" Hugo looked down at his own chest as he wondered how it was possible that Billy's heart could work when it wasn't in the right place.

"Yeah, his heart's fine, it's just not where it should be. But he had an operation and it's put back in his chest now, we just need to wait for him to recover and get better." Ben directed the pair of them around the corner and down an adjoining corridor before slowly coming to a stop outside of the room Billy was in. He was in a smaller room with only three other newborns which Ben preferred because it meant there weren't going to be hoards of parents in there all at once hovering around their newborns.

Ben noticed Hugo looked a little reluctant as they walked into the room, he pressed his frame into Ben's side as he looked around the room before his eyes landed on the incubator that Ben was pointing to. The pair headed over to the incubator that Ben had been glued to over this past day since Billy had been moved in here.

A calming smile took over Ben's lips when he looked down at Billy who still hadn't moved yet showing he was still unconscious. Ben knew it was preferable to have Billy asleep right now so he could recover rather than having him awake but dosed up on painkillers and God knows what else which would make him sleepy anyway. But a part of Ben still yearned for Billy to wake up so he could see him move and be reassured that he actually was okay.

Tilting his head down, Ben looked over at his eldest whose eyes looked a mix between sad and fearful as he stared at his youngest sibling. Somehow, Billy didn't look real. With a sheet of glass separating him from Hugo, he looked more like a damaged doll than a real baby. He had small wrinkles around his closed eyes and his button nose, he had puffy blotched red cheeks and he wasn't moving a muscle. But what caught Hugo's attention was the stitches on Billy's chest.

There was a straight line going from Billy's collar bone down to his torso which didn't look too extensive but that was because Billy was only small in size. His skin was a very vibrant shade of red like he had been scratching away at his skin and there were bruises beginning to form around the navy blue butterfly stitches keeping his skin pulled tightly together. But on the right side of Billy's chest, there was a small, uneven circular mark which was clearly where his heart had been before it was put back in place.

Without saying anything and without being prompted by Ben, Hugo reached out towards the incubator and slowly slipped his hand through the circular opening that was there so they could have some small form of contact with Billy.

Ben watched with watering eyes as Hugo took Billy's small fist in his hand and started to brush his thumb over his brother's tiny hand.

"I hope he gets better soon."

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

"Something's wrong." Ben mumbled the words quietly as he leaned his head closer, his eyes narrowing like the lens of a camera zooming in on his baby boy. (Y/n)'s left hand continued to gently brush over the thin tufts of hair on Billy's head through the small opening in the incubator but she leaned her head closer to the incubator to try and get a better look at Billy when Ben's words concerned her.

She felt Ben's chest pressing against her back as he leaned over her shoulder to try and catch a better look at Billy but (Y/n) wasn't sure what he was looking for. Billy was bound to have good and bad days, it had only been three days since his operation, he was four days old with a heart condition. He wasn't going to be moving about very much now even though he was awake, his medication made him drowsy.

"He's got a rash." Ben pointed with his free hand to Billy's right arm and when (Y/n) looked closer, she noticed that his boy did indeed have small red dots glimmering against his pale skin that was blotching red around the rash.

She was about to say that it was simply a reaction to his heart because his blood vessels had been moved, some blood was bound to rise to the surface of his skin. But she stopped herself from speaking when something else had clearly caught Ben's eye. He pulled away from (Y/n) so he could stand closer to the incubator, almost pressing his face against the glass as he stared down at Billy who looked like he was now asleep from the medication.

Unsure what Ben was searching for, (Y/n) retracted her hand from the incubator and the moment she did, Ben reached his own hand inside and slowly skimmed his fingertips over Billy's face and down to his chest.

"Ben, what's wrong?"

"His lips are blue, he's not getting enough oxygen." Ben's words were quiet but they were full of confusion because Billy had a tube taped to his nose that let oxygen into his lungs in case he wasn't capable of taking proper breaths yet. He should be getting a filtered amount of oxygen that would be enough for him, his lips or any of his skin shouldn't be turning blue because he shouldn't be lacking in oxygen.

Biting down on her lip, (Y/n) reached over and pressed the emergency button for a nurse to come over because she didn't want to take any chances when it came to Billy's health. If there was even the slightest thing wrong they needed it sorting out because they couldn't afford anything to be wrong when Billy wasn't well right now. The smallest thing could affect him badly and turn the tables when right now, everything was okay.

(Y/n) rested her hand on Ben's arm, her frightened eyes watching as Ben's expression changed. She knew every facial expression Ben made and she knew what emotions they connected to and how he was feeling and right now, he was trying so hard not to panic because he was concerned. He was deeply concerned and he looked very agitated. His features were hardening like they were set in stone, his brows were furrowed but his hand was skimming ever so gently up and down Billy's chest.

"His heartbeat isn't fluctuating... it's low because there's something wrong." Ben whispered the words but they were enough to make (Y/n)'s head spin like she was going to faint.

They were told Billy's heartbeat would go up and down because his body was still getting used to the adjustments that had been made to his chest and it was having to heal torn tissues and stitches and changes. Neither of them had thought anything of his heartbeat being rather low when they came in today, but Ben wasn't so sure it was nothing anymore. If he wasn't getting enough oxygen, there was a big chance that his heartbeat was low because there was something wrong, not just because of some pattern.

So what was wrong with him?

#ben hardy #ben x reader #ben hardy imagine #dad! ben #imagine #borhap #family ties

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mamabearcatfanfics · 4 years

Text

Initiation of Fire

Another chapter for my new modern AU NaLu serial Welcome to Fatherhood! (Last one for a while, so don’t get too excited) But yeah, that first week with a new baby? Crazy town. As in everyone feels like they’re on the edge of insanity - there’s a reason sleep deprivation is a method of torture.

💕💗💕

Natsu watched as Lucy frantically checked her books and online forums again to find out some clue as to why Layla continued to cry. They’d both been up all night, with Layla feeding and crying and refusing to sleep, rinse and repeat, and Lucy had worked herself up into an emotional wreck. He rocked his wailing daughter in his arms, making the shushing noise that usually worked, but she continued to cry.

Suddenly Lucy burst into tears. “I don’t know what to do Natsu!” she sobbed. Natsu moved over to her, stroking her back with one hand while he rocked Layla in the other. The sun was finally peeking into their bedroom window, signaling the beginning of a new day. A new day where they were all tired, exhausted and at their wits end. Something was gonna have to give.

“Luce, I want you to go have a shower, and then you’re gonna take a nap, okay.”

“What? No, I can’t do that while she’s crying Natsu! She needs me!”

“Of course she does”, he soothed. “But she needs a Mumma who’s clean and fresh and not headed towards crazy town from lack of sleep. I can hold the fort for a few hours.”

“But…”

“No buts, off you go.”

He headed over to the change table, grabbing one of the muslin cloths they used as a wrap and gently placed Layla down on it. She’d been changed just before Lucy had fed her twenty minutes ago, but he took a quick peek inside her nappy, just to be sure. All clean. Ignoring Lucy’s tearful protests, he wrapped his daughter up snugly in a muslin wrap so she resembled a tiny burrito the way the nurse at the birthing centre had shown him, then rocked her in his arms as she continued to wail.

“C’mon pumpkin, give your Dad just a tiny break here. Sleep is amazing. One of the best things - you really need to give it another try. If you heard someone say sleep is for the weak, they were lyin’. Sleep makes you strong, makes you grow.” He sighed as Layla continued to cry hysterically. “C’mon baby girl. Your Mumma is tryin’ so hard for you, really and truly. We all need to have a little sleep, and then everythin’ will look better when we wake up. I promise.”

He heard the sound of the shower, and he sighed even harder as he heard the sound of Lucy sobbing. This had been a hard week on her. It had been hard for him too, but at least he didn’t have physically recovering from the birth, as well as hormones and breastfeeding to deal with as well. Natsu had always thought of breastfeeding as something that just happened, but just like any skill, it was something that had to be learned. Poor Lucy’s bruised and battered nipples were a testament to the steep learning curve, but she’d stuck at it despite the pain, and things seemed to be settling down now on that front at least.

Was he doing enough to make sure Lucy was sleeping enough? When Layla woke several times a night, he would get up, change her quickly and then present her to Lucy so she could feed her. He tried very hard to stay awake while Lucy was breastfeeding, but sometimes he nodded off – there was something so amazingly peaceful about watching his wife feed his daughter.

He thought he’d loved Lucy before, but now… words really couldn’t describe how he felt – love didn’t seem enough. Lucy was so beautiful sometimes it took his breath away. He remembered the night before last, watching as she’d fed Layla, her blonde hair illuminated by the night light near the bed, cooing softly down at their tiny round cheeked baby girl.

His musing was interrupted when a still slightly tearful Lucy appeared from the bathroom, her damp blonde hair up in a ponytail, wearing clean shorts and a t-shirt. Her eyes were red rimmed, and she looked so very tired, more tired than he’d ever seen her. She did her best to smile for him, but he could see she was still feeling panicky.

“Natsu, thank you for looking after her while I had a shower. I’m feeling much better already. Why don’t you give Layla to me and go and have one too?”

Natsu smiled tiredly at her, continuing to rock Layla. “Nuh uh. That wasn’t the deal. Bed for you. She’s not due for another feed for two hours, so go sleep.”

Lucy bit her lip. “Natsu, do you think I’m a bad mother?”

“What? Fuck no!”

“It’s just… I’m her mother, I should know what’s wrong, I should just know! What if I’m not making enough milk and I’m starving her? What if I’ve eaten something that she’s allergic to? What if she’s getting sick, because I’ve missed something important?”

“Lucy”, he replied gently. “Just because your her mother doesn’t mean you need to know everything straight away, not anymore than I should because I’m her dad. We’re still learning, we’ll work it out okay? But right now, I want you to get some sleep, and then once you’ve had a rest and you’re feelin’ more like yourself, I’ll take a nap. I promise if I really need you, I’ll wake you up.”

“You promise?”

“Yup. Go sleep. Layla and I are just gonna go for a little wander around the hallway. Listen to some music, it’ll help you relax.”

He moved into the hallway and shut the bedroom door firmly. “Alright Layla - ‘Operation Sleepy Time Because Mumma and Dad are Going Slightly Cuckoo’ is commencing now. Ya gotta get with the family program pumpkin. You’re part of team Dragneel now, okay?” He heard a small giggle from the other side of the bedroom door. “That doesn’t sound like you’re sleepin’ Lucy! Get with the family program!”

The tiny girl wailed in Natsu’s arms, and he cuddled her closer as he walked up and down the hallway. He’d be panicking too if he weren’t so exhausted. He begun singing random nonsense, hoping that would calm their tiny week old daughter down. But it seemed like Layla was having none of it. Who would have thought such a tiny thing was capable of making so much noise? Their neighbours must love them right now.

He wished he knew what to do. Layla was warm, fed, burped, changed. They’d checked her fingers and toes to make sure there were no little threads wrapped around them from her onesie - a possibility that had not even occurred to them until Lucy had seen it suggested on an online forum. She didn’t have a fever. No nappy rash. He tried to think of things from Layla’s point of view. The world was probably still a scary place. Was she frightened? He smoothed his hand over his tiny daughter’s back, wishing there was some way he could communicate to her that she was safe and loved. So loved.

He couldn’t believe she’d been here for a whole week already, and that it was really only a week. How could he love someone so much when he’d only known them a week? He couldn’t wait until she finally smiled, laughed, called him Daddy. He was sure his heart would shatter and be remade with how much adoration he felt. But according to Lucy’s books, that first smile was still nearly a month or so away. And she definitely wasn’t smiling now.

He knew this would be hard, the first few weeks with a new baby. Everyone had told them, Lucy’s parenting books were full of warnings that the first weeks were hard, but living it was something else. And it made it even harder that his and Lucy’s parents weren’t alive anymore. He would give anything to be able to call his Mum and ask questions about whether he was doing things right, or if he’d done something similar when he was a baby, and he was sure Lucy felt the same. He pictured his Mum, her warm smile, her tight hugs. She would have loved Layla so much, and it didn’t seem fair that she had missed this, and that Layla wouldn’t have the doting grandmother she deserved. He sighed, shifting Layla in his arms so her tiny head was resting on his shoulder, his hand patting softly and rhythmically on her bottom.

“Hush little baby, don’t say a word, Papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird don’t sing, Papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring. And if that diamond ring don’t shine, Papa’s gonna buy you a bottle of wine…” Wait, no that couldn’t be right. Although if someone offered him a glass right now…

His thoughts were interrupted by the shrill tone of his phone ringing. He wasn’t sure who would be ringing around breakfast time on a Saturday morning, but he didn’t want Lucy to wake up if she was finally asleep, so he moved quickly to the kitchen where his mobile was plugged into the charger, carefully tucking Layla into the crook of his arm so he had a free hand.

“Hello”, he said gruffly, hoping whoever was on the other end of the line could hear him over Layla’s cries.

“Hi Natsu.” Levy’s voice sounded annoyingly cheerful. “I just wanted to check in to see if today was a good day to pop around for a visit. I’ve got some casseroles that I made for you and… is Layla okay?”

Natsu sighed in relief. Levy was a mother. He could ask her questions. “She’s been crying and feeding all night Levy. Luce was exhausted, so I made her have a shower and take a nap, but… I don’t know if I’m doing this right. She won’t calm down, even though I’ve got her wrapped up, and that usually works, and I’m…” he gulped a little, realising he was starting to feel a little teary himself.

“Hey, it’s okay”, soothed Levy on the other end of the phone. “She’s a week old; she’s probably going through a little growth spurt. And sometimes a baby will cluster feed to increase their mother’s milk supply. You’re not doing anything wrong Natsu, neither is Lucy. It might last a day or two and then she’ll settle down again. It happened with the twins too.”

“God that must have been fucking awful”, groaned Natsu, rocking Layla as she whimpered in his arms. “How did you manage it with two! Lucy and I are barely surviving Levy – I know everyone said it would be hard, but…”

“Yeah, until you’re actually doing it, there’s no way to describe it is there”, said Levy sympathetically. “In fact, listen… I think Layla’s calming down. Keep talking to me, I think hearing you speak is helping.”

Natsu could have wept in relief. “Thank fucking Christ”, he whispered. “I’m so tired Levy. How’s Gajeel going at work? Is Erik working out okay?” He was there during the interview; he’d personally examined the guy’s portfolio, and was happy with it, but the tattoo parlour had been picking up business and could get really busy at times.

“It’s all good – they’ve had a few arguments, but everything’s calmed down now”, giggled Levy. “When Layla’s a bit more settled, you should pop in and see them.” Natsu grinned.

“Yeah, I’d like to do that, for sure. Whaddya think baby girl, would ya like to come and see Daddy’s work?” The tiny sleeping baby tucked into his arm nuzzled her head into the crook of his elbow, and he couldn’t help the single tear that rolled down his cheek. “She’s asleep.”

“Good work Natsu”, said Levy softly. “I’ll pop around after lunch with those casseroles if that’s okay?”

“Sure, sure”, answered Natsu softly. He walked slowly over to the big winged armchair near the lounge room window that they’d bought specifically for Lucy to feed their baby in, and sat down carefully. “I’m sure Lucy would love to see you. She’s been a bit down on herself this morning. Thinks she should know everything about bein’ a mum and she freaked herself out a bit. Can you talk to her?”

“Of course I can! I’d love to see her, and I can’t wait to give Layla another snuggle. You’ve got this Natsu. You’ve both got this, you’re doing great.”

Another tear rolled down Natsu’s cheek. “I… thanks Levy” he whispered, his voice cracking a little.

He could hear the smile in Levy’s voice. “It’s an initiation of fire, I know, but being a parent… there’s nothing better. Welcome to fatherhood Natsu.”

#bearpluscat fanfics #nalu fanfic #nalu family #nalu modern AU #Welcome to Fatherhood

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mycupoffanfiction · 5 years

Text

His Favourite Gal: Part 5 A Bucky x Reader Mobster AU Fic

A mob!Bucky x Reader fic

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

The reader begins working as a waitress at Bucky Barnes’ favourite club in town. Little does she realise that working on mob territory owned by the infamous King of New York, Bucky Barnes, comes with it’s quirks as the reader is slowly pulled into the mobster life. Warnings: Smut, fluff, a bit of violence, language, one mention of drugs (in relation to trafficking).

Word count: Approx 6700

Hi! Part 5 is here! Hope you all enjoy! Thank you all for the lovely feedback about part 4, dunno what I was getting myself worked up about 😅 Enjoy! 💕

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“Okay good, try to breath slowly and steadily.” Steve spoke quietly to you. “Whenever you’re ready.” He said, stepping away from you. Firing a shot, your hands tingled with the recoil of the gun you held. Looking over at the target, you’d not done too badly, it wasn’t in the middle of the target by any means, but it wasn’t too far off. Imagine what mum and dad would think of all of this. You shake your head in an effort to get rid of your thoughts and reposition yourself, aiming and firing a second time. You were ready for the recoil this time, keeping your hands much steadier than the first try. “Damn, not bad!” Steve exclaimed, observing from behind. “Try one more time.” Steve says, waiting for you to aim. You take the third shot, a bit closer to the middle this time and Steve reaches forward, taking the pistol from your hands. “Great job, with some more training you could be a great shot.” He encourages you and you beam up at him. Steve’s phone buzzes and he looks down at it. “Buck wants you up in his office.” He informs you. “Alright, I’ll head up. Thanks for the training.” You smile at him. “Wait, uh, before you go.” Steve steps back, approaching his duffle bag he brought with him and rummages about. “I know Bucky had to take it from you the other night, but since you were quite pleased with it’s effectiveness, I got you a new one.” Steve pulls out a box. You step up to his side and take the box from him. Taking off the lid, you peer inside and there’s a brand new fibre wire inside. The handles are made from steel and they are beautifully polished, glinting with the overhead lights. “Thank you.” You breath, reaching in to take it in your hand. “Keep it concealed, I know Buck is more than happy with you having weapons on you, but you don’t want to freak people out.” Steve chuckles, pulling his duffle bag onto his shoulder.

You and Steve part ways and you make your way up to Bucky’s office. You were inside of Bucky’s office building where he ran his business out of. It was a huge modern structure and while it mostly had offices, it was the perfect place for a base of operations. Since you’d been promoted from your job of waitress to girlfriend, you no longer had a job, but Bucky had insisted on paying you a salary none the less. You weren’t too keen on not having an actual job for yourself, but you appreciated Bucky’s insistence to make sure you were well cared for.

You exited the elevator, passing a few of Bucky’s employees on the way. His office was on the top floor, naturally. You knocked on the door to his office before poking your head in, Bucky was sat behind his desk with a woman sat opposite. She had red shoulder length hair and wore a leather jacket, from what you could see. “Hey, sugar.” Bucky waved you into the room. Closing the door behind you, you pulled out the chair next to the red haired woman and when you shifted in your seat to look at her you realised it was Nat. “Holy- Nat, what are you doing here?” You ask, the two of you reaching over your chairs to share a quick hug. “Missed you too.” She laughed, pulling away. “(Y/n), I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this earlier.” Bucky began, resting his hands on his desk. “Nat was never a bartender, was she? Were you?” You asked, beating him to the punch and looking between Bucky and Natasha. Bucky huffed out a laugh, leaning back in his seat. “I don’t think you two exactly need me for this.” He joked, watching you and Nat interact. “Well I technically was a bartender, but also trained intelligence.” Nat nods her head from side to side, a smirk playing on her lips.

“I invited you in here, doll, to offer you something.” Bucky finds a gap in your conversation, turning the attention back to him. Both you and Nat fall silent and you sit up straight, ready for what he was about to say. “I spoke to Natasha about your observational skills, your fast reactions, the behaviour you exhibited every time you’ve been in the face of danger.” Bucky explains, keeping his eyes locked firmly on you. “We’d like to offer you a position as an intelligence agent. Nat will train you and I’ll have a reason to pay you, since you were quite stubborn about that and this way I’ll feel a lot better about taking you with me to meetings.” Bucky didn’t even have to give you reasons, god you would snap that up as soon as. If he’d asked you to be intelligence for him without the promise of Nat or money, you’d do it anyway. “Yes.” You responded, coming out of your thoughts. “What? I wasn’t done with my whole speech.” Bucky pauses, his hands still poised from talking with them. “Yes, I’ll do it.” You smile. Nat looked at you with amusement, sharing a glance with Bucky. Bucky let out a chuckle and relaxed in his seat. “I’m glad it didn’t take much convincing.” He laughs to himself, looking down at his hands. “Nat, a moment with my girl, please.” Nat nods, patting you on the shoulder before vacating the office.

“Did Stevie give you your new fibre wire?” He asks, leaning back and letting his chair recline. You pull it out of your inner jacket pocket and flash it at him before smoothing your fingers over the handles again. “Thank you, for all of this Bucky.” You lean on the desk, putting the fibre wire back in your jacket. “Sweetheart, I’d do anything for you. I just want to make sure you can handle yourself even more than you already can.” He grins at you. “I was afraid after all the shit you went through that it would scare you off, I feel like I’m corrupting you.” Bucky says, fiddling with his fingers. “I’m here to stay, Bucky.” You smile up at him. There’s a pause in conversation as Bucky takes in your features.

“Any news on the boys?” You ask. “Yeah, Scott’s back at work, can’t drive yet though and Clint is at home recovering, broken bones make it a bit hard for him to be your bodyguard.” Bucky chuckles. “He was my bodyguard?” You puzzle. “Yeah, unofficially I suppose, although the first time he had to protect you he got himself knocked out.” Bucky jokes as he gets up from his seat and walks to your side. “Dinner tonight?” You ask. “I wanted to wanted to make you lasagne, you could come to my place.” You suggest. “I know it’s a bit of a crap apartment but-.” You suddenly become nervous after Bucky’s critical analysis of your apartment the first time he had visited, but he interrupts you. “Crap apartment or not, I’d love to, (Y/n).” Bucky leans on the desk in front of you, grabbing your hand. “Great!” You beam. “I’ll drop by at seven? Until then I’ll have Sam drive you home.” Bucky holds your hand still, gently pulling you up from your seated position. “Try not to get into more danger, gorgeous.” Bucky leans in and you reach up on your toes for your lips to meet.

Bucky’s hand rests on your lower back, his metal hand sliding up to tangle itself into your hair and you whimper into his lips as he scratches your scalp gently. Your delicate hands run under his shirt collar, caressing the soft skin hidden underneath as you snake your hands around the back of his neck. Bucky deepens the kiss and you pant slightly as his hand plays with the hem of your top, running his fingers on the soft skin of your lower back. Parting slowly, Bucky looks down at you with hooded eyes, and in that moment, you see all of the adoration and love he has for you in those piercingly blue eyes of his. “I love you, (Y/n).” Bucky breaks the silence and you feel your heart skip a beat at the sound of those three words. He loves you. Bucky Barnes loves you. “I love you too Bucky.” You smile uncontrollably. “I can’t wait to see you later sweetheart.” Bucky says, planting one last gentle kiss on your cheek before he backs away from your hold. You feel your cheeks burn red as you step towards the door. “I’ll see you later, Buck.” You say quietly before ducking out of the room.

A sharp rapping at your door tells you that Bucky has arrived and you drop your tea towel to answer the door. You had both decided it was going to be a casual one tonight, so neither of you dressed up too much, although you did still put some effort in because you loved getting dolled up for Bucky. Swinging the door open, Bucky looks down at you with his signature smirk while he leans against the doorway. “Hey sugar.” He drawls, placing his hands on your hips and leaning in you kiss you on the lips. He moves against your lips hungrily as he slowly backs you into your apartment, shutting the door with his foot. You only part when the timer goes off and you have to rush off to tend to your lasagne. “You’re just on time.” You smile, pulling the homemade dish out of the oven. Bucky peers over your shoulder at your creation and hums. “Looks delicious, doll.” He says, looking directly at you, eliciting a sweet giggle to pass through your lips.

Bucky moves out of your way when you stop him from helping and he takes a seat at your dining table. “Tell me about your day, sweetheart.” Bucky makes conversation as you cut him a portion of your meal. “I didn’t do anything exciting after I came home, I just tidied up the place, went to see Clint for a while.” You shrug, plating up his lasagne and moving it to the side. “How is he?” Bucky relaxes against the back of his chair, making it creak a bit. “He’s alright, he’s pretty immobile at the moment with a broken leg and a broken arm.” You sigh. “He complained nearly the whole time that he has to use a wheelchair. His wife is mad at me because she thinks its my fault he’s hurt. I guess it kind of is.” You sound slightly dejected. “S’not your fault, sweetheart. If it’s going to be anyone’s fault, it might as well be mine. You can’t help that you got wrapped up in the middle of my business.” Bucky leans on the table, but immediately sits up straight when you bring the plates of food over. “It’s not like you knew it was going to happen.” You shrug, sitting down opposite him. Bucky takes a bite eagerly but breathes out heavily when he realises it’s still too hot. You let out a breathy laugh and shake your head affectionately at him while he fans his mouth a bit. “That’s hot.” He remarks, looking you in the eyes. You know he’s not really talking about the food and you give him a sweet smile. How is someone so intimidating and big, so damn sweet?

“Well that was hands down the best lasagne I’ve ever had.” Bucky says matter-of-factly as he drops his cutlery onto his plate. “Sure you’re not just saying that?” You ask, leaning forward. “Absolutely, I could get used to homemade lasagne more often.” He nods enthusiastically and you stifle a laugh when you see how serious he is. “I’ll have to ask you very nicely to make one for me and the guys sometime.” Bucky smiles. “All you have to do is ask.” You respond, collecting the plates together.

Lounging on the sofa in a semi-comatose state, you’re cuddled up to Bucky as the late night television plays softly in the background. “Do you think we’ll ever have a normal life?” Bucky asks, glancing down at you. “This isn’t normal to you?” You frown. “No, no, I mean with less of the mob. I mean if things get more serious between us and you want to take further steps into our relationship, won’t my work get in the way?” Bucky thinks out loud. “We’ll work around it, I’m not ready to think about dropping my day job of intelligence agent just to have a white picket fence life.” You smile. “I mean, unless that’s what you want.” You shrug. “No, I mean I could live with a life like that, I just thought that’s what you wanted.” Bucky shakes his head and you feel the loose strands of his hair tickle your forehead. “No, I didn’t get involved with you to pull you into a domestic life.” Yawning, you lean into him more and trail your hand up his thigh. “Although there is one step I’d like to take.” You say in the most sultry voice you can muster.

Bucky quickly understands your meaning and he grips at your waist, gently pushing you so you’re laying down on the sofa and his soft lips gently move against yours. You move your hands down his sides and you can feel him shiver when you invite yourself under his shirt, making contact with the soft skin there. Bucky hovers above you as he works against your lips, and his tongue gently plays with yours. The only thing you can hear are laboured breaths as you slide your hand further up his shirt, your fingers brushing over what felt like scarred skin. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Bucky asks breaking away slightly and coming back in for another kiss. “There’s no one I’d rather do it with.” You whimper and Bucky hums into your lips, satisfied with your answer. He pulls back a bit, snaking his arms around you and pulling you up with him, resting you on his lap in a seated position as your kisses start to become more hungry and less delicate.

Grabbing at your thighs, Bucky lifts you as he gets up from the couch, carrying you across your apartment to your bedroom. He gently and carefully lays you down on your bed and he parts from your lips, leaving you breathing heavily as his fingers pass over your clothed torso, the sensation of his fingers brushing over you makes you whine and he looks up, locking eyes with you as you watch him. He hooks his fingers under the hem of your shirt and began to pull it up painfully slowly. You wiggle your hips a little as you lift your arms up, prompting him to move a little faster and he pulls your top over your head, revealing your lacey red bra. Bucky catches his breath in his throat as his gaze trails over you, looking at you with such awe in his eyes. You hum as he reaches down and plants gentle kisses across your stomach, the contrast of his scratchy stubble and his soft kisses makes you shiver. He moves further up, skirting over your bra and pressing his lips to yours again. His hands are playing with the button on your jeans and he pops it open while he moves against you. Shimmying them down your hips while never leaving the gentle touch of your lips, he pushes your jeans down before you use your feet to kick them off.

Breaking the kiss, Bucky moves away, sitting up slightly to get a good look at you and he gapes at your almost naked body. “You are so beautiful.” Bucky whispers. “So goddamn beautiful.” He breathes, his hand smoothing over your hip and clutching at your waist. You reach up and grip the bottom of his black t-shirt. “I want to see you, Bucky.” You sound breathless as you tug at his top. “You sure, sweetheart? I ain’t as pretty as you.” He sounds sad and you get up on your knees to be closer to his height and press a few kisses up his neck. “I don’t care.” You assure him, sucking at the delicate skin. “I want you, scars or not.” You breathe hot air onto his neck and you hear him moan softly. You slowly pull his shirt up revealing his stomach and then his chest until he eventually pulls the top over his head. The marred flesh where metal meets skin looks pink and sensitive, it’s swirled in odd patterns where the skin had scarred and it looked almost unreal. You gently slid your hand over his chest, brushing over his pecs and sliding down his huge metal arm, letting your fingers feel every groove beneath them as the plates shifted against your touch. He was no less handsome to you than when he had his shirt on and you let yourself smile with satisfaction as you gazed at his scarred skin. He was a warrior; he had survived awful things and his scars were like badges of honour. “You should wear your scars with pride.” You break the silence. “They make you so strong.” You add, kissing up his left shoulder where the metal met his skin. “You don’t hate them?” He asks, surprised. “No, I love them, I love you, all of you, scars and metal arm included.” You speak softly against the shell of his ear and you hear his breathing hitch.

Bucky grabs at your sides and pushes you down back onto the bed. “I want you so bad, (Y/n).” Bucky breathes out as he undoes his jeans. “I’m all yours.” You whisper as you eye his bulge, now that his jeans are out of the way. His underwear is straining over him and you enjoy the sight, seeing how much you turned him on. “All mine.” Bucky breathes as he lowers himself closer to you, winding his hand around your back to undo your bra in one swift motion. Pulling the piece of clothing from your arms, it’s thrown somewhere into the room and your on full display for him. Bucky breathes out a wow and you giggle at his reaction. Bucky doesn’t even give you time to play with him a bit before he latches onto your breast, nibbling, licking and sucking on them. Tugging your nipple between his teeth, he rolls the other between his metal fingers and the cold sensation makes you moan.

Bucky holds you in place with his mouth, sending waves of pleasure through you as he pushes your panties down, revealing your wet core and Bucky is quick to slide his fingers between your lips as he works you with his mouth. You let out a shaky moan as he toys with you, circling his metal finger around your clitoris, the coldness of the metal intensifying the pleasure. Without giving you time to react, Bucky moves down between your legs, looking up at you and you lock eyes. He’s waiting for permission and you silently nod. He smirks and holds your legs open with his hands, working you with his tongue. God you feel like you could scream from the pleasure, the way he focusses on your clitoris, swirling his tongue around in circles and creating patterns with it. You writhe underneath him as he increases his intensity, working you harder and faster as you pant, gripping at anything you can find within arm’s reach. Grabbing his free hand, you clutch it as you moan out in pleasure and he speeds up even more, sending you over the edge, pleasure washing through you like a wave. You shudder and twitch as he rides you through your orgasm, drawing gentle circles on your thigh with his thumb, his flesh hand gripping yours and you slowly release your grip on him as you come down from your high.

“I need you.” You pant, watching Bucky wipe his mouth. “Please, Bucky.” You reach forward, palming his bulge and he lets out a low groan. “You taste so good.” He whispers, leaning over you and pressing his lips to yours, sharing the flavour of your pleasure with you. Bucky slowly slides his boxers down as he kisses you gently and you feel him spring free against your leg. “Are you ready?” He asks, gripping his shaft and sliding the head up and down your entrance. You nod frantically, bucking your hips into him. Bucky chuckles and cups your cheek gently as he slowly slides into you. He moves in excruciatingly slowly, allowing you to adjust to the feeling before he starts moving.

Bucky starts of slow and gentle, his eyes locked on yours as he gauges your reactions, repositioning himself now and again to reach the spots that make you moan and cry out the most. Thrusting with more energy, Bucky pushes into you, his length pressing against your g-spot and you breath out heavily, a moan riding on your lips as he thrusts and you feel an orgasm shudder through you, clenching your walls around him. Moving with a stronger pace and with more force, the slapping of skin against skin fills the room as well as your panting breaths, before he speeds up, looking you in the eyes as he starts to tense up, his large muscular shoulders and arms bulge and it’s a beautiful sight. Bucky lets out a throaty groan, vibrating through you as he reaches his peak, his orgasm rushing through him as he thrusts through it, slowly decreasing in speed until he can’t take the sensation anymore and pulls out, collapsing onto the bed beside you.

After you both recover, Bucky helps to clean you up, wiping you down with a clean cloth and trailing kisses over your bare skin. “That was amazing, you’re amazing, sugar.” Bucky whispers in your ear. Before long, you’ve fallen asleep against Bucky’s chest, and you revel in his warm, protective embrace.

You woke with a start hours later, the bed is empty and when you run your hand across the space next to you, you feel Bucky’s warmth still there. As you start to wake up a bit more, you realise you can hear shuffling in your apartment and a muffled voice. Sliding out of bed, you pad across the floor to the door, still completely naked. You assume Bucky’s on the phone, so when you open the door, you’re not expecting Steve to be stood in the middle of your apartment. “God, Jesus Christ!” You shriek, shrinking back behind the door. You knew Steve hadn’t really seen you, but he definitely knew you were naked. You throw on Bucky’s shirt that was left discarded on the floor and your underwear before opening the door again. Both men turn to look at you and you shoot them a confused glare. “What are you doing in my flat at,” You pause to look at your microwave clock across the room. “Three in the morning?” You finish, your voice still raspy from sleep. Steve sighs and runs his hand down his face. “Fucking hell, what have I gotten you into?” Bucky says under his breath as you walk slowly into the room. “What’s going on?” You ask. “(Y/n), we need to leave.” Bucky strides towards you. You can hear sirens in the distance, lots of them. “Why, what’s happening?” Your voice peaks as panic starts to fill your chest. “Get dressed, we’re leaving.” Bucky guides you back into your bedroom.

He comes in with you and you pull of his shirt, throwing it to him while you rush to get yourself some new clothes. “Tell me what’s happening, Bucky.” You frown, pulling out a black crop top. He sighs as he pulls on his jeans. You’re about to press him again as you pull on your top when a loud explosion interrupts you, making you jump and turn to look at the flash of light through your curtains, the building shook with the force of the explosion. You freeze up completely and Bucky rushes to your side. “Come on sweetheart, we need to go.” He breathes into your ear as he pulls out a pair of leggings, helping you put them on as you stand there in shock. “(Y/n), come on, it’s alright, we just need to move quickly.” He snaps you out of your panic and you pull up your leggings. You finish getting dressed and step into your black boots. Throwing on your jacket, you collect together a few of your valuables, chucking them into your backpack and slinging it over your shoulders.

On your way out, you glance back at your apartment one last time, wondering if you’ll ever see it intact again. Bucky takes your hand, racing down the corridor with you, Steve slightly ahead of you both. Steve reaches out and triggers the fire alarm on your way out and you rush behind both men through the downstairs lobby. The pop of gunfire becomes apparent as you pass through the threshold into the cold night time air. Sam is waiting in an SUV outside and you all pile into the car. Buckling yourself in next to Bucky on the back seat you look out of the window, clutching your bag anxiously.

Another explosion goes off behind you at the end of the street and you see the glowing clouds of orange burst out of the windows of the building. “What the fuck is going on?!” You scream. Sam floors the accelerator. “Sam will take you to a safehouse, we have to sort this out.” Steve answers you with a stern voice. “What? No! I’m not going to a safehouse.” You protest. “(Y/n), Hydra is attacking your neighbourhood.” Bucky clutches your hand. “I didn’t tell you this, but the day they attacked us in front of that restaurant was my fault. I refused a deal to give up this district to them. That’s why they’re attacking.” Bucky rushes to explain as Sam turns a corner, reaching the edge of the neighbourhood as police cars whizz by at high speed. “What?” You shriek. “I know, I know, I’m so sorry, Christ, I’m so sorry sweetheart.” Bucky clutches his cheeks in his hands and you calm yourself. “God, no it’s not your fault Bucky.” You grab at his arm squeezing it gently and he turns to face you, letting out a little sigh. “We can fix this, right?” You ask. “There’s gotta be a way to fix this.” You ponder. “Why did they want the district in the first place?” You ask. “This isn’t really the time, (Y/n)!” Steve shouts, holding onto the handle above his door for dear life as Sam tears through the city roads. “(Y/n), doll there’s a lot I haven’t told you and I’m sorry.” Bucky holds your hands in his. “I don’t care what it is, I mean unless you intend on breaking up with me, which I absolutely refuse to allow you to over this.” You say sternly, peering out of the back window at the empty street behind you.

Sam drives you for a few more minutes and you’re starting to calm down from the situation. You take a deep breath but just as you’re starting to relax, a booming explosion shakes the car and you take in a sharp, gasping breath, clouds of smoke billowing up into the sky and you draw in a long, slow breath. “What haven’t you told me?” You ask, looking over at Bucky. Steve looks over his shoulder with a questioning look at Bucky. Bucky takes in a slow breath and closes his eyes. “I swear I didn’t know until a few days ago, I swear (Y/n).” Bucky looks at you with sad eyes, it almost breaks your heart seeing him so worked up. “Your parents died in a car crash, right?” He speaks quietly, like he’s afraid to even say the words. You nod, your heart speeding up rapidly. “Your father was involved with the mob, he got caught up in Hydra. They killed your parents, (Y/n).” Bucky grips your shoulder as you look at him in complete shock. You swallow thickly, a lump in your throat as you feel your lip quiver. “That’s why they tried to take me.” You breath out. Bucky nods, sliding his hands down to yours and you take hold of his. “Oh god.” Is all you can manage, forcing back tears. “The district you lived in was owned by them, after they died, it was passed to my father, everything they owned got passed to him.” Bucky explained, his voice was a lot calmer now.

Sam slowed the car as you neared Bucky’s office building. “You’re not taking me to a safehouse. I’m going in with you.” You state, your tone strong and even now that you’ve composed yourself. Everything Bucky said is swirling around in your head. It’s not his fault, even though he’s acting like it is, but you know it isn’t. How the hell had your parents kept that secret from you? This entire time, you were from a mob family of your own and you didn’t even know it. Getting involved with Bucky probably bought enough attention to you for Hydra to realise who you really were. Bucky didn’t even try to argue with you as he got out of the car, holding the door open for you and letting you grab his hand to help you slide out of his side of the car.

Sam drove the car around the corner to park it underground while you, Steve and Bucky made your way inside. “How are we going to deal with this?” Steve asked, not specifically aiming the question at anyone as you all filed into the elevator. “I haven’t worked that out yet.” Bucky sighed, jabbing the button for the top floor. “Can the police even handle Hydra?” You question, wondering out loud. Steve looks down at you and shrugs. “They’ve never had to deal with a mob blowing up a whole district before.” Steve responds as you watch the floor numbers increase above the door. The elevator stops and the doors slide open, Natasha and Scott are already waiting in the corridor outside of Bucky’s office and the three of you pace towards them.

Piling into Bucky’s office, you all stand around the desk, Bucky standing in front of his chair. “Hydra nearly have total control over the district. There have been four explosions and the casualty count is high. The hospitals are completely overrun, the fire department is stretched thin and the police are barely managing to control things.” Nat reports. “Fuck.” Steve breathes out. “Can’t we just send out reinforcements? You work the police, right?” You question. Bucky nods and scratches his stubble. “It won’t be enough though.” Steve sighs. “They are killing innocent people and you don’t want to send your men out there because you’re afraid it won’t be enough?” You raise your voice, frowning a bit. “Steve, people are dying!” You shout. Bucky looks at you sympathetically and nods. “(Y/n)’s right, we can’t just stand by and not do anything.” Bucky speaks up. “Call out the reinforcements to join the police.” Bucky instructs. Nat is scrolling through photos of the attack on the news on her phone and you look over her shoulder at them, seeing how they resemble a war like attack with enemy lines against the police. “Get your men to flank them, if they don’t see them coming you can take out more of them by surprise.” You instruct, not even caring that you’re not the boss, but everyone listens to you anyway. “Do as she says.” Bucky nods, glancing over at Steve who gives you an agreeing look before taking out his phone to make the call.

Everyone disperses from the room, Steve heads down the corridor on the phone, keeping his distance. Nat leans against the edge of the sky bridge that leads from the elevator to Bucky’s office and you join her side. “This wasn’t exactly how I pictured my Friday night to go.” She sighed. “Tell me about it.” You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “Fuck, I should be out there, I can’t just stand around in here while this is going on.” Nat snaps, pushing away from barrier and paces to the other side to look down into the offices below. “Nat.” Bucky speaks softly, moving to join her with you on the other side of her. “I can’t, Bucky.” She shakes her head. “It’s so dangerous out there, you could die.” He tries to convince her otherwise. “Sorry Bucky, but I have to fight. If I die, at least I die fighting for what’s right.” She huffed out, looking between you both. Bucky gives her a nod and rests his hands on the railing. “I understand.” He closes his eyes as Natasha pulls you into a hug. “Stay safe, alright?” She whispers in your ear as you squeeze her tightly. “You too, Nat.” You respond shakily. She moves away from you and you keep your eyes locked on Bucky as she walks away.

You’re not sure how much time passes but you spend a while anxiously waiting. You don’t even know what you’re waiting for, but you start to grow restless and impatient. You let out a groan as you move away from the railing. “Fuck, I can’t just keep waiting, I need to help somehow.” You heave out a sigh. “Sugar, please.” Bucky instantly takes your hands in his. “I can’t lose you.” He grips you tightly. “I didn’t say anything about fighting, Buck.” You look up at him. “I’m going to see if I can dig up who’s running things. If we can find out who it is and take them out, the rest of them will fall like flies.” You theorise. “How are you going to do that?” Bucky frowns, shifting in his step a little. “It’s easy to dig up dirt on people, just gotta know how.” You give him a half hearted smile. “Where do you keep your records?” You ask. “Downstairs in the archive room.” Bucky answers simply. You nod your head in the direction of the elevator and Bucky walks with you.

The doors slide open and Bucky walks hand in hand with you, leading you through the corridors to the archive. Pushing open the large double doors, he flicks on the lights and you inspect the rows of free standing shelves filled with boxes on documents. “Bloody hell.” You whisper, taking in the vastness of the room. Bucky follows you to the computer desk and waits for you to boot up the PC. You type in several keywords into the database, writing down the row and box numbers for each one until you’re sufficiently pleased with the data. “We need to find these boxes.” You hand Bucky the paper. “I’ll get the first one, you stay here.” He stops you from getting up and you nod, shifting things about on the desk to make space for the boxes.

Bucky drops the first box onto the desk and you pull out the files, thumbing through the papers for any source of information. You huff when you don’t find what you’re looking for. You both go through several more boxes until you stop. Pushing away the papers and putting them back into the boxes, you go back to the database, typing in a different keyword this time. You don’t give Bucky a chance to get the box for you, since you rush off to find it yourself and you leave Bucky standing, staring at the screen, glancing over at you disappearing between the shelving units.

You return with a box, slamming it down onto the table. “(Y/n), that’s-.” Bucky begins but you cut him off. “I know, Buck.” You sound almost sad as you pull the lid off the box. Reaching in, you take out the file, thumbing through the papers, your eyes scan for what you’re looking for. Right as you’re about to admit defeat, you peer into the box and at the bottom are some jumbled up photographs.

You reach in and pull them out, going through each one, taking in the features of the people in the photos. You stop when you reach one of a man and woman shaking hands with two men. One of which you were familiar with, Rumlow, you weren’t sure who the second man was, but he looked important. Shaking his hand was none other than your father and next to him stood your mother. “(Y/n).” Bucky whispers. You don’t say anything as you look at more of the photos. There’s another one with that unknown man again with your father. They both face the camera and you notice the similarities in their features. They look like brothers. “My dad told me I had an uncle but I never met him.” You point out to Bucky, passing him the photo. He frowns down at it, looking at the two men. “You know who he is?” He asks. “Not a clue.” You shake your head. You shuffle the photos about, looking at a few more before you stop on the last one. It’s a photo of your father accepting a business award from the same man. “Wait.” You murmur, setting the photo down and picking the file back up. Flicking through the pages, you stop when you come to the documentation about your father’s business. “Received business award of excellence from partner and brother Alexander Pierce.” You read out. Bucky freezes. “What?” He frowns. “You know that name?” You ask. “I’ve heard it before, no idea where from though.” Bucky massages his forehead with his hand as you mull over the document. “This guy is in all of my father’s business contracts. He’s got major cuts in all of his payments, all of his deals.” You say, flicking through the papers. “But.” You stop, pulling out the documentation for his will. “Alexander Pierce received nothing when he died.” You point out on the paper. “You think he could be behind all of this?” Bucky asked. “He could be.” You nod slowly, putting the papers back into the folder. “You got any information about Pierce?” You ask. “M’not sure.” Bucky types out the name into the database, coming up empty. “Nothing, sorry sweetheart.” Bucky sighs. You put all of the papers and photos back and you rub your eyes.

You gently brush Bucky’s hands away from the keyboard and you bring up a search engine, typing in Pierce’s name. “Pierce was a successful businessman but was jailed in 2015 when he was found to be involved with arms dealing and again in 2016 when his accomplices for a case about trafficked drugs admitted to being partnered with him and Pierce’s sentence was extended by ten years. He escaped early last year and has never been seen since.” You read out. Bucky’s phone rings and he pushes away from the desk to answer it. You hear him talking, but don’t really pay attention to what he’s saying while you pack up the boxes again. “I’ve gotta go, sugar.” Bucky announces, walking towards you. “What? Where are you going?” You frown up at him. “Things have gone sideways with Steve; I have to go and help him.” He explains briefly. “What do you mean?” You question but Bucky just gives you a tight hug and a gentle kiss to the forehead before rushing out. “Be careful!” You shout after him. “You too, sweetheart!” You hear his voice echo through the doorway and you’re left in complete silence.

You look down at the photo of Pierce with your father you sigh. Looking into the eyes of Pierce, you feel cold when you stare at him. A shiver creeps up your back. You start to feel nervous and uncomfortable. The light above you flickers slightly and you let out a shaky breath. You start to feel anxious and jumpy. The odd sound here and there make you look around sceptically.

And then it dawns on you. You’re not alone.

__________________________

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stratus-skye07 · 6 years

Text

Sense Of Love [Seven] (M) | Minho

Seeing the truth

[Masterlist] [Six]

MINHO

“At the tone, please leave your message.”

I hang up after calling Y/N for the hundredth time today. Since taking her home last night, I’ve been worried about her. She doesn’t answer my calls or texts, she wasn’t at the cafe and the school is closed today. She could either be anywhere or at home. Neither of the places I could really go to and expect her to open the door for me.

Today I had another photoshoot with Bohee. One that was for sure going to be the last. Things were going fine until she pushed Y/N to try and intimidate her.

“Has Cinderella gone back into hiding?” Speak of the devil.

I ignore her and continue to where the shooting was taking place. She followed and continued to say things to get my attention but I kept my silence with her.

“When are you gonna get your head screwed on straight.” She whispers in my ear as we’re posing, “She’s a nobody and always will be. Down the line what could she give you?”

The more she talked the harder it got to keep a cool expression. I just had to endure it for a couple more shots and I can rid myself of the trouble that I caused for myself and Y/N.

“Okay, that’s it. Good job, you two.” The photographer says.

We finally separate and end the shoot. I head over to Onew so we can finally leave this place. Thinking that it was done, I can sense Bohee following close behind me.

“Yah!” She smack the back of my shoulder, “What’s so special about her?”

It’s my fault that Bohee is so clung onto me that it’s my responsibility to set things straight, “She has a heart!” She freezes in her place, “You and I have no connection. I’m sorry for making you think that we had anything romantic going for us. We both knew that things were just physical. This is where we end things off as clean as possible. I don’t want you to ruin your career because of me. You can hate me all you want. I’m willing to accept your hate because I deserve it but don’t take it out on someone that I found to have feelings for.”

Bohee’s eyes begin to water, “We could’ve made it work if we wanted to.”

“I don’t.”

Driving the nail into the coffin, Bohee turns her back and walks away. I know it was harsh but she needed the reality check that I should’ve given her a long time ago.

Onew pats my shoulder, “It seems like Y/N really has made an impact on you.”

I smirk, “Why do you say that?”

“I’ve known you for a long time and you’ve never apologized to anyone about anything before in your life.”

I shrug, “Sometimes you just need to grow up and stop being an asshole.”

Onew and I begin to get our things together when I notice a figure standing nearby and watching intently. A figure I wasn’t expecting to see but at the same time was anticipating.

Taemin calmly speaks, “I need to talk to you, right now.”

I nod leading him out towards the back of the building’s alleyway. Once the area was safe to talk in, I turn to face him but I’m met with a fist to the jaw instead. Any other person I would’ve laid them out just as quick but considering the circumstances I take the hit.

I look back to see that Taemin’s calm demeanor was gone. His nostrils were flaring with anger as he looks at me.

“I deserved that.” I say clutching my cheek.

“I told you to leave Y/N alone. Now you’ve pushed her too far.”

“You don’t think I know that? I’ve been trying to call her since last night. Is she okay?”

He shakes his head, “Like you give a shit. Just stop whatever plans you had with her. She doesn't need you complicating her life any further.”

“I have no intention in leaving her alone because I have feelings for Y/N. I hated what happened to her. I hate myself even more for putting her in that situation. I can understand your anger towards me and you can hit me as much as you want for it but I wanna know what’s going on with her. Is she really okay?”

Taemin’s breathing begins to even out when he hesitate to continue this conversation. He turns to leave but I grab him by the shoulder to stop him.

“Please, just tell me so I don’t make the same mistake twice. For Y/N, I need to know.”

He swipes my hand off his shoulder before turning back to face me, “You know how she ended up blind?” I shake my head, “She was in a car accident that killed her parents.”

My heart drops remember how Y/N mentioned her parents but never putting that and her blindness together.

Taemin continues, “The doctors had no hope for her seeing again. Y/N wanted to take the chance and go forwards with eye surgery. In the end, she managed to regain her vision. It was too good to be true though. One day she had an anxiety attack and her vision went blurry for a short amount of time. Her doctor says that if she puts herself in stressful situations or suffers any kind of traumatic events it could cause her to go blind again. This time, the next operation won’t be as successful.”

Y/N

Deep down, I’d hoped to never sit in this exam chair again but at the same time I knew that it would never stop. My eyes were always going to be a problem for me ever since I first went blind. I’d experience the temporary blindness before but for some reason this one felt like it was going to be the one to end it all.

I woke up in the morning with my vision back to normal, but I was still worried about it so I called Dr. Park as soon as possible. I called Key and told him about the incident that led up to the vision going blurry. He said he would take care of the cafe. I’ve been in his office for most of the morning running test on my eyes. I’ve even had to put my glasses on as if it would help anything but comfort me.

Sitting in the familiar office, Dr. Park came back in with a stack of papers in his hands. He’s going through all of them before taking a seat at his desk.

“So?” I ask him.

He closes the folder to turn his attention to me, “I’ve looked through everything numerous times and you’re eyes are coming up normal.”

“So they’re fine?”

He nods, “They don’t look any different than the last time you came in.”

“Then why do I keep getting these cases of temporary blindness. They can’t be normal for someone who’s recovering from successful eye surgery.”

“Technically, your surgery shouldn’t have been as effective as we thought. This could be your eyes’ way of rejecting the results.”

“So what do I do now? Will my vision get worse over time or will I go back to being blind?”

“From the results we have, your eyes are fine. It doesn’t mean your vision is deteriorating. It could just be a symptom from your attacks like shaking or breaking out in hives. As of now, there’s nothing wrong.”

“What do you suggest I do?”

He sighs before leaning forward, “As a doctor and as someone who’s watched you grow up like a niece, I’d suggest you just live your life as normal as you can. Don’t let this stop you from helping others and living. You’ve come so far to let it affect you now.”

Growing up, I made sure nothing in my life changed. It was hard after losing my parents but I did everything I would’ve done if they were still alive. I went to school, I work, I volunteer. I did all of that with and without vision. Living in fear of losing my vision shouldn’t stop me from living in general. I can do it with my eyes closed.

Waiting to cross the street, I pull out my phone to see all the missed calls and messages from Minho. He was another fear that I had to face. I don’t deny my feelings for him but I worry about his feeling towards me when I tell him everything. Was he ready for that kind of commitment when it came down to it? Was I?

Crossing the street, I turn the corner where the front door of the cafe is when my question was about to be answered. Minho is leaning against the wall but jumps off when he sees me approaching.

He starts rambling, “Y/N, I’ve been trying to reach you all day. I’m so sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have pressured you into going with me in the first place. Plus, I should’ve taken better care of you.”

I smile at his frantic apology. I take his hand in mine and ask, “Do you have some time to spare?”

MINHO

I don’t know if Y/N was angry with me or not. She simply asked for an hour of my time to talk about something. The whole ride to her apartment building was quiet. She stayed silent as she stared out the window.

Once we arrived, she waited for me to get out of the car to follow her. She walked towards the stairs but instead of going up them she walks past them. I continue to follow her towards the door that’s right below her apartment.

She flicks the lights on to reveal a whole room filled with all things related to art. Canvases are hanging on the walls. One side of the wall was covered with shelves of pens, pencils, and brushes in jars along with a long table where someone would sit to draw or paint.

Y/N walks over to some of the artwork, “This is where my artistic past is. Locked away below my apartment building.” She points over to a staircase that must lead to her apartment.

“You did all of these?” Most of the canvases looked like professional ones that you would get from an art museum.

She nods, “Yeah, I’m not so sure if I still got it or not. It’s been years since I used any of this stuff.”

I walk around to take a look at all her work when I stop at a painting that catches my attention. It was a painting of her parents. I could tell it was them. Y/N had bits of her features within them.

Y/N chuckles beside me, “One night my parents and I were coming home from an art contest, I ended up winning. This was the portrait that I entered to win. I remember yelling at my dad to stop moving so much. He’d complain about getting work done but I knew deep down he didn’t care as long as I could finish this one.”

“Your parents must’ve been really supportive of it all.”

“Extremely supportive. Everything art-wise I could get my hands on I wanted to do it. They bought me all the supplies for it. They’d both come to my art shows. They’d even pretend to not be my parents and had critique discussions with the people to lure them into liking my stuff.”

“I wish I could’ve met them.”

She looks up at me with a smile, “I think they would’ve liked you.”

I raise my eyebrows, “Think?”

“Well,” she shrugs, “you were kind of a dick when we first met so I don’t know if that really would’ve swoon them.”

I sigh, “Fair enough.”

Her smile slowly fades away as she looks back at the painting, “The night of my last art show, it was raining when a careless driver cut my dad off causing him to swerve. The car lost control and ended up flipping into a pole. I woke up in the hospital and I couldn’t see anything anymore. My parents didn’t make it. My mom was pregnant with my little brother or sister and they were gone too. Once I regained my eyesight I moved all my art work and supplies with me. I wouldn’t use them again but I didn’t have the heart to throw them away. They were gifts from my parents.”

“You regained your eyesight though, why did you stop art? You have a gift for it.”

She shrugs, “I felt like it was selfish for me to continue doing it when I’d lost the people I loved the most because of it.”

I grab her by the shoulders and turn her to face me, “Y/N, what happened to your parents was not your fault.”

She smiles again as her eyes begin to water, “You wanna know why I don’t want anyone to get close to me? It’s that fear that lives in the back of my mind that I might go blind again and my significant other will have to care for me more than necessary and that they’ll worry too much about me, that they’ll forget to take care of themselves. I’m scared of being loved to the point where I’ll have to count on them because they can’t stop worrying about me.”

“Don’t cry.” I swipe my thumbs along her cheeks.

She begins to speak through light sobs, “I’m telling you all this because of how bad my feelings have gotten for you. I pushed you away at first for that reason.”

This whole meeting was about her opening up her heart to me. Starting with her past and current fears of herself along with the person she would let in. That person being me.

Y/N separates herself from me to walk towards a blank canvas, “My doctor doesn’t know if the next time I lose my sight I’ll get it back like I have before. Thinking that I might end up going blind again makes me want to appreciate the little things again, like seeing colors.” She picks up one of the jars filled with colored pencils, “Do you mind if I draw you?”

I smirk, “Like your French girls?”

She chuckles, “I had a feeling you were going to say that but sadly I don’t think I can make you as sexy as them.”

“As long as you’re up for it then I would be honored to be your model.”

Y/N directed me to sit in one of the stools by the table as she walks around the room collecting the materials she needs for the drawing. I watched her pick each item cautiously as if she was trying to remember what each color would look like once it was on the paper. I could tell she was getting flashback each time she stopped.

After gathering all the materials, she sits down on the other corner so she would be in front of me. She reorganizes the supplies around the white piece of paper so they were easy to grab.

She sighs, “I have to warn you that this will be time consuming so I need you to keep the same facial expression at all times so just focus on something that will keep your face still.”

I nod, “Okay.”

Y/N

It felt really weird drawing again after nearly ten years. I almost forgot how to start once I set all the pencils, pens, and markers out on the table. Looking at Minho’s face helped get me started. Each time I had to look up at him, I almost got lost in his eyes and how they were watching me so intently. His expression never changed once I started. He had this look of pure happiness even though he only had a small smile on his face. His eyes and smile said it all.

It probably took me about two hours to finish the drawing. I could’ve taken breaks in between but once I started I didn’t want to stop. It was like riding a bike again. Everything started coming back to me as I went on drawing. Minho didn’t move much. I would constantly ask him if he was okay or if he needed a break but each time he said no and to continue on.

Dropping the colored pencil, I stretch my arms. “Okay, I’m done.”

Minho starts moving his neck and shoulders around in relief, “How does it look? Obviously not as good as the real thing, right?”

I chuckle taking another full look at the realistic drawing, “I mean it’s not too bad. I am a little rusty after all.”

I hand him the drawing for him to judge. His eyes widen along with a smile, “Is this what you call rusty? It’s amazing. It makes me want to kiss myself.”

I crack my knuckles, “I guess I still got it.”

After cleaning up the art supplies, I invite Minho up to my apartment for a drink since he had to sit still for so long. The sun was beginning to set outside but I didn’t really want to let Minho go just yet. I’d let him into my heart where there was a lot of grief that I’m afraid once he leaves that’s it.

I look at him for a moment and begin to think what kind of things he’s been holding back that he might not have the courage to talk about. The discussion with Key begins to pop in mind. I wonder what his story is.

“Minho,” he hums in response, “can I ask you something?”

He puts his glass down, “Sure, what is it?”

“Last year, you lost the championship. People say that you loss the fight on purpose, is that true?” He looks at me for a moment without answering that I begin to regret asking him so suddenly.

His eyes shift down to his hands as he sighs, “Yes, I did.”

“But why? You worked so hard to get that far. How could you throw it away like that?”

He raises his gaze to meet mine, “My parent’s own a restaurant. They were about to lose it. At the time, I was just a rookie and I had no sponsors yet. I didn’t have the money to help them. I couldn’t let their dream get taken away because they supported mine for so long. I had to do something. At the time, I was friends with a guy, or so I thought I knew him as one, but what I didn’t know was that he was into betting and other things to make money. He came up with the idea.”

“That idea involved you losing your championship. Minho, you could’ve gotten sponsors after the win.”

He nods, “I couldn’t wait for them to come. I needed the money right then and there. I make it to the finals and have everyone bet on me. We bet on the other guy and split the money. I’m not proud for doing it but it was for my parents and I would do it again if I had to.”

I reach over to take his hand, “I don’t blame you. If I had to choose to give up art completely to have my parents back I would do it.” I was in awe of his choices but he did it for his family and for that I can’t judge him so harshly.

I take my glass over to the sink. I’m about to turn around when Minho’s arm embrace me from behind.

“You’re the first person to not make me feel guilty about it.” He whispers in my ear.

I turn to face him. He has somewhat of a sad smile on his face as he looks at me. I can tell that he’s been burying the incident while trying to rebuild himself all over again. It hasn’t been easy for him which is probably why he’s had such a snobby attitude when I first met him.

I pull him into my embrace. The feelings were almost like us being released from our worries and guilt about ourselves.

His hold tightens before slightly pulling away. I became disappointed of the distance until his mouth immediately covers mine for a hungry kiss. His lips are just as soft as I remember the first time we kissed. This time I wasn’t going to pull away because I’m sure of what I want without fear of anything.

The kiss was never ending as our breathing became heavier. Minho’s body began to press further against mine causing a moan to release from my mouth as the counter kept us firmly against each other. My hands slid up from his neck to run through his hair while the other found its way into the collar of his shirt to feel his toned shoulder blades.

I begin to feel the spark in my core igniting as Minho’s strong hands touched the nape of my neck while the other hand was slowly finding the bottom of my blouse. Once his fingers grazed the skin under my shirt, it sent a satisfying chill between my legs.

I started to feel like Minho was being extremely careful with his next approach that I begin to get impatient of what’s to come next. In order for him to know that I’m sure about this, I reach down to the bottom of his sweatshirt to pull it up. Minho breaks the kiss to get the sweatshirt over his head. I bite my lip once I get the chance to admire his lean body.

“What? Did you think my training was just for show?”

Making eye contact, he smirks before wrapping an arm around my waist to lift me onto the edge of the sink. I nearly fall back when Minho grabs me by the waistline of my jeans to pull me closer to his bulge.

In response, I pull my blouse over my head, “Are you trying to show off right now?”

Minho chuckles before bringing his lips back onto mine where they didn’t stay for very long. His mouth travels down my neck. He’d kisses, suck, and even bite on every inch of my skin as he made his way down towards my breasts. His hands slid up my back until he found the clip on my bra. Just as quickly as he found it, he was even quicker to undo and slide my bra off my shoulders.

Feeling the sensation in between my legs slowly growing, I push Minho’s chest to get some space as I jump off the edge of the sink, “Not that I’m not having a good time but my butt’s going numb on this counter.” He laughs as I take him by the hand to lead him towards my bedroom.

Halfway there, Minho’s arms wrap around my bare abdomen and his lips continued to leave behind wet kisses along with his teeth biting at the skin of my shoulders and neck. My hands had a plan of their own as I struggle to undo his pants backwards. It gave Minho the idea to do the same as his travel down to unzip my jeans followed by his hands finding their way into the waistline to slid them down.

Reaching the bed, Minho whispers in my ear, “Bend over.”

I instantly obey placing my hands on the edge of the bed as Minho slides my jeans, along with my underwear, down my legs. Stepping out of them, I begin to feel shy at the vulnerable state I was now in.

Tossing my clothes aside, Minho’s hand starts gliding up my legs until he reached my thighs. He stands over me when his fingers slowly traces towards my inner thighs. Ultimately reaching my folds. His lips leave kisses up my spine until the heat of Minho’s body touches my back.

His hand continues to explore between my legs, “Minho...” I try to beg for him but my mind ends up going blank at his touch.

He shushes me, “I know. I have to be sure you’re ready for me.”

Before I could come up with something to say, his fingers slides up and down my slit until pushing past my folds. I gasp from the sudden intrusion and end up squeezing down on his fingers. He groans in my ear before removing his fingers, leaving an empty feeling.

Minho turns me back to face him where his lips find mine again. This kiss felt more needy like he didn’t think it would last so he wanted to savor the taste.

“Lie down.” He orders. I’m barely able to speak at this point from how much his touch is causing my brain to go blank with little to no response from it.

Minho followed as he crawls over me. Reaching down between us, I slide his pants down his thighs as he takes over to remove the rest down his legs until he manages to get them completely off.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

He runs his hands through his hair as he buries his head in my shoulder, “I don’t have a condom on me.”

I chuckle at the disappointment on his face. I reach over into the bedside table drawer where I kept a pack of condoms that Key had given me for my birthday in hopes that I would get laid this year. I never figured they’d actually come in handy.

I hand him the condom as he tilts his head in curiosity. I wave him off, “Don’t ask.”

After wrapping his erection, he leans over me with his length teasing my entrance. Minho combs the loose strands away from my face as his eyes bore into mine before pushing his hips further against my thighs. The tip of his penis slowly pushes past my folds causing me to groan from the lustful feeling. My walls welcomed and squeezed him which caused Minho to take a breath before moving anymore. It isn’t until he begins to move at a steady pace that I grip at his skin for support.

I press my knees against his hips to pull him deeper into me each time he thrusts. Goosebumps formed when his low groans would sound in my ear. It felt as though each time he sunk into me I was going to fall a part.

Once he begins to change the speed, I found myself having a tight hold on his shoulder to pull his body closer to mine. My moans got louder once I started to match his rhythm, hitting the sweet spot that’s deep down in my core. The pleasure in my body continued to rise to a point where I felt that knot in my stomach begin to tighten. We stayed in sync up until that spring in my core released leaving my leg feeling like jelly.

Minho’s lips traveled up and down my jaw as his hand strokes my hair. Our breathing was the only sound in the room. We stayed like that for a long moment until the grogginess began to take over.

I open my eyes to see nothing but a dark room. There was a slight shift in movement as the warm feeling that was covering my body starts to move away. Instinctively, I reach for the feeling to keep it close by.

I hear a chuckle, “It’s okay.” The warmth returns to pull me in. “I’m not going anywhere.”

MINHO

Y/N slept in my arms so naturally. I stayed awake continuing to replay the night over and over again until sleep finally caught up to me. I tried to change my position away from her body but her arms reached out to pull be back. I couldn’t help but smile at how cute she reacted. I never wanted to leave her side.

The bright sun woke me up to the morning. Trying to adjust to the brightness of the room, I feel this ticklish sensation on my stomach.

“If you keep moving I’m gonna mess up.” I rub the tiredness from my eyes to find Y/N sitting on my hips, painting on my torso.

“What are you doing?”

She smirks, “I was just checking to see if these paints still work.”

“By using them on me?”

“I don’t have any canvases to paint on. Your abs were the only thing hard enough.”

I stretch my arms over my head, “Give me a minute. Something else will get hard for you to use to paint on.”

She laughs but it doesn’t stop her from painting. “I hope you don’t mind me wearing your sweatshirt.”

It’s not until she mentions it that I notice that she’s wearing my shirt with the sleeves rolled up, “Not at all. It’s only a hundred thousand dollar shirt.” Her face falls and I chuckle from the reaction, “I’m kidding.”

She sighs, “I already owe you those sunglasses. My debt is about to be worth more than this apartment.”

I watch Y/N continue her painting. I look down to see what exactly she was painting. It was an ocean view of a sunset. She finishes lining the ocean ripples with the brush around my belly button.

“You're like a female version of Bob Ross.”

“There’s no mistakes, only happy accidents.” She smiles as she places the brush and the tray of paint on the bedside table.

I sit up but she instantly pushes me down, “Are we not done?”

“No, you have to sit still until the paint dries or it’ll smudge.” She leans down to give me a teasing kiss on the lips.

I bite my lip at the sight of her cleavage showing from the oversized sweatshirt. Sighing, I look up at her, “Do you know how hard it is for me to wait with you hovering over me?”

She laughs, dropping her head on my shoulder. “Fine. Since you’re so impatient.” Her lips glide across my cheek as she kisses my jaw, “I’ll make the process go by faster.”

With a playful grin on her face, she begins to lower her head towards my chest and blows on the damp paint to dry. She continues to do this until she reaches the end of the paint where she placed a towel over my waist area to keep the paint from landing in the sensitive areas.

I groan in frustration, “You’re really doing this to me right now?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just trying to dry the paint.” Her hands begin to press against my thighs as she start to pull the towel further down my legs.

Suddenly, her cell phone starts to ring from the kitchen. She groans as she looks at the time then her expression changes.

She sits up, “No one calls me this early.”

“It’s probably Taemin checking in. He seemed really worried about you.”

“No, I already talked to him before I met up with you. The only other person that would call me this early would be Key and he only does that when something’s wrong.”

Y/N gets up from the bed and disappears to where the ringing was coming from. In the meantime, I continue to admire her artwork in detail.

All of sudden, I hear my phone vibrate from my pants. Carefully, I get up from the bed to pull out my phone from the back pocket. There’s a missed call from Hyun-Ki along with a text message. I guess he’s finally chosen to take my offer. I open the message. My hand clenches the phone in anger.

The text message read, “I think we should renegotiate.” Attached to the text was a photo of Y/N leaving the cafe.

Y/N

I reach my phone before the call could go to voicemail. I begin to have this unsettling feeling when I saw that it was in fact Key calling. He knew that I wasn’t going to come in today so something isn’t right.

I answer, “Key, what’s up?”

He was breathing loudly, “Y/N, I-I don’t know what happened!”

“Key, calm down. What’s wrong?”

“I came in like I normally do and it was like this.” He was frantic in explaining the problem that I can barely understand where he was getting at with the call.

“Okay, you’re not making sense. Are you hungover again?”

“Y/N!” He calls my name with a much serious tone that I rarely hear from him, “Something’s happened to the cafe!”

[Eight]

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fierte-verte · 3 years

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could u ship me with a marauder? I'm a Pisces, ravenclaw, introverted, short with short black curly hair, have brown skin, brown eyes, and glasses. I love reading, art and music and I'm really quiet. I tend to be emotionally detached and untrusting bc of my childhood. Confident, sociable ppl who know what they're doing mesh with me well and there are very few ppl in my life that I'm close with. I always try to be the best and kindest version of myself and i try to inspire others to do the same💖

Hi there! So sorry it took this long for me to complete your request, but I hope you like this! 💙

So I ship you with...James Potter!

* It isn’t until your fifth year at Hogwarts do you get to know James personally outside of the classroom

* One day, you and a few other students are summoned to Dumbledore’s office; naturally, you’re quite nervous about the sudden invitation

* James is among one of them, and, noticing your uneasy demeanor, walks up to crack a few dad jokes in your ear

* “Hello there, a quick question for you. I’m sure you’re wondering about the million dollar question: what do you call the entrance to a magical gym? Well, wonder no more–it’s a dumbbell door”

* Naturally, you’re both appalled and intrigued by the well-composed but carefree way that he carries himself

* He’s different than the way he was when younger—more pensive, less arrogant, assertive without imposing on boundaries

* “James Potter, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

* Turns out, Dumbledore has selected a few promising choices to join the Order upon graduation, and he has seen great potential from your talent in divination

* “You must realize not many possess such a keen sight. It would make you a powerful ally to have, light or dark”

* You accept the offer, and by default get to spend a lot of time with the marauders and their circle to prepare for the heavy duties that are to fall upon you all

* James becomes a close friend, and slowly but surely, you let him into your world

* When he’s with you, the normally exuberant Gryffindor becomes gentle, empathetic—he always lets you do the talking and encourages you to express whatever emotions or thoughts that has occupied your mind that day

* “Don’t keep all that steam inside love, I’m here for you”

* He’s also your number one fan when it comes to your sporadic moments of super sarcastic humor, and you two share an ungodly list of inside jokes that have the other marauders scratching their head in confusion

* James loves to discuss anything musical with you—though not exactly sharing the same taste, the two of you are often eager to exchange recommendations and discover hidden gems together

* On a side note—you get along fairly well the other marauders as well, bonding with Remus over a mutual interest in reading and sharing a silent understanding with Sirius over the impacts of a troubled childhood

* It’s not an easy feat for you to open up to others, so for that, James and the boys are especially grateful for your friendship

* As seventh year rolls around, there’s something different, something new in James’ eyes when he looks at you

* Not hard to put two and two together—you’ve come to know each other like the back of your own hands over time

* “You’ve always been lovely (y/n). I hope you know that”

* Even Remus and Sirius throw in their two cents at the strange new dynamic between you two

* “So...This thing I’m sensing between you and Prongs—tell me I’m not mistaken?”

* Between the impending war and school, you and James barely find enough time to address the change in your relationship

* Which, for a period, causes the both of you to drift apart unconsciously

* Upon graduation, you two are thrusted immediately into the raging war and the Order’s operations, where you get parterned up with one of the Prewett twins initially

* Before his first mission, James seeks you out at midnight, drawing you into a tight hug in the backyard of the Order’s headquarters

* “Would it be too much to say this distance between us is driving me mad?”

* You’re so worried for his safety that you can barely speak—he kisses your cheek softly in comfort

* “If I come back, and I will, would you give us a chance? Let me love you until we’re old, grey, and you’ve become sick of me?”

* There are, really, no excuses anymore—you’d realized, a long time ago, that you had already given your heart to the man standing before you

* The relief that washes over you when he returns safely is a feeling that you’d never forget

* He simply wraps you tight in his arms, kissing you firmly for the first but not last time

* And when times get rough, which is often, you’re there for one another always; though the death of your friends and allies never get less painful, you’re able to recover every time through James’ support and understanding

* “When this sodding war is over, marry me?”

#hp ships #ship requests

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naughty-teddy-innit · 6 years

Text

Rehabilitation : Chap. 1 An Ed Sheeran Fanfiction

Title: Rehab: Chapter 1

Author: @naughty-teddy-innit

Rating: PG- No smuts for a while, but intense content?

Click here for: INTRO

CHAPTER 1

I craned my neck, to the left slowly, and then to the right. “Mmmmmmm...” I mumble-moaned, trying to loosen and stretch my stiff muscles. For once, I was at the tail end of day shift. My normal hours would often take me through the night into the wee hours of the morning, but today I found myself battling piles of precariously stacked charts right into the dinner hour, and I was feeling it. It was one of those days where I felt it necessary to knock on wood, a catch-up day we often called it, because so far, no crazy emergencies had come in. No crashes or outbreaks, no crying parents or injured children or mass tragedies. Days like this were always a welcome relief, and exactly why I could currently be found hunched over a mountain of paperwork, rather than running around like the proverbial chicken with its head cut off. Having said all that, it was becoming super obvious that food was going to be necessary in very short order. And coffee. DEFINITELY coffee.

“Leesie, love…?”

“Hmm??” I spun my chair around at the soft voice behind me, and smiled at the friendly face it belonged to. Gray-haired, big brown eyes, and grandmotherly curves, Brenda had many, many years on me in this hospital. She and I worked together often, and she was often a motherly figure to us young ones, honest to a fault with a heart of gold, and we loved her for it.

“Hey lady, what’s up?” I stood, and turned my back to the desk, shooting her a warm smile. Welcoming the chance to move my body, I stretched my arms over my head, and leaned my hip back against the curved surface.

“Well, Sweetheart…” She paused. “I was hoping I could ask you a favour?” She cocked her head to the side, and I recognized THAT hopeful look.

“When do I ever say no to you, Mama B?” I shook my head and crossed my arms with a grin, and waited for what I knew was coming.

“I’m supposed to cover a couple of shifts up in ICU this week, tomorrow bright and early, and Saturday graveyard.” She hesitated, and with that I knew exactly where I’d be found those two days.

“Operative words being Supposed to?” I raised an eyebrow, and huffed a laugh at the knowing smirk that crossed her face.

“You know me too well!” She chuckled, and shifted her weight. “You know my Hannah’s been having a tough time now she’s at the end of this baby business, and her doctor wants bring her in for an induction tomorrow afternoon. High blood pressure and the whole nine yards. I had next week off anyway, her due date! But I need to be there for her tomorrow. I can tell ya, Nana is NOT missing this!”

“Oh!!” I couldn’t control the grin that spread across my face! She’d been waiting for this moment for months and months. “B, I got it. Go be with your baby AND your grandbaby. Do not even worry.”

“As usual, you are the BEST, Leesie. THANK YOU. Next time you need a cover, I’m at your mercy. I’ll let Mary know to update the roster!” She reached over and squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back with a firm hand and a grin. I was just glad to help out.

Even it did mean a 5 am start. Sigh.

_____________________________________________________________

Despite the unconscionable hour that I’d been forced to set my alarm for, I actually preferred the early morning hours to the late or overnight shifts. Something about a brand-new day, a fresh new slate waiting to be written upon. It always put in a ready-to-go state of mind, and today was no different.

Intensive care was a whole different ball game from Emergency. There was not nearly the chaos that came through the revolving door downstairs, but the lives we cared for still hung in the balance. ICU was where you found the patients who were not yet stable enough to move anywhere else, who needed continuous monitoring, and who were either recovering from emergency surgery or might need to be rushed to surgery, in an instant. Visitors were restricted, and the continuous beep and wail of monitors and alarms were routine. You could feel the gravity of our unit the moment you walked through the swinging doors, I was rather proud of the fact that I was able to keep my calm and do my job well when a patient’s status deteriorated.

Walking in, I ran through my mental checklist, readying myself for the day. The “Day-Board”, also known as the giant whiteboard on the wall behind our central desk, listed our current patients. Names and Chart/Unit numbers, status, room numbers, and the doctor on duty, were kept meticulously updated on this board, for the benefit of the nurses, the doctors and anyone else involved in ICU care. There was a similar board downstairs in the ER, to track our patients in a similar fashion, and no matter where I was or what area I was working in, scanning that board was ALWAYS my first order of the day (or night!).

I checked in with the clerk finishing up from the night before, and greeted the nurses on duty before signing into my workstation. My eyes swept the board as I settled into my workstation; a middle-aged dad waiting for a bypass after a massive heart attack and a little one in bad shape after a nasty fall. A young girl, only 16, had suffered a nasty anaphylactic reaction, and an elderly woman in bad shape after a stroke. Finally, I noticed, 2 of the bus crash victims from the ER. I exhaled softly, seeing their names. I was beyond relieved they were still with us. After the scene only 48 hours prior, when they were brought in…I wasn’t sure whether they would be.

“Annaliese?”

I whirled around at the sound of my name, cheerfully greeting one of the nurses at the desk.

“What can I do for you?”

“If you could grab the order sheets from the charts, and get them all entered, that would be terrific. Dr. Collins has them all updated and ready to go, and Lord only knows, when Dr. Hendry comes on shift, everything BETTER be at his fingertips.” A sigh and smile and she continued. “You know how he is. Save yourself the trouble! Let’s see…Alison, Dr. Hamoudi, is the surgeon on-call tonight, and the Resident is on rounds, he’ll be back for shift change later. Hendry’s on call for everything else. Page him if necessary, he’s on the board.” She paused. “…I think that’s it?”

Goody. Dr. Hendry was nobody’s favourite. His ego was known far and wide as massively overinflated and a gigantic pain in everyone’s ass. Lucky for him, and for his patients, his saving grace was that he was a damn good doctor.

“Got it and I’ll get right on the paperwork. Thanks Amy!”

“Have a great day Annaliese, thanks again for covering!”

We both heard the direct line to the OR go off, and while she dashed off to answer the call, I headed off to discreetly gather my paperwork. Charts hung on the front of each ICU bed, and order sheets were always clipped to the front, making them easy and quick for us to find without disturbing the patients. I smiled warmly and gently at family members sitting with their loved ones, softly explaining why I was there, and apologizing for my intrusion. I could see the fear and anxiety etched on their faces, and I tried be as warm and reassuring as I possibly could.

I had gathered all but one, and the last bed was in a corner by itself. The patient in the bed, he was still unconscious, and the usual monitors and wires and tubes crisscrossed his body. He was intubated, a tube down his throat that helped him to breathe, and when my eyes caught the beautiful, fiery orange hue of his hair against the paleness of his skin and sheets, I remembered him immediately. The boy from the bus crash.

I didn’t figure he was as young as he looked, ashen and still against the sheets, but I couldn’t help the thought that he looked like a small boy all on his own like that. Even the sweet sprinkle of freckles across his cheeks, his delicate eyelashes…such innocence. I so hoped he’d be okay. I cocked my head and paused for a brief moment, the thought crossing my mind that I’d not seen any family? Where in the world were they? I shook my head softly, making a note to check into that when I got back to the desk. I very quietly gathered the paperwork I needed, my eyes sweeping over him one last time, taking in the vivid colours on his arms, and rise and fall of his chest. I really hoped he’d be alr-…

“Then find me someone who CAN help me. PLEASE.”

What in the world?? I did a double take at the sudden intrusion of a deep, aggravated, British brogue emanating from around the corner, presumably at the front desk in the front of the unit. Whoever it was, he was NOT happy.

The last thing I wanted was any of our patients or their families to be disturbed. I strode quickly around the corner, and saw one of our Care Aides standing at the desk, intimidation etched across her face at the gentleman facing her from the other side of the nurses’ station.

She looked MORE than relieved to see my face, this sort of situation was not generally a part of their job description; transporting supplies and medications, assisting patients, maybe, but dealing with distraught families or patients not so much.

“Sir?” I said softly, calmly. “How can I help you?”

He appeared to be middle-aged; thinning gray hair, scruffy-jawed and a round middle. His arm was fully casted, and in a sling, and he appeared to have some stitches along hairline, crossing his forehead. The thing that struck me the most through, the thing that somehow always caught me when dealing with someone in this sort of situation, was his eyes. This was a man who hadn’t slept in ages. He was obviously agitated, frustrated, exhausted…. but mainly? He was scared. I could see the stress and panic in his eyes, and I had no doubt there was likely a damn good reason for his outburst.

“My name is Stuart. Stuart Camp.” He exhaled, and then rubbed his eyes with his good hand, tiredly. “I feel like I’ve explained this 3 bloody times since last night, but we’ll try it again. There was a godawful crash, a bus crash, about 36 hours ago, and a young man was brought in. Edward, 26 years old. I need to see him, I need to know he’s okay. I’ve not had a wink of damn sleep and I’m just…knackered. I…. Jesus Christ. I just need to see him. Please.”

The rules in Intensive Care generally dictated that only immediate family be allowed in to visit a patient, and usually only 1 at a time. SOMETIMES, 2. I had a feeling though…

“Are you a family member, sir? A parent? Our rules are quite strict in intensive care, we usually only-“

He cut me off. “I’m not…not really, anyway. His mum and his dad, they’re from across the pond, in England, they’re not here yet.” He stopped to catch his breath, a weathered hand rubbing at the graying scruff that covered his jawline. “They should be touching down shortly. The airports, Jesus. You’d think they’d get their heads out of their asses considering- Never mind.” He steadied himself and continued. “They’re in a right state, Imogen especially, and they’ve been told VIRTUALLY nothing. He’s alone back there. He’s not even got cousins or aunts or anyone here. Please….”

I could see the anxiety and desperation in his widened eyes, and I really, truly wanted nothing more than to help, but…

“Mr. Camp, I can only begin to imagine how awful this must be for you, I’m so sorry. You’re not a family member, you said…?” I paused, hoping to glean some more information. “Can I ask how you know the patient? I’m afraid our confidentiality policies make it impossible for me to give out any information, if you’re not family?”

“It’s rather complicated…” He trailed off. “We’ve…worked together for 8 years. I’m his manager.” He rubbed his eyes, shaking his head slightly as he fought to make his point. “Whether or not you’ve recognized him, I don’t know; right now, I’m trusting that you follow your own confidentiality policies. He’s one of the best-known singer-songwriters in the world right now. I’ve been with him from the beginning, and he IS family to me. His family is my family, in every way. I am not asking you to release any medical records or information on his health, I am simply asking to just…sit with him. Just let me watch over him until his family arrives. I can’t stand the thought of him back there alone. Please?”

Truthfully, I hadn’t really recognized the boy from the crash at all. His lovely orange hair had struck me as familiar, but I wasn’t much for social media, and most of the music I listened to was what played on the radio at whatever desk I was working at. Regardless of who he was, though, I’d never have violated his privacy.

I was still a bit fuzzy on the particulars, but I what I wasn’t fuzzy on? Was how much this gentleman obviously cared for the red headed boy in the back. I wanted to help, I truly did.

I took a deep breath. “Let me speak to the nurse, Mr. Camp. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll see what I can do.” I smiled at him, trying to put as reassurance and warmth into the gesture as I could, and motioned toward the set of seats by the automatic entrance doors. “Why don’t you have a seat for a moment, and I’ll be right back.”

He nodded tiredly, and managed a small but grateful smile. “Thank you, Love. I appreciate it.”

He was still sitting there when I returned about 10 minutes later; hunched over, elbows resting on his knees with his head buried in his hands.

“Mr. Camp?” I said softly, catching his gaze as I approached. He sat bolt upright with widened eyes, obviously waiting for me to say something. “I spoke to the nurse, and she in turn checked with the Resident on call, and while we CANNOT under any circumstances release any information on his health or medical status…” I took a deep breath, allowing a small smile to play across my features at the sight of him jumping out of his chair. “We’ll allow you into the unit to be with him until his family arrives.”

I could see his whole body sag as he exhaled, and his whole head tipped forward, chin to chest for just a brief moment as he steadied himself. “Thank you.” His voice rumbled deep, the emotion evident. “Thank you, thank you very, very much. His Mum and Dad are due to land after lunch; I’ve just had a text with their flight update. You have my word I won’t interfere once they’re here.” He huffed a dry laugh. “Hell, I won’t interfere NOW.”

“I’m glad we could help, Mr. Camp, I really am. I’ll bring you back if you’re ready, but…you might want to prepare yourself.” I took a deep breath, and stared him in the eyes, purposefully keeping my voice calm and soft. “I meant it when I said that we can’t give you any information in regards to his status or injuries until his next of kin arrives. But…he is in rough shape. You need to know that.”

His eyes had been focused on me until I’d finished that last sentence, and then I could see him almost get lost in whatever was tossing and turning in his head.

“He should have been in the back of the bus. He’s a damned night owl, couldn’t sleep after the show…I was passed out on the couch in the back, and he was messin’ around with his guitar in the front. He…” His voice trailed off, almost breaking as he gathered himself. I tilted my head and bit my lip, listening to him, letting him get this out. How terrifying it must have been. My heart hurt so badly for him. “He was right where the bloody truck hit. The sound of those ruddy loud brakes screeching woke me up, that fucking truck, smashed right into the side of the bus. Right where he was. Right where Michael was driving. He always loves sitting up front on the late-night drives, keepin’ Mikey company. He should have been in BED.” He squeezed his eyes shut just for a fleeting moment, and sucked in a deep breath, like he was trying to shore himself up. He straightened up, looking me in the eye once more. “Please excuse this old man’s incoherent, exhausted ramblings; the last 36 hours have been HELL. But he’s here. How, I don’t know, but he is, and he’s not going to be alone while he recovers from this. Doesn’t matter what he looks like right now, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Well then, let me bring you to him.” I smiled softly, struck by the vehemence in his words, and the fierce determination in his eyes. I took a deep breath and gestured for him to follow me. “It sounds like he’s very lucky to have someone like you in his corner, Mr. Camp. I’m really glad you’re okay, by the way.”

“Thank you. I know it could have been so much worse.” He looked down at my badge for just a moment, and then back up. “Annaliese, is it? Please just call me Stu. I appreciate your help and kindness more than you know.” His voice was calmer, and filled with genuine gratitude. “Now where can I find him?”

“Bed 8.” I smiled. “And you’re very welcome. Follow me.”

______________________________________________________________

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I hope you guys don’t mind the slow build and set up, but trust me, I have SO many ideas and plans simmering in my head. Hope you love it, and I’m BEGGING you for any and all feedback, replies, Asks, Anons, etc......Us writers THRIVE on it. Xoxoxoxoxo

#Ed Sheeran #Ed Sheeran Fanfic #Ed sheeran fanfiction #Ed sheeran story #fanfic #fanfiction #Code Ginger #Teddy Sheeran #Teddy sheeran fanfic #Teddy Sheeran fanfiction #NO smuts yet #Poor Stu :(#Ed and Annaliese

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woodsens · 4 years

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The Most Influential People in the fire inside music Industry and Their Celebrity Dopplegangers

Correction Appended

On an album of bittersweet childrens music that she wrote greater than a decade ago, the woman who came to get recognised only as being the piano Instructor provided what, in hindsight, seems like an eerie glimpse of her have long term.

Im going absent today to an area so distant, the place nobody understands my identify, she wrote while in the lyrics of a track identified as Relocating.

When she wrote that song, she was younger and vivacious, a piano Trainer and freelance audio writer who liked Beethoven and jazz, sunsets and river Appears, extended walks and almost everything about Big apple.

On one of those beloved walks, by way of Central Park in the bright Sunshine of the June day in 1996, a homeless drifter conquer her and attempted to rape her, leaving her clinging to everyday living. Following the attack, the phrases to her track came real. She moved away, out of Ny city, from her previous life, and all but her closest close friends didn't know her name. To the remainder of the planet, she was — similar to the additional well known jogger attacked in Central Park seven many years previously — an anonymous symbol of the city nightmare. She was the piano Instructor.

Now, about the 10th anniversary on the assault, she's celebrating what appears to be her complete recovery from Mind trauma. She's forty two, married, with a small boy or girl. She's Kyle Kevorkian McCann, the piano teacher, and she or he wants to convey to her Tale, her way.

Her doctor told her it could just take ten years to recover, and Sunday was that talismanic anniversary. I sense my everyday living continues to be redefined by Central Park, she said a number of times in the past, her voice smooth and hopeful. In advance of park; immediately after park. Will there ever certainly be a time Once i dont Feel, Oh, Here is the 10th anniversary, the 11th anniversary?

She spoke in her modest ranch house in the wooded subdivision in a The big apple suburb. She sat in a very eating room strewn with toys, surrounded by pictures of her cherubic, dim-haired 2-calendar year-outdated daughter. A Steinway grand stuffed 50 percent the place, and at one place she sat down and performed. Her actively playing was forceful, but she appeared humiliated to Engage in more than a few bars, and shrugged, rather then answering, when requested the name of your piece. She questioned that her daughter and her town not be named.

She phone calls that working day, June four, 1996, the working day when I was damage.

Hers was the main within a string of attacks by the same guy on four Gals above eight times. The final target, Evelyn Alvarez, sixty five, was crushed to Dying as she opened her Park Avenue dry-cleansing shop, and in the end, the assailant, John J. Royster, was convicted of murder and sentenced to existence in prison.

Nevertheless the attack around the piano teacher would be the just one individuals appear to recollect one of the most. Part of the fascination has got to do with echoes in the 1989 attack to the Central Park jogger. But Furthermore, it frightened folks in a method the attack to the jogger did not because its instances were so mundane.

It did not occur inside of a remote A part of the park late in the evening, but near a preferred playground at 3 during the afternoon. It could have took place to anybody. The tension was heightened with the secret of the piano lecturers identity.

For 3 times, as law enforcement and Medical practitioners tried using to see who she was, she lay inside a coma in her medical center mattress, nameless. Her dad and mom were being on getaway and her boyfriend, also a musician, was in Europe, on tour. Lastly, one of her learners regarded a law enforcement sketch and was ready to identify her from the clinic by her fingers, due to the fact her experience was swollen over and above recognition. The law enforcement did not release her name.

The last thing she remembers about June four, 1996, is offering a lesson in her studio condominium on West 57th Avenue, then putting her prolonged hair within a ponytail and likely out for just a stroll. She would not remember the attack, Despite the fact that she has read the accounts of the police and prosecutors.

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To me its just like a reality I discovered and memorized, she claimed. Just as if I were a pupil in school learning history.

She will not think of The person who did it. I may have been offended to get a second, but not a lot longer than that, she said. How could I be indignant at John Royster? He was declared not insane, but I suppose by our specifications he was.

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Dr. Jamshid Ghajar, her health care provider at Big apple Medical center-Cornell Medical Heart, as it absolutely was recognised in 1996, instructed reporters that she had a 10 per cent possibility of survival. Doctors experienced to eliminate her forehead bone, which was later on replaced, to generate home for her swelling Mind. When her mother produced a public attract pray for my daughter, thousands did.

Immediately after eight days, she arrived out of a coma, to start with inside a vegetative point out, then in a very childlike point out. As she recovered, she slept little and talked consistently, occasionally in gibberish. I used to be obtaining mad at people whenever they didnt respond to these terms, she said.

Like an Alzheimers individual, she had very little quick-phrase memory and would fail to remember readers as soon as they remaining the space.

About various months, she needed to relearn ways to wander, costume, go through and produce. Her boyfriend, Tony Scherr, visited every single day to Perform guitar for her. He inspired her to Perform the piano, from the recommendation of her physical therapists, who believed she could well be disappointed by her lack of ability to Engage in the way she after experienced. Mr. Scherr performed Beatles duets together with her, taking part in the left-hand portion although she performed the right.

Which was my ideal therapy, she said.

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In August, she moved back household to New Jersey, with her father, an engineer, and mom, a schoolteacher. She visited outdated haunts and identified as friends, seeking to revive her shattered memory. I was pretty obsessed with remembering, she claimed. Any memory loss was to me a sign of abnormality or deficit.

Her therapists assumed her development was great, but her two sisters protested that she wasn't the deep thinker she were.

What bothered her most was that she had misplaced the chance to cry, as though a faucet within her brain had been turned off. Just one evening, nine months immediately after she was damage, she stayed up late to observe the John Grisham Film A Time for you to Get rid of. Just following her father had long gone to mattress, she watched a courtroom scene of Samuel Jacksons character on demo for killing two Adult males who experienced raped his youthful daughter.

The faucet opened, and also the tears trickled down her cheeks. I considered my mother and father, my father, and what they went as a result of, she explained. Small by very little, my experience returned, my depth of mind returned.

Urged by her sisters, she went back again to highschool and acquired a masters diploma in music education and learning.

Not every thing went nicely. She and Mr. Scherr break up up five years after the assault, although they continue to be pals. She dated other Adult men, but she usually instructed them with regard to the assault instantly — she could not enable it, she explained — and so they never identified as for the next day.

We've got to uncover you someone, her Pal David Phelps, a guitar participant, reported 4 a long time back, before introducing her to Liam McCann, a pc technician and novice drummer. For when, she did not say anything at all with regards to the attack right up until she obtained to understand Mr. McCann, after which when she did, he admired her energy.

Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, who experienced normally visited her at her bedside while she was within the healthcare facility, married them in his Moments Square Business. She wore a blue costume and pearls. Even though she was Expecting, inside of a burst of creativeness, she and her pals recorded Though Were being Younger, an album of childrens music that she experienced penned ahead of the assault, including the song Relocating. Her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Scherr, produced the CD. On it, her spouse plays drums and she performs electrical piano.

Is her lifestyle as it absolutely was? Not exactly, although she's unwilling to attribute the discrepancies to her accidents. Her very last two piano pupils left her, without contacting to clarify why, she mentioned. She has resumed playing classical songs, but simple parts, simply because her daughter doesn't give her time for you to follow. As for jazz, I dont even try, she reported.

She want to drive additional, emotion stranded in the suburbs, but she is well rattled. She attempts to be written content with staying household and caring for her daughter.

Dr. Ghajar, a scientific professor of neurological surgical procedure at what's now called Big apple-Presbyterian Medical center/Weill Cornell Healthcare Middle, who operated on Ms. Kevorkian McCann following the assault, reported final 7 days that her level of Restoration was rare. Shes mainly typical, he explained.

Other specialists, who will be not personally familiar with Ms. Kevorkian McCanns situation, tend to be more careful.

Regaining a chance to Participate in the piano may possibly require an Virtually mechanical process, a semiautomatic remember of just what the fingers must do, claimed Dr. Yehuda Ben-Yishay, a professor of clinical rehabilitation medicine at The big apple College School of Medicine. As soon as brain-injured, you are often Mind-wounded, for the rest of your life, Dr. Ben-Yishay mentioned. There isn't any overcome, You can find only intense compensation.

The greater telling Portion of a recovery, in his watch, is psychological, and on that score he counts Ms. Kevorkian McCanns relationship and little one as a significant victory.

For her aspect, the piano Instructor appreciates she has transformed, but she has made her peace with it. I was form of a hyper —— I dont know if I used to be a sort A, but I was bold, she says. Why was I so formidable? I was a piano Instructor. I dont understand what the ambition was about. I really did come back to the individual Im designed to be.

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redkiteradio · 4 years

Text

12 Stats About best beginner keyboard piano

Correction Appended

On an album of bittersweet childrens tunes that she wrote in excess of ten years back, the woman who came for being recognized only because the piano teacher available what, in hindsight, looks as if an eerie glimpse of her possess long run.

Im going away today to a spot so far away, in which nobody is familiar with my title, she wrote inside the lyrics of the music named Going.

When she wrote that tune, she was youthful and vivacious, a piano Trainer and freelance audio writer who beloved Beethoven and jazz, sunsets and river sounds, lengthy walks and every little thing about New York.

On a kind of beloved walks, by way of Central Park in the brilliant Solar of the June day in 1996, a homeless drifter beat her and attempted to rape her, leaving her clinging to lifetime. After the assault, the words to her music came real. She moved absent, from New York City, out of her outdated life, and all but her closest buddies didn't know her title. To the remainder of the planet, she was — much like the a lot more renowned jogger attacked in Central Park seven several years before — an anonymous symbol of the urban nightmare. She was the piano Instructor.

Now, within the 10th anniversary from the attack, she's celebrating what seems to be her total recovery from brain trauma. She is forty two, married, with a little boy or girl. She is Kyle Kevorkian McCann, the piano Trainer, and she or he would like to tell her story, her way.

Her health care provider informed her it could consider ten years to Get better, and Sunday was that talismanic anniversary. I experience my lifetime has become redefined by Central Park, she reported several times in the past, her voice soft and hopeful. Before park; immediately after park. Will there ever be a time when I dont Feel, Oh, this is the 10th anniversary, the 11th anniversary?

She spoke in her modest ranch property inside a wooded subdivision in a The big apple suburb. She sat in the eating home strewn with toys, surrounded by photos of her cherubic, dark-haired 2-year-outdated daughter. A Steinway grand filled 50 percent the home, and at one particular level she sat down and performed. Her taking part in was forceful, but she appeared embarrassed to Perform more than a few bars, and shrugged, rather than answering, when questioned the identify in the piece. She requested that her daughter and her city not be named.

She calls that working day, June 4, 1996, the working day After i was hurt.

Hers was the main in the string of attacks by the identical person on 4 women about 8 days. The final victim, Evelyn Alvarez, 65, was crushed to Loss of life as she opened her Park Avenue dry-cleansing store, and finally, the assailant, John J. Royster, was convicted of murder and sentenced to daily life in prison.

But the attack over the piano Trainer could be the 1 folks feel to keep in mind essentially the most. Part of the fascination has got to do with echoes of the 1989 attack over the Central Park jogger. But In addition it frightened individuals in a way the attack on the jogger did not since its conditions ended up so mundane.

It did not happen inside a remote Portion of the park late in the evening, but in close proximity to a well known playground at three during the afternoon. It might have transpired to any individual. The stress was heightened with the thriller from the piano lecturers identity.

For three days, as law enforcement and doctors tried using to learn who she was, she lay within a coma in her medical center mattress, anonymous. Her dad and mom were on holiday vacation and her boyfriend, also a musician, was in Europe, on tour. Last but not least, among her pupils recognized a police sketch and was capable of recognize her in the medical center by her fingers, mainly because her face was swollen past recognition. The law enforcement did not release her identify.

The very last thing she remembers about June four, 1996, is supplying a lesson in her studio condominium on West 57th Road, then putting her lengthy hair in the ponytail and heading out to get a wander. She would not remember the attack, While she has listened to the accounts with the law enforcement and prosecutors.

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To me its just like a reality I figured out and memorized, she mentioned. Like I were being a university student at school finding out historical past.

She isn't going to contemplate the man who did it. I may need been angry for the moment, although not for much longer than that, she stated. How could I be indignant at John Royster? He was declared not insane, but I guess by our standards he was.

Dr. Jamshid Ghajar, her medical professional at Big apple Medical center-Cornell Health-related Center, as it had been known in 1996, instructed reporters that she had a ten per cent chance of survival. Physicians had to remove her forehead bone, which was later changed, to generate area for her swelling Mind. When her mom designed a public appeal to pray for my daughter, hundreds did.

Right after 8 days, she arrived away from a coma, very first in a vegetative state, then in the childlike point out. As she recovered, she slept very little and talked continuously, at times in gibberish. I had been getting mad at men and women every time they didnt respond to these words and phrases, she claimed.

Like an Alzheimers patient, she had little quick-expression memory and would neglect readers when they still left the room.

Around various months, she had to relearn the way to stroll, gown, browse and generate. Her boyfriend, Tony Scherr, frequented every day to Engage in guitar for her. He inspired her to Enjoy the piano, towards the recommendation of her Actual physical therapists, who imagined she can be discouraged by her inability to play the best way she when experienced. Mr. Scherr performed Beatles duets with her, participating in the still left-hand part whilst she performed the correct.

Which was my very best therapy, she reported.

In August, she moved again dwelling to New Jersey, along with her father, an engineer, and mother, a schoolteacher. She frequented outdated haunts and termed pals, making an attempt to restore her shattered memory. I was quite obsessive about remembering, she reported. Any memory decline was to me an indication of abnormality or deficit.

Her therapists believed her progress was terrific, but her two sisters protested that she was not the deep thinker she had been.

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What bothered her most was that she had dropped a chance to cry, as though a faucet within her brain were turned off. One particular evening, nine months after she was harm, she stayed up late to look at the John Grisham Film A The perfect time to Eliminate. Just after her father experienced absent to bed, she watched a courtroom scene of Samuel Jacksons character on demo for killing two Guys who had raped his younger daughter.

The faucet opened, and also the tears trickled down her cheeks. I thought of my mother and father, my father, and the things they went through, she stated. Very little by small, my experience returned, my depth of brain returned.

Urged by her sisters, she went back again to highschool and bought a masters diploma in songs education.

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Not all the things went perfectly. She and Mr. Scherr split up five years after the attack, although they continue to be friends. She dated other Males, but she usually advised them with regard to the attack instantly — she could not support it, she reported — and so they never ever referred to as for just a 2nd day.

We've got to find you anyone, her friend David Phelps, a guitar player, claimed four years in the past, right before introducing her to Liam McCann, a computer technician and amateur drummer. For once, she did not say something about the attack until finally she acquired to grasp Mr. McCann, after which you can when she did, he admired her power.

Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, who had frequently frequented her at her bedside while she was inside the healthcare facility, married them in his Moments Sq. Office environment. She wore a blue costume and pearls. Although she was pregnant, inside of a burst of creativity, she and her pals recorded While Had been Younger, an album of childrens songs that she had written before the attack, such as the song Shifting. Her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Scherr, generated the CD. On it, her husband plays drums and she or he performs electrical piano.

Is her everyday living as it was? Not accurately, however she is hesitant to attribute the variations to her injuries. Her previous two piano pupils left her, without contacting to elucidate why, she stated. She has resumed playing classical tunes, but straightforward pieces, for the reason that her daughter would not give her the perfect time to practice. As for jazz, I dont even attempt, she reported.

She want to drive more, feeling stranded inside the suburbs, but she is definitely rattled. She attempts to be material with being residence and caring for her daughter.

Dr. Ghajar, a scientific professor of neurological surgical procedure at what on earth is now termed New York-Presbyterian Hospital/Weill Cornell Clinical Heart, who operated on Ms. Kevorkian McCann after the assault, said past week that her level of Restoration was unusual. Shes in essence ordinary, he explained.

Other authorities, who are not Individually aware of Ms. Kevorkian McCanns scenario, tend to be more cautious.

Regaining the ability to play the piano may include an Virtually mechanical course of action, a semiautomatic remember of what the fingers ought to do, reported Dr. Yehuda Ben-Yishay, a professor of clinical rehabilitation medication at New York College School of Medicine. At the time brain-wounded, you happen to be generally brain-hurt, For the remainder of your daily life, Dr. Ben-Yishay reported. There isn't a remedy, There is certainly only intense compensation.

The more telling A part of a Restoration, in his perspective, is psychological, and on that rating he counts Ms. Kevorkian McCanns relationship and child as a major victory.

For her element, the piano teacher knows she has modified, but she has built her peace with it. I used to be kind of a hyper —— I dont know if I had been a sort A, but I used to be bold, she says. Why was I so formidable? I had been a piano teacher. I dont determine what the ambition was about. I really did return to the person Im purported to be.

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homestuckcanonconfirmer · 4 years

Text

15 Up-and-Coming best keyboard for beginners

Correction Appended

On an album of bittersweet childrens tracks that she wrote over ten years ago, the lady who arrived to get acknowledged only because the piano teacher offered what, in hindsight, looks as if an eerie glimpse of her possess upcoming.

Im transferring absent now to a location so distant, exactly where nobody is familiar with my identify, she wrote from the lyrics of a music named Shifting.

When she wrote that music, she was young and vivacious, a piano Trainer and freelance music writer who liked Beethoven and jazz, sunsets and river Appears, lengthy walks and every thing about Big apple.

On one of those beloved walks, via Central Park in the intense Solar of a June day in 1996, a homeless drifter defeat her and attempted to rape her, leaving her clinging to lifetime. Once the attack, the text to her song came real. She moved absent, from Ny city, away from her aged everyday living, and all but her closest good friends didn't know her name. To the remainder of the world, she was -- just like the extra well known jogger attacked in Central Park 7 decades previously -- an nameless symbol of the urban nightmare. She was the piano Trainer.

Now, within the 10th anniversary on the attack, she is celebrating what seems to be her whole recovery from Mind trauma. She is 42, married, with a little kid. She's Kyle Kevorkian McCann, the piano Trainer, and he or she wishes to convey to her Tale, her way.

Her medical doctor informed her it would consider 10 years to Get well, and Sunday was that talismanic anniversary. I sense my life has long been redefined by Central Park, she explained numerous days back, her voice delicate and hopeful. Prior to park; just after park. Will there at any time be a time After i dont Imagine, Oh, This can be the 10th anniversary, the eleventh anniversary?

She spoke in her modest ranch household inside of a wooded subdivision in a very Ny suburb. She sat within a eating home strewn with toys, surrounded by photos of her cherubic, dark-haired 2-calendar year-outdated daughter. A Steinway grand stuffed fifty percent the home, and at one particular position she sat down and played. Her participating in was forceful, but she appeared humiliated to Engage in more than a few bars, and shrugged, in lieu of answering, when asked the name on the piece. She asked that her daughter and her town not be named.

She phone calls that day, June 4, 1996, the day Once i was harm.

Hers was the initial inside a string of attacks by exactly the same man on 4 Gals over 8 times. The final sufferer, Evelyn Alvarez, sixty five, was overwhelmed to Demise as she opened her Park Avenue dry-cleaning store, and in the long run, the assailant, John J. Royster, was convicted of murder and sentenced to existence in jail.

Yet the assault on the piano teacher may be the 1 persons look to keep in mind the most. Element of the fascination should do with echoes of the 1989 assault about the Central Park jogger. But Additionally, it frightened individuals in a way the assault to the jogger did not since its circumstances were being so mundane.

It did not take place inside of a distant Element of the park late at nighttime, but around a well known playground at three inside the afternoon. It could have occurred to anybody. The tension was heightened via the secret from the piano lecturers identification.

For 3 times, as police and Health professionals tried using to find out who she was, she lay inside a coma in her healthcare facility bed, nameless. Her moms and dads were being on family vacation and her boyfriend, also a musician, was in Europe, on tour. Last but not least, one of her learners recognized a police sketch and was able to recognize her in the clinic by her fingers, due to the fact her face was swollen over and above recognition. The law enforcement did not release her name.

The last thing she remembers about June four, 1996, is providing a lesson in her studio condominium on West 57th Avenue, then putting her long hair inside a ponytail and heading out for a stroll. She isn't going to don't forget the attack, Though she has read the accounts on the police and prosecutors.

To me its similar to a fact I learned and memorized, she claimed. As though I were a scholar in class learning background.

She does not consider the man who did it. I might need been angry for your moment, although not much longer than that, she said. How could I be offended at John Royster? He was declared not insane, but I guess by our criteria he was.

Dr. Jamshid Ghajar, her medical doctor at Ny Healthcare facility-Cornell Professional medical Heart, as it was known in 1996, told reporters that she experienced a 10 % chance of survival. Medical practitioners experienced to get rid of her forehead bone, which was later replaced, to produce home for her swelling Mind. When her mother created a general public appeal to pray for my daughter, 1000's did.

Immediately after eight times, she arrived away from a coma, initially within a vegetative state, then within a childlike state. As she recovered, she slept small and talked continually, in some cases in gibberish. I had been obtaining mad at people when they didnt respond to these text, she claimed.

Like an Alzheimers patient, she experienced minor quick-time period memory and would ignore guests when they left the place.

Over a number of months, she had to relearn the best way to wander, dress, read through and compose. Her boyfriend, Tony Scherr, visited every single day to Participate in guitar for her. He inspired her to Engage in the piano, towards the advice of her Actual physical therapists, who thought she can be disappointed by her incapability to play the way she once experienced. Mr. Scherr played Beatles duets along with her, enjoying the left-hand aspect even though she played the ideal.

Which was my finest therapy, she stated.

In August, she moved again home to New Jersey, together with her father, an engineer, and mother, a schoolteacher. She visited outdated haunts and named mates, making an attempt to revive her shattered memory. I was extremely obsessed with remembering, she said. Any memory decline was to me an indication of abnormality or deficit.

Her therapists considered her development was great, but her two sisters protested that she wasn't the deep thinker she were.

What bothered her most was that she had missing the ability to cry, just as if a faucet inside of her Mind were turned off. One particular night, 9 months after she was damage, she stayed up late to view the John Grisham Film A The perfect time to Eliminate. Just soon after her father experienced gone to bed, she watched a courtroom scene of Samuel Jacksons character on demo for killing two Adult males who had raped his younger daughter.

The faucet opened, and the tears trickled down her cheeks. I thought about my moms and dads, my father, and whatever they went by, she reported. Small by small, my sensation returned, my depth of head returned.

Urged by her sisters, she went back again to high school and got a masters degree in music education.

Not every thing went nicely. She and Mr. Scherr break up up five years following the attack, however they remain buddies. She dated other men, but she usually advised them about the assault instantly -- she couldn't help it, she stated -- plus they in no way identified as for just a 2nd day.

Now we have to discover you a person, her Mate David Phelps, a guitar player, said four many years ago, just before introducing her to Liam McCann, a pc technician and novice drummer. For at the time, she did not say anything in regards to the attack until eventually she acquired to find out Mr. McCann, then when she did, he admired her toughness.

Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, who had normally visited her at her bedside even though she was within the healthcare facility, married them in his Periods Sq. Workplace. She wore a blue gown and pearls. Though she was Expecting, in a burst of creativity, she and her friends recorded When Were being Younger, an album of childrens songs that she experienced written before the assault, such as the song Transferring. Her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Scherr, produced the CD. On it, her husband plays drums and she plays electrical piano.

Is her everyday living as it was? Not exactly, even though she's hesitant to attribute the dissimilarities to her accidents. Her final two piano pupils still left her, with out calling to clarify why, she reported. She has resumed participating in classical music, but basic items, because her daughter will not give her time and energy to follow. As for jazz, I dont even consider, she mentioned.

She would like to travel extra, sensation stranded from the suburbs, but she is well rattled. She attempts to be content material with staying dwelling and caring for her daughter.

Dr. Ghajar, a scientific professor of neurological surgery at what on earth is now referred to as NewYork-Presbyterian Clinic/Weill Cornell Clinical Middle, who operated on Ms. Kevorkian McCann following the attack, claimed previous week that her standard of Restoration was rare. Shes basically typical, he mentioned.

youtube

Other industry experts, who are not personally aware of Ms. Kevorkian McCanns situation, tend to be more careful.

Regaining the opportunity to Participate in the piano may possibly entail an Pretty much mechanical system, a semiautomatic remember of what the fingers must do, stated Dr. Yehuda Ben-Yishay, a professor of scientific rehabilitation medicine at New York University College of Medicine. As soon as brain-wounded, that you are generally brain-injured, for the rest of your lifetime, Dr. Ben-Yishay stated. There is no treatment, there is only intense compensation.

The greater telling Component of a Restoration, in his look at, is psychological, and on that rating he counts Ms. Kevorkian McCanns relationship and baby as a major victory.

For her section, the piano Instructor knows she has altered, but she has manufactured her peace with it. I was form of a hyper ---- I dont know if I was a Type A, but I used to be ambitious, she suggests. Why was I so formidable? I had been a piano Trainer. I dont know very well what the ambition was about. I actually did return to the person Im speculated to be.

Correction: June thirteen, 2006, Tuesday An short article on Thursday about Kyle Kevorkian McCann, a piano Instructor who was beaten and sexually assaulted ten years ago in Central Park, misstated the title of her album of childrens songs. It truly is Whilst Ended up Younger, not When Had been Younger.

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nataliecrown · 7 years

Text

4x02 Recap - Heavy Lies the Crown (The 100)

This was a quality episode. It’s not gonna jump on to my all time faves list, possibly because pretty much everything was spoiled beforehand (can’t wait to be past the screener eps, honestly), but it was some high calibre shit.

Warning: I am in a foul and irritable mood. If this recap is saltier than usual, I apologise. Unless you like salt, in which case - I did it especially for you!

Onwards...

- NOTE: They fixed Zach’s name in the credits. My question is, how the hell was that mistake ever allowed to happen. My god.

Anyway...

Radioactive, Radioactive

- The butterflies are back! I am HERE for throwing back to the S1 radioactive imagery. Could it be that we will see random dude from S2 again at some point? A GIRL CAN DREAM.

- So this whole opening sequence was seriously rad. We got to see ALIE again. Who knew that would excite me so much (Erica’s performance is just so damn good), we got to hear Tree Adam’s awesome soundtrack again, and we got a pretty brilliant introduction to Ilian. I gave exactly zero shits about RILEY later on in the episode, but I am instantly a fan of this dude.

- I also think it’s worth pointing out that his trauma must be EXTREME. He murdered his family. Yes, he wasn’t in control. But he can remember every damn moment. I doubt he will remain an antagonist forever, but I can’t say I blame him for being seriously fucked up and needing to expel that fucked up ness through violence and rage.

LET’S TALK KABBY

- THIS WHOLE SCENE WAS WONDERFUL.

- It’s legit pretty rad that an older couple get to have proper on screen sexy times on a ‘teen’ show. Kudos! It’s hawt.

- Paige Turco’s legs. Damn.

- ‘You are a terrible influence’ has me asking SO MANY QUESTIONS. I WANT TO SEE MISCHIEVOUS KANE PLEASE. THE KANE THAT OPERATES WHEN HIS CHILDREN AREN’T AROUND TO SEE HIM ACTING ANYTHING LESS THAN WISE.

- ALSO when Abby said Roan was expecting her...was I the only one whose mind swept off into an AU where Abby is like...the king’s wife, but she’s getting it on with one of his most trusted Ambassadors and it’s a tale of star crossed lovers and... @kane-and-griffin SURELY YOU WENT THERE?

- Kane’s smile while she has her back to him is just lovely.

- AND THEN the whole interaction with the necklace is just wonderful. Abby will never stop loving Jake, she will never stop missing him. But she is allowed to move on. Knowing that won’t stop her feeling guilty though, at least for a little while. Her hesitation is true to real life, and Kane’s gentle understanding is absolutely exquisite. He is not at all fazed by the spectre of her dead husband, to the point that he does not hesitate to help her put the necklace back on. And Abby does not express her gratitude with words, but with a kiss - her own gentle reminder to him that despite that guilt that is impossibly to not feel, she knows that she wants him. That she wants this.

The T Kru

- So we check in with the new peeps. We have the leader who is alllll about taking out King Roan. I think it’s important to note Ilian pointing out that he only wants revenge against Skaikru, and not the king.

- HEY LURKING LURKER WHO MIGHT YOU BE?

- Just kidding, it is clearly Octavia and I am about to be controversial...are you ready?

- Yes, Octavia looks like a badass, and angel of death, a vixen ready to get a mixen. HOWEVER...isn’t the point of an assassin meant to be that they are inconspicuous? If she wants to fade into the background and eavesdrop on conversations...if she wants her identity to remain secret for more than two minutes...shouldn’t she dress like everybody else? The cape is stunning but also....VERY UNIQUE COMPARED TO EVERYTHING ELSE WE HAVE EVER SEEN ON THIS SHOW.

- ANYWAY nobody notices her REALLY UNIQUE CAPE and Octavia learns vital information. The T Kru are going to challenge Roan to combat. Which, normally might be sweet, but Roan was shot - remember?

- God, I hate that crown. FREE ZACH’S BROW 2K17.

- ‘Now that the lift has been repaired’ AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAA *wheezes* Okay, show.

- I just want to point out that Octavia is still wearing Niylah’s clothes. JUST POINTING IT OUT LEAVE ME ALONE.

- Octavia has continuous smug face going on this season and I love it. Echo, perhaps, is not such a fan.

- ‘You’ll lose. Lexa kicked your ass...’ ROAN’S FACE AHAHAHA. And Kane’s reaction is priceless too. I am living for a season of Octavia just straight talking 24/7.

- Roan, Octavia and Kane are a squad I can get behind. Kane is going to try for diplomacy...we’ll see how that goes...

ADVENTURE SQUAD ASSEMBLE

- Clarke’s look is fucking great, I love it so much. It is hints of S1 whilst also being fresh. I am a staunch defender of most of season 3. I think the overarching...arcs... were necessary and well placed. But lawwwwd it is nice to see Clarke back at home, and looking like Clarke again.

- This scene really nicely sets up the differing stances of Bravelarke. Nobody is right, nobody is wrong. The back and forth is really nicely done. It’s all very head, heart, and hands I must say.

- ‘A choice your dad died for’ RAVEN REYES, SLYTHERIN.

- Clarke’s expression and voice get super fierce here. It makes me so sad for her considering the end of the episode. So Raven is Jake, Clarke is Jaha, and Bellamy is Abby? I’m for it.

- The real MVP of this scene is Monty, and I love how he isn’t actively part of the conversation that the ‘leaders’ are having, but his mind is constantly working. While the others are going around in circles, Monty thinks up a solution.

- ‘We’re standing in our viable solution.’ The way they all look around at the Ark which was both salvation and prison for them, all hopeful and wide eyed...IDK my dudes, it gives me the heart feelings.

Checking in with the other delinquents...

- Something about Bellamy going to Miller and Bryan gives me feelings, mostly bc of the knowledge that Bellamy and Miller are BFFs. RIGHT.

- Bryan is recovering remarkably well. I somehow doubt you should ever base gunshot wound recovery times off of this show folks.

- Bryan gets more character in this episode than he has at any other point. Jonathan does a really fantastic job of portraying his trepidation, his anger, and his general level of irritation at Miller.

- I LOVE THE PIKE CONVERSATION. IT IS VERY VERY IMPORTANT. It’s also super important that what Octavia did is referred to as murder here. Last episode we had Clarke assure Bellamy that Pike had it coming. I think that was said, for the most part, to make Bellamy feel better. But this show is nothing if not fair when it comes to showcasing all sides of things. Pike was, in most respects, a hero and saviour to Bryan. And he was elected Chancellor, fairly. It’s not a simple situation.

- ‘To save you, Nate.’ I’m not hardcore Briller or anything, but the delivery here was spot on. Annnnnd I actually think super important in establishing Bryan’s character some more. We all know Bryan will be heading out the door sooner or later, but I still appreciate how the shows likes to give any and all characters depth.

- The hug and no kiss thing is...weird. There can be no denying.

- JASPER’S WHOLE SHOWER SCENE. I FORGET HOW GOOD DEVON IS AT COMEDY.

- MONTY’S APPALLED FACE.

- HONESTLY THOUGH. When Jasper says ‘Monty’ all serious and turns off the shower, I CACKLE. And then ‘look at me’ I’M TRYING NOT TO. BLESS YOU LOVELY CHILDREN.

- As things stand, I am loving where the show has taken Jasper post 4x01. And I’m intrigued to see where it goes.

- MAYBE MONTY DID GRAB THE WEED. IDK HOW OR WHEN. BUT MAYBE.

- Obviously the best part of this scene is THE JONTY HIGH FIVE. HUZZAH.

- ‘Hey, you wanna hug?’ *giggles*

ADVENTURE SQUAD ASSEMBLE

- MONTY AND RAVEN’S INTERACTION IS SO WONDERFUL. THEY’RE ALL LIKE TEAM BRAIN, AND THEN MONTY POINTS OUT RAVEN’S BOOM FETISH, AND THEN THE I GOT THIS AND THE SHOULDER PAT AND THE JOKE.

- I LOVE ALL OF THEM SO MUCH.

- Okay, so Bellarke. There is this super brief shot after Clarke hands over the whatever whing, where Bellamy looks away from her and she just STARES AT HIM YOU GUYS. HER FACE IS SO WARM AND FOND AND GLOWY. I’VE NOT SEEN ANYONE ELSE MENTION THIS MILLISECOND FRAME BUT IT’S EVERYTHING.

- I’m personally not of the opinion that Bob intentionally winked, I think it’s just a face thing. BUT THERE CAN BE NO DENYING THE CUTE. WHO KNEW THAT IF BELLARKE ACTUALLY GOT TO SPEND TIME TOGETHER THEY’D GO RIGHT BACK TO THE DORKY JOKES AND THE ADORING EYE SMILES.

- WHAT IS THAT SHOT OF MONTY AND HARPER WATCHING THEM.

- Bellamy is so...energised this season? I’m fully loving it. I’m sure his self loathing is absolute, but he’s channelling it in such a positive way since he got to unload at Pike in 3x16. Clarke doesn’t have that same energy though, and you can almost see more of her own seep away as she watches him leave.

- Also, another cute Raven and Monty nod. I POINT OUT ALL THE DETAILS OKAY. MAKE YOU READ ALL THE WORDS.

- That was a quick trip.

- The Marper hand hold is cute.

- Things go to shit pretty fast! Bellamy is all about making sure everybody else chills out in this episode. Even when he gets smacked upside the head, he is DEDICATED TO THE CAUSE.

- BELLAMY SPEAKING TRIG YO.

- It’s not my place to talk about in depth, but the casting of extras and small bits parts on this show feels remarkably diverse compared to literally everything else I watch.

- We get a clear indication that the Ice Nation are not particularly fond of their King.

- Personally...I don’t reallyyyyy get why they back down? But whatever. I guess the leader does at least slightly fear the king?

PRINCESS MECHANIC RISE

- Okay, so Raven having to do her first mini boss speech and feeling all awkward and overwhelmed is the start of what will end up being another amazing arc. I FEEL IT IN MY BONES.

- SINCLAIRRRRR. But we do at least see now why he kind of needed to die. Kabby must, obviously, be protected at all costs. However, this show very much is about the 100 (+ Raven and Bellamy). Raven has to rise to the occasion in his absence.

- This conversation between Raven and Clarke is EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING. It reminds me so much of S1 and ‘I’d pick you first.’ GAH. Just seeing them working together, and supporting each other means so much. Neither of them really know what they’re doing, but they’re doing it anyway. MORE. GIVE ME MORE.

- Fucking Jaha.

- Okay, FINE. Jaha having actual relevance to main characters is infinitely more interesting than Jaha out on his own doing his own wild things.

- I LOVE RAVEN BRINGING UP THE WRIST THING, AND CLARKE FINDING THE STRENGTH WITHIN TO POINT OUT THAT JAHA WAS ALSO CHIPPED. But Raven is having NONE of that. Remember that Jaha, at ALIEs behest, zoned in on Raven. She was the key. He went after her, after her injury, preyed on her pain. No wonder she is seething. Jaha’s zen owning of all his crimes is...vaguely interesting, I guess.

- Sort the scrap you dumb dumb.

OH MY GOD, RILEY? RILEYYYY? IS THAT YOU?

- Even if preview articles and teasers hadn’t already given away what Bellamy’s choice would be, as soon as we saw that little girl we all know he was saving the slaves, right?

- The appearance of the slaves strikes me as entirely random and contrived though. Why would the Ice Nation have massacred so many of Farm Station if they had a legitimate use for them? Whatever.

- So, Riley! Definitely in to the idea of him and Bryan having a history together, and the two of them rowing off into some off screen happiness together later in the season. I’m sure, given time, Riley may grow on me. This show does a remarkable job of making me care about everyone. But at this point I feel nothing. I’m all in with Ilian, and intrigued by Kenza...Riley, not so much.

- Everything about Echo and Roan’s sparring is attractive. EVERYTHING.

- I’m sorry, but Abby is totally checking Roan out in all of her reaction shots. That, or she’s fantasising about Kane.

- ‘If you can’t help me, why the hell are you still here.’ That clearly influences Abby’s decision to leave later.

- So, I didn’t talk about Roan and Echo much earlier because I LOVE THIS SCENE HERE. I’m so intrigued by where the show is going with these two. It’s a huge deal that Roan trusts her with the radiation information. I suppose it might not be trust per se, perhaps more like necessity - but still! And I also think it means a lot that Echo seems truly dedicated to helping him. As was said in 4x01, she’s very loyal. It’s proving true so far.

- Echo at Arkadia. Now, that will be interesting.

Octavia, back at it again with the sass and the smirks.

- Kane makes a valiant attempt at diplomacy! He points out that while Arkadia might have helped spread the CoL, they also destroyed it and saved humanity.

- When that doesn’t work, Octavia employs an intimidating lead with some shit talking. Solid tactics, O.

- NIYTAVIA FOR LIFE...but in the meantime, we’re calling it Butterfly Assassin?

- ‘Well that went well.’ Kane’s look up at her is just like, DON’T.

- CLARKE MY LOVE. I AM SO SAD FOR YOU. HEAVY LIES THE CROWN INDEED. IT’S TOO MANY PEOPLE. SO MANY ARE GONNA DIE. DAMN THIS SHOW.

- I kind of adore that Clarke’s reaction to hearing music is DA FUQ IS THIS? NO TO MUSIC. NO TO JOY.

- I really enjoy the scene with Clarke and Jasper. You can still feel his anger at Clarke, but...I don’t know...there’s something different about it. I almost feel like Jasper has put aside his anger, and is just...shooting from the hip, rather than from grief? Clarke’s face breaks my heart when he points out how similar it all sounds to them being sent to the ground though.

THE BIG DECISION

- Okay, so first of all...I love that we got to hear everybody’s perspective. This was democracy at work and it wasn’t a decision Bellamy made alone. So we can put that narrative to bed now.

- Minty lives

- I’m actually not going to go in depth on the choice that Bellamy ultimately makes, because I can see both sides and I don’t think either is right or wrong. We don’t have to justify anything here. Yes, perhaps somewhere down the line the squad will realise that the generator really was their only option and the reality of his choice will crash down on Bellamy. But imagine that he had decided to leave the slaves, and then in two weeks time they found a gigantic underground bunker that could fit 10,000 people. He’d feel pretty shit about letting the slaves suffer then, right? The characters don’t know what the future holds, and they don’t have the benefit of knowing they are part of a narrative which ensures that some of them will at least survive.

- So, whatever basically. I’d have been cool with this going either way.

- Stoke that they saved Riley though, obviously.

- Important quote to note... ‘we have Raven.’ I, like Bellamy, believe that Raven Reyes can do anything - including make water out of nothing.

- Also worth noting how...incredibly risky their plan was? Like. Yikes.

- Harper kicking due in the face is my kink.

- MONTY IS SUPER GREAT IN THIS EPISODE. Everything about his reaction to meeting his dads murderer is just exquisitely well done. Leaving his death to the slaves is both powerful and also really quite dark.

Heavy Lies the Crown

- The Clarke/Jaha scene is so good and so hurtful to me.

- Fucking Jaha.

- Clarke referencing her father and being locked up is really important, but...so is the parallel to Jaha’s choices. Ugh. Everything he says is actually so on point, and you can see realisation that Clarke is seeing herself in Jaha is disgusting to her but also unavoidable.

- Back to Kabby. We saw Kane have absolute faith in Abby last episode, so it’s nice to hear her being so sure that he will figure something out (YES, IT’S ALL VERY BELLARKE I KNOW).

- Kane quickly figures out that Abby is going back to Arcadia (judging from the promo, she’s going to be needed). I’m excited for this because more Abby and Clarke, but also maybe some Clarke and Raven please? We get some more gloriously supportive stuff from Kane...

- And then Kane notices that Abby isn’t wearing her necklace! Upon first viewing, I didn’t pick up on the fact that this scene feels a bit cut up. I can see it on second watch, and I can understand that’s frustrating. That being said, I don’t think the scene loses its meaning? To me, the removal of her necklace is Abby’s way of saying she’s ready to move on and it’s her way of saying it to Kane without putting it into words.

- Prayer circle that Abby gives the rings to Clarke.

- LOOK AT HOW MUCH THAT CAPE STANDS OUT OKAY.

- So, I’m skipping straight to the murder. I FUCKING LOVE ITTTTTTTTTTT. I just...I’m so relieved that Octavia’s mudering is FOR her people, and not against. It makes so much sense.

- I can’t help giggling a little at Octavia being so ballsy about dueling these folk. THEY MIGHT ALL BE TONS BETTER THAN YOU, BABE. THEY’VE HAD YEARS TO PRACTICE. But whatever.

- Soooo the stabbing into the earhole to hide the wound and thus make it seem like he died of natural causes is BADASS.

- HEADCANON: Octavia did not learn this tactic on the ground. She learned it as a child when Bellamy was reading her some classic murderous fiction.

- ‘LONG LIVE THE KING.’ Nice.

- Kane is CONCERNED about his daughter’s MURDEROUS WAYS.

- Ilian has also figured it out.

- And Echo too seems suspicious. STICKING A PIN IN THAT FOR THE FUTURE.

Clarke, we have adopted more children

- So Briller are breaking up, and I can’t be mad at the show for it because Jonathan got a new gig and can’t commit (sound familiar, oooh I went there). I do hope that this time around they let him just disappear into the sunset. Learn from your mistakes show.

- Make sure he takes Riley with him.

- Again, kudos to Jonathan for this ep. He really brings it.

- RILEY RILEY RILEY YES WE KNOW THAT IS HIS NAME. STOP.

- Okay, so the scene where Riley and Clarke are revealed as old friends (I have zero romance fears here btw) is HILLARIOUS TO ME. It’s so blatantly shoe horned in. AS IF they would be reunited, hug, and then just...blah. Like...it’s so noodley?

- Anyway, Raven realises there is no generator and Bellamy fesses up to his maternal instincts.

- I actually love Clarke’s ‘you just did’. The delivery doesn’t imply blame to me, which is backed up by how immediately Clarke accepts his choice. It’s more a simple statement of fact, coming from a place of understanding.

- Raven, on the other hand, is pissed. ‘You’re not the only one who has to live with it. As usual.’ This is a direct throwback to Bellamy chucking the radio, right? That’s pertinent to their history. Look, Raven is a spitfire. She’s scared and under pressure, and she hasn’t had to make the leadership calls yet. She clearly will at some point this season, and we’ll see her gain a healthy dose of respect for Clarke and Bellamy when she does. For now, I think her anger is perfect.

- I know ‘no more than a 100′ is really on the nose but I LOVE IT SO SO MUCH. WHO’S GONNA MAKE IT YOU GUYS. AHHHH. MY SHOW.

- BRAVENLARKE FOR LIFE.

- CLARKE QUOTES JAHA AT BELLAMY AND SHE JUST LOOKS SO BROKEN ABOUT IT. My dear girl, you’ll be okay...somehow.

- Clarke is just the accepted leader of Skaikru now and I love it.

- TOGETHER. Looks at Bellamy. OF COURSE SHE DOES. Can we also talk about Raven’s heart eyes towards Clarke? I mean...they fade to ash pretty fast, but just for that moment it’s the purest of loves!

- So, Clarke lies, and just like Bellamy and the generator...I won’t call right or wrong. There is no answer, just a choice.

- ‘Your father would be so proud’ OUCH. OUCH. OUCH. Raven lashing out at Clarke here is much more personal than what she says to Bellamy. It’s more vicious. But I’m still not going to rail on her, for the same reasons as mentioned above. It’s time for her to get to work. I am so excited to see her in this role.

- And so Bellamy repeats ‘we save who we can save today’ and the important thing here is how Clarke nods. She’s not mad. She respects and understands his choice. Most of all she trusts him. Even if she CAN’T understand a choice he makes, she’ll always trust that it came from the right place. They’re a team.

- And to reinforce that, the episode ends with a glorious Bellarke shot as they contemplate what is to come.

- How many episodes will end with a Bellarke shot this season? I say 12/13.

- I AM SO VERY HYPED FOR NEXT WEEK.

My laptop is acting up and I’m as grumpy as a Clarke that hears music playing, so I’m not even re reading this. Apologies for typos. And congratulations if you made it to the end!

#the 100 #the 100 recap #bellarke #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #bob morley #eliza taylor #raven reyes #lindsey morgan

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seashellsoldier · 7 years

Text

Confessional #5: The Demons of Id

I’m going to share the last chapter of my masters thesis, a self-indulgent memoir that attempted to overlap the life of my father with mine, his experiences in Vietnam with mine in Iraq, and that hoped to basically take a close, harsh look at what soldiers bring back from war zones. Of course these days everyone shares such shit, so it’s nothing special, but I figure why not. I miss Australia very much, and I hate this hypocritical country to profound depths in this Age of Ignorance and Cruelty.

Chapter 43

The Demons of Id

“Walking up a damp hill at Manassas in the fall of 2002, I came upon a spot overlooking a huge field ringed by woods. Two or three cannons sat on that hill with a plaque; one could imagine the clear field of fire the artillery had been looking down on the mass of men running into the belly of the beast with flags waving and foot-long bayonets fixed. Bull Run. A few other tourists meandering around the battlefield on the chilly September morning, although, I couldn’t see them for the trees and hills. I had taken to the trails, found the signs marking firefights and skirmishes, where certain officers fell. Our Trojan War.

There on the sloping hill, a sinuous road wound on the right-hand side of the field. Low wispy clouds that seemed to scurry by at a rabbit’s pace tinged the gunmetal sky. I could sense something melancholy about the place, as if it were sacred ground soaked with souls long gone, yet still present, ghostly fingertips clutched to the edge of the cliff. A holy land of the valorous cast from a hellscape of men and cold steel, smoke and corpses. I stood there shivering for some time, my sweatshirt and watchcap inadequate, and the heat of the coffee in my stomach dissipated, captivated by the dream of the view.

There is a sad romance with warfare much too often misconstrued. When the bullets and bombs fly across a movie screen, or left to the reader’s imagination through black words on cream pages in an antiquated typeface, the palpability and weight of such events are utterly lost. No paint, words, or film can adequately project such visions. The weight presses on the heart, on the mind, upon the soul of combat’s participants. Each cradling his or her own unique perspective. There is nothing romantic about war, and yet even I have trouble separating the idyllic, dreamy heroism from the awful, blunt reality. My experiences are really nothing special compared to my father, or most other vets. I was no hero charging up a muddy hill; I didn’t save anyone’s life by carrying them through enemy fire. I never had to make a hard choice, and yet, I made choices hard for my ex wife. I hope she’s in a better place now, recovering from everything she experienced in Iraq, and in our home. As the immortal words of Whitman suggests, however, war never truly ends for those who survive:

A MARCH in the ranks hard-prest, and the road unknown, A route through a heavy wood with muffled steps in the darkness, Our army foil’d with loss severe, and the sullen remnant retreating, Till after midnight glimmer upon us the lights of a dim-lighted building, We come to an open space in the woods, and halt by the dim-lighted building, ‘Tis a large old church at the crossing roads, now an impromptu hospital, Entering but for a minute I see a sight beyond all the pictures and poems ever made, Shadows of deepest, deepest black, just lit by moving candles and lamps, And by one great pitchy torch stationary with wild red flame and clouds of smoke, By these, crowds, groups of forms vaguely I see on the floor, some in the pews laid down, At my feet more distinctly a soldier, a mere lad, in danger of bleeding to death, (he is shot in the abdomen,) I stanch the blood temporarily, (the youngster’s face is white as a lily,) Then before I depart I sweep my eyes o'er the scene fain to absorb it all, Faces, varieties, postures beyond description, most in obscurity, some of them dead, Surgeons operating, attendants holding lights, the smell of ether, odor of blood, The crowd, O the crowd of the bloody forms, the yard outside also fill’d, Some on the bare ground, some on planks or stretchers, some in the death-spasm sweating, An occasional scream or cry, the doctor’s shouted orders or calls, The glisten of the little steel instruments catching the glint of the torches, These I resume as I chant, I see again the forms, I smell the odor, Then hear outside the orders given, Fall in, my men, fall in; But first I bend to the dying lad, his eyes open, a half-smile gives he me, Then the eyes close, calmly close, and I speed forth to the darkness, Resuming, marching, ever in darkness marching, on in the ranks, The unknown road still marching.

The unknown road still marching.

Sitting in one of the waiting rooms at the VA hospital while fingering the sheet for my very first prescription to help manage PTSD, I hear the nurses call out names of the old timers around me, names like Marvin, Julius, and Sherman. It makes me think of days long gone, of times romantically simpler, if not nostalgically untrue. Days where radio programs served as mass communication, and where front porches as vacation spots; dusty roads a huge step forward from wagon ruts in the rural Midwest, black and white photography, and lemonade mixed with moonshine. They are the veterans of past wars, as we of Iraq and Afghanistan will one day appear as our names are called out, sounding senescent to young kids with fresh wounds. Behind us, countless generations will inevitably follow in our footsteps, bearing the burden of political decisions and the technological advancements of warfare, just as we have followed in the footsteps of those who marched before us.

Vietnam thrust another generation into the conflagration of war. Only this time, as opposed to the World Wars or even Korea, the war was illegal, unjustified, and immoral. The domino effect was a sad delusion concocted by fear-mongering idiots and war profiteers. Civilians rebelled against D.C. corruption, but by the time the dust settled, it was too late. We had a generation of young soldiers back home, deeply scarred, berated by the public, condemned by a government attempting to sweep their filth under the “pristine” rug of American history.

This time, however, we veterans will not be swept under the rug. The death of a dad is one too many, the self-inflicted wounds of the warrior can be healed, with care and with time. The work is not easy, the journey a hard road, but final victory comes from healing, a victory deserved by each veteran, everywhere, across cultures and nations, suffering from the cancer of war’s enduring wounds.

My father was a victim … a victim of blind chance, or foul luck, of God or the Devil, of hypocrisy, avarice, or the simply the complex and elemental nature of human existence. A Russian grenade, and married to a Russian woman. I experienced the sublime only once in my life, at the far western end of Australia in 2008. I had tried to escape reality by reaching a landscape I was enamored with, harsh yet welcoming, blue sea and sunbaked earth. Australia is Hawaii and Iraq smashed together. When I had volunteered to help with the sea turtle conservationists, and after a long and monastic foray along Eighty-Mile Beach, the entire group retreated to the welcoming town of Broome to recuperate, rejuvenate, and get drunk.

Sitting beneath the azure dusk, sipping beer and listening to the waves colliding beneath the ridge as some orchestral music tinged with techno whispered and thumped in the open courtyard of the wet bar, a storm approached, swiftly and methodically. Paul sat to one side and Kris to the other, Mai, Liz, and Chris filling in our little enclave of sunburnt and giddy nomads. The storm churned through the starry vacuum, billowing with strength. The breeze summoned its presence, a methodical mass of gnashing atmosphere. At first the front seemed to strobe with smothered light, the ballooning throats of bullfrogs, the light inside the bells of a giant, sprawling, swelling jellyfish bloom. The rumblings of thunder were low and growling, like a sleeping mastiff cornering a rabbit in its dreams. The cobalt blue waves below slapped against the rock, gathering weight and force and determination, wanting to grind the stone down. Valkyries rode within the saddles of such storms, winged and armed with great, serrated spears. Shivers of lightning soundlessly rooted cloud to ocean in lurid, fisting arcs. The blackness seemed impenetrable, hypnotic, and terrifying—a manifested evocation of some god’s will—meshing inky sky with pitch-dark sea upon the canvas of the vanished horizon. It pushed directly south of us with only its great dragon’s wing sweeping the sky above our heads. A few raindrops fell. Big salty marbles of crisp water scattered like buckshot across the grass, plopping onto the table, splashing like crystalline bird shit upon my shoulder and thigh. The air chilled, goosebumps bubbled across my skin, up my arms and down my neck as we sat there witnessing the storm smashing into the coast with a broadside of thunder nearby and earthshaking. The dark trees bent and quaked to its will in the middle ground. A thundercrack exploded above, so loud and close we tried to dodge it, eyes pinching closed, heads bending away from the fray. The glasses and bottles rattled upon the table, some Aussies in dress shirts and sun dresses ran for cover in a single sheet of rain, an embrace from Nereus—quick and invigorating—followed by warm air and calmness, but we just sat hypnotized as the lightning arced and crashed into the distant hills, into the grave-dark waves, electrifying the air—air so perfectly virgin and elementally fragrant—with a terrible ferocity. A mist of static and adrenaline filled our lungs, my heart rate paced with the awe of it all. Kris’ hand again slid into mine without tearing her eyes away from the vault of the night’s dramatic show. I squeezed her hand and snaked my fingers through hers.

Quickly, the clouds wheeled south and drove into the continent. Lighting fired across the dry forest as rain fell in blankets. The symphony of a thousand charging horses receded, galloping over the sodden hills. Slowly, the stars began to reemerge in the storm’s wake, as if children unveiling heads from thick bed sheets, the monster in the closet now gone to another house, through the chimney, into another neighborhood. Stars framed the ocean at the edge of the earth. Both thunder and twinkling heavens far away. The behemoth stomped on, leaving the land cleansed, refreshed, more alive. The comforting rhythm of the sea returned, the sailor’s sea. Mysterious and unpredictable, beguiling and deadly.

Through war, love and loss, religion and feral fighting, through witnessing mindless death and the thirty-year deterioration of my father, and through every experience of one full lifetime seemingly trapped in the morass of failure, this solemn moment on the fringe of this great storm, with my hand and life force unconsciously joined to a woman who we—at that moment—were oblivious to the intoxicating and sorrowful harrowing ahead of us, was as close as I ever came to the sublimity of God.”

#essays & memoirs #nihilism #catharsis #narrative therapy

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