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cozy-fantasy-corner · 2 months

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Band of Idiots Pt. 4: Coney Island

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, angst, pining, language, Steve being an angsty cat, mentions of violence, alcohol, illness, death, and fondue-ing

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Steve, Y/n, and Bucky are as thick as thieves. They spend a day at Coney Island together. Feelings are discovered and lies are told.

Author’s Note: It’s been ages since I’ve updated this fic. My apologies. Life got crazy. I graduated high school, moved out of state for college, and then got super sick. But I’m back and better than ever. My inbox and dms are always open!

(not my gif. credit to the owner)

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Brooklyn summers could be unbearable. The molten heat pounding on the asphalt of a concrete jungle was enough to make any seasoned New Yorker feel faint. The air looked like a blur and felt like it was baking the city alive. The sun a constant, unrelenting oven.

July of 1934 was no different. In fact, it was somehow worse.

Just two weeks ago, Stevie had his fourteenth birthday. And boy was he rearing to go. The torturous temperatures had Stevie acting like an alley cat. He was always yowling about something and picking fights with any and everyone.

Three days this week he’d come home while Miss Sarah was at work cut up and bleeding. I’d be an amazing nurse with the amount of times I’ve given that boy stitches and set his nose.

With Bucky’s new job down at the docks, he couldn’t save Steve so easily from all of his fights like he used to. Poor Buck is so worried about our boy. The thought of him biting off more than he can chew is enough to cause a knot in all of our stomachs. We wouldn’t know what to do without him.

-------

Today, Bucky had the day off of work and he’d been saving for weeks to take us to Coney Island to blow off some steam. For him, that was spending all his money to impress dames. For Stevie, it was drawing while next to me on a bench or the beach. As for me, I loved to just sit and observe all of the people: the sights, the smells, the sounds.

The train ride to the amusement park was crowded and boiling with body heat. It smelled like stale sweat and old people in the worst way. The screams of children and the loud chatter from other patrons were enough to give me a headache, even with my bad ear. My back was killing me from standing for so long without a break, forcing me to brace myself on Steve and Bucky’s shoulders. Of course, Mister Meat-Head over here was flexin’ his suddenly very toned shoulder under my grip which caused me to blush. Thank God my face was already red from overheating, or he’d have poked fun at me about it.

My shitty lungs were being squeezed by the warm, wet air, and I wheezed slightly. My wheezing was met with Steve’s and a concerned glare from Bucky. I moved my hand to my bag, fumbling for my peppermint oil. My fingers met the cold glass and pried it open near our noses. A deep inhale eased the pressure in my chest.

“You alright, Kiddo?”

“She’s peachy, Buck. We’re on a hot train with a buncha loud, smelly assholes and we both got shit lungs. Wattaya think, ya jerk?” Steve snarked back, radiating thick annoyance. My mouth fell open in shock.

Bucky threw up his hand defensively, a mildly hurt look on his face. Steve was never this cross, even on his worst days. Something was wrong, had been for weeks. Getting into fights, coming home later, skipping meals, being snippy, even to me. Now it was getting worse. I hoped that it wouldn’t ruin our day out, but part of me knew that things would only go downhill from there. And all I could do was brace myself for impact.

I pulled my shoulders closer to my neck and inched towards Buck a little bit. My eyes squeezed themselves shut and I tried to breathe in, hoping for calm. All I got was B.O. and a frown from Steve. He knows I only do that when I’m nervous, and he was the thing making me nervous.

Buck seemed so set on enjoying the day that he glazed over everything and plastered his trademark Bucky Barnes grin on his sweaty face. I almost wanted to pinch his arm just to snap him out of it. No one should smile that much or look that good doing it. Especially not on a train in the summer heat. Honest to God, it was annoying.

Between Mister Sunshine and Mister Scrooge, the day was bound to be interesting to say the least.

------

Bucky had stopped to grab me some pop while Steve stormed off, a bit too eager to be rid of us for my taste. A minute piece of my heart crumbled away. Never, in all the years that I had known Steven Grant Rogers, had he voluntarily put distance between us. I couldn’t figure a rhyme or reason, all I could feel in that moment was hurt.

I ambled along the dock, book in hand. The salt-tinged air lapped at my frizzy locks and splotchy skin like a cooling balm. It felt like I could fully exhale finally. Deep breaths were a blessing.

Very little time passed when Buck had bounced up beside me with his angelic grin. His baby fat had melted away in recent months, giving him a devilish yet heavenly appearance. That stupid, perfect grin caught me off guard. I was in awe that my safety net, my friend could possibly be this beautiful. He had always been handsome, but not once in my life had I seen someone, anyone, look so perfect. I wasn’t aware that my feelings for him could grow, but by-golly they did.

Just staring at him wouldn’t do, so I elbowed him in the ribs. His playful pout made my chest squeeze. It wasn’t in the usual painful way like my attacks. It was something new, unfamiliar. He chuckled and pulled me under his arm as we continued down the dock. I felt so small and safe at his side. Tiny jolts of electricity seemed to pass from his skin to mine with every step.

Nestled into Bucky’s side, we meandered towards the rides. A good handful of summers had passed since we’d been able to come here, but we had long outgrown the attractions we were used to. We bickered back and forth about which adventure to choose. I was thankfully able to convince him to take me on the ferris wheel at some point today, but I knew I’d have to let him have his fun first. The way his eyes lit up talking about the Cyclone told me that I wouldn’t have any choice but to go with him. God, I hate roller coasters.

That Godforsaken ride was the bane of my existence, but my boys loved it to death. I always ended up with my head tucked into someone’s chest as we whipped ‘round and ‘round. On especially good days, like today, I was able to hold my lunch down.

Something about this time felt odd. Bucky kept looking at me with a goofy grin. This smile wasn’t his normal endearing, toothy grin; there was something more to it that I couldn’t quite place. That look had my heart pounding in my chest, not from fear, but excitement maybe.

------

Many more strange glances were exchanged over the next couple of hours, Steve’s attitude problem mostly forgotten. I couldn’t help but worry that something was wrong with Buck. Over the last 7 years, he had looked at me a lot of ways: worried, annoyed, caring. Today was a whole fresh set that I couldn’t quite name. It made me uneasy, yet giddy at the same time. A tiny, delusional part of me thought that maybe, just maybe the older boy loved me like I loved him. That would be impossible. He loves me like a sister.

The rumble of Bucky’s voice shook me from my thoughts.

“How ‘bout that ferris wheel now? I think I’ve tortured you enough for one day.” he said with a chuckle. I nodded eagerly.

As I went to start walking towards my favorite ride, I felt a hand in mine. Bucky’s. My breath caught in my throat, but I wouldn’t allow myself to freeze up. He couldn’t know how that tiny gesture affected me. Instead, I smiled up at him, squeezing his massive hand as we moved.

Such a simple motion brought all of the thoughts I had shoved to the side crashing forward. My mind was in such a state that I didn’t even realize that we were at the front of the line, about to enter our car. Bucky moved to help me up with his kind smile and I sheepishly accepted.

Damn him. Damn his beautiful smile. Damn his gentlemanly ways.

After we settled beside one another, he took my hand in his again. His calloused thumb smoothed over the back of my velvet soft hand. It was almost like he was trying to tell me something. Lord, I need calm down.

As we reached the top, Buck peeled me away from his side and turned look at me. He had an energy about him like he wanted to say something. His brow was furrowed, his eyes serious. His hands rubbed themselves down his thighs nervously. I couldn’t help but feel a little scared. Bucky is the calm one, the happy one. There has never been something he couldn’t turn into a joke. His brow only set itself this way when he was uncomfortable.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

I gulped.

This had to be bad, right? But it couldn’t be. Nothing bad could ever come from such beautiful lips. Nothing.

A sudden warmth on my lips jerked me out of my worry. My eyes blew wide in surprise. The warmth was Bucky, more specifically, Bucky’s lips. Everything faded away, even the shock, as I melted into the soft feeling of him against my mouth. His work-hardened hands came up to cup my cheeks while I sat there limp in his arms. We had all kissed on another over the years, light pecks on the cheeks and forehead. This one was different.

Bucky pulled back for air and I sighed softly. Our foreheads met, eyes closed. My body was still limp, but my head spun a million miles a minute. He feels the same way. I’m not crazy. What does this mean? What about Steve?

Steve!

We jumped apart when a sharp, familiar cough pierced through the haze. My startled eyes met Steve’s angry ones. Dread filled my stomach as I clamored away from Buck and onto the platform of the ferris wheel. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

------

Steve grabbed my arm roughly and dragged me towards a building nearby. Buck ran after us, yelling for us to stop. I was filled with panic and guilt. Steve looked like he was going to kill someone, well Bucky specifically.

“What the FUCK was that, Y/N?” Steve growled, fist closing more tightly around my bicep.

Before I could respond, Bucky was towering over both of us looking just as confused as I was. He paused for a second, taking in my shaking figure. His eyes hardened with rage. No one was allowed to scare me, not even Steve. He grabbed his shoulder harshly and spun him around.

“You wanna let her go, Punk?” Buck hissed. Steve bristled and clenched his jaw.

In true Steve fashion, he decided to forgo using his words, leaping straight to using his fists. His fist connected with Bucky’s jaw and I screamed. Bucky shot me a worried glance before pinning Steve to the wall as gently as possible. They stared one another down. All of our chests were heaving.

Steve looked up at our friend with tears brimming his baby blue eyes, “How could you, pal? You know better”.

Bucky’s face softened instantly and my panic grew. Steve has feelings for me?

Buck muttered an apology and let Stevie go. I pushed myself between them, tears rolling down my flushed cheeks. Their gazes on me were piercing, my skin heating under their eyes. I grabbed Bucky’s hand and turned to Steve. He grabbed my free hand and squeezed softly, eyes full of tears and remorse. I put my head on his chest and hugged him tightly.

“Stevie, what’s goin’ on, huh?” I whispered pulling back slightly.

He just croaked, his words seeming to escape him. Buck squeeze my hand, whispering his goodbyes. As the sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the alley, a heavy silence enveloped us. Steve's gaze was distant, lost in the swirl of emotions that had consumed him. I stood there, my heart heavy with the weight of unspoken truths and tangled feelings.

"I... I don't know where to begin," Steve finally murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes searched mine, a mixture of pain and longing flickering within them.

I reached out, gently touching his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips. "It's okay, Steve. Whatever it is, we can figure it out together," I said softly, offering him a small, reassuring smile. Of course we could, I love him more than life itself.

He nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "I... I've been trying to deny it, but... seeing you with Bucky, it just..." His voice trailed off, his expression haunted.

I took a step closer, closing the gap between us. "Steve, whatever you're feeling, it's okay. You don't have to hold it all in," I whispered, my heart aching for him. I didn’t mean to hurt him. We had promised as kids never to harm the other. That promise lay shattered at our feet, and it was all my stupid fucking fault.

Tears welled up in his eyes, reflecting the fading light of the setting sun. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so sorry," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion.

I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. We stood there, clinging to each other in the dwindling light, the weight of our unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. I shushed him softly like Ms. Sarah would, hoping, praying that I could ease his pain with imitation of his mother’s love.

In that moment, amidst the chaos of tangled feelings and fractured relationships, the crushing realization that I had potentially destroyed the most meaningful bond in my life washed over me. One kiss and our worlds had crashed apart.

Steve and I remained locked in our embrace, the warmth of each other's frail presence a balm to our troubled souls. The world seemed to fade away around us, leaving only the echo of our steady heartbeats and the whisper of our shared breaths. Clinging to him seemed to be the only thing keeping the ground from vanishing beneath us. He would never let me fall.

With a gentle touch, I tilted Steve's chin up, meeting his gaze with a tenderness born of years of friendship and unspoken understanding. "I need you to say it." I whisper, my voice cracking under the weight of years of shared memories and unspoken emotions.

Steve's eyes searched mine, his gaze filled with a vulnerability that tore at my heart. "I love Bucky. More than you will ever know, Minnie." he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. Something inside of me fractured.

He loved him? I felt betrayed. Steve had known for years how I felt, and he had kept this to himself. To what, protect me? Tinges of frustration bubbled up inside of me. He had lied to me, let me confide in him in the earliest hours of the morning, given me advice. None of it was in earnest.

My anger fizzled out when I saw the tears falling from his pleading eyes. There wasn’t a way in the world I could stay mad at my Stevie, however betrayed I felt.

I brushed away a stray tear that clung to his cheek, my thumb tracing a gentle path across his skin. "We'll figure it out together, Steve. Whatever comes our way, we'll face it together. All three of us," I promised, the conviction in my words unwavering. He flinched at my mention of all of us. His eyes begged me to keep his feeling for Buck between him and myself. I nodded knowingly, unwilling to betray him.

In that moment, amidst the fading light of a Brooklyn sunset, I knew that this God-forsaken mess was far from over. But as long as we had each other, I was certain that we could weather any storm that lay ahead. And with that knowledge warming my heart, I held Steve a little tighter, silently vowing to never let go.

#Band of Idiots Part 4 Coney Island #stucky x reader #mcu #steven grant rogers #james buchanan barnes #stevie #bucky #hurt/comfort #feelings #young love #confessions #mlm #MJ writes

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spectoris · 2 years

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RUNAWAY SNEAK PEEK

NOW POSTED!

written by: @spectoris & @yuunina

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin x fem!reader

summary: after witnessing both your older brother and the love of your life walk away, you find no reason to grant them your forgiveness while simultaneously punishing yourself for their decisions. years later, when you’re reunited with them both, you begin to see what you couldn’t in your blind grief and learn to mend those burnt bridges.

contains: canonverse, adopted bradshaw!reader, older brother!bradley, high school exes to lovers, reader works at penny’s bar, estranged familial bonds, familial trauma, mentions of death & loss of family, angst, fluff, brief depictions of injuries and blood, hurt/comfort, somewhat toxic relationships (familial and romantic)

approx word count: 7k-8k

taglist: if interested, please send a message in my inbox to be tagged when the full fic is posted!

preview below cut

There’s a pounding in your chest. It’s a sense of dread that you can’t seem to find an answer to, whether it’s due to the impending raindrops cascading down your shoulders—soaking your clothing to your skin in a slim stretch of fabric that’s likely to make you ill—or the fear of rejection. A fear that only he can relieve you of. A fear that’s been a major player in the ongoing battle of heartache and misconceptions, two subjects that have haunted you for years. With each sinking step into the deep puddles in the cracked concrete, the weight of the world begins to multiply by thousands. There’s no going back after this and you’re completely aware of it.

Mud periodically splatters across your beaten shoes, unequipped for this treacherous journey. The fire in your lungs burns with each shallow gasp you take. There’s an itch creeping in your throat, a headache pooling at your temples, but your feet won’t stop even as they ache. You keep running, splashing through the paved street that’s foreign in this thick fog, and you can’t help but realize that you look like a complete mess.

As the ground inclines, the terrain becomes rougher. Rocks and potholes begin to stand in your way, causing you to think that fate is seemingly not rooting for your love, but you ignore them. Nothing could possibly derail your path. Derail your goal of seeing Jake again, of telling him all of the things that you were too afraid to say before. So, as you run up the hill towards his quaint home, your strides are more powerful than a tsunami.

Your older brother’s words rage through your head. His advice on forgiveness and second chances are the slogans for the redemption of your relationship with Jake. The short motto slapped onto the movie poster of your love story would be nothing but a blockbuster—a bold font with scattered letters that spell ‘I miss you, I’m sorry’—that would play in your mind’s cinema for the rest of your life. You're almost there. Just a few blocks away. Just a few minutes from the ultimate make-or-break moment that could change your future entirely.

His door stands before you now. The cobalt blue color is stark against the pure white wooden frame. You wonder if he painted it himself and can easily imagine a scene in which Jake is sitting on his front porch during a particularly hot summer day, sipping a cold beer, with paint splattered across his white undershirt. Your heart warms at the thought of you seated beside him, with his hand in yours, while your only concerns are related to each other—making your inevitable reunion even more meaningful.

You knock three times. Once as an announcement that you’re here, twice to reaffirm your presence, and a third for good measure. You aren’t taking any chances today.

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick #jake seresin #jake seresin x you #hangman x you #hangman fanfic #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin fanfiction

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lightsovermonaco · 3 years

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Speed and Stress: Part 2

Masterlist

Thank you to @acollectionofficsandshit for betaing, your comments on this one were unhinged gold

Word Count: 3.1k

Recommended Vibes: “Perfect Day” by Tundra Beats

Part 1

Your brother was late. Not that anyone was surprised.

“Got the time mixed up,” he says as you climb into his absurdly tall truck. Living in Texas for three years had turned him into somewhat of a country boy, though not enough that he forgot his upbringing. He was still a blue blooded Los Angeles boy, just with a love for trucks and longhorn cattle.

“At least I wasn’t waiting for an hour this time,” you say and sling your bag to the backseat. Deciding to get right to the good stuff, you clasp your hands together. “So! I have some news.”

Hunter grins at you. “You finally found a job?”

You roll your eyes and shoot him a pointed look. “No, dipshit. Better than that. I got us paddock passes for the whole weekend.”

“WHAT?” He jerks the wheel, horns honking at you as other drivers swerve. You grab the dash to steady yourself, laughing at his outburst. “Do you know how hard it was for me to get general admission tickets? How the hell did you get paddock passes?”

“May have met someone pretty high up at McLaren in Los Angeles,” you say, examining your nails.

“Like, Zak Brown? You met Zak Brown?” Hunter was such a fan boy, you had to laugh. His love for McLaren ran so deep he practically bled blue and orange. The only reason you watched the sport was because of him shoving it down your throat for years, but damn if you weren't glad for it.

“Daniel Ricciardo.”

Hunter choked on air but managed to stay in his lane this time. “And you waited until now to tell me?”

“I didn’t know it was him when I met him! He was on a motorcycle and I stopped to help film a tiktok and then-”

“Of course you’d stop,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You’re a sucker for bikes.”

“Yeah well, lucky that I am, cause all I had to do was flirt to get us those passes.”

Your intention had never been to take advantage of Daniel. It was more the opposite in fact; you were just living in the moment and capitalizing on the once in a lifetime opportunity to flirt with your celebrity crush. You had to admit, it turned out better than you'd ever thought it would.

“I can’t believe you seduced Daniel freakin’ Ricciardo,” he says, shaking his head. “You astound me.”

“I didn’t seduce him!” You protest.

"Sorry my bad. You charmed him. That sound better?"

You roll your eyes. "Whatever. I damn near had a heart attack when I figured out it was him but he was kind enough to let me brush it off."

"Well, thank god for your two-wheeled obsession because without it, we would be watching the prix from the nosebleeds."

You laugh and shake your head. Hunter tended to have a poor filter when he was excited and tended to spew whatever was on his mind. "Just watch your tongue this weekend, alright? I'd rather embarrass myself than have you do it for me."

Hunter gives a mock salute. "Yes ma'am."

**********

You'd stuffed five different outfits in your bag in preparation for the grand prix weekend. In theory, it shouldn't be hard to decide what to wear. But Friday morning you changed clothes so many times you lost count. No matter what combination you tried you weren't satisfied.

Finally, you give up and settle on a McLaren polo and denim shorts. Simple and comfortable, but form fitting enough to catch Daniel's eye should you run into him.

You knew you shouldn't, but you pull out your phone to text him anyway.

Thanks again for the tickets. Let me know if you've got any free time so I can properly thank you!

You hit send before your brain has the chance to overanalyze the message. You check your phone obsessively the entire drive to the circuit, only half expecting a response. You tuck your phone in your pocket when you get to the gates, determined not to let it get to you. Daniel warned you he would be busy, and you knew that responding to you was likely on the low end of his list of priorities.

Hunter gets you to the circuit a half hour before they let fans in and you have to listen to him ramble about driver stats the entire time. Normally you don't mind; guessing who's most likely to win each Sunday is something of a competition in your household. But today, you couldn't focus enough to put any thought into your prediction, instead just blurting Daniel's name.

"You're only saying that cause he's into you," Hunter says, grinning savagely. "He struggles in Austin and you know it."

"So? He's in a McLaren this year. You saw his pace in Bahrain, and that was with a damaged floor! He'll podium for sure." You cross your arms and return his grin. "Besides, he's motivated."

"Oh, is he?"

"I told him I'd buy the winner of the United States grand prix a drink. Up to him whether it's him or Verstappen."

"Oh my god you have a date with Daniel Ricciardo?"

"Dude, chill out. It's not set in stone. Honestly, he's probably forgotten that I exist."

"Has he texted you?"

You glance down at your phone and are greeted with an empty inbox. "No. Not after the initial time so I could have his number." You shrug and pick an invisible piece of lint from your arm. "But he said he'd be too busy anyway."

"Guess we'll see once we get to will call, huh? If he's forgotten about you."

"Yeah." An odd feeling rolls through you. It feels a bit like nerves mixed with hope, but you stamp down on it. You were here to enjoy yourself. The trip of a lifetime had been handed to you on a golden platter and you were wont to let something as trivial as nervousness ruin it.

Bells chime as you step into the blissfully cool will call office. A blonde woman with a bit too much blush dusted on her cheeks greets you with a smile.

"What can I do for you?"

"Picking up some tickets that were left for me by a driver?" You try, unsure of the proper procedure. "I don't have a paper or anything."

She waves a hand in the air as if she expected as much. "All I need is your identification. They should be under the name."

"Oh uh, of course." You motion for Hunter to hand over your wallet and show the woman your driver's license.

"Great. Wait here and I'll grab those for you."

You drum your fingers on the desk while waiting for her to return. After what feels like ages she re-emerges empty handed.

"I'm not seeing anything here with your name on it," she says, her plastic smile at odds with her sincerity. "I'm afraid your tickets aren't valid until Sunday."

"Can you double check? Daniel said they'd be here-"

"So sorry. There's no record of anyone dropping tickets off for you."

You blink, holding your tongue in the face of her blunt response. "Okay. I guess ill try and get it sorted out."

Hunter breaks the tension. "Can't you call him?"

"I can't just call him, I'm sure he's busy."

"Either that or we don't get in. Just do it, he gave you his number and specifically told you to let him know if there were any problems, didn't he?"

Yes he had, but that didn't mean you wanted to disturb him. He was probably knees deep in some sort of race weekend press conference or drivers meeting and heaven forbid you interrupt. But it was either that or you slink home disappointed and empty handed.

"Fine," you grumble, pulling out your phone with deliberate slowness. Hunter crosses his arms and tips his head to the side, a smile playing on his lips.

"Well?"

"It's dialing, you good for nothing busybody-"

"I was wondering how long it would take you to call," Daniel answers, voice radiating sunshine.

You cut right to the chase, not giving yourself a single second to evaluate how your heart skips. "Look, I don't wanna distract you on a race weekend but I'm at will call and they're telling me they can't find any passes left for me."

"Let me guess," he starts, raising his voice to be heard over the pneumatic tools in the background, "You're dealing with Jenny?"

Your eyes fall to the name on the woman's lanyard. She shifts under your gaze like she knew exactly who you were on the phone with. "Yep. Spot on."

"Kinda figured she would be a problem. She's got a huge crush on me and does this every time."

You fight back the strange sensation his offhand comment brings to the surface. "Oh, really?"

"I'll be right there. Give me ten minutes or so."

"Oh you don't have to-"

"Hey, no big deal. I gotta go that way anyway."

"Uh, okay. See you soon?"

"Yup. On my way."

You hang up and stare down at the phone, stunned.

"Well?" Hunter asks.

"I guess he's coming here to sort it out himself."

He blinks rapidly and shakes his head. "Hold on. Are you telling me that I get to meet Daniel? Like right now?"

"Can you relax?" You laugh lightly. "Honestly you're gonna freak him out."

"Uh, yeah sure. No big deal, just meeting one of my favorite drivers in the minus five minutes and I'm completely unprepared. It's fine."

If you roll your eyes any harder they'd pop out of your head. "Relax. He's laid back, but I don't want you to freak out and embarrass us both."

"Excuse me," Jenny breaks in, her distaste clear. "Please move aside if you're not picking up passes."

"Er, yeah. Sorry." You shuffle awkwardly off to the side to wait. Cheesy elevator music plays and Jenny shoots you glares until the door squeaks open and the human incarnation of the sun steps inside. Your breathing stutters when the Australian shoots you a wink and a grin before sauntering up to the counter.

"Why hello there Jen," he says, and she giggles coyly.

"Hi Daniel." She lays a hand on his forearm, the touch light and flirty. "What can I help you with?"

Daniel leans into her, whispering conspiratorially. Whatever he says has her bold smile faltering, replaced by a mask of professional cheer. Daniel shoots you another wink as the woman retreats to a back room, returning moments later with your supposedly missing passes.

"Thank you," Daniel says sweetly, taking them from her and turning to you. "I think these are yours."

"Thanks." You take the passes and hand one off to your awestruck brother. You nudge him and he comes to his senses in time to shake the hand Daniel sticks out.

"You must be the brother," he says. "I see you're a fan."

Dressed head to toe in McLaren colors, there was no other conclusion for Daniel to draw. For once your brother is the one stunned into silence so you answer for him, "Yeah, only a little. He was crushed when you left Red Bull cause Max is his other favorite driver and now he has to split his loyalties between teams."

Dan's laugh snaps Hunter out of his trance. "I know you're busy but do you think you can sign something for me?"

"Of course. How about this?" Daniel snatches the hat from Hunter's head and produces a sharpie from his pocket, signing the brim with practiced efficiency.

"He'll be texting the group chat about that as soon as you're gone," you tell Daniel who laughs along with you.

Heat rises to your cheeks as Daniel's assessing gaze sweeps you from head to toe. "McLaren orange looks good on you."

Channeling his easy confidence you flash him a grin. "Not as good as it looks on you."

He smooths the hem of his soft shell jacket, smile turning bashful. "Anyway. I gotta run. See you Sunday after I win!"

Your eyes follow him as he jogs back through the paddock until he's swallowed by the crowd. You sigh, shifting your weight from foot to foot. God, he was gorgeous. And he had such a big heart. It was a shame someone hadn't snatched him up yet, but then again, that meant you still had a shot, even if it was a slim one.

"So where exactly do these get us?" Hunter toys with the lanyard now placed around his neck. "It doesn't say."

"I'm guessing the McLaren lounge," you say and point to the logo on the passes. "Above the garage."

"That's the perfect vantage point for practice."

And it was the perfect view- before getting in the car Daniel walked out into the pit, suited up in his cobalt racesuit and minty helmet and glanced up. You weren't sure if he saw you or not when you waved but he gave a little salute nonetheless.

Hunter was practically glued to the bank of floor to ceiling windows for the entirety of free practice, immersing himself in the experience. You found yourself glancing at the timing tables every lap, silently hoping to see the RIC tag move up. By the end of the second session he had been fourth fastest, a few tenths behind both Mercedes and the Red Bull of Verstappen.

By the time you make it back to Hunter's house, you're both exhausted from a full day of running up and down the paddock. The pair of you had been determined to soak up every second of it, sneaking into whatever offices you could and stealing bites off the buffets and cups of coffee.

Saturday’s free practice and qualifying session pass in a blur of color. Daniel drags his McLaren up the ranks to qualify fourth, his best starting position so far this season. He had a decent shot at the podium- Bottas should be easy pickings and if Verstappen and Hamilton made any mistakes, Daniel might even have a shot at the win.

The excitement in the air is palpable as you both flash your badges and head back up the now familiar path to the McLaren lounge. An hour before lights out, the v6 engines rumble to life below. You venture out onto the balcony, watching and waiting for a glimpse of Daniel.

The Aussie does you one better by walking out, race suit on and helmet in hand. He chats animatedly with Michael before stopping and craning his neck upwards. Michael nudges him with his elbow but Dan ignores him, answering your tiny wave with a wink. He mimes taking a drink and you roll your eyes.

Dan throws his head back and laughs, audible over the cacophony below. He gives you one final salute before Michael drags him back into the garage.

Ten minutes later cars begin streaming out on track, Daniel taking the fourth grid place as his mechanics once again swarm him. Tire blankets are secured, keeping them warm and pliable ahead of the formation lap. Thirty seconds before the boys are released, they're peeled back off as everyone scrambles off the pavement. Verstappen leads them away down the 3.4 mile track for the formation lap. Dan does a few small power slides before taking his place on the second row.

One by one, the red lights illuminate and disappear quicker than your blink. Daniel gets away clean while Bottas stumbles out of the gate, leaving himself wide open for Daniel's overtake on his right side. Cheers erupt around you, your brother going so far as to lift you off your feet.

Maybe Dan had a shot at winning after all.

A nail-biting 38 laps pass without a change in the order of the top three. Finally, a mistake in Max's pit stop sees him return to track third, just behind Daniel. The McLaren driver puts up the fight of his life, late braking at every corner and defending his position for all he was worth. Lewis was twenty seconds ahead- he wouldn't be winning but he could defend his second place spot.

Lewis Hamilton, race winner for the seventh time at the Circuit of the Americas!

Daniel Ricciardo crosses the line second, Max Verstappen takes home that last podium step for Red Bull. An astonishing fifty six laps here today in Austin!

The box erupts around you, a roar of cheers making it impossible to hear what else Crofty and Brundle were saying. But it didn't matter as Daniel raises his fist when he swings back into parc ferme, jumping out to be congratulated by his team. It was his first podium for the papaya team and you can tell it means the world to them.

"Looks like you're taking Lewis out for a drink," your brother teases. "Told you he wouldn't win."

"He almost won," you counter. "But hey, I'm not above asking Lewis on a date. Could you imagine? I mean, he would never agree, but still. It would be a hell of a date."

If you crane your neck from the balcony, you can just barely see the podium. Everyone goes quiet for the anthems and erupts again when the champagne is sprayed. The McLaren team chant for a shoey, which Daniel obliges. He sits to unlace his mint green boot and pours champagne into it, drinking from the boot before passing it to Max who joins in on the fun.

Just as quickly as it began, the celebrations ebb. Daniel is the first to leave the podium which seems odd, given that the PR department surely wants his first big win for the team to be well documented.

Your phone buzzes a second layer. You fish it out of your pocket, a Cheshire grin splitting your face.

"Shouldn't you be busy celebrating?"

"I am," Dan starts, sounding breathless. You can barely hear him over the sound of the crowds chants behind him. "But I want to celebrate with you. I know I didn't win, but how about you let me buy you a drink instead?"

You barely hear anything beyond his first sentence. I want to celebrate with you. Were you dreaming? There was no way this was real.

"Um, I'm sorry, you want to celebrate by going out with me instead of your team?"

"If you'll let me. Hey- just text me okay? I can barely hear you over everyone screaming my name. It may be going to my head."

You laugh, drawing the attention of the vip's nearest you. You give an apologetic smile and move further from the crowd. "I'll text you an address. See you later, second place."

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 fanfic #f1 #f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo fanfic #reader insert #my writing #speed and stress

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 3 years

Text

@sicktember Prompt # 20: Doctor Visit/Checkup

Title: The Best Medicine

Fandom: N/A

Based on this post by me. (Sick doctor)

A physician leaves work miserably sick. His RN girlfriend takes care of him.

(Author’s Note: This breaks the rule I set of less than 2k words but I wrote it before I decided to do this challenge and thought it worked well here. I just needed a sick doctor having PE performed on them ok 😅)

Due to the fact that it was 6:30 AM and she was still more asleep than awake, it took her a while to realize the man she was dating was standing behind her as she waited in line for coffee. However, in her defense, she had never seen him in this coffee line at this time of day before (and she herself was here at this time every day).

It wasn't until she heard a familiar, sniffly yawning noise that she turned and caught his eye.

"Shane? What are you doing here? You're usually sleeping right now." She didn't go to greet him right away, mainly because she didn't want to lose her place in line, and only two people stood between her and caffeination.

He too looked startled, though happy to see her. "Molly, hey," he said. There was a squeaky rasp to his voice and he had to clear his throat before he could continue. "Had an early meeting that got cancelled at the last minute. Since I was already awake, figured I'd come into the office early and clear out my inboxes."

"Gotcha. Well cool, that means I get to treat you to coffee for once. You find a place to sit and I'll get the drinks."

He shot her a grateful look and stepped out of line.

Molly ordered, received, and paid for the coffees quickly, tipping generously, before going to join Shane. He kissed her on the cheek as he took his cup, and they shared a warm smile as they made their way to a little sitting area, sharing a bench against the wall.

"Kathy's coffee is the best in the hospital. You'll love this."

"So you've told me many times. I'm glad I finally get to try it. What did you get me?"

"A surprise. You'll like it, trust me."

"Cheers, then." With another smile, they tapped their cups together before taking long pulls of their beverages.

"This is delicious," he said after a moment. "Best I've ever had from here. Thanks, babe."

"My pleasure." They sat for a bit in companionable silence, sipping their drinks. However, Molly couldn't help but cast sidelong glances at her partner with increasing frequency. Now that she was next to him, she saw he looked quite unwell. He was pale and shivery, with a flush over his cheeks and ears, and looking overall rundown and uncomfortable, a far cry from his usual easy smile and warm, steady demeanor.

"Is everything ok, doc? You really don't look good."

"You're saying I look ugly today?" he countered teasingly, dodging the question.

She nudged him playfully. "You're just as handsome as ever. I'm saying you look sick. Are you feeling ok?"

He shrugged. "Think I'm just tired. Not used to being up so early. My head and throat are kinda sore I guess."

"Just tired, huh?" She reached out and placed her palm to his forehead, then his flushed cheeks, and finally his neck, where she could feel the swollen lymph nodes she had already seen. She clicked her tongue scoldingly.

"That's a fever, Doctor Mitchell, and a high one at that. Why in the world did you come to work today?"

"No kidding, really?" Shane leaned back against the wall, rubbing his neck and looking sheepish. "I can't even remember the last time I had a fever. Had to have been before medical school. Guess I forgot what it feels like."

"Hmm. Well regardless, you need to go home. You can't risk infecting your patients and staff."

"Yeah, of course. I'll go now."

When he stood, she did as well, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.

"Feel better. Get lots of rest and fluids."

"I know the drill," he rasped, smiling a little. "I am a physician."

"Sometimes I have my doubts, mister 'doesn't know what a fever feels like.' Sports medicine doesn't deal with the flu much." She kissed his shoulder fondly.

"Yeah, yeah." He pulled away, running his thumb over her jawline. "Thanks again for the coffee. I'll see you later. Text me when you have time. I'm sure I'll be bored out of my mind."

"Will do."

She watched him go wistfully, wishing she was going with him.

Naturally he wasn't far from her thoughts for the rest of the day. The hospital OB-GYN clinic was as busy as ever, and the hustle and bustle kept Molly, an RN, quite distracted, but every moment of downtime found her wondering how Shane was doing.

She texted him a few times as he requested. The first time he replied right away, saying he had made it home safely and was relaxing on the couch. The second time he replied a few hours later, saying how tired he was and how he really was starting to feel unwell, but he was doing fine. The third time he never replied.

Her plans for the weekend had been solidified in her mind as soon as she felt how feverish he was. She practically ran out the door as soon as she clocked out. Her first stop was her house to change clothes, shower, and gather some supplies. Her second stop was Shane's favorite soup and sandwich place for two quarts of soup and two sandwiches to go. From there, she headed to Shane's condo across town.

She hadn't informed him she was coming because she had wanted it to be a bit of a surprise. Initially her plan was to leave the soup and sandwich on the stoop and ring the bell, then duck out of sight until the last minute. However, her plan changed when she caught a glimpse of him through the front door.

He was fast asleep, sprawled out on his stomach on the couch. Bundled under two blankets and snoring with his mouth open, surrounded by a nest of used tissues and dishes, he was the picture of illness.

She didn't have the heart to wake him by knocking, so instead she used her copy of his house key to let herself in quietly, being careful not to let the cold air in with her. He didn't stir even after she shut and re-locked the door. After removing her coat, she deposited the items she had brought in the kitchen, then returned to his side. Perching on the edge of the couch, she ran her hand over his face and through his hair to wake him.

He stirred weakly, mumbling and snuffling as he opened his eyes. His face lit up upon seeing her, and he quickly sat up, leaning all of his sleepy, overly-warm weight against her for a tight hug.

"Molly, you're here! I'mb so habby to see you," he croaked earnestly.

She hugged him back just as tightly. "Of course I'm here. When you stopped replying to my texts, I knew I had to come check on you. You look so sick, poor guy, and you're so stuffed up. Are you surviving?"

He shrugged, pulling away. "I guess. I'mb doi'g ok. So achy and tired. Just been sleebi'g all day." He licked his cracked lips and tried to swallow, which resulted in a grimace. "Budt you should go, babe. I don'dt wandt you to catch this. It's ndasty."

As if to prove his point, he turned away from her to cough productively into his elbow, thick and chesty. He followed it up with a honking nose blow that was far less productive. She watched this display sympathetically.

"I'm not leaving you all alone and sick like this. And anyway, if I do get sick, I think I know a doctor who could take care of me." She bumped her shoulder against his. He smiled wanly. "Now, have you taken any medicine recently?"

He sheepishly averted his eyes. "Umb… ndo. I… don'dt really have anythi'g to take."

"Ugh, Shane. Don't tell me you're one of those 'it only treats the symptoms' purists."

"Ndo, it's ndot thad. Like I told you, I just haven't been sigck in years. I've never thought to buy cold mbedicine."

"You're such a guy," she sighed. "Even if you are a doctor. You at least got your flu shot right?"

"Yeah. Budt they're already sayi'g it's probably ndot goi'g to be very effective this year."

"Of course they are." She sighed again. "However, I had a hunch this would happen, so I came prepared." She quickly retrieved a bag from the kitchen which rattled with medications, sitting down beside him again. She selected the ones she wanted and shook them into his hand, watching closely as he swallowed them.

"You're acti'g like you don'dt trust mbe to take care of mbyself," he teased, taking several gulps of water to chase the pills.

"That's not necessarily true. I just want to do everything possible to help you feel better."

He had to cough harshly again before he could answer, hard enough to redden his face. "I love thad you wandt to take care of mbe. Budt you should really go. I'mb so contagious right ndow, and I don'dt wandt to try to stay away from you."

"Then don't. I came here to be close to you. I don't care if I get sick. It's the weekend anyway. I'm here for you and only you. Besides, you were probably contagious yesterday too, and we still made out. So it doesn't matter anyway."

"You're too good to mbe," he mumbled, finally succumbing and leaning his full weight against her, closing his eyes as he wrapped his arms loosely around her. "Budt I still don'dt approve. You're staying AMA, just so we're clear."

"Call me a rebel, then," she murmured, stroking his sweaty hair.

He sneezed suddenly, only once, but wet and laborious, catching it in his elbow. She quickly pulled a tissue from the nearby box. He took it gratefully, blowing his stopped nose as best he could before resting against her again. He sighed deeply as she resumed her petting.

"You're lugcky the desire to be taken care of when sigck is a deebply ingrained biological traidt," he continued to mumble, sounding sleepier by the second.

"I am, huh? Well you're talking an awful lot for someone who has no voice."

She felt him smile against her, but he did fall silent for a while, aside from his sniffling and soft coughing. She thought he was going back to sleep when he spoke up again.

"You know whad would mbake mbe feel even better thad mbedicine? Sumb soubp."

"Hmm, well it just so happens you have a girlfriend who thinks of everything." She gently shifted him off of her, going back to the kitchen and returning with a quart of soup and a sandwich.

"Sal's chigcken rice?" he rasped, his eyes lighting up hungrily as he sat up straighter.

"Naturally. We've been together almost two years. I know what you like when you're not feeling good."

"You're a lifesaver," he groaned, taking the proffered food and digging in right away.

"I'm glad you have an appetite anyway. I won't ever forget last year's stomach flu incident."

"Ugh, don'dt rembind mbe," he said with a shudder. "Bud other than thad one time, I'll always have an abbetite for this soubp. This is all I've wanted all day." He wolfed down the food with unexpected vigor.

"Well then you're lucky I think of everything, like I said. And to think you wanted to kick me out."

"I ndever *wanted* you kigck you oud. I'm just goi'g to hade mbyself whed you ged sigck," he mumbled, swallowing a mouthful.

"Maybe I won't get sick, did you think of that? And like I've been saying--" She leaned in to kiss him fully on the mouth, long and hard, until he pulled away gasping. "--I don't care. As long as you promise to take care of me if I do, I won't complain about a few days off. So stop worrying."

"Ugh, take it easy babe," he moaned, pressing a hand to his forehead. "This fever has mby blood flow all mbessed ub. You can'dt be usi'g your lips on mbe like thad."

"Don't worry, I'm not planning to seduce you today. Unless you instigate it of course." She gave him a wicked look and he flushed.

"You're something else, Mol," he muttered, unable to hide a smile.

"Just eat your 'soob'."

He did what he was told while she tidied up his sick bed area. When he was almost done, she fetched another bag from the kitchen and began rummaging through it. He eyed the items she pulled out suspiciously.

"How much crabp did you bri'g? And whad are you doi'g ndow?"

"Something I've always wanted to do. And something I think will make you smile."

"I feel like I've been smili'g since you godt here."

It was Molly's turn to flush and smile. "Something that might make you laugh, then."

She sat close beside him on the couch with her stethoscope around her neck, placing a little tablet of paper and a pen in front of her on the table.

"Constitution:" she both said this out loud and wrote it on the paper. "Well-nourished. Unwell appearing today. Complains of malaise and myalgia. Lymphatics:"

She had been neatly writing everything down as she spoke. After the last word, she reached out to gently palate the visibly swollen lymph nodes in his neck. He moaned softly as she massaged them, the moan turning into a cough.

"Cervical lymphadenopathy noted. Lymph nodes tender to palpation." She wrote this down as well.

"Whad are you doi'g, Mol?"

"You get to be a doctor all the time. Today you're definitely the patient, so I'm taking my turn being the doctor and doing a physical exam on you. We need to make a diagnosis after all."

"Ah, of course. Mby apologies, please continue," he said with a little laugh, wiping his nose with a tissue.

"Thank you. Open your mouth please." Inserting a thermometer under his tongue, she also took his pulse with her watch as the thermometer calibrated.

"Resting heart rate is elevated at 86 bpm. Temperature is abnormal at 101.8 degrees Fahrenheit."

"I could've told you thad. I just toogk my tembp before you godt here."

"I find that hard to believe since you were sleeping when I got here. Now shh. Actually say 'ah'." She situated a tongue depressor in his mouth, peering in. "Throat erythematous and inflamed," she said and wrote. "Now lean forward a bit if you would."

He did as he was told, looking slightly put-upon and she slid the diaphragm of her stethoscope under his worn university tee shirt, placing it on his back as she listened to him breathe for a moment. "Minor ronchi noted. No crackles or rales. Minimal concern for pneumonia at this time."

"Well thad's a relief," he said, sniffling wetly.

"Shh, I still need to listen to your heart," she said, sliding the diaphragm of the stethoscope around to his chest.

"Terrible beside manner. I'm leavi'g a ndegative review."

She gave him her sternest "doctor" look. He merely smiled impishly. She sighed, biting back a smile of her own, and listened again.

"Normal rhythm. L-1, L-2 heard."

Setting aside the instruments, she slid her hands under his shirt, feeling gently.

"Skin is overly warm or feverish. Abdomen is soft, non-tender and non-distended."

"You didn't have to go under mby shirt, you know. Abdominal exam cad be done over clothi'g," he said, smirking.

"I was being… thorough," she said with a wink.

He chuckled hoarsely. "Someone's godt the hots for their patiendt. Thad's trouble," he murmured, stifling a yawn as he pulled his blanket closer around himself with a shiver.

"Neurologic: grossly normal. Tremors noted due to chills. Psychiatric: patient is oriented to person, place, time. Behavior normal, but appears lethargic, fatigued and sleepy."

After writing down these final notes, she cuddled up beside him on the couch, wrapping him in her arms and pulling him close as he started shivering in earnest. He nestled against her wearily.

"How did I do?" she murmured. "Did I make you laugh a little at least?"

"Very thorough and efficiendt," he mumbled sleepily, coughing. "And yes you did. Whad's your diagnosis and treadtment plan, doctor?"

"At best a severe case of rhinovirus. I'm more inclined to think influenza due to the fever, but we'll continue to monitor. No active intervention needed at this time. Bed rest at home, OTC medication as needed and adequate hydration recommended." At this she handed him his water bottle. He drank several big gulps before handing it back to her and snuggling in again.

"If that's what the doctor orders," he sniffled, closing his eyes.

She held him for a while, since that seemed to be all he wanted, just rubbing his back and stroking his hair. However, they were forced to move when Shane pulled away to break into one of his barking, painful coughing fits. He tried to settle again after the fact, making a face.

"I don't feel good, Mol," he mumbled pathetically. "This sugcks."

"I know, doc. But I'm doing everything I can to help you feel better. I didn't realize your fever was so high though," she murmured. "And that was after you took medicine. But you seemed just fine yesterday. You don't do anything by halves, do you?"

"Thad's one of the reasons you have the hots for mbe, you know id is," he croaked.

"The only thing with the hots around here is that fever. You're sweltering."

"Sorry," he mumbled, yet made no effort to move off of her. Instead he sneezed wetly into his elbow.

"Update, you're sweltering *and* gross," she said conversationally. Yet she made no effort to move away from him either, kissing his forehead instead. He yawned as she did. "And sleepy."

"Thingk I'm just sigck," he muttered.

"Yeah, let's go with that. Do you want to go back to sleep right now?"

"Ndo. Ndot while you're here. I'm too sigck to sleeb anyway."

"There's no such thing as being too sick to sleep. But if you don't want to sleep right now, I have one more present for you."

"You've already given mbe too mbuch."

"There's no such thing as that either." She carefully shifted out from under him again and attempted to head to the kitchen once more. Before she could take more than a step though, he caught her hand and made her turn around. Seeing his imploring look, she stepped back into the V of his legs. He wrapped his arms fully around her, burying his hot face in her abdomen.

"Thangk you mbuch for the soubp and mbedicine, baby. You really are a lifesaver. I just wanted to tell you thad."

She nuzzled her face into his messy hair. "Anything to help you feel better. I can tell you're still miserable though."

"Nodt miserable with you here."

"Just sick."

"Mhm," he mumbled, sleepily as ever. She let him hold her for another moment or two before speaking again.

"Seriously though, I have something else I want to give you. It'll just take a second to grab."

"Fine," he sighed. As he pulled away, she saw a hazy, pre-sneeze look cross his face. Sure enough, as she trotted to the kitchen, behind her she heard him emit a pair of messy, rough sneezes.

"That soup really got your nose going, huh?" she asked as she reentered the living room.

"Guess so," he sniffled, blowing his nose thickly. "Thad's the poindt though, right?"

"Indeed it is." She moved to the entertainment center and quickly plugged her laptop into the TV.

"Now whad are you doi'g?"

"Maybe you should stop asking questions and just wait and see."

"You know I hade surprises."

"That's not true at all in my experience, so I'm calling your bluff on that one. But you won't have to wait long for this one either way."

After a few setting changes to allow the laptop display to be projected on the TV, Molly popped a disk into the drive and started it up.

"Are we watchi'g somethi'g?"

"You and your questions." She tossed a thick DVD case into his lap. He picked it up, his eyes widening happily.

"The original Jurassic Park trilogy? Holy crabp, this is awesome!"

"I'm glad you approve," she laughed, stepping into his arms again. "It was going to be your Christmas present, but I figured a sick day at home is an even better occasion."

"This is perfect, love. You're ambazing," he mumbled, squeezing her tightly.

"Anything for my best guy." She nuzzled his hair again fondly. "Anything to help you sleep."

"I don'dt wandt to sleeb while you're here though. I don'dt wandt to mbiss out on seei'g you."

"Well then you're in luck, because I'm planning on staying here all weekend. So I'll be here when you fall asleep and when you wake up. No time wasted at all."

A grin split his face. "You'd do thad for mbe?"

"I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise. Doctors need to be looked after too, especially by their nurse girlfriends. So you stretch out and get comfortable and leave the rest to me."

"You're cooler than anadomy and dinosaurs combined, you know thad?"

Molly giggled happily. "I don't know if I'll ever come back from such high praise. You better quit while you're ahead, Dr. Mitchell."

"Only if you promise to make mbe coffee in the morni'g. Your good coffee."

"Sounds like a plan," she said with a grin and another kiss.

#sicktember2021 #sickfic #everyone is hotter with a fever #prompt 20

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absolute-barbarism · 3 years

Note

Sorry to bother but are you still taking prompts? If so could you write something like a tough character A (police officer or firefighter or Agent you decide) had been through a tough day and horrible mission, their old wound got infected and they’d been trying to pretend they were Okay, until after the shift they got back home and fainted right in front of the house, even before their partner B answered the door? Thx

Not a bother at all, thank you for the awesome prompt! Sorry it took me ages to get around to my inbox ;-; hope you enjoy!

Modest as they were, A had to commend themselves for making it this far.

From the moment they woke in the morning, eyes shut stubbornly against the grueling tasks of the day, they knew they were at their limit before they even rose from their pillow. Their partner B was up and showering already, a common occurrence given their early-bird routine. Though it was A who needed it more than anyone else in their task force, they were the one with a day off to look forward to and A could hear them humming and buzzing about the bathroom. It was old tradition for them to have a home-date night when at least one of them was off. Absolutely sacrosanct. A buried their face into the mattress and groaned.

To count at least one blessing, the most A had had to do all day was sit at their desk. Physically, anyways, which was no easy ride either. Sitting upright took enough toll on the old wound stretched across their back that it was beginning to pull back on the curtains shielding A’s pain. Emotionally, there were no blessings to count. Only a limitless supply of curses.

Their current case had gone up in flames. One after another, bad news chipped away at A’s pride in everything he, B and the rest of the task force had accomplished thus far. Their only witnesses were slaughtered in cold blood, their suspects in the wind. The victims family had turned on them to declare their efforts useless and their agents lazy, incompetent bastards. A lazy bastard wouldn’t take a knife to the back treading slum territory for the investigation, A wanted to protest, but they knew in their heart they would be as angry if justice dawdled on someone they loved.

The skin surrounding their cut seemed to flash with heat upon every breath drawn too deep. It didn’t feel right, A thought, especially since it had been healing so well up until now. B would have to take a look at it later. They wouldn’t trust some unfamiliar doctor over B’s years of experience in the medical field. But it would have to be later, when their whole team wasn’t around to side-eye them and worry that they had lost yet another integral piece to their investigation. A wouldn’t do that to them, no matter what they had to endure themselves.

They started up their car and suddenly found themselves choking on a sob. With every hour passed the occasional heat that seared under their wound like it was fresh graduated to an insatiable flame, and the pulling. Every muscle A moved would pull the skin, and worst of all, grind the raw, exposed layers to the scratchy fabric of their undershirt. It was the first time they ever speeded in their life, in a reasonable effort to get home as fast as possible and in unreasonable desperation to somehow break away from the wound entirely.

Until today, A quite liked the half-hour commute. It was a peaceful time to mentally prepare in the morning and distance themselves from work at night. They slammed the car door behind them and wouldn’t look back, even after they realized they left their keys in the engine. They had to get inside. The pain couldn’t reach them in their sleep. Could it?

Keys. A cursed themselves when they reached the porch and dug into their pocket. The house keys were on the same ring as the car. They pounded on the door three times before they felt warm droplets sliding down their spine, growing cold quickly in the winter weather. As they waited on B, steadying themselves against the porch railing, distinguishable droplets turned to a collective ooze, soaking through their shirt. Nausea broke their clumsy train of thought, but the bile wouldn’t reach their throat. They hadn’t eaten enough today to throw up, they realized, or at all actually. They had closed their eyes to ward the sickening feeling off, but when they opened again, A noticed that their vision did not return as they had left it. The snow warped and blurred under their shoes, going fuzzy like static and darker, darker.

B was just finishing dinner preparations when they heard knocking. It couldn’t have been A, of course. Perhaps a friend, or a work acquaintance with urgent news.

But it was A, B saw with a startled cry. It was A, crumpled on the ground and breathing faintly as the white fabric over their back grew red with blood. Thankfully, having been there to witness the attack in the first place, they were able to shake their terror and go into what A lovingly liked to call medic-mode after only a few seconds of fretting. The blood was bright, but it was no new wound. Only an old one acting up, and that could be fixed. B reassured themselves of this as they carried A inside, bearing twice their own weight in their adrenaline rush. They peeled A’s shirt off carefully and went to work, focused as they would be performing neurosurgery while diced vegetables waited neglected on the cutting board.

“…Sorry…” was the first thing A mumbled when they came to. It was only twenty minutes later, but plenty of time for B to disinfect and patch up what they could, conveniently while A was still too unconscious to complain. This wasn’t their first time hearing that, and they weren’t naive enough to hope it would be the last.

“You know, you keep pushing yourself until you drop,” B said instead, “One of these days you won’t be able to get back up.”

“Not if I have you.” If their skin hadn’t still been frying under the sting of disinfectant, A would have smiled. B wouldn’t have, but they privately relished in A’s ill-timed flirting.

Lying on their belly on a cot in B’s home office, A observed the unusual chaos that had interrupted B’s orderly organization of medicine bottles and tools. They had to have been panicking while working on A’s wound not to take the time to put everything back in its’ rightful place, as was their habit. A felt a pang of guilt far worse than the ache of their old cut. “I’m really sorry,” they mumbled. “I thought I could make it through the day.”

“Did you tell your infection about that? I don’t think it got the message,” B responded dryly. “You’ve got a fever…You’re lucky it’s not any worse.”

A had plenty of remarks locked and loaded, eager to dissuade from the gravity in B’s voice. But even they knew B left the medical field for a reason, and as their partner, willingly throwing themselves into bad shape before them was shameful.

“I know,” they said, and took a glance over their shoulder. B was staring at the pile of bloodied wipes they had used to clean A’s back. A’s hand found its way into theirs, and B took solace in that it was warm. “I’ll rest.”

That was all B wanted to hear. They smiled faintly, giving A’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“Then rest,” they said before kissing the shell of A’s ear. A didn’t need to be told twice—the moment they closed their eyes they were out, their ribs expanding and folding with each breath. B watched idly for a while before getting up to place their meal prep into Tupperware. A was alright, and that was all they cared about.

Alright, for now.

#the whumpy adventures of a&b #asks #anon #thank you!#sorry again this took forever lol #fever #infection #writing #illness/injury #hurt/comfort #whump #anon asks

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sarcastically-defensive17 · 3 years

Note

Yo! Wassup? I read far away today and boy is it awesome like you totally slay as sis .. btw when is part 2 coming ? Not tryna rush you or anything.. Take your time

Far too long - P. Parker (Part 2)

Read Part 1 here

ITS HERE AND I’M SUPER NERVOUS. I FEEL LIKE I RUSHED THE ENDING BUT I ALSO FEEL LIKE IT WOULD BE A FLURRY OF PENT UP WORDS AND EMOTIONS. I HOPE YOU ALL LIKE IT AND IF ITS BAD THEN LMK AND ILL APOLOGISE SINCERELY BECAUSE I’M SCARED OF THIS HAHAHA

(gif is not mine)

TW: Mentions of blood, grief, injury, abandonment, fear, angst, childbirth. If any of these themes may trigger you then, please, do not read for your own good. Your wellbeing is far more important.

My inbox is always open.

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17

It would be a lie to say that Peter hadn’t been in horrible situations before. However, with the development of his powers came the growth of thicker skin and stronger shoulders to bear the weight of his choices and others.

He fought, day after day, to withstand everything life threw at him. Heartache, mistakes, the one time he frosted the tips of his hair when he was 12 - Y/N knew that he would be alright.

He had to be alright. He had to be alive. She needed him. They needed him.

Y/N had watched him grow as a man, and watched him overcome everything. Then he was finally hers. She had everything she had ever wanted in him, and she was going to bring new life into the world with him by her side, until the missions came between them.

Now, she had been away from him for over 2 months and he was missing in action. Every news station was reporting that he was gone, but she refused to accept it. She knew Peter. She knew the strength he had. She knew that no matter what, he wanted to be a part of his baby’s life.

The minute she saw the broadcast her shaking fingers dialed Tony’s number and he was there to take her to the compound as soon as he could be.

Another three months passed.

Three agonizing months.

She gave birth in the medical bay of the compound, May by her side, welcoming her daughter into the world with a broken heart

Rosie May Parker was welcomed into the world, but the one person who was meant to be there wasn’t. She had her fathers eyes, his ferocious brown curls - but she didn’t have her father.

Y/N didnt have much knowledge of science outside of her computer mechanics degree, nor did she have any means to be a powerful superhero like the avengers, but she had fierce determination. Tony had ordered her to stay at the compound until they found peter - he was also determined that his faux-son would be okay.

Y/N harbored no intentions of leaving, more so, now that Rosie had joined her. May was there as well, watching Y/N fall in love with the small child over and over again, every day, helping where she could.

It was when they neared the day that her daughter would turn two months old, that it all happened.

Y/N had taken up residency in the lab. She was a computer science major at university, and she was able to pick up the workings of the technology Tony and Bruce utilized to keep track of mission data and surveillance measures for MIA operatives. She had spent nearly every day that she had been there inspecting every program, every website, keeping track on news outlets.

The world said that Peter was dead, but she refused to give up. He wouldn’t go down without a fight. Spider-Man wouldn’t submit.

If her eyes weren’t glued to a screen, they were on her daughter, both keeping her connection to peter alive. She monitored his Karen program for any inconsistencies, any sign that the program was online.

Karen had been offline for so long. The minute the building went down on Peter, the only thing letting Y/N and Tony know that he was alive was gone with it.

Rosie would sleep soundly in a bassinet set up next to her chair. There was a strain in Y/N’s head that hadn’t waned for weeks. Each day her head felt heavier, the harsh blue lights from the computers creating a constant reminder of her naive determination.

She was beginning to consider the possibility that he was gone, but something always made her thoughts shift in the other direction whenever the idea graced her cortex.

Her days had been filled with bouts of despondency, but the small babe that she cradled against her chest throughout the day brought light back into her life.

But still, nothing

Not until that day.

Rosie was sleeping in her crib I’m their room, recently fed, changed and cuddled - Friday monitoring the baby in all of the ways that the baby monitor she had with her couldn’t. The clock had just hit 2:38am and her eyes were heavy. She considered submitting to the crushing weight of her exhaustion, until Tony burst into the laboratory with Bruce and Natasha in tow, the woman suited up and heading towards the hallway leading to the quinjet hangar.

“Tony?” Y/N blinked, eyes darting to the baby monitor to determine if the commotion was linked to her daughter. Rosie hadn’t moved, her small chest rising and falling with each breath. “What’s wrong?”

Bruce had rushed over to the computer she was sat at, rebooting various programs that Y/N could barely recognize in her bleary state.

A vein in Tony’s forehead protruded - a clear sign that his stress levels were at a high. Bruce had been attempting to monitor his blood pressure as of late, knowing that his anxiety had been peaking with the disappearance of two of his team members.

Y/N had felt a overwhelming sense of duty to the man who had taken her in. She wanted to calm him, help ease his worries as he had done for her. He was as much family to her as he was to Peter.

His brown eyes were frantic, but there was something else hidden in the warm irises that seemed constantly framed by bloodshot sclera. Hope.

“Take off in 30, Nat.” Bruce spoke through an earpiece, connecting directly to the quinjet she assumed the Russian was boarding.

Y/N focused her gaze entirely on Tony, rising to her feet carefully and stepping towards him slowly, as one would a spooked animal.

The minute she was within arms reach, his hands were grasping her shoulders. There was no pressure under his hands, but there was comfort. “A few minutes ago, a transmission came through.” Y/N felt her eyes widen, mind racing with possibilities. The smile she received from the older man told her everything she needed to know before the words left his lips. “Pete came though. He’s with Barton, they’re safe. Romanoff’s on her way to pick them up.”

Y/N was in disbelief, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, “The building,” she breathed. “It came down on them-“

“The kid will explain when he gets here.” His hands moved to her cheeks. “He’s coming home, Y/N. For the most part, he’s alright. I got his vitals from the Karen program and he is stable, may need some work when he gets home, but he is okay, physically.”

Tears slipped from her eyes, running down Tony’s fingers but he paid it no mind. The smile that split his face was enough of a pardon.

It was another two hours until the familiar sound of the quinjet hangar opening graced her ears.

Bruce had ordered her to get some rest while they waited, but she opted to spend the time watching her daughter. Rosie had woken for a feed, but her big brown eyes stared up at her mother with a knowing look. Y/N could do little to push down the excitement of Peter’s return, but the overwhelming fear quickly resurfaced.

They left on horrible terms. They were no longer a couple, nor did she have the chance to take back the horrible things she said about his faithfulness to their family dynamic. But there was a lingering part of her mind that pushed her to think he would want nothing to do with them.

She left her room, placing a kiss to Rosie’s forehead and asking Friday to keep a watch of the baby, clipping the monitor to her waistband and rushing for the laboratory.

She arrived in time to see the compound medical staff trailing alongside a stretcher, Barton sprawled on it with a smirk on his face and an IV cannula in his arm.

Moments later she saw him.

He looked as much a mess as he felt, he knew so. Soot and dirt coating his skin and his suit, his leg aggravated and aching from an incorrectly set break. He hadn’t expected to see her face, but when he did, it felt as if a building was falling down on him once again.

She caught his eyes darting down to her stomach then back to her face. She smiled at him softly with a nod, hoping he could grasp her meaning across the meters between them.

She hadn’t the chance to say a word to him, nor he to her. Bruce led him to the medbay, offering support where he could for the pain in Peter’s leg, and Tony went to Y/N, cradling her as the pent up grief escaped through her eyes. She wanted to follow after him, so badly.

Tony held her against his chest, sharing the grief that had been building over the months. They were beginning to think they had lost Peter, but to see him alive and standing in front of them - it was overwhelming for both.

“I, uhm,” Tony cleared his throat, his voice wet from tears. “I’m gonna go help Bruce out. I’ll send for you when he’s all fixed up. I promise.”

With a nod of her head, Y/N let him go.

Minutes after, Friday alerted her that Rosie was awake and she took her leave to sit with her baby.

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she cradled the babe to herself. She had decided that even if Peter didn’t want to see her, she would at least hand Rosie over to Tony to introduce father and daughter. Despite her previous words, she just knew that Peter would be entirely smitten with the small human, just as much as she was.

As such, it came as a surprise when Friday chimed through her P.A. System requesting her presence at the medbay.

Her feet shuffled to stop at the door for the room they were in before she knew it, and Tony had opened the door to allow her entrance. He and Bruce took their leave, allowing the former lovers to have the space to themselves.

Peter felt the air drain from his lungs and he looked at her. He had sat up on the bed, leg bandaged and healing at an accelerated rate now that it had been set correctly. He was bruised and battered but he still smiled wider than he had in so long when he saw her and the small bundle she cradled.

She was the first to speak, “You’re alive.” Her voice was choked. The past months had been hard on him, but he couldn’t imagine the pain she felt thinking he was dead. Especially when they left things so horribly.

“The building... it wasn’t meant to go down like that,” he sighed, his smile shrinking. “I took most of the brunt because I can handle more than Clint. But we managed to get out and get our target... eventually.”

His eyes were darting to the bundle in her arms, but he didn’t dare to say anything about he baby. At this point, he didn’t even know his baby’s name.

Y/N noticed his gaze, and the unspoken question that his eyes held. Without warning, she took a seat next to him on the bed, unwrapping Rosie and placing her in Peter’s arms. She silently adjusted his hands to ease his fear and discomfort in holding an infant, and she could see the emotion forming in his chocolate orbs.

“Her name is Rosie.” Y/N whispered, eyes stuck on her daughter. “Rosie May Parker.”

“You named her after ‘Love, Rosie’,” he smiled, feeling a tear slip down his cheek. He had a daughter, and she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“It’s my favourite book. Two best friends who fell apart, only to come together and repeat it until they could finally be together.” Her fingers fiddled in her lap, picking at her cuticles. Her body was alight with nerves, her toes electric within her boots. “And I had to name her after May. She’s the only mother I have.”

“Rosie,” he tried the name on his tongue, noticing the way the baby scrunched her nose in her sleep. Her mother did the same thing.

Y/N sighed deeply, breathing out through her nose as she held back tears. “Peter, I’m so -“

“You have nothing to apologise for, Y/N.” He ran his finger over Rosie’s cheek. So soft, scared to stir her from her sleep. “Everything that happened, happened because of me.”

“Peter-“

“My list of discretions are unending. What kind of fiancé was I?” He let a soft chuckle fall from his lips, a humorless one, soaked from the sob he refused to let rip from his chest. “What kind of father was I? Who did I think I was, to keep you waiting on me, day after day. Every important event, I missed.”

“I never meant to say those things to you, Pete. To accuse you of not loving me, not wanting to be a father... it was uncalled for. But,” she sniffed, turning her head upwards to gaze at the ceiling. “I felt so alone. And then, you left, and I was alone.”

After what felt like eternity, his eyes met her face. Her skin was blotchy from tears, eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed. She was the most beautiful thing he had seen, apart from the angel in his arms. He felt almost complete, with the two girls by his side. His heart hurt a little less.

“I know. I’m probably the biggest jackass on the face of the planet, and I know that I can most likely do nothing to change that. It’s far too late for me to even begin to say the things I have wanted to say, but I can’t stand the thought of another day without telling you what’s been on my mind since the minute I left.” His body shuddered with a heavy breath, his lips kissing the small fist that rose towards his mouth as Rosie stretched in her sleep. “I have loved you for as long as I can remember. Every second I was away, I wanted nothing more than to run home and apologize for every disgusting thing I had said to you, to put my hands on your belly and promise our baby that I would never leave either of you.

“Then the building went down. I helped Clint get out, but I was stuck there for a few days. Some of our operatives were working as hard as they could to find a way to clear the debris so I could go, but it took a while. The entire time, I had convinced myself that I would never be able to see you again. It was like, like, I knew, that I couldn’t breathe until I saw you again.”

Her hand moved slowly, resting against his cheek to thumb away a tear that trailed his smooth skin.

“I didn’t know how many months had passed while I was gone, but when I got out from under the building, I realized that you were all alone to have our baby.” The sob finally broke through his chest. “I left you all alone. The small little baby that would see the world for the first time without their father.” He rubbed the side of his face onto his shoulder to not drop tears onto Rosie. “I’m a horrible father. I was so horrible to you.”

His breaths were staggered, and Y/N took the baby from his arms holding her against her own chest as she pressed her body to his side. Her free hand turned his face toward her own, but he kept his eyes squeezed shut, tears flowing rhythmically.

“I love you so much, Y/N, and I’m not going anywhere. I promise you,” he caught the way her hand tightened on his arm as he spoke. She was terrified of losing him again. “I would do anything, anything at all, to have you forgive me, but if you can’t then I understand. Just don’t make me leave your life, please.”

She felt her breath hitch, “I said horrible things to you. I told you to never come back, but I can’t stand another day without you. I need you here, with us. We need you Peter, like I told you all those months ago.” She felt his lips kiss the palm of her hand, the same one she used to brush away his tears. “I love you so much, and I don’t want you to leave. Ever.”

He pressed his forehead against hers, his lips pouting from the strength it took to resist pressing his mouth on hers. He didn’t know if she would welcome the contact. He had done her wrong.

“I’m not leaving you anymore, baby. I’m not leaving either of you, ever again.”

Y/N knew that Peter would be alright. His resilience was unmatched, his love ferocious. Y/N had began to think she would never see him again, but the image of him perched in front of her, eyes locked on the child that looked so much like him was one that she would never forget.

The tears falling were no longer out of fear, or sadness, or anger. Her tears fell out of love and happiness. She had the final piece of her family back, and she would do everything she could to see the two people in front of her smile.

“I’ve been far away, for far too long, baby. I’m never leaving you again. I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you and Rosie. I’ll make you Mrs. Parker and buy a house in the suburbs and do everything boring house husbands do,” Y/N snickered, forehead still against his. Peter was rambling, but she knew she would never force him to give up what he loves, so long as he came home to his two girls at the end of the day. “I will love you, both, until the day I die and beyond that.”

She leaned her head forward slowly, allowing him to reject her intentions, but when he didn’t, she poured her emotions from the last half year into the kiss. The love, the fear, the anger, the uncertainty.

When they broke apart, one thing was on her lips, “I love you, Peter Parker.”

Tag List: @starshonerose @snookiebrookie @mantlereid @theanswertoeverythingisl0v3 @another-lonely-heart

@uwucorpse @timeless-crow @eridanuswave @prettysbliss @amydancypants @allycat449-blog

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker angst #tom holland #tom holland x reader #marvel #spiderman #spiderman x reader #mcu #tony stark #bruce banner #natasha romanoff #clint barton #far away part 2 #far away #caz writes

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mearcatsreturns · 3 years

Note

15 for Abby/Luka

For reasons ;)

Under a cut because it's long.

July 2003

To: Luka Kovac <“[email protected]”>

From: Abby Lockhart <“[email protected]”>

Subject: I’m drowning and praying ghosts are real

Dear Luka,

Something about knowing that I’ll never talk to you again is just unbearable. I’ll never laugh at your malapropisms, look into your beautiful eyes, feel your strong hands holding mine, or make love to you again. There won’t be any more jokes about jam and cheese on toast, or you teasing me for my weak but constant supply of coffee. I’ll never hear your amazing, deranged laughter after you prank someone again. No more of your hugs—which are somehow the best hugs in the world. Because you’re gone.

It’s been three days since we got the call telling us you died thousands of miles from home, whether that’s here in Chicago or in Croatia. I didn’t know your dad’s name, Luka. We needed to call him, and I didn’t know. How did I not know? And now I can’t. I mean, L’Alliance told us his name, but the fact that I’ll never learn pieces of your history, of the wonderful man you are, FROM you...how am I supposed to go on and live my life?

For years, I’ve thought medicine was my great thwarted love. I’ve wanted to be a doctor for so long, and I thought I was bitter about having to let go of that dream. Now I wonder. I let obstacles get in the way of pursuing medicine, and it’s made me...well, it’s part of why I was so unhappy. But that makes me think about how I also let obstacles get in the way of us. I was happy with you, you know, until I let fear and my mother and Carter get in the way. God, I wish I could do that over again. We could have had everything, and if I hadn’t gotten in my own way, I’d be happy. I think maybe I could have made you happy, too.

It’s funny. I knew things with Carter weren’t working, and he implied you were part of it. I said it wasn’t, but then five minutes later, I found out you were—are—dead. And I realized you were the reason, or one of the big ones. As soon as Chuny told me, I knew I loved you and had loved you for years. Yeah. Great timing, isn’t it? I keep thinking that maybe I could have kept you from going if I had known or if I had told you. I didn’t want you to go when I thought you were my very attractive friend and ex that I still was fond of. Knowing that I love you—how do I move past that? Knowing that I lost you, first to my stupidity and then to death?

I just...I miss you, and I don’t when I’ll stop, or how to. Susan caught me crying on my last shift, and I didn’t even know what to say. I feel like I’ve been crying or standing still, brittle and stuck in time, since I heard the news. I can’t, Luka. I know I have to keep on moving, and I thought maybe writing you would help. I know you’ll never see this, never have a chance to respond. But the idea that some fragments of your soul linger and can maybe sense...I don’t know. That I’m writing? What I’m feeling? Jesus, this is crazy.

All my love,

Abby

Abby angrily swipes the tears from her eyes. God, what’s the point of writing this? He’ll never see hsi email or her again. Just...without Luka, how can the world be anything but grim and sad and pointless?

She laughs mirthlessly. Maybe it doesn’t matter. No, she knows it doesn’t. Because Abby knows the futility of it, aches with the meaninglessness, she presses send without another thought.

&&&

Three days after that, a miracle occurs. Luka, the Lazarus of this new millennium, comes back from the dead. He’s never been dead, and maybe, Abby thinks, there’s a God above after all. So many people wish for this exact boon, and she—they, the world—gets it. Some higher power believes this planet is a better place with Luka Kovac in it, and Abby is ecstatic.

Until she remembers the email and that they can’t be unsent.

It’s fine. She’ll be fine. Luka is coming back, apparently with a French nurse. Maybe he’ll just delete it without reading it. Maybe it didn’t go through—how does email work for the dead, and how quickly is all that processed?

Abby shakes her head. It doesn’t matter; Luka is alive and returning to them. She can handle a little awkwardness in the face of the sheer joy of knowing the world is a brighter, kinder place. He’s coming back, and that’s what’s important.

&&&

August 2003

It takes Luka almost a week after returning to Chicago to convince Kerry and the other staff to let him go back to his apartment. Even so, they only agree when Gillian assures them she’ll see to his every need.

Abby winces when she hears that, and it makes something flutter in Luka’s chest. Which probably isn’t good for his malaria, but the hope...that is.

It’s another two days of lying in bed before he has the energy to ask Gillian to bring him his laptop. At this point, it’s been months since he’s checked his email, and Luka grimaces at the undoubtedly horrible state of his inbox. He briefly considers never checking again and just getting a new one, but he knows his father struggled to add him to his contacts once already. To expect it of him again would be absurd.

With a sigh, Luka opens his email. It’s just as bad as he feared. He snorts at the myriad messages about Viagra, Nigerian princes, and Russian brides, deleting them without thought. He saves a couple from his dad. He slowly whittles down his inbox, but he freezes when he gets to one email in particular, sent about a month ago.

It’s from Abby, during the time everyone thought he was dead.

Luka considers calling and asking her if someone hacked her email or is sending spam from her account, but the subject line...it looks real. And Abby’s been odd around him lately, seeming both deliriously happy to see him and awkwardly nervous.

His heart pounds, and he clicks to open it. If this is a spammer, they’re probably about to get whatever they want.

&&&

Abby pours herself another coffee, internally swearing as she prepares for the last two hours of her shift. Deciding to go back to school is great; having to coordinate all the details is less thrilling and leaves her tired and cranky.

Frank ducks his head into the lounge, beady eyes narrowing on her. “Hey, Abby. The Croat is on the phone for you. Line 2. Try to get back out there as fast as you can, Weaver’s yelling at the med students about IVs.”

“Okay, Frank,” Abby says, though she flushes and her palms start to sweat. It’s fine. She can always hide the panic and butterflies in her stomach with sarcasm. It has yet to fail her.

Frank gives her one last suspicious look, then nods and heads back to Admit.

Abby takes a deep breath, then picks up the phone. “Hey, Luka?”

“It’s me. Glad I could reach you. How are you?” He sounds...ugh. So good. And eager and happy, and her heart could leap right out of her chest.

“Doing all right. I just have a couple hours left on this shift, and it hasn’t been too awful today. Only one MVA. How about you? You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Recovering. Listen, did you want to come over for dinner?”

“Please tell me you’re not trying to cook.”

“What? I’m a good cook, even if you don’t appreciate wonderful, traditional Croatian dishes,” he says with a chuckle.

“Luka, you just got out of the hospital five days ago. You still need to be resting.”

“Abby, don’t worry so much. I was just kidding. I have some sandwiches from Manny’s, and Anna sent me home with lots of matzo ball soup too.”

Abby bites her lip. Of course she wants to go. But the prospect of spending the evening with Gillian cooing over Luka, knowing that she shares a bed with him, is decidedly less appealing. And there’s the email she sent, which Luka hasn’t acknowledged. He might well have deleted it, or he’s giving her a gracious out.

Her conscience twinges as soon as she thinks about bailing, though. Didn’t she promise herself she wouldn’t take life for granted anymore? She’ll go back to med school, she’ll have dinner with Luka when he asks.

“Abby?”

She starts, realizing she needs to respond. “Yeah, sorry. Yeah, I can do that. I can be there an hour after my shift, if that’s okay.”

“Sounds great. Looking forward to seeing you.”

“Me too.” He has no idea how much, even if she wishes she knew for sure that he’d deleted the email.

&&&

Abby rings Luka’s doorbell three and a half hours later. She’d meant to come straight from work, but after a patient vomited on her, she decided to head home, shower, and splurge on a taxi to Luka’s. The poor man is recovering from being deathly ill and doesn’t need County’s fumes making things worse.

There’s the sound of the deadbolt sliding, and Luka answers the door, grinning happily at her. “Good, you made it! Come on in!”

“I did. Sorry it took me longer than expected.” Abby steps into his apartment, looking around. It’s been such a long time since she’s been here, and she notes the subtle changes in the art and decor.

“No worries. I know how it goes.” He places a hand at the small of her back, guiding her inside.

Abby stiffens for a second at how his touch burns even through the layers of her shirt and light jacket, but she relaxes, enjoying the feel while she waits for Gillian to appear and end the fleeting joy.

Luka is unfazed. “Now, of course we can just eat the sandwiches, but if you want to heat up the matzo ball soup, you can. Since you don’t want me standing,” he says with a wink.

Abby smiles back, shaking her head. “Oh, I see how it is. Make the woman who worked all day do more household work when she gets ho—wait, where’s Gillian? Isn’t she supposed to be taking care of you?”

“She’s not here,” he says simply.

Going to the fridge and taking out the containers of soup, Abby places them in the microwave. Is Gillian out for the evening, or is she gone gone? “Shouldn’t you be with her? Or her here with you, whatever.”

Luka is quiet for a long minute, and Abby wonders if he intends to answer. Finally, he breaks the silence. “I asked her to leave.”

Abby’s pulse speeds up. “What? Why?”

Luka takes a deep breath, clearly ready to respond, and—

The microwave dings, and they both jump. Exchanging a sheepish look, they laugh.

“Look, let’s get some food, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Abby dishes up their soup and sandwiches, preparing trays so they can sit on the couch. Luka turns on the television, and Abby’s heart rate comes back under control. They sit together in companionable silence while they eat and watch Thom and Jai and the rest of the Fab 5 whip some hapless lawyer’s life into order. When they finish their meal, Abby cleans up, taking the trays back to the kitchen.

She heads back to the couch at the opposite end from Luka, not daring to get closer when she really has no idea what’s going on.

Luka clears his throat and mutes the TV. “So, yeah. I asked Gillian to leave.”

“Oh. So, um, did you break up?”

“She was never my girlfriend, really. She has a boyfriend back in Montreal, they just…” Luka shrugs and runs a hand through his hair.

Abby is more lost than ever. “Ah.”

Taking a deep breath, Luka continues, finally looking over at her. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful she helped me get here and took care of me, but we were never serious.”

Something starts to tug at Abby’s heart, squeezing and twisting and kicking to get free. Is it...hope? “Well, I’m glad she got you here safe, but you should have someone staying with you while you recover, Luka. Malaria is dangerous.”

He gives her a look. “I know how dangerous malaria is. I’m getting better. And besides, it wouldn’t have been fair for me to ask her to stay when things are over because I’m in love with someone else.”

Her heart leaps into her throat. “Someone else?” she squeaks.

Luka nods, swallowing. “Yeah. And I have a reason to think she might be in love with me too.” He slides over to her side of the couch, reaching for her hand.

Abby meets his eyes—those beautiful green eyes that are the best color in the world—and squeezes his hand, incapable of words. Does he mean…?

With his other hand, Luka reaches up and cups her cheek, running his thumb along the subtle arch of her cheekbone. “Abby, if you’ve changed your mind since you sent that email, please tell me to shut up.”

That stupid, ridiculous email might be the best thing she’s ever done in her life. She leans into his hand, licking her lips as she shakes her head slightly. “I haven’t changed my mind. I didn’t mean for you to see it and hoped I could learn how to hack computers and delete it but—”

Luka cuts her off. “I would never forgive you if you managed to delete it. You wouldn’t believe how much faster I healed after that.”

Abby leans forward, sliding into Luka’s waiting arms. “Then maybe I’ll write you some more emails.”

“Emails aren’t what I want right now,” Luka says.

Funny, Abby doesn’t either. Then his lips brush hers, and all her worries and fears fade away. She knows she has to tell him about med school and he needs to finish recuperating, but when Luka deepens their kiss and pulls her closer, Abby ceases to think at all.

She has Luka back, and now they have each other again.

#er #nbc er #er ff #luby #luby ff #abby lockhart #luka kovac #<3 #my fanfic

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silvanable · 3 years

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@sweettangy

Hi!! I hope you don’t mind me requesting! ^^ I’m using the submission box because my ask is super long >< But anyways, I was wondering if you could write IkeVamp headcanons for this scenario:

So basically, Reader has this ex best friend who betrayed her by becoming friends with her bully, and the IkeVamp suitors are already aware of this and Reader’s ill feelings towards Ex Bestie. So, a few months later, Reader and the suitors are at a ball/party hanging out and out of nowhere, Ex Bestie just swoops in pretending like nothing happened, and just decides to get on Reader’s good side again by telling her that she looks really pretty tonight. But Reader, having none of her ex bestie’s BS, comes up with a badass comeback by saying, “Thanks! Can’t say the same about you though,” with a face of pure contempt before walking away like a Queen.

I was wondering, how would the Ikevamp suitors react to this? If all of them is too much, I would like it if you wrote for Napoleon, Vincent, Theo, Arthur, and Dazai!

Sorry for the long read! ^^’ Thank you so much! 🥰

aaaahhh! it’s so nice to see you back in my inbox again, darling! and this time with an ikevamp request~

i absolutely love the idea! as someone who has struggled with friendships and ended up on the sour end of it, this is something i not only understand but can get behind.

i’m always down for a badass reader putting her best, savage, sassy foot forward.

can i saw how overly happy being able to use british slang on arthur’s part made me? i was too giddy, but every time he says something like that in game i just lose it.

↪ GUIDELINES

ー ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

arthur always knew his s/o was one sassy, snarky little thing but he had never expected her to leave no survivors.

he had known about her past relationships, one in particular, that had ended rather bitterly and left her just as bitter about it.

it was something that he grasps quickly and noted how especially hurt his s/o was because of it.

he knew how hard it was to open up to someone and be so fragile, hoping against the worst they would not break you, and yet his s/o’s best friend had done that.

He had never seen her ex-best friend before, so when a young dame saunters up to his beloved he can only assume they know each other.

it was easy for him to catch the tension in his s/o body though, the moment she turned to see who had called out to her.

Still, she forces and smile and greets the other woman with a familiar name.

it strikes arthur then. he knows exactly who this is now, an old acquaintance of his s/o.

he was ready to step in immediately, to pull you from the uncomfortable situation but just as he placed a hand on her shoulder it happened—

“it’s been so long! look at you, you are absolutely stunning tonight!” her ex-friend greeted.

“aw, thanks! can’t say the same about you though,” his s/o shot back, the semblance of a sneer before she turned on her heel.

arthur hardly had a moment to react as she grabbed his hand and walked off, a growing smirk on his beloved’s lips.

“by jove, love,” is about all he can get out as he looks between her and the other woman who grows smaller as he’s dragged through the crowd.

it’s not often that arthur is taken by surprise, especially because he is very keen to things, but for once his little darling has managed to surprise him.

and as he’s being dragged away, his hand in hers, laughter starts to bubble out of him.

it’s only then when his s/o stops to look back at him curiously and ask what has gotten into him.

ー DAZAI OSAMU

the two of them had decided to take a date to enjoy the festival and fun that was being offered in the streets of paris this evening.

dazai had been enjoying his time, with his s/o, as they wandered between vendors and marveled at spectacles on display.

then suddenly his s/o was tugging gently on his sleeve, requesting that they take a break somewhere out and away from the crowds.

dazai was not one to refuse but it seemed something had startled his s/o and before he had the chance to ask, another voice cut him off.

a masculine voice calls out his s/o name and she goes stiff as the owner appears from the crowd.

he seemed to pay no mind to dazai, who happened to be standing right there, as his s/o clung to his arm.

“i haven’t seen you in so long, but it’s good to see you!” the newcomer greeted, “looks like you got especially dolled up for the festival too, huh? you look great.”

dazai is normally pretty laid back and some would dare say air-headed but he realized what was going on now and who this was. his s/o ex best friend.

he was ready to shoo this man away, especially because he could feel his s/o’s nails digging into his arm through his kimono sleeve.

but before he had the chance, she let go, stepping up to face the man before them.

she suddenly wore a disarming smile as as she greeted the man, “yeah i’m out on a date. and thanks!— but hate to say i can’t say the same about you though.”

the unbridled look of contempt that crossed her face and the flash of anger in her eyes was dangerous.

but dazai only found it that much more amusing as he watched his feisty s/o turn with a small ‘hmph’, taking his hand, and saunter away.

the entire display only brought a smile to dazai’s lips as the two strolled down the street.

“that’s my toshiko-san,” he laughed.

ー NAPOLEON BONAPARTE

napoleon is a gentleman and especially so when it comes to his s/o.

so when she opens up to him about a troubling friendship in her past, where her closest confidant betrayed her, it was simple to say that he did feel some anger.

but he assured her that he would never do the same, he was here to protect her after all.

then came the night of a pleasant little party. as being apart of comte’s house had earned her an invitation to a party by some esteemed nobles.

obviously she would not go alone and brought napoleon with her.

the evening start out nice and things were pleasant, though throughout it all napoleon had noticed how uneasy his s/o seemed.

the cause of her uneasy was only made apparent when an unfamiliar woman approached them both.

she greeted his s/o by name, “i haven’t seen you in forever! and that dress? you look fantastic.”

there was a pause as the other woman smiled at his s/o, who looked rather pensive, daresay even angry.

but whatever flicker of hatred napoleon had seen melted away quick as she smiled and said the woman’s name.

it clicked from there as napoleon’s jade eyes fixed on the woman carefully.

while he would never dare strike against a woman, he knew the history between her and his s/o, and such cruelty should not be met with kindness.

“i know, it’s been so long. and thanks! wish i could say the same about you though,” sudden her smile took on a sharp edge.

napoleon heard his name called and his attention focused on his s/o as she grabbed his hand.

“nice seeing you though,” her words were laced with venom as she pulled him away.

he was stunned into silence as he followed after his s/o, the event replaying in his mind.

he knew that she was a formidable woman, but she had such a sweet and kind heart that… to see such a lioness rear up had surprised him.

ー THEODORUS VAN GOGH

when theo and his s/o had grown close, she had eventually opened up to him about a betrayal in her past.

theo, at the time, had jokingly asked if that meant she had wanted revenge because her once-best friend had done her wrong.

at the time, she seemed like she had wanted to say yes, to be able to rub her friend’s face in the dirt for causing her so much pain.

but she said no, that she would not stoop so low to be just like him.

it only made theo adore her more because of that.

today was the day of an art venue, one theo had put together himself, and of course with the help of his s/o.

it was rather grand, many people had come to see paintings were on display and to meet the artists who created them.

and for the duration of the evening, things had gone smoothly, until his s/o had come up to him, standing unusually close to his side.

when he had tried to ask her about it, she simply brushed it off as nothing and that she wanted to be around him.

it continued on like that until an unfamiliar voice called out her name.

theo swore in that moment she looked like a scared little hare, ready to bolt at any given moment.

then from the crowd of viewers a man had stepped, waving her over with a smile as he greeted her.

“i can’t believe it’s you. i thought i saw you earlier but i thought i was mistaken. i didn’t know you would be here.”

theo was ready to step in between his s/o and this stranger immediately, as he was but a stranger.

besides, his s/o seemed scared and theo was protective of her.

she grabbed his arm and stopped him, instead stepping between him and the stranger as she said a name.

that’s when theo realized this was no stranger but it was someone worse.

“i helped put this venue together,” she responded simply, unbelievably sweet too.

“that’s amazing, i never knew you were into art. you look great by the way, you’ve gotten prettier!”

theo could tell know that the smile she wore was fake, forced on her lips and was a sign of something lethal.

“oh, i got into it. aww thanks! shame i can’t say the same about you though,” she shot back, tongue firing like a weapon.

and oh, if looks could kill. the absolutely look of contempt on her face as she gazed at her once-friend… theo wondered if she had picked that up from him.

“if you’ll excuse us, we have work to do,” and with that, she turned, grabbed theo’s hand, and pulled them away.

“hondje—” but she cut him off with a shush, holding her head high for a moment more before a giddy laugh escaped her lips.

ー VINCENT VAN GOGH

vincent is the person who strives to see the best in everyone. after all, he considered an angel for a reason.

he had accompanied his s/o and comte to a grand ball being held in town, only because his s/o had seemed so excited and begged him to go.

the number of people and a party in itself was not quite vincent’s usual element but he enjoyed it nonetheless.

and his s/o other seemed to be having a grand time too, so he was happy.

but as the night progressed he noticed that his s/o began to enjoy the party less and stayed closer to his side, seemingly almost skittish.

when he would ask, she would smile and say it was nothing, just that she wanted to be with him.

then she got a bit more insistent, holding on to his arm and then abruptly tugged, trying to pull him away.

before she could, a feminine voice called out her name, and his s/o seemed to freeze in place.

“i thought it was you!” the woman greeted as she approached the two, “how have you been? it’s been so long.”

vincent greeted the woman and she returned it rather warmly, she seemed nice, yet his s/o seemed on edge.

“i’ve been doing great actually,” she sounded all too quiet as she replied, too unlike herself, and vincent noticed immediately with a murmur of this woman’s name.

he recalled how his s/o had mentioned before, she had been hurt by someone close to her by befriending someone else who had hurt her too.

he assured her that there was no worry with him, that he would never do anything to hurt her.

but meeting the woman who was once friends with his s/o was surprising, he had imagined her unbelievably cruel, yet she seemed so friendly.

“that’s good to hear! i love your dress by the way, you look so pretty tonight,” the woman complimented.

all the while vincent was watching his s/o’s expression, which had softened and showed none of her earlier uneasy.

“thanks! someone got me this dress—” she had smoothed her hands over it before looking back up to the other other woman, “can’t say the same about you though.”

it seemed both the woman and vincent gawked at his s/o.

she paid no minds the the stares though, promptly taking vincent’s hand and lead him away.

he was quiet, processing what he had just witnessed.

it should have have been a surprise, because she was such a strong and capable person, but it still came as one.

vincent was pulled from his thoughts when he heard his s/o laugh.

“are you okay? you look a little shocked.” she said sweetly, with a true softness as she reached out to his face.

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mama-pigtails · 3 years

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(tw for abuse mention) i'm pretty stressed right now and your blog was the first one i looked at. i just realized a few days ago that i've been age regressing without knowing it. it feels like there's something unresolved within me. i'm really embarrassed because i'm in my 20's. i like kids clothes, toys, and furniture. i've never gotten these urges or felt excitement like this over toys and games in my life. i almost cried today when i saw a soft teddy bear at the store and i couldn't buy it because i had a friend with me. i like being referred to and treated like a kid. it happens a lot because i'm very small and shy. my mom abused me growing up and my dad was absent so i think that's why? i was parentified really young. i'm really embarrassed and confused by this because i don't want anyone to think i'm weird or i have a fetish because i don't at all :( i'm not sure how to explore this safety and correctly. can you help me? i'm sorry if you don't like asks like this, i saw your other ones and found them comforting

Oh my, it sounds like you’re dealing with a lot, so let’s break it down piece by piece!

First, let’s take a deep breath in and out.

You are safe and this is a safe space. I am not judging you or belittling you for anything you have gone through or are going through. I’m proud of you for reaching out and wanting to know more about age regression. It can be hard to make that first step, and it was really brave of you to send this ask!

In my experience, lots of people can age regress without knowing what it is or without realizing it. I myself grew up just liking kiddie stuff and not realizing what it was later. It is perfectly okay to like kiddie stuff like toys, clothes, snacks, and furniture, no matter how old you are. And it’s okay to do it for any reason!

I am also an abuse survivor and use age regression to deal with trauma and mental illness, and I know lots of age regressors who use their regression to relax, cope, or just have fun! You don’t need an excuse for age regression - if it makes you happy, do it! Like you said, this is not a fetish and it’s not hurting anyone, and many therapists even recommend it.

Of course, I understand sometimes that’s easier said than done. It can be pretty common to be embarrassed about your interests and your regression, especially if you’re older. I’m probably on the older scale too - I’m 21 and I age regress, and I know plenty of people who are in their late 20s or even in their 30s or 40s who age regress.

But here’s a biiiiig secret: a lot of the time, no one will care what you buy, what you dress like, or what your interests are! When I was around 17 I bought a sippy cup and some teethers and the clerk checking me out didn’t bat an eye. Chances are, anyone who sees you is going to assume they’re for someone else. And if you’re with a friend and you buy something like a teddy bear, there’s a lot of things you can say. “It’s just so cute!” or “I think it would match my room really well!” or “It reminds me of my childhood!” Being nostalgic for something is a feeling everyone has experienced - just look at the 90s and Y2K aesthetics that have been getting popular again! You can buy things like plushies and toys and dolls and you don’t have to explain yourself to anyone. I promise. There is nothing weird or sexual about liking this stuff.

And if the time comes when you want to tell someone about your regression, then we can cross that bridge when we get to it.

But for now, I want you to know that it’s a-okay to regress. My inbox and my direct messages are always open if you want to talk, whether it’s about regression or just how your day went.

In the meantime, here are some sources you might want to look at:

https://sunflower-stella.tumblr.com/post/622287576639946752/image-id-a-beginners-guide-to-tumblr-age

https://buttercupagere.tumblr.com/post/186036882830/age-regression-vocabulary

#asks #anon #answered #abuse mention

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lady-divine-writes · 3 years

Text

Kurtbastian Week 2020 - “War of the Roses” (Rated M)

Summary: Kurt suspects that his husband may be cheating on him. But instead of taking the mature route of talking with him, he calls up a radio talk show that has a unique way of uncovering the truth. (2236 words)

Notes: Inspired by a talk show I used to listen to by the same name. Written for the @kbweek2020 Day 5 prompt 'angst', but not quite as angsty as you might imagine.

Read on AO3.

“War, War, War, War of the Roses!”

The pre-recorded announcement, surrounded by loud fanfare, blares through Kurt’s phone. He moves it away from his ear before the d.j. follows with: “It’s War of the Roses day on Magic 92.5! Hop on the website, send us a text, or call and leave us a message, and you, too, may be featured on War of the Roses! Today, we have Kurt on the line, ready to share the troubling story of him and his husband Sebastian. Kurt - thank you for joining us.”

“Th-thank you for having me,” Kurt replies, hating the way his voice sounds, the way it rattles around his dry throat. Hating what he’s doing. Hating that he gave the show their real names! What an imbecile he is! People he knows listen to this show! His boss Isabelle listens to this show! She must be listening now because he hears a beep over the line - a sign that another call is trying to wedge its way in. When he doesn’t answer it, it disconnects with a chunky bwap-bwap! A second later, messages start flooding his email, which he left open on the laptop in front of him. And not just from Isabelle. From Rachel, Mercedes, Santana, Brittany, Chase …

Kurt lifts a hand and closes the lid, shutting them out.

Oh boy.

He’s only been on the phone for 30 seconds and he’s already made a mess of things.

“Kurt,” the d.j. says, “why don’t you start by telling us why you contacted us? How can we help you?”

Kurt sighs. I contacted you because I’m stupid, he thinks. And insecure. And, frankly, I should hang up right now and put my phone in the freezer for safekeeping before I do anything else stupid. “I … I think my husband might be cheating on me.”

Canned ooo’ing follows his admission, and if he didn’t regret this decision before, he certainly regrets it now. He can’t stand the idea that they’re using this situation that’s been keeping him up at night as the punchline of a joke. But he can’t blame them. He did this. There are other ways to go about this that he should have considered first. Counseling. Private investigators. Honest and open communication with his spouse. But for some reason, when his husband got up early and left for work without waking Kurt for a goodbye kiss for the eighth day in a row, Kurt broke. If his marriage isn’t working, if they’re headed for Splitsville, Kurt needs to know today.

Now.

Sooner, if possible.

And that’s when he leaped for his cell phone and made this ill-advised call.

Kurt didn’t think there was anything wrong with his marriage. He thought they were happy – blissfully so. But for the past few days, things have gotten odd between them. Strained. And Kurt doesn’t know why. He needs to find out.

Lucky for him (depending on how you look at it), the radio program had a last-minute cancellation. The person who was scheduled to be on this morning decided to take matters into their own hands and run their unfaithful spouse over with a Cadillac.

A Cadillac that wasn’t theirs to begin with.

The station called him practically a second after he got off the phone with their answering machine.

“And why do you think your husband might be cheating on you?” the female co-host asks in a voice sympathetic from years of practice.

“Well … he’s been avoiding me.” Kurt winces at that weak excuse. To be fair, Sebastian’s firm recently landed a huge client - their first of this caliber in years. And since one of his partners is out on maternity leave, the job of wining and dining had fallen on Sebastian’s shoulders - a task he hasn’t performed in close to a decade; one he never liked much, especially after he and Kurt got married since it kept him away from home. “But on top of that,” he says, leaving that pertinent information out, “he’s been talking a lot about some guy named Martin.”

“Really?” the d.j. says, working hard to make this revelation sound like the scandal of the century since Kurt isn’t giving them much to work with. “And what has he been saying about Martin?”

“He’s been very complimentary about the job Martin has been doing down at the office.” Another wince. “A-and my husband isn’t normally the kind to hand out compliments. Plus, they’ve been working a lot of late nights - meetings, overtime, all last minute, that sort of thing.”

“Do you think Martin is doing something other than working that your husband might actually be complimenting him on?”

“Maybe,” Kurt says meekly, his heart going from ache to break. He hadn’t put those thoughts into words before today, hadn’t even texted them to his closest confidants now crowding his inbox. This is the first time he’s getting it off his chest … and he’s doing it to millions of people he doesn’t know.

He can hear Sebastian's voice in his head, laughing and saying, "Smart, Kurt. Very smart."

“Alright! Let’s get Sebastian on the phone and find out what’s going on once and for all!”

“Okay,” Kurt mumbles, covering the fact that the host's apparent enthusiasm to destroy Kurt's life put him on the verge of throwing up.

“What we’re going to do (for those of you who don’t know how this works) is offer Sebastian a dozen romantic roses to send free of charge to the person of his choice," the d.j. explains.

"Let’s hope he says Kurt,” his co-host adds.

“Yes,” Kurt says, and very unlike him, he begins to pray.

He prays Sebastian doesn’t answer the phone.

He prays Sebastian's secretary answers instead and tells them to send the roses to Kurt, Sebastian’s one true love. Kurt would accept that, hearing it second hand. That would be fine. Hearing it from Sebastian's secretary would be almost like hearing it from Sebastian. She’s a trustworthy soul, not inclined to cover for her boss.

He thinks.

Most of all, he prays that no matter who answers, no matter what happens, he’s wrong.

Ring-ring.

Click.

“Hello?”

Sebastian answers and Kurt’s stomach drops. In the time it takes Sebastian to complete that word, Kurt recalls the way most of these things end. Then his mind, which rarely seems to be on his side lately, conjures up how it might end for them.

This phone call and their entire marriage.

“Let’s get a name for the card, Sebastian. Who would you like us to send those roses to?”

“Let’s send them to Martin,” Kurt imagines his husband saying in a sly, seductive voice without pause.

“Martin? And what message would you like to go with it?”

“Make it out to Captain Flexible. And write ‘last night was incredible. Here’s to many more late nights in the future’.”

That nightmare spell shatters when Kurt hears the d.j. say his husband's name. “Sebastian?”

“Yes?” Sebastian answers, already sounding annoyed. No one who calls Sebastian’s office line ever calls him by his first name except family.

And Kurt.

“Hello! My name is Andrew, and I’ve just opened a new flower shop in Uptown called The Rose Knows.”

“Good for you,” Sebastian says dryly.

“We’re calling businesses in the Midtown area with our first promotion. We’re offering a free dozen romantic roses to send to the person of your choice. And all we ask in return is that you recommend our shop to your family, your friends, your co-workers …”

“You must have the wrong number. I don’t need anything for free. Put an ad in the Pennysaver like everyone else.”

"I'm not sure the Pennysaver's still in business."

"Not my problem."

Kurt bites his lower lip, grinning when he should be in tears, the nervous flip-flopping of his stomach, like pancakes on a griddle, causing his abs to cramp. But that’s his husband. His Sebastian.

So far, so good.

“Come on,” the d.j. presses. “We’re a small business, just starting out. Do a man a favor. Have some community spirit.”

Sebastian sighs like this is so beneath him. He stays quiet, and Kurt knows he’s debating between messing with this guy or hanging up on him. But Sebastian probably figures he’s not going to shake him until he gives in. Besides, Sebastian is nothing if not a networker. A flower shop would be of no use to him, but who knows? “Let’s see. Who in my life deserves free roses? My mom’s birthday is coming up, so maybe I could send them to her. Or my sister. She just had a baby.”

“Oh! Congrats!”

“A-ha,” Sebastian says, the amount of unimpressed in his tone staggering. “There’s Martin Lewis ...”

“Martin?” the d.j. repeats, stressing the name subtly to put emphasis on Kurt’s concerns.

He doesn’t need to. Kurt’s heart has already stopped.

“Yeah," Sebastian says, his voice going softer. "Roses would definitely brighten up his office.”

“And why does Martin deserve roses?”

“Not that it's any of your business, but he’s been busting his ass helping me put together a huge proposal. Plus, his wife's in the hospital. He could bring them over to her."

"O-oh ..." The d.j. slips. That's probably the last thing he expected to hear.

"Or you know what?” Sebastian's voice drops a register, a hint of wickedness lacing between. “I could send them to this guy I absolutely worship."

"Oh really?" The d.j. recovers, seeing things start to turn around. The hosts definitely root for a happy ending, but it's no surprise that angst makes their ratings soar.

The cringe-factor of someone confessing unaware to their infidelities.

Their listeners eat that up.

"Yup. The most amazing, sexiest man on the face of the planet. The man with the biggest heart of any human being I have ever met. The man I call the Energizer Bunny because he can go all. night. long. The man I hope to spend the rest of my life with.”

Kurt hiccups. His heart, a useless lump in his chest, lodges in his throat.

“And who would that---?” But before the d.j. can interject with their usual spiel, Sebastian continues.

“But I think he’s worth more than a bouquet I got for free from some lame-ass radio talk show. What do you think, Kurt?”

The line goes dead.

Kurt has been listening to this radio program religiously for close to seven years, and to his knowledge, this has never happened before - a caller called out by their s.o. But the d.j. is on it because he immediately plays an old school ‘wah-wah’ noise to show that Kurt has been caught.

“H-how did you know?” Kurt asks.

“Because I know you, Kurt,” Sebastian says. “I know the kinds of things you do when you panic, and you mostly panic when you feel like people you love are going to leave you.”

“Yeah?” Kurt sniffs, a tear rolling down his cheek. Adding to his list of things he hates, he hates that Sebastian knows him so well. “And what do I do?”

“You kind of go off the deep end.” Sebastian chuckles, lighthearted and anxious, reminiscent of the night he asked Kurt to be his for the first time. “And I understand why. I’m sorry I’ve been distant lately. And I’m sorry about the late hours. I’ve just been caught up at work. I swear that’s all. But Kurt … can we talk about this when I get home? So I can look at you, in your eyes, and tell you that there’s no way in heaven or earth I would ever cheat on you? It took me a long time to win you over. There’s nothing that could persuade me to give you up, not for anyone.”

More sound effects - an awww followed by applause - play in the background as the d.j. and his co-host attempt to maintain control of the show.

“So … you don’t hate me?” Kurt asks.

“For which offense? Doubting me, my loyalty, and my love for you? Or airing our dirty laundry on the radio?”

“Uh …” Kurt awkwardly clears his throat. “All of the above?”

Sebastian sighs again. He sounds exhausted, but also like he can’t wait to get home and give Kurt a good ribbing. “Yes, babe. I forgive you.”

“Thanks. And I’m sorry about all this.”

“Apology accepted. I mean, what’re a few tawdry secrets among friends? Strangers? The barista down at Starbucks? My clients?”

“When should I expect you home?” Kurt rushes to cut him off, feeling more like a heel than he had before. “I know you have another big meeting and …”

“I’ll be home in about an hour. Wait … make that an hour and ten. I’m going to stop by a real flower shop and get you some roses. I think you’re overdue.”

“Really?” Kurt says, so astounded, so touched, he doesn’t hear the cheesy music the d.j. has started playing in the background.

“Yes, really. And Kurt?”

“Yes?”

“Be naked when I get there,” Sebastian growls.

The music stops, skidding to a halt with the sound of a record scratching. “Guys … uh … you’re still on the air.”

“Sorry not sorry there, champ,” Sebastian says and hangs up the call.

So does Kurt, shoving his phone in the freezer before the station tries to call back for a recap.

#kbweek2020 #kurtbastian #kurtbastian fic #sebkurt #sekurt

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starglitterz · 3 years

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surprise!

feat; aether, albedo, quill, xiao x rin !!!!

warnings; college au, chaos tbh, me blatantly inserting myself into the story bc of muse so true

a/n; RIN I LOVE U SO MUCH HAPPY BIRTHDAY DARLING !!!!!!!! THIS IS SCHEDULED FOR SUCH A WEIRD TIME BC I FINISHED IT LATE BUT I HOPE YOU HAVE AN AWESOME BDAY WAHHHH ILL SEND U A PROPER LETTER IN YOUR INBOX LATER BARKS AFFECTIONATELY <3

@nurserinnn !!!!!! <3

rin.

"go away, there's no space!" "i do believe there is far more room than you actually require." "..." "ahhhh you two, please don't fight!" the last plea comes from aether, who's freaking out at the sight of teyvat college's infamous partygirl and its so-called genius arguing. xiao remains silent, rolling his eyes at the petty comments exchanged between the two while questioning why he had even agreed to come. "well albedo, at least i didn't accidentally explode a test tube which turned my hair green during chemistry!" quill retorts, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning. albedo sighs, massaging his temples, "that was an accident. sometimes accidents are needed to progress in alchemy." then his eyes narrow, "and at least i didn't have to get carried home by kaeya at two in the morning because i passed out." "shut up, that was a one time thing!" heat rushes to the girl's face, and she scowls at albedo, who still appears completely calm and collected. just before it looks like they're about to break out the war-paint and weapons, aether interrupts, waving his arms around frantically, "look, we're doing this for rin, okay? it's her birthday today, and she's going to come back in less than an hour! so can we all just put aside our differences for now and sort everything out for the surprise, please?" xiao nods wordlessly, while quill and albedo glance at each other before exhaling slowly, "fine."

─────

it's already dark by the time rin gets home to her rented apartment, fingers fumbling with the keys before finally managing to unlock the door. her hands are full of art supplies and schoolbooks, so she has to kick the door open with her foot. exhaustion settles over her like a dark cloud, and she groans at the thought of all the homework she has to do tomorrow. for now, she can't decide whether she wants to take a hot shower or if she's so tired she should just collapse into bed immediately.

rin's been running around all day, helping out both her teachers and her friends run errands; this was definitely the worst birthday ever. nobody remembered it, and she hasn't even seen the few people she called friends on campus today. tears prick at the corner of her eyes - yeah sure, she was a reclusive art student, but that didn't mean she wanted to be alone on her birthday! rin supposes she can stick a candle into the leftover ice-cream in the fridge and call it her birthday cake. dropping her stuff onto the floor, rin runs a hand through her hair before padding into the dining area. the sight she sees the next moment nearly gives her a heart attack.

"SURPRISE!" aether, albedo, quill and even xiao yell out as soon as rin steps into the room, aether switching on the lights, quill bursting out the party poppers, albedo holding all their wrapped presents, and xiao carrying the cake (it's rin's favourite flavour!) complete with a single flickering candle smack in the centre. "wait, what?!" rin can barely formulate the words, she's so shocked.

"happy birthday, darling! i love you, my harem queen!" quill beams, rushing forward to envelop the other girl in a huge hug, the action quickly reciprocated as rin's arms wrap around her too. although he would rather melt than admit it, albedo is determined not to be outdone, so he also strolls forward and hands rin her gift, "happy birthday, rin. you look especially happy, would you mind if i sketched you?" a light blush colours itself onto rin's cheeks, and she replies, "no, not at all, 'bedo." "rin, i hope you have the happiest birthday ever!" aether grins. he's far too shy to go up to her and embrace her, so he settles for gesturing wildly at the streamers hanging from the ceiling, the confetti now blanketing the floor and saying with a smile, "this was my idea, and i hope you like it!" "LIAR! it was my idea!" quill chimes in, placing her hands on her hips. "actually, i was the one who came up with the concept," albedo raises a hand. "no way!" both quill and aether say simultaneously. the three of them debate the topic for a minute before turning to rin altogether, "rin, you believe that it was my idea, don't you?" rin isn't entirely sure of what to say, especially when faced with three pleading expressions looking up at her expectantly, "ummm..."

thankfully, xiao clears his throat, "happy birthday, rin. here, cut your cake so we can sing the birthday song. to me, it's a redundant tradition... but i suppose it's alright to do it for you." offering the plate with the cake and the knife on it towards her, he smiles softly, and rin thinks her heart is about to explode. with the four of them singing the birthday song incredibly off-key, rin smiles to herself as she makes a wish before slicing into the cake; this was actually turning out to be one of her best birthdays ever.

RIN RINNIE RIN I LOVE U !!!!!!!!! I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS LIL FIC THINGY I MADE HAHADSKJKJSDDS IT WAS SO FUN TO WRITE AND I ALSO HOPE YOU HAVE A SUPER EPIC BDAY !!!!! MWAHHH ILYSM <3

#can i even tag this #✏️ — quill writes !#💌 — love letters !#rin💌#💟 — faves !#🎊 — birthdays !

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dudeandduchess · 4 years

Note

what if papa kyo’s kid didn’t make it through the 1st selection ?

Ooooh, bby. Hope you like it. 💜✨

To make things more painful, why not take a look at Chapter 69, page 16 when y’all are done with this. 😂

Also, I have a lot of thirsty anon asks in my inbox, but I’ll get to them tomorrow— bc I am stumped from everything that happened today. All good things, tho. Sorry, bbys! 🥺

***

Kyōjurō x F!S/O: Final Selection (SFW Scenario):

Warnings: Angst, Character Death, So Many Feels

“Remember all of the breathing techniques I taught you. Keep your total concentration breathing going and-” Kyōjurō couldn’t even finish his sentence, as his eldest son nodded along to humor him— before cutting him off.

“Remember to always keep my heart ablaze.”

The former Flame Hashira chuckled at Renjurō’s cheeky answer, then proceeded to pull him in for a hug; one that had the young boy squirming away from his father, in an attempt to save face in front of his younger siblings.

Meanwhile, the gaggle of toddlers all patiently waiting their turn to hug their brother hung around by the father-son duo’s feet. They had to be on their best behavior, lest their mother punish them for being rowdy on such an important day.

“Kyō, if you don’t let go of Renjurō he’ll be late for the final selection,” (Y/n)’s gentle voice cut through the silence, which had all six pairs of eerily similar eyes turning to her.

Damn her husband and his Rengoku genes; all their kids we basically carbon copies of him; down to their trademark eyebrows— except Ran.

The little girl, thankfully, got her mother’s eyebrows; as opposed to her father’s robust and forked eyebrows. She would have still been pretty, but (Y/n) preferred to see her only daughter with a set of normal features on her face.

Because, as it was, her husband’s face screamed ‘look at me’. He was undeniably handsome, but some people also tended to let their stares linger too much.

Then, as soon as the Rengoku patriarch unfolded his arms from around his eldest child, all his other kids moved in to tackle their brother into a group hug.

The kids were quiet for once, no one daring to break the solemnity of their goodbye. But their silence had more to do with the fact that all of them were trying to keep their tears from falling.

“Look after otou-san and okaa-san while I’m gone, okay?” Renjurō tried to keep his voice even, but failed when his gaze landed on his youngest sibling— and his only sister, Ran.

Ran clung on to his hakama tightly, as if she never wanted to let go; and it broke not only her brother’s heart, but her parents’ too.

Slowly, Kyōjurō pulled his daughter away from his eldest son, before picking her up and rubbing her back in a soothing manner. And, as if on pure instinct, the little girl hugged her father’s neck and began to wail so pitifully.

“I’ll be back soon, Ran-chan!”

(Y/n) had tried to merely look on, so as not to keep her child from being late on his journey— but the sight of the unshed tears in his eyes, as well as the worried furrow in his brows had her crossing the short distance between them, just so she could engulf him in a hug.

It was the first time that he was going to leave their home, and it was safe to say that she was worried as hell— both she and Kyōjurō were, even though the latter had already reassured her that their son would be fine.

Because Renjurō had the makings of a future Hashira, just like his father and grandfather had been.

However, instead of fighting his mother’s hug, the young boy seemed to relish in it, before pulling her mother down into a crouch— so he could press a kiss against her forehead.

Just as he’d seen his father always do before he left on missions.

“I’ll see all of you soon, okaa-san.”

***

It was highly unfair of him to do so, but Kyōjurō had sent his crow to look after his son. Day by day, he would wait for the crow impatiently out on the engawa; even though he knew that there would be no news until the seventh day.

“Otou-san.” The tiny chorus of voices made the former Hashira look up from where he was reading his book, and when he saw his kids, he immediately made a mental note of what page he was on— before setting the book down beside him.

“When’s Ren-aniki coming home?” Eijurō, one of the twins and the second oldest out of his brood, asked softly.

At that question, all four of his children began spouting their own sentiments— ranging from blatant excitement, down to abject worry. And when the kids only got louder, he raised his hands up to silence them.

Immediately, the kids all went quiet; which he took as his cue to stretch his arms out on either side of him and beckon them into a makeshift hug.

“Your aniki will be home soon, okay? He’s going to slay all those demons— cut their heads off without batting an eye!” He narrated as enthusiastically as he could, even though he felt his stomach drop after he’d mentioned Renjurō being home soon.

Still, he kept the smile plastered on to his face, so as not to make his children anymore worried than they already were.

“He’ll be home soon. Just be patient, okay?” The words left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, which had his happy façade faltering. It was just a good thing that the kids had been too absorbed with snuggling against him that they failed to notice the worried look in their father’s eyes.

Later that night, the ill feeling in the former Hashira’s stomach still didn’t cease. No matter how hard he tried to will himself to sleep, he simply couldn’t do so.

And that left him tossing and turning around, all night long.

It wasn’t as if (Y/n) wasn’t used to having her husband practically try to kick her out of the futon throughout the night, but his restlessness set a different tone in the air; one that clued the young woman in to the fact that something wasn’t right.

She’d thought that it was just her being a worrywart, but it seemed to be something else entirely— if even her husband was feeling it.

“What’s wrong, Kyō?” She asked softly, as she sat upright to check up on the blond next to her.

“Something is just-” He couldn’t even finish his sentence, as the flapping of wings cut through the eerie silence that night; it was as if the world was at a complete standstill, because not even the crickets made any noise.

Immediately, the couple scrambled over to the window to see what Kyōjurō’s crow could want at that time of the night.

Only, when (Y/n)’s eyes landed on the torn and bloody piece of cloth in the bird’s talons, a quiet yet hefty sob left her lips. Her entire body felt cold and, if it weren’t for her hold on the window sill, she would have crashed down on the floor.

Still, her knees had grown too weak to support her, that she found herself crouching down— as she clung to the lip of the window with all her might.

“No. No, no, no, no,” She repeated over and over in a whisper, closing her eyes and willing everything to be a bad dream.

And when the crow eventually landed on the window, Kyōjurō could only stare numbly at the torn piece of his son’s kimono. He didn’t even have to check if it was Renjurō’s, because he would know his wife’s embroidery anywhere.

She had painstakingly decorated their son’s final selection kimono with the trademark Rengoku flames, as he’d wanted to look ‘just like otou-san’ with them.

Slowly, with a shaky hand, the former Hashira took the tattered cloth in his hand— unmindful of the blood that stained his skin. His throat felt so tight, and his heart felt like it was breaking in his chest— steadily getting pulverized into nothing more than dust with the pain he felt; yet he could do nothing but get down on his knees and cradle his wife against his chest.

Because he had no one to blame but himself. He had tried to get his son to follow in his footsteps, and he had led him to his demise.

“Renjurō,” Kyōjurō uttered with a sob, only to be followed by more and more pitiful tears— because it was all he could do then.

He could only cry in misery, because he was never getting his son back.

For all eternity.

#kyoujurou rengoku x reader #rengoku kyoujurou x reader #rengoku kyoujurou #kyojuro x reader #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kyojuro rengoku #kny kyojuro #demon slayer rengoku #rengoku imagines #kny x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba rengoku #jen writes

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rosesvioletshardy · 4 years

Text

life as we know it - b.h. - chapter 6

a/n: this is the shortest time i managed to write a chapter. there are some new characters introduced that will also be mentioned in future chapters. also there’s some drama in this that i think is going to be good. it’s a little shorter than what i originally had planned because i had to take some stuff out but i still hope it’s good

also thank you so much for 50 followers and the picture is what imagine ben wore in the beginning

masterlist

summary: when their two best friends die, it’s up to ben and y/n to take of their goddaughter and the challenges that come with it.

# of words: 3,608

warnings: a little angst, drama, fluff, a little language

taglist: @myfatbottomedgirls, @evemarie05

(message or inbox me if you want to be added to the taglist on this story)

------

a month has passed and so far everything has gone smoothly. ben and y/n have figured out how to work around their schedules. most of the time she had charlie because ben was filming but whenever he wasn’t, he was with her. they moved in and ben had brought frankie with him. at first they were a little hesitant about how she would act around charlie and vice versa but now frankie had become her protector. whenever charlie was napping, frankie would be with her. sean was another problem. he didn’t like the idea of y/n living with ben but he had managed to forget about it because he knew he had her wrapped around his finger by acting like the perfect gentleman and changing his attitude.

they had spent the next month planning the funeral and the only date they managed to get was one the 1 year anniversary of christian and lennon’s wedding or else they had to wait another few months until august and y/n didn’t want to wait that long because she didn’t know if ben would still be filming or if he were going to be taking break. ben advised her to go with it. she had never been more stressed in her life to the point where she falls asleep at random places. ben had noticed her behavior and advised her that she should go see a therapist. she didn’t want to. she didn’t want to talk to anyone about how she feels let alone a stranger, he understood where she was coming from but still encouraged her to go. he couldn’t say the same for him, he did have his bad days and did hide his emotions often.

now y/n was in her room putting finishing touches on charlie. they knew that taking a baby to see their own parents funeral wasn’t the best idea or the right one, but they had no choice. ben was in the bathroom fixing his tie, or at least trying to before getting frustrated and throwing it off and putting his hands on the sink counter. Knowing he needed to calm down, he went downstairs to get some water. on his way he saw her with charlie in her lap rocking her back and forth as charlie played with the ends of her dress. she felt someone staring at her and picked up her head to find ben staring at the both of them

“hey” he whispered

“hi”

ben walked into the room and sat on the bed with them. all three of them sat in complete silence with the occasional noise from charlie. she noticed that ben’s tie still wasn’t tied and decided to do it for him. she sensed that he got frustrated about it with what the day was about. rather than celebrating the marriage of two people, they were now honoring the dead. setting charlie on the bed, she went and stood in front of ben, grabbing his tie and started to tie it.

“why are you helping me?” he asked her looking up

“because i can tell you’re stressed about everything, especially today.” she told him

“it’s just not fair that they-” he started

“that they just had to die. if only they had left a few minutes later then- then we wouldn’t be here having to be going to a funeral. we would be here celebrating their marriage. i-i just-” ben said before he broke down again after y/n finished.

she bent down to his level and took his hands. tears were forming in her eyes and she wanted to cry but she needed to stay strong for all of them

“listen i know that today is hard but we need to stay strong for us, for lennon and christian, and most importantly for charlie. they loved her more than anything in this world. more than their jobs, we owe it to them to keep her with us and make sure she knows who her parents were. there’s a reason they picked us.” she told him tears starting to stream down her face before continuing

“i know today like any other day without them is hard, but we have to do it for her and for them.”

they were both sobbing in each other’s shoulders at his point and didn’t know if they were able to keep it together at the funeral. they invited some people that were friends with all of them, lennon’s parents, and christian’s relatives. they’ve done the viewing and no one could keep it together and now they would have to see the official funeral and bury them.

when they got married, christian and lennon had decided to reserve a spot next to where his parents were for the future but the future came too quick for them. they’ve managed to keep it all together throughout the burial service without crying but a few tears did slip from their eyes as they gave their speeches. y/n wanted to hold ben’s hand and he wanted to hold hers but the only thing that stood in their way was sean. what surprised them the most was charlie not fussing at all since she was being passed back and forth between the two. when it was all over, they went back to the house for the reception where there were a little bit more people including the neighbors and the babysitter.

the night before she had baked a storm to make sure everything was in order and that people felt comfortable. ben looked around and saw everyone giving them the pity eyes and most likely thinking how sad it was for charlie to grow up without parents not knowing that him and y/n were capable of taking care of her. he walked around listening in on their conversations to make sure they weren’t talking ill of them dead because that day wasn’t a day he didn’t want to punch someone.

“that was a beautiful service. i didn’t know that’s how they met.” one of their neighbors, mike said

“the story about paris, that’s when i started to cry.” mike’s wife, amber said as she drank some of the tea that they were serving

“what did happen with the baby? do you know?” she continued

“oh you didn’t hear, or well see?” rachel, another woman who lived near them

“No”

“they named one of their friends. the baker who’s dating christian’s partner from the law firm, and the actor from eastenders.”

“oh yeah, the super hot one that always like looks so good and sweaty. that one” robert said before his husband gave him a look

““good”?” mike said confusingly

“oh interesting. so he’ll be about”

“what do you mean, “good and sweaty?”” zachary, rachel’s husband asked

y/n was walking around to make sure everyone was comfortable and that they were alright before she spotted jack and melissa, lennon’s parents. jack was holding charlie who looked like she was about to pass out any moment now

“thank you guys for helping set up everything. i wouldn’t have been able to do it all without you. how are you guys’ holding up?” she asked them

“no problem sweetie, you were always like another daughter. and if we’re being honest, i think we’re getting better. it is a shock that our daughter is dead and i know we look like we should be crying but i feel like she would get mad at us for crying.” melissa said taking her hand

“how are you holding up? i know you and lennon were closer than anyone else, and putting all of this together and taking care of a child?” jack asked

“i could be better, but like you said lennon would be mad at us for crying. charlie is the best. it took a while but i think she’s used to everything now.” she told them

jack and melissa knew that y/n was struggling but they knew that she could take care of herself and know that they would do anything for her

“it doesn’t have to be this hard. if either you or ben ever feel overwhelmed by even the smallest of things, please don’t hesitate to call. you may be her guardians now but we’re still her grandparents and you’re still our daughter. it doesn’t matter if it’s night here and morning for us or morning here and night for us. we’ll always be there for you.” melissa said taking her other hand

“thank you. i owe you both my life for everything.” she tells them

“and we owe you ours for making sure lennon was always happy. now i think we should take this one for her nap.” jack said as they all looked at charlie slowly closing her eyes

“she has a bottle ready in the fridge and her room is upstairs on the first door on the left.”

“i’ll go with him to make sure he doesn’t mess things up like he did with lennon.” melissa said giving jack a side eye

“that was one time melissa! it was 26 years ago.” jack told her as the two left for the kitchen

while she was talking and making sure everyone was okay, ben was doing the same until he overheard something that he found was rather interesting to him

“well yeah. see if i marry her, i get her business and become an owner as well. which means i can technically do what i want with how she’s running it because she doesn’t want to expand it to more locations even though i told her she will get more income from it.” he heard sean say before continuing

“and plus my sister can profit over it and advertise it more. so, she advertises my sister's company, my sister and my family get more money. i mean it won’t be so hard to do it. i got her wrapped around my finger already by acting like the perfect gentleman” sean finished

“but what about that guy she lives with, the actor, ben?” ryan, another one of christian’s partners ask

“please, my family is worth more than him, my place is worth more than him. he thinks he can charm his way into her life and take her away because they’re taking care of some baby. she should be glad i’m giving her another chance after she practically cheated on me by sleeping with him. i spoil her endless and that’s how she repaid me. bitch. just hope she says yes before i decide to propose to amanda and break it off with her. sometimes i just want to do that but y/n could make me more rich.” sean whispered so that no one could hear him

ben desperately wanted to go punch him in the face but he didn’t want to cause a scene or tell social services that he’s unfit to be a guardian because of his short temper at times. he never understood how people could treat others like garbage and only use them for money. yeah money is great but it doesn’t automatically make you happy all time. money doesn’t exactly buy happiness. he decided to ignore what was going on and tell her when it was the right time and sat down in one of the chairs they had set out for the guests.

she started to walk away and saw ben sitting on one of the chairs with a beer in his hand. as soon as he saw her, he got and they started to walk

“there’s a lot of them.” she said thinking about who should take charlie if they can’t do it or melissa and jack can’t

“listen, we just need to find one and if we can’t, we’ll just give her to lennon’s parents” he told her

ben met one of christian’s cousins, peter, and saw that his kids were running up and down the stairs yelling and throwing things while y/n met with christian’s uncle

“alex-” peter yelled before getting cut off by his wife, patricia

“Mason”

“Mason! take a seat right now. let’s go. eight kids..” he told ben

“eight kids? you guys have eight kids.” ben stuttered out shocked

“nine dear.” patricia said

“nine. right.”

y/n was in the other room with christian’s uncle tom, on the couch seeing that he had an oxygen tank

“it’s really nice for charlie to know everyone and know how much she’s loved.” she tells him showing him a picture

“she looks just like christian.”

“yeah. so you have a house where in the countryside?” she asked

“ashwell, hertfordshire. lovely place and lovely people”

“yes, we were hoping seeing that if her grandparents from her mothers side weren’t to take her-” ben started to explain as he sat down until one of peter’s knocked the oxygen tank over and caused the hose to come off and tom to start coughing

“oh my god.” she started to freak out as ben picked the kid up and turned him around to go to the other side of the room

they managed to get the tank working again and helped tom to stop coughing

“i’m so sorry, he came out of nowhere. are you okay now? Good as new! yay!”

“Still breathing okay.” ben said as him and she started to awkwardly laugh

everyone had left and charlie was laying on ben’s chest playing with his undone tie as him and y/n sat on the corner sofa with their feet up, clearly tired

“well, we could go with the nine kids' family. they know how to keep a child alive.” ben said before talking

“the stripper seemed nice. and the uncle’s a definite no?” he finished

“we’re screwed.” she told him

neither one of them knew what to do at this point and it seemed like jack and melissa were they’re only option which meant charlie will move to a new country. y/n just let out a sigh and put her head on ben’s shoulder and he put his on top of her head.

the following weekend her and ben had their official court hearing which would grant them legal guardianship of charlie. jack and melissa told them before they left that they were making the right decision to take on a big responsibility and knew that they could do it and were going to be at their hearing for support. they got a got from jim telling them about when the court date was and what time it was going to happen. here they now sat in the courtroom listening to other cases before theirs was called. ben and y/n were dressed formally but in a casual way to make sure that they knew what the setting was and show that they are responsible.

“the next case, the matter of charlotte wakes, index number 05893-01.” they heard as jim told them to follow him

“alright. i’ve read your submissions, along with the will.” the judge began before continuing as ben and her began to sit down before jim told them to stay standing

“given that you were named as guardians, i see no reason to countermand the parents’ wishes. However, permit-” before charlie threw her toy on the ground and continued to fuss

“until that time, i hereby grant joint legal and physical custody of charlotte lucia wakes to y/n l/n and benjamin jones” she finished

“th-that’s it? You’re not going to ask us anything? how do you know we’re not drug dealers or pimps?” ben asked as jim began to escort them out

y/n gave out a worried and laugh nervously before the judge took her glasses off and asked them

“i’ve seen your work mr. jones and i’ve been to your bakery miss l/n, and i’m sure but are you drug dealers or pimps?”

“no, ma’am. no” y/n said as she gave a look to ben

as they left the room, jack and melissa gave a final hug to the two and charlie before leaving for their flight

“congratulations you’re parent’s now! i know this isn’t how you guys wanted it to be but it’s going to be fun. i guess we better head out now if we want to make it to the airport now. please don’t hesitate to call us with any questions about anything. we know you both can do this.” jack said, hugging the both of them before melissa came to give y/n a hug. as she hugged her she whispered something into her ear

“don’t let him go, this one. he seems like a really good guy and a keeper. good luck” she said giving her one hug

y/n and ben waved a goodbye to them and they walked off and jim started to talk

“well you guys did it. you are now the legal guardians. i have another case in an hour so i’ll see you guys soon and if you have any questions regarding any of this or lennon and christian, don’t be hesitant to call.” jim told them before leaving for another case

“well we’re officially parents now i guess.” ben said as they walked down the halls

“it’s official, now we have a lot to learn more than we already know.”

“yup”

they left and went back home and got charlie’s stroller and put her in it. they realized that the day was nice so they walked down to y/n’s bakery for lunch. what they didn’t know was paparazzi started to take pictures of the two from a distance showing off ben’s private life now. if the pictures decided to run, who knows what would happen. questions would start to be asked during press tours and if they found out who y/n was her shop would be crowded and as much as she wanted that, she preferred the way it is now. it would also be good for charlie’s safety.

when they entered it was a little more busy than usual but that’s how they liked it. they found a table and y/n went to grab one of the high chairs they provided. on her way back, tyler came out of the kitchen with a new tray of their lemon tarts before spotting her. he quickly put them in the display case and yelled her name

“Y/N!”

she set the chair down in between her and ben before turning around and seeing tyler and hugged him

“hey how are you? i’m sorry i haven’t been coming in so much and only calling in to check in.” she told him

“it’s fine. don’t worry you had a lot on your plate and personal things to deal with. come back at your own time. is this them?” he asked pointing to ben and charlie

“hi i’m tyler, the co-head baker here. y/n has told me a lot of about you.” he told ben shaking his hand

“let me guess, she complained to you about me? ’m ben, this is charlie, and this furry monster is frankie” ben told him scratching frankie’s ear

“yeah pretty much. i take it you guys got custody?” tyler asked

“yeah about an hour ago it became official.” y/n told him

“wow well i know you’ll guys be great at this.” he said before continuing

“well it was nice to see you again and meet you but i have to head back to the kitchen. i’ll bring you guys some stuff out. don’t worry”

“thanks tyler, it feels nice to be back here.” she said

“he’s nice. i like him. how’d you meet him here?” ben asked

“well he told me he was on vacation here but he decided he didn’t want to go back to delaware so he decided to stay here. i was just starting out after finishing university with lennon’s help, we got this place and got everything set up. tyler came here asking if we were hiring and the rest is practically history. i gave him his break here and he’s been like a brother to me.” she told him as tyler then came out with a tray full of desserts, sandwiches, some coffee, some mashed bananas for charlie, as well as their pet friendly treats for frankie

“tyler you really shouldn’t have.”

“no exceptions. you’ve done enough for me and now you both deserve some of the best food here.”

“fine, thank you.” she told him

“alright. i’ll see you guys later. bye”

“Bye”

“thanks mate”

y/n got out charlie’s bib and put it around her. she looked at ben to see what his reaction would be to one of their sandwiches. as soon as he bit into it, he felt like he was in a whole ‘nother world.

“wow. that is a good sandwich, holy fuck. shit, sorry.” he said as he saw y/n watching him

“it’s good isn't it?” she asked him giving charlie some of the bananas

“yeah it really is”

the three continued to eat and play before it was time for charlie’s nap. they put her back in the stroller and cleaned up the table before they left. she made a mental note to pay her employees extra for their help and dealing with all of it. when ben and y/ went home, they let frankie off her leash and she went to her bed. ben took charlie from and decided to put her to sleep for once. when he came back downstairs, he saw y/n sitting on the couch with a beer bottle in her hand and another one on the table. he went and picked it up and sat down next to her.

“well, to parenthood.” he said

“to parenthood” she said as they clinked bottles

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timelordthirteen · 4 years

Text

Killing Time 24/35

Detective Weaver/Belle French, Explicit

Summary: A Woven Beauty Law & Order-ish AU. Written for Writer’s Month 2019.

Chapter Summary: Belle feels out of sorts, and Weaver makes another crucial discovery.

Notes: For my August Writer's Month prompt #4: Am I dead? Enjoy more flirty investigative idiots.

[AO3]

Belle groaned and rolled over, facing away from the sunlight slanting in through the gap in the blinds and tucking her face into the pillow and sheets.

Weaver pulled a t-shirt over his head, and glanced at her. “Alright?”

She lifted her head and squinted at the clock. It was nearly eight. “Am I dead?”

He snorted softly. “If you can ask the question, then I think the answer is automatically no. Still not feeling well?”

Turning around, he moved to the bed and sat on the edge, reaching out a hand to feel her forehead and the side of her face. “No warmer than usual.”

“My head is killing me,” she mumbled, finally rolling onto her back. “And my stomach is...blah.”

Two days ago, Belle had awakened to a mildly nauseous feeling, but assumed it was the burritos they’d had for dinner coming back to haunt her. It was carried out from a new place down the block, which was always fraught with danger, both in terms of how the food might taste, and the reaction one’s body might have later, but their meal had been delicious, and Weaver had felt no ill effects. Last night, a headache had sent her to bed early, and seemed to have gotten worse overnight.

Frowning, he ran a soothing hand up and down her leg. “Maybe you need to see someone.”

She sighed and pushed herself up. “I have my last follow up appointment today, from removing the stitches. If it hasn’t gone away by then, I’ll bring it up.”

Weaver nodded and stood to finish getting dressed. “When do you see Archie again?”

“After my follow up,” she replied, pausing on the side of the bed to press a hand to her forehead.

“Did you, uh, still want me to go with you?” She looked up, and he shrugged. “Not today, but sometime?”

“Yeah, not - not today.” Then she made a face and then asked, “Can you get me some Tylenol or something?”

“Yeah, sure. And coffee?”

At that, Belle smiled. “God yes.”

Weaver left the bedroom, and Belle forced herself to stand up. After a moment of dizziness, she realized she felt a bit better, and wondered if she had just slept wrong. She was actually looking forward to getting her official, clean bill of health from the follow up visit, and to discussing something particular with Archie - the matter of how to approach her questions with Ian. She had started thinking about the miscarriage in her head, whispering about it to herself in the shower at night, telling the story over and over, and finding that as she did it became easier. A passing reference to such a thing even a few weeks ago would have made her clam up and try to pretend she never heard it. Now it was becoming part of her, much in the same way her mother’s death had, though that had been more of a factor of time and distance than any real effort on her part.

Throughout the morning Weaver seemed to be paying her extra attention, to the point where it was starting to get annoying. Her headache abated before they’d even left the apartment, and her stomach settled with some eggs, toast, and strong coffee. At the office, he was constantly side-eyeing her, stealing little glances, with none of the winking or cheeky smiles that had passed between them in the preceding days. The pressure was back on, and she was sure the stress of the case and the looming court date were the cause of her recent ills.

“You’re sure you’re alright?”

Belle huffed and pulled on her suit jacket. “Yes, I’m fine, and shortly I’ll have an actual medical doctor confirm it. Then you can stop worrying.

Weaver leaned back on the sofa, a file folder open across his lap. “I’m unlikely to ever stop worrying about you.”

She tilted her head and gave him a small smile. His concern came from a place of love, and she had always thought his protective nature was one of his best qualities.

Her purse strap went over her shoulder, with a quick flip of her hair, and then she walked over to where he was sitting. “Then maybe just stop peeking at me every five minutes?”

He reached out and took hold of her hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it as he looked up at her. “No peeking,” he confirmed. “Got it. How about gazing?”

She snorted and bent down to plant a kiss on the top of his head.

“Ogling?” he offered with a grin. “Leering?”

She shook her head and let him pull her hand in for a kiss before pulling away. “Put your eyes on those records, Detective, instead of my ass.”

Weaver pursed his lips and blew her a kiss as she sauntered through the office door.

Belle tapped her foot against the metal step of the exam table as she scrolled through her messages.

She’d left the office barely twenty minutes ago and there were already more than thirty unread items in her inbox. Most of them were automatic responses to her requests for more of Eloise Tremaine’s records from Nevada. While the online submission system Clark County had was far more convenient than calling around city buildings and being passed from clerk to clerk, the web forms and extra emails were much less helpful than an actual human being. Still, progress was being made, and she was sure that if they could find the tie between Eloise and the Branson brothers, that they’d have exactly what DA Midas wanted.

She sighed and rubbed her left temple, feeling her earlier headache trying to return. She need to take another dose of painkillers before she got to Dr. Hopper’s.

Abruptly, the exam room door swung open and Dr. Whale came in. “Miss French.”

She looked up and smiled. “Dr. Whale.”

“Good to see you again,” he said, setting a tablet on the small counter to the side. Then he slipped on a pair of gloves and lifted her hair out of the way as he eyed the scar left from her head wound.

“Not bad,” he muttered. “There’s still some redness, but that will fade. Have you been using the ointment I gave you?”

Belle nodded. “I used up the tube, but I don’t think I need it now. The skin’s not tender anymore.”

He gave a curt nod and stepped back. “All the other superficial cuts seem to have disappeared.”

“Good moisturizer and concealer,” she said, and he laughed. “But yes, they all healed up pretty quick, thankfully.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.” He sat down on the small stool at the counter and entered a few things into the app on his tablet. “Well, I will have the necessary form faxed to your workplace, and then I won’t have to see you until it’s time for your annual check up.”

She exhaled and smiled, pleased to have at least one thing behind her for now. “Good.”

“So, the nurse said something about a headache?”

“I, uh, yeah, I had one this morning, why?”

“Not frequent, then?”

She shook her head, which caused a mild throbbing wave across her forehead.

“Migraine, or just a regular headache?”

She gave him a look. “It’s just a regular headache, I shouldn’t have even mentioned it.”

Dr. Whale leaned on the counter and regarded her for a moment. “Is it coming back now?” Reluctantly, she confirmed it was. “Any other symptoms?”

“No,” she answered, starting to get annoyed with his repeated questions. Her phone was buzzing in the pocket of her purse, and she was anxious to check it before she went to see Archie. “No, just the headache and an upset stomach. I’m fine.”

“Upset stomach?”

Belle rolled her eyes and hopped down off the exam table. “It’s nothing. I just ate something that didn’t agree with me.”

“When?” he asked, frowning.

“A couple days ago, why does it matter? It has nothing to do with my - accident.”

It was Whale’s turn to give her a look. “Belle, you didn’t have an accident trying to parallel park, you were attacked by a murderer.”

“Serial killer,” she corrected, “and yes, I was, but now I’m all good. Can I go now?”

He sighed. “The headaches can be a sign of PTSD.”

Belle gave him a wane smile. “Yes, I know. I’m - I’m seeing Dr. Hopper about it.”

“Ah. Well, that’s good,” Dr. Whale said as he pushed to his feet. “Look, I think we should do some tests, just to be sure.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What tests?”

“A basic chemistry panel, maybe a blood count, see if you might have an infection coming on.”

She frowned again, the wrinkling of her forehead causing another small wave of pain. “Sure, I guess.”

“I’ll send the vampire in to take your samples, okay?”

That earned him a soft snort and a nod. “Okay.”

Belle waited a few minutes for the nurse, and then several more as she filled up three tubes with blood. Her arm was aching after it was done, and she wondered how she’d explain the bandaid and bruise in the crease of her elbow to Weaver. If he knew Whale wanted blood samples, he’d worry even more and become unbearable. He’d probably insist on packing her off home and waiting on her in bed.

Still, as she left the clinic and stepped out onto the street to walk down to Archie’s building, she was glad she let them do the tests. If she was getting sick, she wanted to know right away so she could be back to one hundred percent to finish out the case well before the trial started.

Weaver spread out the pictures across the top of the conference table, and placed the associated forms beneath.

He wanted to have everything laid out by the time Belle returned from her appointments, so he could show her what he had found. Another break only a short time after the revelation of Eloise’s true surname had him buzzing with excitement. This was what he truly loved about his job, digging out the pieces and putting the puzzle together. The part where they hopefully got justice for the victims was satisfying, but there was something about the mental and physical effort of investigating, the late hours and countless pots of coffee, that was only second to being with Belle.

That he got to do it with Belle again made it even better, and he hoped that things would continue as they had into the future. They had yet to discuss their relationship in any detail, but she wasn’t in any rush to leave the apartment, and the last two weeks had been among the happiest since the early days of their marriage. He wanted to wait until the stress of the case was over before approaching the subject again, but for now everything seemed perfect.

The office door opened and he turned to see Belle, who looked a little worse for wear than when she had left just a couple of hours earlier.

“You okay?”

She sighed heavily as she put her purse in its usual bottom desk drawer, and said nothing as she took off her suit jacket.

“Belle?”

“Yeah, fine,” she replied. “Just tired. Talking to Archie takes a lot of out of me I guess.”

He nodded, but remained quietly unconvinced. She had been out of sorts the last couple of days, which certainly could have been stress related, but Belle usually thrived under the deadline of a trial. Right now she seemed barely able to drag herself across the room to see his newfound evidence.

“Well, maybe this will wake you up,” he said. “I got something on our second victim, Charlie Dunn.”

“Oh?” Belle perked up a bit at that, and kicked off her shoes before padding across the room. “What did you find?”

“This,” he said, giving her a sly look as he pointed to the faded pink carbon copy form under Charlie’s picture.

Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the page, and then she picked it up. It was the cover page to an adoption agreement with Charlie’s name on it from nearly twenty years ago. He would have been about six or seven at the time. What struck her though, was the state seal at the top.

“This is from Nevada.”

Weaver grinned. “Yep.”

She looked at him wide eyed. “Charlie was adopted.”

“From Nevada,” he added, nodding towards the paper.

She set the paper down on the table and looked over at one of the other victim’s pictures. “Just like Molly was.”

“Yep.”

She straightened and turned to him, eyebrows raised. “You don’t think -?”

His grin widened. “Oh, I do think.”

“If the others are adopted too…” she started.

He nodded. “Or were foster children…”

Her mouth fell open as she finally caught on to his line of thinking. “Of Eloise Tremaine.”

Belle jumped forward and pressed a hand to his chest. He could feel her body shaking with the same excitement he’d had at the discovery and what it might mean. Instantly she looked refreshed, and he was glad to see that it was probably the case dragging on and the stress that had gotten her down.

“We need all the foster care records from Robert and Eloise, and we have to pull the paper birth records on all the victims.”

Weaver picked up a stack of papers and handed them over to her. “I took the liberty of filling out all the forms while you were gone. Including the fax cover sheets.

She took hold of the other end of the papers, and beamed at him. “I love you.”

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #woven beauty #woven beauty fic #my woven beauty fic #fic #lindsay's august writer's month 2020 #awm 2020 #finished this late and didn't want to post too late

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