#a couple never break up or divorce and never recover from their apart | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

marriageadviceneeded · 2 years ago

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My marriage is at a tipping point and I don’t know what to do. Here’s our full story.

“TL;DR - My wife and I have had ups and downs for years and a couple times she has threatened to leave. Even once admitting having feelings for someone she worked with briefly. We finally hit a breaking point this week where she’s saying really wants to be done and along with that came the admission that she is infatuated with a musician, whom we’ve seen perform a couple times and she’s barely met once. But so much so that she feels a connection and she might be in love. Like love at first sight with some random guitar player dude. We have 2 kids and I have no fucking idea what to do…because I love her more than life itself.”

Here’s goes the full story…and if any of you actually read all of this, thank you. I’m about to lay it all out. This is going to be very, very, very long.

My wife and I got married very young. I’m 35, she’s 33 and we’ve been married 13 years. This is because we both grew up in a fringe sect of Christianity that is strict and weird and almost cultish. Our parents and some family are still very involved in this church. We are not. We separated from it only a couple years into our marriage and we’re both so glad we did. But it’s never been easy.

She’s always struggled with insecurities, even though she is gorgeous. Like unbiased, she is a very beautiful woman with a beautiful face and body and personality. She is much more confident now in her 30’s, but she has struggled with body dysmorphia among other things. She has a terrible guilt complex. Her parents were pretty overbearing and she’s a middle child and there’s just a lot of complex shit. In the midst of that is she’s never trusted me to be faithful to her. I’ve never cheated, never even flirted or taken interest in someone else. But at times she has been convinced otherwise and it has been a sore spot in our marriage. Probably because of her own insecurities and that being fueled by the revealing of many adults in her life who cheated. Like both her grandfathers, her mothers relationship with her oldest sisters father who cheated on my mother in law and left. And to top it off, her finding out my dad was cheating on my mom just months before we got married. Emotional issues.

Neither one of us finished college. I was doing trade work when we got married, she was in an stale office job. She hated it and went to part time work for a bakery just as I finally got a steady desk job in the (then recovering) Mortgage industry. But I’ve had a lot of ups and down in trying to build my career. We’ve never been financially stable, not even from the start. Money issues.

A few years into our marriage, we couldn’t even afford our cheap apartment because she was working part time. We moved in with her aging grandmother with the idea that we could be there to help as caretakers and save money for a house. Instead, we got pregnant because my wife was restless. The pressures of our upbringing meant that we were both wired to think “get married young, have kids young” and if you’re not doing either of those things you’ve messed up somehow and you’re falling behind in life. She was obviously unhappy and not settled and looking back now I think she believed a baby would cement this idea of our happy life and our bonding and growing as a family. (Now I know she probably needed to separate or divorce so she could go be her own woman and fuck up and do whatever without the pressures of being a “good Christian wife”)

So we move out with no real plan or money because we need to make room for baby and we “can’t do that with her grandma around”. I had to start working evenings to even pull off the move. We have our first child and then all that implodes as she suffers from postpartum depression and I can’t make enough money to keep us afloat on my own and we end up back at grandmas. This time it’s just us because her grandma fell and was moved to a nursing home.

Another year and her grandma passes away and the family decides to sell the house. We’re still no better off so now we move in with her parents, in their basement. It was rough. Worst of all because my in laws bought a dog after my wife moved out but she is deathly allergic and has asthma. We had to deep clean the basement and run air purifiers 24/7 and she was on special medication that she hated. Oh and we had a 2 year old at the time and my wife still only worked part time at a grocery store.

One year of that was hell but we finally moved out because I was working 2 jobs again. Spent the next 2 years on our own in an apartment finally rebuilding our lives. We got pregnant again and everything was pretty good. Still a hard time with her postpartum depression but she actually got certified as a personal trainer during pregnancy and was taking on clients at a gym and really pursuing something she was passionate about while I kept grinding the 9-5 doing mortgages.

In the midst of all that chaos there were times where she’d blow up at me. Unhappy with our circumstances, unhappy with me. Wanting a more stable life and one filled with more romance and adventure. She blamed it on us getting married too young and rushing into things and how, in the end, even though we love each other and we have a strong friendship, we’re just “not meant to be”. Usually she would spring back from this after a couple days or a week and we’d soldier on. We show a lot of affection to each other. We’re both A+ parents who are very attentive and giving to our children. We laugh a lot and flirt and get along well. I always thought when she down like that it was just her getting in her own head or hormonal or whatever. I didn’t think she really “meant it” but rather she was unloading all her pent up frustration and expectations to just vent. And of course we’d argue and yell but it would come down to me fighting for her. Apologizing, trying harder, getting better at listening and helping and wooing her but also increasing my anxiety of feeling like I had to super husband and super dad all the time and any slip might mean I’m not good enough. And I’m terrified of losing her.

Aside, she has diagnosed anxiety and depression. Her grandmother and mother and her siblings all struggle with anxiety and depression. Her oldest sister deals with bipolar depression. My kids have noticeable anxiety. Whether learned or genetic, it’s very real and effects a lot of her life and day to day. She only a couple years ago started taking medication to help but she still refuses to go to therapy. With all we’ve been through and all the trauma of our upbringing and other things, I know she needs therapy and so do I, but she just won’t pursue it.

And of course, our financial struggles have always been a constant. We’re still getting there with our story.

She doesn’t stick with the personal training thing. Instead I continue to stick with mortgages and then get a part time gig leading music at a different church we were attending. A much less strict and more-so “normal” church. Yes, I’m a musician and so is my wife but those passions have been put aside for sometime because of the need to focus on young kids and provide for our family.

So 2 years on our own in an apartment leads to moving into a house. Still leasing but we’re really making progress now. 2 kids, new house in a great community. Work still has its ups and downs but even when one door closes another opens and I’m still carving out a career path in the mortgage industry. Then COVID hit. We’re all home. My oldest is doing virtual school. I’m working from home. My wife decides to go back to school for a couple semesters and I obviously stop leading music at the church. In fact by now we’ve washed our hands of “Christianity”. That was our last shot at making religion work for us.

That means back to one income. So I’m going grocery orders on the side and so is she while also doing school. It’s not great. Before COVID I was working a lot but I got to play music and be around people we liked and we had a community and I was making good money from both jobs combined.

Now it’s COVID time and we’re isolated and picking up a side hustle to make ends meet and we’re home all the time with 2 kids.

I remember she snapped on me around Fathers Day 2020 and again around Christmas that year. I really thought we were done for then. Thankfully early 2021 she sought help and started a mild medication which has helped. And the world started opening up more and our oldest went back to school. Stuff was getting normal again and I thought we were pressing on and going to make this work.

Summer 2021 she decides to start a business, a bakery from home. It’s been tough but it’s been good. It doesn’t align with her personal training/fitness passion but she has always loved to bake and she’s good at it and enjoys it. We spent a lot of time and energy to get it off the ground and Spring 2022 launched into our local farmers market.

Summer 2021 I also switched career paths. A local friend who I had done some side work with, wanted me to join his remodeling business. Promised it would be a role that’s more so managing projects and working as the middle man between the contractors and the designers. I ended up just doing a lot of on site stuff from demo to painting to flooring, you name it. My wife supported to move and wanted me to take the offer because we liked these people and she knew I was growing tired of a desk job. I was going to make more money and have a company truck and she thought this was a turning point for us. Me in a new field and a new role and her building a bakery business from home.

Well, June 2022, I lost that job and since then my “friends” company has lost everyone on their team except a single designer. I saw the writing on the wall shortly after joining his company and realized he sold me on a lie. A lie in regards to what work I would be doing and how healthy the company was and that he could even run a business like this.

Frustratingly, I lost that job and that same month (after 3 years) we lost our home as our landlords did not offer us the option to renew our lease.

2 years at the apartment, 3 years at the house…I thought we were getting somewhere…instead it all came crumbling down.

I tried going back to mortgages but last year every mortgage company was bleeding people. The opportunities were scarce and the competition for every opening was fierce. I applied and interviewed but got nowhere. Didn’t land another steady position until February 2023 at an insurance company making half of what I used to pre-COVID.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. July 2022 we move in with one of my wife’s sisters. Her sister has 2 kids and a busy life. It was awkward and temporary thankfully. We kept doing the farmers market and take on another market. Thinking, if nothing else, let’s keep her business afloat and try and build something.

By September we move in with her other sister who is married but no kids and has more space but we’re further away from our city and our friends and our customers than we ever thought reasonable.

My oldest did a year of school here. We still live here. Me, my wife, 2 kids who will both be in school full time soon, my sister in law and her husband. We’ve been living like this for almost a year. Thankfully, this sister is my wife’s favorite and they’re best friends. Hell, she’s my best friend too. We’ve known each other for 20 years and all played in a band when together when we were young emo kids lol. Living here isn’t terrible because of the company, it’s terrible because we were supposed to be building our life onward and upward. Instead we’ve come crashing down. Somehow this past year has been harder than all the lows before and I’ve been more depressed than ever. So has she.

We have still found time to be intimate. To laugh and flirt and lean on each other and grow close and fight for us and our kids and try and rebuild our lives once again. Or so I thought until about a week ago. My wife hit me with it again, she’s not happy. She wants freedom. She’s not sure we were ever meant to be.

In April this year her and I went on a day date to a nearby big city. Good food, museum, exploring the city, a little shopping, and ending the night at a small jazz concert that was in a neighboring city on our way home.

She loved it. I thought she loved the day we had together, and maybe she did. But the music really stirred her up. It’s a quarter that plays early 1900’s Parisian style jazz. They’re incredibly talented and just cool guys. Last week she wants to go see them again at another nearby city at a small club. I thought, yeah why not. We need another date night and their music was great.

That was last Wednesday. And after we left the club, we walked around town. She was quiet and cold. Odd considering that we usually still have a strong bond and we usually laugh together and enjoy each others company. Especially a night out with no kids and good music. I thought she’d be in a great mood but she was so heavy. Quiet the whole way home.

Fathers Day weekend wasn’t terrible but it wasn’t great. She was busy baking orders and again, had dropped a bomb on me that she doesn’t see us having a future. We saw her family and mine Sunday and we put on a good face, but it’s been bad these past 6-7 days.

Yesterday, Wednesday June 21st. She wants to go out alone. She wants to go back to the club but doesn’t want a date, she needs space.

She looked so fucking hot. Confident. Didn’t even wear a bra with her cute new top I paid for earlier that day when she wanted to do some shopping. Yes, that’s a big deal for my wife who for years (and sometimes still) struggles with insecurities. Her hair looked incredible and it was something new she’s never really done before. But she was going out alone. All dressed up for “just her”. She got a desert in the area and read a book she recently bought and made her way to be club around 8:45 pm. Band plays until 10.

I know this is true because she has a guilty complex like I said and she has a hard time being dishonest. She was keeping me updated on her whereabouts because she has anxiety and we like to check in with each other often.

But she left the club maybe 10:15 and for her text I knew something was up. I met her in the car outside when she got home because she asked me to come out and talk. There she admitted that ever since April when we first saw this band, she had become infatuated with the guitar player. She follows his Instagram and his stories and believes she has a real connection with him. She feels she owes it to herself to pursue this connection even if her turns her down. She might be “in love” she said and hasn’t felt this way about anyone since she first fell for me. I think this is fucking nuts but I played it soooo cool. I was patient and calm and let her express herself and tell me her feelings.

She got all dressed up and super hot for this random dude she doesn’t even know. She swears they haven’t messaged or communicated. She wasn’t physical with him at the club. She just introduced herself and even mentioned me, her husband, because he talked to us last week when we were there and he remembered us. He was giving out cards after their performance and she took one. She also gave him her email.

You would have thought she slept with the whole band that night. Her guilt over this was tearing her apart. Just going to see him and giving out her email was basically her giving this guy the keys to her heart. Never have I seen her like this. I don’t understand it. Weirdly, he kind of looks like me. Not even better looking or in better shape. We could be related it’s so weird. But listening to her last night, it’s like he’s her new soulmate.

She doesn’t know what to do. Our kids are young and fragile. It seems clear she doesn’t want to be with me. She wants to pursue this guy, but she still wants to be a mom too so she’s not just up and leaving.

Meanwhile we’re living with her sister and barely keeping our heads above water while I try and build a new career and she tries to grow a small business.

It feels like nothing is working and I don’t know how we move forward or recover from this. I want her more than anything in the entire world. I’m infatuated with her. I think she’s gorgeous and sexy and smart and funny. I think she’s a great mom and a wonderful, caring, talented person. She has baggage, so do I, but I love her endlessly and am hopelessly committed to her. She thinks I’ll find someone who will love me better, but I don’t want that.

What am I missing? What do I do? She swears she’s not testing me. She’s not trying to get me to fight for her or change something. She honestly feels this way and I don’t get it. I’m lost and I’m sad and I’m angry and I’m losing my best friend and the love of my life.

Thanks for reading this, it’s our life story and it’s a lot. Sorry for dumping it all but I never share with anyone and I wanted to get out as much as I could and provide as much context as possible because I need help. I need wisdom, encouragement, advice, honesty. I need something cause everything is going dark.

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junghelioseok · 4 years ago

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heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

#hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts smut #bts scenarios #hoseok scenarios #jhope #jung hoseok #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #kpop scenarios #hoseok x you #strangers to lovers!au #strangers to lovers #lia writes #gonna change that stupid summary if i can think of anything better LOL #my brain went all mushy on me idk what's happening

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amythedvdhoarder · 4 years ago

Text

Storm in a Teacup

Pairing: Bucky x Divorced Reader

Word Count: ~2K

Warnings: Fluff, a monster of an ex-mother-in-law

Summary: You’re on your first date after your divorce. Who should you run into? Your ex-mother-in-law.

A/N: This comes from a request sent in by a lovely nonnie, who wanted a fic based around a divorced reader who runs into her ex-mother-in-law whilst on a date with Bucky. Before that point, Bucky didn’t know about her divorce. Embarrassment ensues and Bucky has to make up his mind about what to do next. I hope I have done your idea justice. Sorry it took me so long.

Thank you to the wonderful @drabblewithfrannybarnes for beta reading for me. Ily hun 😘

It had taken a long time for you to get to this position, to feel comfortable enough to be dating again. But you had been separated from your now ex-husband for two and a half years, your divorce finalised 6 months ago. It was time to try and have some semblance of a life. You felt guilty about not revealing your divorce to Bucky, but when you moved to New York you really wanted a fresh start, so you didn’t tell anyone about your past. Of course, if there came a time when Bucky needed to know then you would tell him, but this was just a coffee.

Bucky and you had begun talking a few months ago. It started when he was dropping off mission reports with small smiles, progressing to hello’s and then to you making him coffee whenever he stopped by during your lunch break, which he always seemed to arrive in time for. He had realised quickly that you weren’t a New York native, so traded your museum recommendations for tv, film and music recommendations. Each time you met you discussed your latest weekend museum trip and he told you his thoughts on the latest thing he had watched or listened to.

It was clear that you two had a connection. Your co-workers had even commented on how well you and the notoriously silent super-soldier seemed to get along. They were surprised that you hadn’t been on a date already. But you had reservations; perhaps it was too soon. Plus, there was no way Bucky would be interested in you. He was just polite and maybe enjoyed having someone who wasn’t a superhero to talk to. It was a shock when he asked you out for coffee the next time you saw him. You were even more shocked that you had agreed without any hesitation.

You were nervous. In fact, nervous was an understatement. Sick to your stomach was a more accurate description. It wasn’t the fact that it was a date with Bucky Barnes, it was the fact it was a date. Your first, first date in nearly 10 years.

Bucky was leaning against a lamppost, outside your apartment waiting for you. When you saw him you felt yourself instantly relax. He gave you his signature lopsided grin that you had come to crave and ambled over to you.

“You look great,” he said as he stood back and admired you.

“Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself for an old man,” you teased. That was the understatement of the century. He looked like a model in his dark wash jeans, dark blue henley layered over a black t-shirt and a leather jacket in his hand.

He shook his head and chuckled to himself. “Theoretically we’re about the same age you know.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Hmmm well I don’t know about that, but we better get going otherwise we’ll be out past your bedtime.”

“What happened to respecting your elders?” Bucky winked.

“Maybe elders that don’t act like teenage boys, but you and Sam are like high-school kids.”

Bucky looked confused for a second and then remembered that you had caught him and Sam hiding Steve’s shield under your desk the other week.

Bucky threw his hands up in surrender. “Alright, you win.”

The coffee shop was only a couple of streets away, on a corner opposite one of your favourite parks. Bucky and you ordered together and found a table near the window.

Both of you were chatting away about an art gallery you had visited the day before when you were suddenly interrupted.

“You,” that was a voice you would recognise anywhere, a voice which still haunted you. One of constant criticism, one that drove a wedge between you and the person you thought you would spend the rest of your life with.

“Hello Eliza,” you said through a forced smile.

Bucky stood and politely offered his hand to Eliza, but she ignored it leaving Bucky to sit down awkwardly.

“What brings you to New York?” you asked curtly.

“Well Leon and I are visiting my sister,” you balked, glancing quickly around the room, checking for any sign of him.

“He’s not here so you can stop looking. My son had a lucky escape by all accounts,” she sent a sneering look towards Bucky and then back to you. “Barely divorced and already moving on. I always suspected you were a whore; this just confirms it.”

Tears sprang to your eyes; she was publicly humiliating you. Calling you out for being a whore, when you had done nothing but be faithful to her son throughout your marriage and in fact whilst going through the long and bitter divorce. It was her son who couldn’t keep it in his pants. Anger took over and just as you were about to respond Bucky stood up and moved in front of you.

“Sorry I don’t know who you are, but you have no right to speak to anyone like that,” his voice low and urgent, his metal hand clenching and unclenching quickly by his side.

Eliza smirked, eyes flicking up and down at the man standing in front of her. “Ah I recognise you off the news, you two make the perfect match. Both damaged goods that no normal person could want.”

You stood up and went to stand by Bucky’s side, gently taking his arm in your hands. “That’s enough Eliza, we aren’t family anymore, you have made it evidently clear you want nothing to do with me. The feeling is very much mutual. We have nothing more to say to each other so goodbye.”

She let out a little exclamation of shock, but she quickly recovered her sharp exterior. Without saying another word, she just turned on her heels and left the coffee shop.

Bucky gently led you back to your seat, ignoring the people staring at both of you. You looked like you were in shock.

“Hey…” his thumb caught the tears that had begun to roll down your cheeks, “she’s not worth your tears.”

This seemed to finally snap you out of your daze. You look at Bucky and everything just seemed so overwhelming. He was being too kind. Eliza had been right, you were damaged, Bucky deserved more than you, someone who could at least be honest about themselves.

‘I’m sorry Bucky…” you grabbed your bag and tore yourself away from him, running out the café and onto the busy street.

He didn’t follow you immediately like he wanted to, he knew you needed some space. Bucky didn’t know you well but wanted to, he was going to be there for you if you let him. Besides he had an inkling about where you were.

You were exactly where he thought you would be, sat on a bench in the park, covered by a weeping willow.

“Mind if I sit,” you jumped at the intrusion. Bucky stood in front of you, holding two take-out cups from the coffee shop and what looked like a very chocolatey cookie.

All of you could do was nod, the shame of Eliza’s words and your own dishonesty still coursing through you.

“Here,” Bucky offered you the cup and you numbly accepted. “Do you want to split this?” he held up the bag and you rolled your eyes at him. “I mean, I’m quite happy to eat it all,” he sent you a lopsided grin.

You couldn’t help the little snort that escaped you. “We’ll split it, would hate for you to have to spend an extra hour in the gym burning off a whole cookie.”

“You’re too kind,” he teased, opening the bag and poking out the cookie for you to snap off half of it.

Both of you sat and ate without uttering a word to one another. You couldn’t believe he was being so nice to you; you certainly didn’t deserve it.

“I can see why you like it here so much,” Bucky commented, breaking the silence.

“Bucky, how did you know I’d be here?” You turned to face him and took a sip of your coffee.

“I’ve seen you here before. But before you think I’ve been stalking you let me explain. I grew up around here, a couple of blocks away actually. I like to come here for a walk sometimes to remember the happier more carefree times. I spotted you one day but you looked so content in your own little world, I didn’t want to interrupt.” His cheeks flushed slightly with his admission.

He cleared his throat and looked at the coffee cup in his hands before continuing. “Then I started coming here more regularly, hoping I would see you, but I never plucked up the courage to come and talk to you.”

“I’m sorry Bucky” you said quietly.

“That’s the second time you’ve apologised to me today and I still don’t know what you’ve got to be sorry about. It’s not your fault that woman was way out of line. You don’t owe me an apology for anything,” His brows knitted together with concern and it made you feel even more guilty.

“I should’ve told you about the divorce,” smiling ruefully, placing your empty coffee cup between you on the bench.

“I already knew,” he shrugged.

“What? How? I hadn’t told anyone at work,” you spluttered in shock.

“That’s how,” he nodded to where your thumb and forefinger were twisting around where your wedding ring used to be.

You let go immediately and shook your head. “Why did you ask me out for coffee if you knew about my divorce?”

It was perplexing to you that anyone would want to come anywhere near you after your divorce. You had just assumed you would be alone forever. No one had two people out there meant for them. Well, maybe Leon hadn’t been your one.

“We can’t help our past,” Bucky flexed his metal hand, “I know that better than most. All we can do is make the most of our future. I like you, have since I met you. In fact, Sam got so fed up of me talking about you, that he threatened to ask you out himself if I didn’t hurry up and get on with it. Not that I didn’t want to, it’s just thought you could do so much better that an ex-brainwashed assassin.”

“You’re a good man Bucky, anyone would be lucky to have you” you whispered.

Bucky leant over and wiped away the tears you hadn’t realised had begun to roll down your cheeks. “I don’t just want anyone though,” His deep blue eyes peered into yours trying to get across his meaning.

“I like you too Bucky, but we’ve got to take this slow.” His face lit up at your words and he took your hand and pressed it to his lips.

“I’m over 100 years old, slow suits me. But seeing as our first date was hijacked would you like to get some dinner with me? I know a diner around the corner has the best burger in the city.”

“Sounds perfect, but only if you let me get it this time. I owe you for the coffee and the cookie.” You offered.

“I think I just about agree to terms of that deal,” Bucky laughed, scooped up the rubbish and got to his feet. “Shall we?” he asked, offering you his free hand.

You put your hand in his and got to your feet. “Let’s go.”

Gif not mine, credit to the creator

Divider made by the talented @firefly-graphics

Taglists are open. Let me know if you want in or out

Everything:

@stargazingfangirl18 , @silentcoyotesong, @queenofstarliqht, @buckys-henley, @lonelyheartsm @alexa-lightwood-blog, @angrythingstarlight, @drabblewithfrannybarnes, @rogueheretic555, @rebekahdawkins, @chrissquares, @pumpkin-and-pine, @hereforbuckyandsteve, @drakelover78, @baddie-barnes, @cas25214, @pandaxnienke, @thehumanistsdiary, @saiyanprincessswanie, @ladyacrasia, @sweeterthanthis, @joannie95, @lennon-knox, @navybrat817

Bucky:

@its-izzys, @archy3001

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fluff #fluff #request fic

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thran-duils · 4 years ago

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Lost in Zero Gravity (P.23)

Title: Lost In Zero Gravity (Part Twenty Three) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers. Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 2,693 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior, drug use

Part Twenty Two || Part Twenty Four || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

“What do you want me to say? What do you want me to do?”

Steve shrugged, “You don’t have to say or do anything yet.”

“’Yet’,” Cecile scoffed, digging her fingernails into the wood of the kitchen table. Steve sat to her right, facing her.

The car ride home had been silent, the tension stifling. As soon as she had walked through the door, she had gone upstairs and left Steve in the foyer of the house. He had called Y/N then.

“Are you still in agreement?” he asked.

“Yes. But—”

“Then I’ll get an appointment set up for you so you can check to see how far along you are. Have Tony reach out to me if you insist on him collecting the contract from me instead of yourself,” Steve cut her off. He paused for a moment before he said softer, “I really wish you would reconsider what you are asking me to do. It doesn’t have to end like that.”

“No. It doesn’t. But it’s going to,” Y/N said, only a slight waver in her voice. “I’ll speak to Tony. Goodbye, Steve.”

She hung up on him.

“Yes. Yet. I’ll give you time to think.”

Cecile was quiet for a few moments before she asked, “You really wouldn’t give me anything substantial if that is what I decided?”

Steve narrowed his eyes and said, “I told you I would give you some.”

“But nothing more?”

“Why the fuck would I?” Steve snapped, giving her an incredulous look. “Having me fund your life away from me? That’s a fucking ridiculous and heartless thing to even suggest.”

“So what are we going to do then, Steve? Cause you’ve made it crystal clear you are not going to claim the child as your own. Does blood really matter that much to you?”

Steve chewed on his cheeks, glowering down at her. “In this instance, yes, yes it does. All I’m gonna see when I look at that child is you loving someone else.”

“We could try again, Steve. After—” Cecile tried to say but he interjected.

“I might have a solution. But it involves adoption for your baby.”

That caught her completely off guard, her mouth falling open before she asked appalled, “Adoption?”

“Mhm,” Steve confirmed, unbothered by her reaction.

“What plan?” Cecile demanded, crossing her arms sternly.

“I’m not ready to talk about it.”

“You might as well lay it all out for me, Steve, so I can make an informed decision.” Steve snorted at her phrasing, and she snapped, “I am serious.”

Steve studied her for an uncomfortable amount of time before he said, “You would give your child up for adoption and mine would take its place.”

“Yours?” Cecile asked confused. Steve stared at her silently, waiting, and realization washed over her, her arms relaxing every so slightly. She looked kicked, shaking her head. Her hurt turned to anger in the blink of an eye though. “Oh, so your infidelity can live underneath the roof but mine can’t?”

Steve’s hand slammed on the table, and she jumped at the sudden movement. Leaning forward he sneered, “It’s not the same. I don’t love her like you love him. And if it is my child, it’s because I knew you were unfaithful, and I went to great lengths to get it.” Cecile’s face screwed up in confusion and Steve ignored her, “And if this other plan doesn’t work out, well, then we are still going to talk about adoption because I am not going to raise a child that isn’t mine. As I’ve made crystal clear, as you said.”

“You won’t even give it a chance?” Cecile asked furious. “What if you grew to love them? They won’t ever have to see him. All they would know would be you as their father. I swear that.”

“Right back at you. She wouldn’t be in the picture.” Cecile’s mouth formed a thin line and Steve cocked an eyebrow. “Hmm, doesn’t sound so appealing to try when the table is turned?”

“If you make me give them up... what? Do you think I’ll just sleep with you again? Try again? That will be right out the window. I will resent you forever, Steve.”

“Go ahead.”

“You can’t keep me trapped here because of money.”

“I’m not,” Steve laughed humorlessly. “You’re doing that yourself because it seems to be what you really care about. If you didn’t, you would have no problem telling me you want a divorce right now and walking away. But you’re not. And you’re showing me your true colors plainly.”

“So, you would be fine living in a loveless marriage?”

“I’m already doing that. It’s very one sided. You played well. On vacation I mean. I felt happy there, lying in bed with you for long mornings. Cuddling you... it felt good. But apparently, it was all an act.”

“It wasn’t. I’m just appalled at you right now and you’re showing your true colors. All you care about is control! You don’t love me, Steve! You want to own me! For me to be miserable!”

Steve was out of the chair in a second, it flying back with the ferocity of his movement. He towered over Cecile, and she cowered under his prowess. Sneering, he told her, “If I could dig out whatever feelings I have for you and be rid of them, I would do it in a second. I’m sick of being desperate for you to reciprocate my affection and knowing it will never happen. I want to be free of you. But since it seems I can’t do that, then yeah, you’re right. I want you to suffer with me.”

Cecile began to shake her head, but Steve did not give her a chance to speak before he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

<><><>

Tony was awake when you walked back inside, catching you off guard. He was looking at you expectantly, suspicious probably that you had closed the door and spoken outside.

“It’s not his,” you told him evenly, walking towards the fridge.

Opening the door, you grabbed out the water pitcher and poured yourself a glass. Tony was quiet behind you as you took a long drink. You felt a little numb as it sunk in that you were going to have to go through with this. But it had to be this way, it was how you were going to get out of owing Steve. That phone call was a blessing; that is how you had to look at it.

“What was it like?” you asked Tony, turning around.

“What was what like?”

“Pregnancy for your wife.”

“Tiresome. Endless cravings and mood swings,” Tony responded surly, sitting on the edge of the couch. He leveled you with a stare and said seriously, “You know I could just pay him, right? What he owes. And then you would not have to worry about any of this.”

“I’ve already told him I would do it; he’s already working to set up an appointment. And I don’t think he’ll take too kindly if I back out. Especially now that he found out that his wife isn’t carrying his kid.”

Tony shook his head, “I wish you hadn’t called him and put that idea in his head at all. You could’ve… never mind. I know I asked you what you wanted and I meant it.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair.

“He wants you to contact him about the document.”

“Right,” Tony muttered, standing up from the couch. He straightened out his clothes and said, “I… I do need to go home. It’s Forest’s birthday in a couple days and I should be around for that.”

Your stomach clenched at that. He had not left you alone for multiple days since Steve had whisked you away from the apartment.

“You’ll be alright?”

Despite what you felt, you nodded, trying to reassure him. He nodded in acknowledgement and walked over, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead. He would barely meet your eyes.

“I’ll check in.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but he was quick to turn around and search for his keys. He was in a rush to leave now.

“Tony…” He hesitated, keys in hand, looking back over at you. You sighed, “Nothing. Sorry.”

When the door closed behind him, you stared at it. He was upset about the whole ordeal, that was clear. You had a suspicion he wanted to just be rid of Steve entirely but now he would be around for almost another year.

<><><>

Tony pressed the call button on his Bluetooth and settled back into the seat as he drove.

“Funny how you’ll call when she asks you to but not answer me when I’ve tried multiple times,” Steve answered dryly.

Ignoring his clear jab, Tony said, “Y/N said you are working on a document I need to get perused.”

“It’s already done.”

“You are always good about being prepared. Leave it on my desk.”

“You got it. I’ll do it in the morning,” Steve returned just as shortly before hanging up on him.

Tony rolled his eyes, “Fucking prick.”

<><><>

Tony’s hand was at your back as he held the door open for you and you walked past him into the doctor’s office. Steve was waiting in the lobby and you tensed seeing him in person. His eyes fell on you and his lips upturned ever so slightly before he noticed Tony over your shoulder and his smile faltered. He recovered quickly though, standing up to greet you. You stopped a few paces from him, and he gestured for you to sit. You took his seat, keeping an eye on him. But his attention was on Tony.

“A word?” he asked.

Tony shot you a quick look before he nodded, turning and Steve followed. When they were around the corner, Steve let out a small laugh.

“Couldn’t let her come alone?” Steve asked, amusement in his eyes.

“I’m not an idiot, Steve,” Tony said stiffly.

“So, are you gonna be a third wheel every checkup if it happens to be mine?”

“You’re damn right.”

“You’re really going to let this break up the team.”

“I am letting –,” Tony started to snap in disbelief before he shook his head. “No, I’m not doing this here.” He made to walk around Steve, but Steve stepped into his path and Tony’s mouth set into a thin line.

“You’re right. She’s pregnant and sensitive. Zen and all in her environment. Are you doing that? I just can’t be sure because I am not around.”

“She’s perfectly fine.”

Steve ran his eyes over Tony before asking point blank, “Were you looking at her as a replacement from the get-go?”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me. Was this how you wanted it to end up? You and her, living in a place together? And you know you are quite sneaky. You never drive there. At least I haven’t seen it yet. Is there a landing pad? For the suit I mean? Or do you just land outside on the sidewalk?”

Snorting, Tony told him, “Shouldn’t be surprised you’ve been stalking — or asked someone else to. I anticipated that. That’s the thing about us smart guys. We always cover our asses.” He stepped closer to Steve and said in a dangerous tone, “You’re gonna leave her alone after this, Steve.”

Steve smirked, a cruel glint in his eye. “Heard you loud and clear. We can both get what we want.”

Tony did not trust him farther than he could throw him.

<><><>

“It’s legit. I had one of my lawyers look it over,” Tony explained to you, sitting down at the table beside you as you worked on a coloring page. You were finding it really helped calm your nerves to focus on them.

“So, I just sign it?”

“Essentially,” Tony said, straightening out his suit jacket. “I had them take a copy of it to keep on file for me. And I’ll ask Steve for a copy of the final signatures.” His eyes narrowed slightly, looking at you. You stared back, waiting for him to ask whatever it was that was on the tip of his tongue. “You really want to go through with it?”

“Yes. Why are you so against it?” you asked, not accusatively, but curiously.

“He’s been a loose cannon. It makes me nervous,” Tony answered honestly, sighing a little. “And it’s not like him and I are ones who typically follow the law. This document may mean nothing, it may just be a smoke screen. I mean, there is nothing in here about him leaving you alone even when he pays you out. It’s mainly just that you are giving up your parental rights once the baby is born and he becomes legal parent.”

“I don’t think he’ll want anything to do with me after he has the baby,” you told Tony. “That’s what he wants.”

Tony muttered, “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

You reached out and grasped his hand, catching his eyes. “Seriously. If he really cared about me, he wouldn’t have done anything that he did. It’ll be fine.”

Tony sucked his teeth, like he wanted to say something else but he just nodded.

<><><>

The first appointment had shown you were six weeks along. Which meant New Years Eve. That still left the door open for Steve to be the father. The next three weeks were nerve wracking; you found yourself pacing more often than not, lost in thought. Elisha had come over a handful of times to distract you – you had not told her you were pregnant, you did not want to have that conversation with her.

Now, you found yourself back in the doctor’s office. You had come back to the room to Dr. Varma with Steve. You had been hesitant, but the procedure would not take long.

“And Mr. Rogers, I’ll contact you. Ten days,” Dr. Varma told him, finishing up.

You opened your mouth and Steve cut you off, seeing you about to protest. “Dr. Varma already has my contact information. We have rapport.” You eyed him curiously. Was this… no. You pushed the thought of your head. That was preposterous. Steve would not take you to the same doctor his wife was going to. Sticking out his hand, Steve shook Dr. Varma’s hand and stood up. He turned, helping you get up and you tensed beneath his touch. If he noticed, he did not show it. “Until next time.”

<><><>

Thankfully, you had not had any morning sickness, a real blessing considering you had been terrified of it. You did not like vomiting. And it looked good that you would not get it considering you were approaching the eleventh week. You were finding yourself tired though. A lot.

Sipping on a smoothie, you flipped through Hulu, just as your phone rang.

You sat up and placed your smoothie on the coffee table, reaching for your phone. Your hand hovered above it for a second, seeing it was Steve. Hand shaking now, you picked up the phone, gulping.

“Hello?”

“Your follow up appointment for a checkup is next month on the 14th. It’s a Tuesday.”

“So…”

“I wouldn’t have made a follow up appointment if it wasn’t mine, Y/N.”

“Right,” you said, your throat dry.

“So. I’ll send you over your meal plan. Like we discussed with Dr. Varma, the nutritionist he recommended already made up a mock one for me.” He was really serious about being involved clearly. You said nothing. “I would appreciate it if you would honor what I want and I would like you to buy your groceries around what is recommended.”

“Okay.”

Steve gave a humorless chuckle, “I would much rather be around to make sure that that is happening, but I know that that is out of the question.” He hesitated for a moment, as if he was waiting for you to rebuke it. When you did not, he exhaled sharply. “Be sure to pass that date on to Tony since he’s insisting to tag along every time.”

“I will.”

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @icant-hangout-imdrumming @oceaniamaddness @multifandom-superlover @imsonick @holl2712 @here4thefanfics @agustdowney @fanofalltheficsx @buttercandy16 @last-saturday-night @woohoney

#tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark tony stark #dark steve rogers #dark marvel #my shit

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mrs-harkness · 4 years ago

Text

Ocean Eyes (Part 2)

Ocean Eyes (Part 1)

Pairing: Tammy x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8K

Parts: Part 1

Taglist: @peggycarter-steverogers @imgayandmymomdoesntknow @millysmango

A/n: Glad you guys are liking Tammy. She’s fun to write for, because I imagine her having a bit of a wild side ;) I’m thinking there will probably only be 5 parts, because I would like to get started on Delia’s, but things are just really busy with my new job! Always, thanks for the patience and love!

"I'm gonna kinda miss having you at the apartment everyday."

Sarah's voice ripped you away from the window, lost in your own empty thoughts. You smiled at her.

"I will miss seeing you every day, but I will not miss sleeping on your couch. It's lumpy. You really need a new one dude," you said, snickering.

"No way! My couch has got character, thank you."

"Sarah, I found a pack of fun dip from 1967 in the cushions."

Sarah opened her mouth to argue, but shut it. She gave you a side glare, trying to keep her eyes on the road while letting you see her wrath, as she called it. You laughed, it filling the car.

"Don't worry Sarah-Bee, I'll come visit you on my off days," you said, patting her leg.

You guys pulled into Tammy's huge driveway to find her and the kids waiting for you on the doorstep, standing there like a Home and Garden's ad. Tammy smiled and waved as well as her two smallest children. The oldest boy was obviously forced to stand there and looked like he was ready to be released.

You stepped out of the car and the family walked towards you. The little girl ran ahead of them all, nearly leaping to you.

"Hi! My name is Keri! You wanna play?" she asked, immediately taking your hand and tugging on it.

Tammy reached forward and put her hand on Keri's shoulder, giggling.

"Hold on sweetheart. She just got here and needs to get settled. You guys will have plenty of time to play. She lives here with us now," she said, never breaking eye contact with you.

You felt the blush creep onto your face. You weren't positive, but there seemed to be a glint in Tammy's eyes, as if she saw it. You tore your eyes away from hers and looked back down at the little girl, smiling. She smiled back, grabbing onto her mothers hand to hold it and bring it close to her face.

Tammy cleared her throat and pushed the two boys forward. The little one had a mischievous look about him and the older one was just uninterested completely.

"These are my two men, Derek and Jeremy," Tammy said.

"I'm Derek! I'm named after my dad. He doesn't live here anymore!" the younger one chirped.

Everyone shot him a look, but he remained blissfully unaware at the fact of his oversharing. The oldest though, seemed more than angry, and reached over and slapped his younger brother in the ear.

"Stupid! You don't say that shit!"

"Jeremy! Watch your mouth and leave your brother alone," Tammy said, moving him to where he was looking her in the face. He seemed to growl and jerk away. He sulked off towards the house.

You saw the concern on Tammy's face. He must not have been handling the divorce so well. Your heart ached for the boy, even though he seemed a little bit like a dick. Tammy sighed and turned back to you.

"Kids," she said, trying to chuckle and brush it off.

"Well! How about we get Y/n and her stuff inside and get her welcomed home?" Tammy asked the two little ones.

They both cheered with the excitement only small children seemed to have and ran to Sarah's car to help grab the boxes and suitcases that were in the back. Tammy came up behind you, placing her hand on the small of your back. You jumped a bit, feeling heat spread out through your body. Tammy leaned forward to whisper in your ear, but all you could manage to think was how good she smelled.

"Don't worry about Jeremy, give him time to warm up to you. He misses his dad, but he's a good kid," she whispered, her breath hot on the shell of your ear.

You swallowed and nodded, forcing a smile. She brought her face into your view, just inches from yours. She smiled and winked and her fingers seemed to drag as she brushed her hand from your back and walked to the car to help get your things.

Get your shit together Y/N. She was talking about her kids emotional state and all you could think of was her perfume!

You scolded yourself and went to help the family unload your old life to officially start your new one.

When Tammy had said you would have the entire attic and your own bathroom, you thought you would have a maybe enough room for a twin bed and a dresser, maybe a desk and a bathroom that probably had a shower and not much else. You were very wrong.

Your new bedroom was bigger than Sarah's entire apartment, with lush carpet and crown molding. The bed was big and plush with a down comforter that felt like a cloud and smelled like cherry blossom. You not only had a 8 drawer dresser, but a walk in closet that could hold your entire wardrobe and still have 98% of it be completely empty. There were shelves filled with books and free space that Tammy said you could put whatever you like on.

The desk was a solid piece of white wood that seemed like it would cost the same as a down payment on a car. Your bathroom felt straight out of a high class suite with a huge tub, amazing walk in shower, and not just one sink, but two. There was even a wall length mirror. But your favorite part of the whole house was the balcony. You had your own balcony. A set of french doors lead out to it and you knew you would have the perfect view to watch the sun rise over the trees in the morning.

This morning you were waking up on a smelly, yellow polyester couch to the sound of street construction and Sarah singing Taylor Swift as she burnt breakfast. Now, you were overlooking an amazing view of a beautiful, quiet neighborhood from your very own penthouse with an amazing job and the most beautiful boss you could have ever imagined.

You took a deep breath of the crisp night air. You were exhausted from unpacking and getting to know the kids and were looking forward to just laying in your new bed and dosing off when you heard a knock at your door. You had to jog from outside and across the room to reach the door, expecting to see one of the kids. Instead Tammy stood in front of you, smiling.

"Getting settled in okay?" she asked.

You smile and nodded, stepping aside to welcome her in. She walked in and looked around. There wasn't much difference, but you had put out some of your personal items and pictures. It would take some time, but it did feel a little bit more like yours after a couple of hours of work.

"Looks nice. More lived in than it has ever been. You've made it homey," she said, her voice warm.

"I hope that is okay," you said, unsure why you felt so insecure about her opinion. She whipped around to look at you.

"Of course! That's what I want more than anything. For you to make this your home. I know this is your job, but I want you to like it here," she said, stepping closer.

Your breath got caught in your throat again, and you forced yourself to breathe normally. You saw the corner of Tammy's mouth twitch, a tiny smirk showing for just a second. You brushed your hair away from your face and cleared your throat. It was becoming your signature.

"I definitely like it here. Don't worry. You and the kids are great. The room is amazing, I've never lived somewhere so nice before. And dinner was great. Its been a really long time since I sat down and got to eat together with a family."

Tammy's face softened a bit at the last bit, and while you could see curiosity in her eyes, she didn't ask any further. There was a moment of silence before Tammy got the conversation back on track.

"Well I'm glad you liked dinner and are getting settled. I got the kids in bed already and was actually wondering if you would like to come down stairs and have a glass of wine with me? Just you and I, so we could get to know each other more as friends rather than boss and employee."

You stood there, smiling, just staring at her. You must have been standing there for longer than you realized in silence because Tammy cocked an eyebrow, confused by your silence. You tried to recover like you were thinking, but you really couldn't save yourself here.

"Oh! Yeah! Sure! I'd love to!" you said, your voice a little too high pitched. Tammy giggled and nodded, heading back towards the door.

"Get in your jammies and meet me down stairs. I'll be waiting," she said as she closed the door behind her.

You released the breath you had been holding, your whole body relaxing. You didn't realize how tense you were. You were going to have to learn how to function around Tammy or you probably wouldn't have this job for long. Tammy seemed to find it cute for the time being, but once it stopped just seeming like you were awkward and nervous about a new job, it would be pretty obvious it was a bit more. The nanny crushing on her boss was so cliché to begin with, never mind how problematic it would be in this situation.

You got dressed in your nice pair of pajamas, not wanting to walk down stairs in a ratty t-shirt and shorts. It was mainly dark in the house, but the kitchen was completely lit, guiding you down the stairs and towards Tammy who worked on a wine cork.

Her pajamas were silk and red, hanging off her frame in a way that showed a bit of skin depending how she moved. The shorts barely covered her butt and you felt like you were being tested. You would make sure to keep your eyes either on Tammy's face or at the wall behind her because you were not going to make things weird.

Tammy smiled when she saw you and you swore she looked you up and down, but you just kept your eyes forward.

"Don't you look cute," Tammy said, popping the cork out of the wine bottle.

You sat on the stool at the kitchen island and watched as Tammy poured two glasses and handed one to you. You took a sip and were taken back by how strong it was. You were going to have to be careful or you would be gone rather quickly.

Tammy took a big sip of hers and smiled, licking the red liquid off her lips. You felt yourself cry on the inside. You wanted nothing more to spend alone time with Tammy, but you really wished you had gone to bed.

"So, tell me about the tree branch," she said, taking a smaller sip this time.

You looked up at her, confused.

"Huh?"

Tammy laughed, pointing to your hair.

"You said this afternoon you would tell me how you got the twig stuck in your hair. You also mentioned something about promising you bathed?" she said, raising her eye brows up as she twirled her wine glass with a smile that spread across her face.

You laughed and felt some of the tension leave your body. This was just a normal conversation and your boss really was just trying to get to know you and make it a more comfortable situation for the both of you.

"See what happened was, I got an Uber into the neighborhood but asked the driver to drop me off at the gate so that way you wouldn't see me get out of this particular car because it looked like it drove straight out of 'Dude, Where's My Car' and I honestly didn't want you to associate me with weed and old pizza."

"First impressions are important," she said, extending her wine glass towards you.

"Exactly. So I started walking but because I have never been here before, I got lost. So I called Sarah and she told me the way to your house, but if I took that way I would be late. So she told me, if I cut through the backyard of the house I was in front of and walked through the trees, I would actually be at the back of your house, so I found the houses fence."

"You snuck onto their property?" Tammy asked, her eyes lighting up. She leaned onto the counter and her pajamas moved, revealing her bra. You kept your eyes on hers though.

"I don't think its considered sneaking if the old woman who lives there sends her yappy dog after you for disrupting her yoga session as she swears at you. I ran to the picnic table at the edge of the fence and threw myself over it as I tried to convince her I really was a nice girl before complimenting the home I had just trespassed into, and dropped into the woods and ran so fast I'm surprised I didn't die."

At this point, Tammy was doubled over, cackling.

"I'm gonna pee," she muttered, crossing her legs as she laughed. You laughed along with her, Tammy's giddiness being contagious. You looked at her as she met your eyes and just looked at you as you both came down from your laughter. You smiled as you took a sip of your wine. You were glad you hadn't gone to bed.

It felt like minutes, but you and Tammy stayed up for four hours talking about life, your interests, your childhood. Everything seemed fuzzy and warm because you were both on your fourth glass and you couldn't remember exactly when you both had moved to the couch, but that is where you both found yourself.

"So when I had Keri, I was utterly exhausted. My husband was home with me for the first four days after we brought her home, but he left on a two week work trip after that and I was alone with three kids, two of which were under two."

You shook your head. Her husband sucked. You didn't like him. You didn't know him, but you didn't like him.

"So when Keri was 9 days old, I had to take Derek to the doctor for an ear infection. Jeremy was five at the time so he was literally everywhere, Derek was screaming, and Keri was just sleeping in her car seat. We got Derek looked at, got the prescription and left. We were halfway to the pharmacy when I felt like I had forgot something."

You covered your mouth, stifling the drunk giggle starting to come from your mouth. Tammy hit you on your shoulder.

"I would like to remind you I was basically a single mother of three kids and sleep was not a thing. But I forgot Keri, in the doctors office. Just left without her! Right when I noticed, a nurse from the office called me and I was just crying on the phone all the way there. The nurses tried to console me but that was definitely one of my worst mom moment so far. She still doesn't know that happened. Not sure she ever will."

You both laughed that kind of deep laugh that if you weren't careful, would choke you. You laughed and bent over, accidentally falling over and right into Tammy's lap. It took you a moment to realize you had done it, but Tammy noticed immediately.

She stared at you, but not with a look of discomfort on her face, but something else. You immediately pushed yourself back into a sitting position, your flush ten times worse due to the wine it your system. Tammy smiled and looked away, sighing.

"You know Y/N, I'm so happy you get to be here, with us. Not just for the kids, but for me too."

You looked at her, unsure what to say. You watched as she scooted closer to you, frozen. She brushed the hair that had fallen in your face to behind your ear. Her hand lingered on your cheek and you felt her thumb run against the edge of your jaw. You were sure it was visible how hard you swallowed and how you chest rose and fell rapidly.

She smiled and her eyes flicked down. She looked you over and hummed before pulling back.

"We are going to feel like shit in the morning if we don't get to bed. Especially because Keri and Derrek like to wake up at the ass crack of dawn."

You smiled at that and it caused Tammy to chuckle. You helped one another up and walked up the stairs. Tammy stopped at her door, but didn't go in. You climbed the stairs to the third floor, but felt Tammy starring at you. You turned around to see her leaning against her doorframe, her face dreamy.

"Goodnight Y/N. I'm happy you're here."

With that Tammy winked, and pushed open her door, stepped into the dark room, and closed it slowly behind her. You seemed to float up the stairs and straight into your bed, the soft plush mattress welcoming you. You drifted off to sleep with that warm fuzzy feeling of wine tingling through out your body and Tammy's smiling floating around in your head.

#sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson fanfic #sarah paulson fic #tammy oceans 8 #oceans 8

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honestsycrets · 4 years ago

Text

Say Your Piece II: Heart Breaker

❛ pairing | hvitserk x reader, hvitserk x ?

❛ type | double triple? shot, mistakes were made au

❛ chp summary | after the reader says she doesn’t want hvitserk; he makes a bad decision. it gets worse from there.

❛ tags | plus size reader, verbal arguments, extreme social anxiety, extreme body insecurity, drinking, hateful words, illustrator hvitserk x writer reader, mention of infidelity, shame, OCs, sexual frustration, blackmail, cheating mentioned, verbal abuse, sexual blackmail, poor communication? it’s more likely than you think. tags to be added.

❛ request | So Hvitserk request (you a asked for it 😂) Remember the Little Lovers event and the self-conscient plus size reader who didn’t want to have sex ?Well I didn’t get the sex lol. I want my Hvitserk to show a woman how her body is enjoyable. Thank you 😊 for @alicedopey

❛ sy’s note | i’ll eventually get you your sex scene, DAMN IT.

He wakes with a blaring headache caused by a stream of fresh morning light against his soft cheek. He pulls his arms around you-- or, what he thought was you, as the moment he does so, he knows it’s wrong. Where soft folds and overflowing breasts were, he finds thin limbs and small breasts.

It’s not your body-- he realizes all at once. The high rise apartment that overlooked the city wasn’t, either. It was the fruit of an accomplished older woman, whose many books hovered on a white shelf beside a white bed. Everything in the room holds the same pure standard. He flings himself from the bed, his naked ass colliding with a nightstand. The items ripple over the surface and settle into new positions. The woman pushes up, dragging the painfully monochrome white fluffy sheet to cover her flat chest.

“Hvitserk?”

Erika, in all her sharp-eyed glory, stares right back at him. Vomit spins up his throat, incited by the affection by with her eyes considered him. Hvitserk scrambles over the perfectly plain hardwood floors, upchucking up what’s left of his agitated stomach after his pathetic night out on the town.

“Hvitserk!”

Her spindly hand is at his back. Ordinarily, she was a comfort in your absence. That despite her pushing, and pushing, and pushing to get your name off “his” book, she would always be there for him in ways that a lover could not. Author-illustrators make so much more than being an illustrator alone, she reminded him. Her considerate words now feel like measured steps against his relationship. Her touch rips his skin into gooseflesh. Hvitserk works his shoulder away, his knuckles becoming white around the bowl.

“You drank too much last night.” it’s a non-question. Obviously, if he were here, he had. He groans his miserable response into the toilet bowl, wishing he could smother himself in the water, as it would be a better punishment than anything his girlfriend could do to him. “I’ll make you some coffee.”

Her steps become distant echoes. When he finishes and cleans after himself, he starts his search for his clothes. He picks them from a singular pile, draws them back on, and reaches for his phone. It bleats a miserable eight percent battery life.

“She didn’t call if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Ericka stands in a silvery slip; although he’s not sure when she put on some clothes. She hands him his cup of coffee and takes a seat on her “divorce couch”, a plain grey chair that she scammed her ex-husband out of. As she sits there, all long limbs, and purposefully sultry clothes-- the guilt strikes him.

Hvitserk takes a sip of bitter, burnt black coffee. She’s never been a great coffee maker but her heart is in the right place. It wouldn’t feel right to snuff her. After all, he probably spent the night before buried in her cunt.

“You called me to pick you up at the bar last night. You were so drunk all you wanted to do was lay on my chest,” Ericka pulls a sheer black kimono over her thin collarbones. His eyes fall on her hands. “I told you she’d break your heart. Women like that-- once they get over a certain weight-- they aren’t emotionally available to do anything but eat. It consumes them.”

“She ain’t like that.”

“If she’s not like that, then why did you have sex with me? Be honest with yourself, Hvitserk. Your needs aren’t met with her. That’s why you needed me.”

His mouth runs dry. Like he’s been chewing on his regret as if it were paper. He couldn’t remember the night before. It was like a bad memory he never wanted to recover. Hvitserk glances down to his cup as he sinks onto her bed.

“It was an accident,” he glares at the surface. “I- You know I can’t be with you, right? You’re--”

“Old?” she asks. He’s never cared about something as simple as that. Twelve years his senior or not, it wasn’t an issue.

“It’s not that. C’mon Erika, you know I don’t give a shit about age. She’s my baby girl.”

“You’re going to stay with her? A woman like that?”

“Like what?” Hvitserk sets the coffee on the nightstand as he snaps at her before he could bite it back. He knew what she meant. Erika’s long ranging sigh reminds him of Aslaug. How tenderly her hands would wrap around him even though they were truly tainted with alcohol perfuming off her breath.

“I’ve been your agent for years Hvitserk. We go through this every time you find a girl. This oen is by far the worst. She doesn’t care about you. Look at all that work you did for her yesterday. The pendant you bought her. The work you’ve put into her books! You even pick up all the food she eats. She won’t go outside of her house and you still expect that she’ll suddenly become this fat trophy wife on your arm.”

“Just because she’s fat don’t--”

“It isn’t about the fat, Hvitserk. How many times does she have to show you, or tell you for you to get the picture through your stupid head, huh? She doesn’t want you! And you have the balls to call me a fucking accident.”

“Erika--”

She leaps up from her chair. Hvitserk sucks in a hard breath and tries to find sense through the nonsense, looking through his phone. Erika was right. You hadn’t sent a message. Not in his texts, not on his social media. More egregiously, he spots a new post. Ericka’s hands fold over his, pushing him back to sit on the bed. She slides over his thin hips and takes a seat on his empty lap. It was painfully simple, painfully domestic, and painfully wrong.

“Let me tell you what I’ve learned in forty years,” Erika whispered in his ear. Her thin lips move, gliding like butter in his ear. “If someone doesn’t want you, there’s nothing you can do to change that.” Her fingers comb through his hair, like slimy tendrils. “But I’m here.”

Hvitserk tips his head nack, gazing at the ceiling. Her palm caresses his scruffy jawline to drag his attention from the ceiling to her soft blue eyes, a painless depth, if only he would listen to her words. Hvitserk shifts her back on the bed, loitering around her waist with a supportive hand on the base of her back.

“I know you care ‘bout me. I just-- need some time, okay?”

It doesn’t slip him that she’s scowling as he walks out of her home. There was someone he could count upon, when things were difficult, his phone buzzing in his palm reminded him of that.

“Hey, Ivar.”

Or, maybe not.

“You fucked her?” Ivar stopped chewing his pastry, ambling his head one way then another, laughing against himself. He took his mug of properly brewed coffee to his lips. Hvitserk regrets agreeing to meet him at the cafe. “What were you thinking sleeping with your agent?”

“I wasn’t thinking! I was drunk--” Hvitserk set his hand to his forehead. He has no appetite as he cycled through what he had done, searching out the moment that he called Erika. He fails to locate anything but quiet sobbing behind the neck of a beer bottle and a distant, squeamish feeling of fingers down his nape. “I think she took advantage of me.”

Ivar sets down his cup of coffee, picking up a fork and knife as he leaned over the table, lips punctuating each word.

“Yes, well, I am sure that will go over with your girlfriend well. I’m sorry, I slept with my skinny, well-established agent who has been wanting me to get rid of you. That bitch has been after you for years. What do you think she will do now? She won’t let you go.”

“She understands,” he reflects at the monochrome crowd. His plate is full but has gone cold with his lack of appetite. Normally, this was the place he came with his brother to binge breakfast and muse about women. Ubbe wouldn’t care about his issues: he never had time for anyone but himself. Not really. Ivar scoffed, gazing into the foot traffic flitting by their cafe.

“Tch, I’m sure she does. She will probably break up with you.”

He bobbed his head.

“I think she already has.”

A normal man would come to beg.

But Hvitserk draws in the deep quiet of the park. With only the barks of dogs, the giggles of children, and the occasional frequency from couples watching movies in the park, it’s a place of solace by the small pond.

He starts with an outline of Xiao’s small face. It’s a rough outline, budding and ready to be kissed with by watercolours. Soft pinks like petals of peonies droop in his photo. He must have blended this shade wrong. Line after line that he sweeps, he weeps. His phone jingles in his pocket and his heart tightens around his chest like a straight jacket to someone in an insane asylum. He must be going crazy-- if he too can no longer paint.

“Where are you?!” you boom on the other end of the line. Hvitserk fumbles his phone, suckling in a breath. Had Ivar told you? No, his brother wouldn’t. Not Ivar. He was never a gossiper.

“In-- in the park?”

“What has gotten into you? You could have at least texted me to tell me you were okay. I was worried sick!”

You? Worried sick? This wasn’t the you from yesterday. The one that pelted out how selfish he was for craving intimacy. The one that told him that all he wanted was to sexualize you. As if he were some sixty year old pervert with a camera in hand to click a picture of under your beautiful pastel skirts. Hvitserk sets the brushes into his cup of water and sets aside Xiao’s painting to dry.

“Hvitserk!”

“I’m here,” he blurts out. “I didn’t think you’d care. You didn’t call.”

“Like I didn’t I call you all night.”

Something cracks, deep in his belly. With all the days of work he’d done for you and you alone, he forgot himself in the mix. He jerked his phone back, frantically looking at his phone app. No recent calls meant what they meant. When he finds nothing, it only thrusts him into a further rage.

“Bullshit,” he belts out. “You didn’t. You didn’t care about me last night. You never fuckin’ do.”

“Hvit--” he turns off his phone. There was a sliver of a moment in which he regrets that on the basis of last night. Maybe you rejected him, but he wasn’t an idiot. A man simply didn’t cheat on his girlfriend because she said no.

He packs up his bag and heads toward the football field. It’s time to play football.

He smashes Ubbe on the field. If he wasn’t at peace with being an illustrator, maybe he could have been a ballplayer. Flipping the ball from foot to foot with Ubbe on his trailing his tail was fun, but watching him try and miss as he thwacked the ball on its net was even better. Unlike Ubbe’s well-proportioned body, he’s all long limbs and quick feet. Just the right combination to slip out of Ubbe’s grasp. Well, that was, until Ubbe tackled his ass onto the blades of grass, sending the both of them rolling through the grasp.

“Bro, really?!” Hvitserk laughs, dropping back onto the grass. The skid marks on his clothes would be unreal.

“If I can’t catch you,” Ubbe heaves, digging his hand into his pocket. He finds his phone there, vibrating with messages from Torvi: probably. Hvitserk shoves his arms behind his neck, drawing out breath after ragged breath.

“Wanna go eat?”

“Na,” Ubbe shoves himself onto your feet. “Your girl is here.”

His what? Ubbe rushes off. A sinking feeling came over his clammy hands. He opens his mouth to beg him not to go, to take him along with like he used to as a child. He’s terrible at making up and hours ago, he’d hung up on you. His lips press together, soothing himself with the false pretense that-- no, it would be fine. If you didn’t apologize, perhaps neither would he.

He finds you on the other side of the soccer field, fashioning his favorite sundress. There’s something glamorous about its corset bodice and its draped sleeves that left him breathless. He wills down his terrible arousal, drawn to the pendant he bought you nestled between your large breasts. You wait for him by his things, pulling the rim of a broad pale hat and looking down at beautiful chunky nude heels.

You’re beautiful and terrifying all in one. He regains himself enough to make his legs solidify from the liquidy mass they were seconds ago. He might feel much like a newborn calf falling over himself to get his things, but perhaps he looked better than he felt. Women like sweaty, stupid men, right?

“What are you doing here?” he picks up his things. “I thought you didn’t like to be seen in public.”

“You hung up on me,” you hold his tablet flush against your dress and offer it out to him. He takes it and secures it back in his bag. “I had to come to find you.”

“Yeah? I’ll bet.” Hvitserk wills down the painful throbbing behind his joggers, pulling his bag to obscure the pain he was in. The sooner he went home, the sooner he could jerk himself off without the overwhelming guilt of being, as he was, a whore. Why couldn’t he stay mad? He wanted to stay mad! “You look... nice. Never seen you looking so nice. What’s the occasion?”

“You like it?” You pull out the skirt and stop to do a twirl that he curses himself for stopping for. Normally, his girl wouldn’t even go outside. Who was this? He’s aware of others watching-- the fat girl in a flashy dress. “I wore it for you.”

“Yeah, I do.” He moistens his lips, his voice raspy and thick. “Looks like an angel.”

“Does that mean you’ll come back home?” You reach out for him. Your soft hands winding around his well-corded arm. He realizes then, the confidence in which you carried yourself masked the desperation in your hands. They trembled over his bicep. “I’ll be good, I promise I won’t yell at you again like that. I wouldn’t even be mad if you-- you found someone else to fuck. I know you-- I know you need it. If you can’t get it from me, I can wait on the side. As long as you’re not in love.”

“Hey,” he softened, settling his hand atop of yours. He stops midstep, turning on his high tops on the sidewalk. He takes your hands and listens waits for your outpouring of emotion. Traffic passes by him. They speak in hushed whispers. “Hey, hey, hey. Baby girl wait-- that’s not -- what are you talking about?”

“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to yell at you like that but you were pushing and pushing and wouldn’t stop! I didn’t know what to do. I want to have sex with you,” you squeeze his fingertips. “But you don’t know what it’s like to be fat, old virgin.”

He was trying to listen. He really was. The moment you spoke that word: that v-word, his mind went blank and numb. You’re still talking long after he’s stopped listening. Hvitserk sucks in a breath: it sends him into a flurry, pursuing the bone of your virginity long after you’ve stopped talking.

“What do you--” his lips twitch, drawing in a smile. “--mean a virgin?”

“I haven’t had sex-- I… I wanted to--”

His girl-- a virgin. He wants to smile, if not for the knowledge of the other night, waking up in Erika’s itchy sheets. Hvitserk knows that he has to tell you, he only doesn’t know how. You’re talking again.

“What did you say?” he asks.

“I want you to do it,” you answer. “Right now. Just forgive me.”

He about drops, a moistness coming over his mouth that he can’t-- exactly-- help. His palms feel just as hot, sweating as he pulls them free from yours. Clearing his throat, he slips his hand against the small of your back.

“Na, let’s… let’s take it easy. We’ll talk ‘bout it later.”

He wants that virginity.

But logically, oh woe is he, he knows it’s not really right to take someone’s virginity if they’re not all there. You’re not all there because you don’t know of that night. It’s like, consent, right? Bad consent was just jerking your ankle like some Viking and dragging you into bed with him. If he was going to do it, he told himself, you had to know what he’d done.

It was a slip-up.

Hvitserk finished another drawing for his new book independent of your input. It was a children’s book about good bodies-- because as he looked at your good body, he was reminded of Ericka’s cruel words. He wanted to do better for lil kids.

“Hvitserk, your phone is ringing,” you said pointedly from across the room where you sat like a madwoman. Your frantic papers sat nestled around a basket of shared chicken he made for lunch.

“Huh?” Tapping over, he recognizes Erika’s photo, planting a kiss on his cheek on his first big break. She had been the first one to really believe in him. It was a long time ago now, he reminds himself to change that to something more… suitable after last night. He gestures his fingers at you. “Thanks, baby girl.”

He answers the phone. The moment he does, he hears Erika’s flat voice snaking into a hiss. It’s a noise that he hasn’t heard. Not in all his years of having her as his patient agent.

“You’re with her, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m uh-- with Ubbe.” He throws you a glance. You tilt your head, he shakes his, and that’s the terrible loneliness of holding a secret. “Erika--” Hvitserk sighs, parting his lips to talk. She shushes him with such severity that he thinks she’s trying to lop his head off, too.

“Break it off.”

“What?”

He steps outside and leans against the cold metal door separating the high-rise apartments from, well, the outside world. He expects to see her standing out there. All he finds are the many cars parked on the street and the stillness of movement. It’s too quiet. The whistle of the wind through the street chills him.

“I know you’re with her. I can tell her for you if you’d like.”

“No. Don’t--” Hvitserk sighs, searching for the words in the silence. “I don’t think you understand. We worked through it.”

She laughs something from deep in her belly at him.

“I wasn’t asking. Either you do it— or I’ll make you do it. You obviously don’t know what’s best for yourself. Why else are you fucking around with some--” He collapses on the stairs, cradling the phone to his ear as she goes on. “Don’t think I won’t expose her for what she is. A thief.”

“She’s never-- Why the fuck are you doing this?”

“You told me you would take care of it. Something you’ve failed to do-- I should have known you couldn’t do it. ”

“If this shit is about yesterday--”

“I’ll give you one more chance to break it off if you come over tonight.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” There’s a pause on the other line. Then a chuckle. A long winded, painful chuckle. He should have known better. That night-- calling it an accident wasn’t exactly tolerable for a woman like Erika. She wasn’t the kind of woman who could be easily ignored.

“If that’s what I have to do.”

He chokes out a sob. Ivar was right. She wasn’t going to let him go.

“Fuckin’-- fuckin’ fine.”

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#Hvitserk x Reader #Hvitserk x OC #Hvitserk/Reader #hvitserk's heathen feast #hvitserk ragnarsson x reader #it feels good to write my baby #Hvitty x Reader #hvitty/reader #vikings imagines #vikings imagine #hvitserk x plus size reader #Vikings x Reader

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elizabethvaughns · 3 years ago

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📃 what is the plot of your hyperfixation? and is it a movie, game, show, etc? For any non-If/then one

📃: what is the plot of your hyperfixation? and is it a movie, game, show, etc?

falsettos my beloved

so basically there's this guy. marvin. he divorced his wife and left his child (and ran off...with a friend) to be with his boyfriend, whizzer. he tries to have everyone (his ex-wife, trina, his son, jason, and his bf, whizzer) come together to be a tight-knit family, but to no avail. soon, trina goes to see marvin's psychiatrist, mendel, for a therapy session. she explains that all she's ever tried to be was a perfect wife, and still her marriage ended up failing. mendel (who's immediately attracted to her) tries to reassure her, tell her that her marriage failing wasn't her fault. back to marvin and whizzer. they're basically polar opposites and their relationship seems...well, purely physical. and toxic. cut back to mendel's office. marvin is there for a therapy session. he discusses his relationship with whizzer in the first part. in the second part, mendel asks him about trina, and in the third part, marvin talks about his increasingly detached relationship with jason. cut to jason. he's worried that because his father's gay he's gonna turn out gay. marvin and trina suggest he go get therapy from mendel (for unrelated reasons). he says he'll only do so if whizzer agrees. after much (tacit) prodding from marvin and trina, whizzer agrees—jason should go see mendel. jason agrees, under the condition that mendel come to their house. marvin and whizzer fight over their relationship (read: marvin forcing him into the role of homemaker and whizzer refusing to settle down). trina has a mental breakdown. mendel comes to the house to give jason (very bad) therapy. soon, (after jason's slight nudging), mendel proposes to trina, who accepts. marvin is jealous because mendel essentially takes his place. trina laments about the male-dominated world, ....march of the falsettos......, trina collects her thoughts. marvin and whizzer play chess, marvin tries to dominate over whizzer the whole time, whizzer wins, marvin's mad, they break up. later, mendel and trina (and jason) move in together and they revel in their domestic bliss. meanwhile, whizzer reflects over his relationship with marvin as he packs. soon, marvin, upon receiving mendel and trina's wedding announcement, has an anger-induced mental breakdown and he slaps her. everyone reflects over how they never really wanted to have such deep feelings of love for the others. jason finds out he's attracted to girls. marvin sits down with jason and tells him that no matter what happens, he'll always be there for him.

act 2! (holy hell this is getting long i'll try to condense it)

two years later, marvin is still single. he's moved into a new apartment, and his neighbors (and good friends) are a lesbian couple. he sees jason over the weekends and he hasn't seen whizzer in over two years. he's less of a little bitch now. trina and marvin (and mendel and charlotte and cordelia) plan jason's upcoming bar mitzvah. at jason's baseball game, marvin runs into whizzer (who jason has invited). he asks him out and they get back together. interlude! everything is great! marvin and trina fight over what they should do for jason's bar mitzvah and jason says that he doesn't want one, much to the shock of marvin and trina. mendel tells him that "everyone hates his parents". marvin reflects over how much he loves whizzer. charlotte (a doctor) tells cordelia about a mysterious disease that's been afflicting many young gay men. meanwhile, marvin and whizzer play racquetball and whizzer collapses. trina tries to hold it all together. they're at whizzer's hospital room—he looks better. mendel and trina try to talk about the bar mitzvah with jason, who wants to postpone it until whizzer recovers, which mendel and trina say may not happen. meanwhile, marvin and whizzer reaffirm their commitment for one another and charlotte and cordelia come in and the four try to stay positive in the wake of whizzer's worsening state. jason tells god that he'll get bar mitzvah-ed if it means that whizzer'll get better. charlotte takes marvin aside to tell him that the disease affecting whizzer kills and is contagious. whizzer confronts his mortality and decides to die with dignity. the other six come in, holding jason's bar mitzvah in whizzer's hospital room. when jason finishes reading the prayers, whizzer collapses. soon, only marvin is left onstage only to be joined by whizzer's spirit. both affirm that they don't regret a single thing and marvin says that he'd do it all over again if he could. whizzer goes offstage, cut to whizzer's funeral. marvin breaks down in his family's arms.

hoo boy that was long.

ask game here!

#i synopsed it the best i could #ask #willowstea #long post

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openheartfanfics · 4 years ago

Text

Ethan x F!MC: Angst

One Shots I-M

I can’t imagine this world without you. - @rookie-ramsey A near-death accident almost takes Ethan away from her and their family.

I Love You - @openheart12 Ethan yells at MC after the Lamar ledge scene.

I Object - @thanialis Everyone is excited about the couple sharing a life together except one doctor who will have to come to terms that he missed his chance… or did he? Feat. Bryce x MC

I Swear On You, My Beloved - @schnitzelbutterfingers Nothing can separate them apart, not even death. Because they share the promise of eternal love.

I was the son you always had - @queenbirbs Ethan confronts Louise. Post 2.13. Feat. Louise Ramsey

I will never let you forget - @perriewinklenerdie What seems to be a terrible nightmare, turns out to be her reality.

I wish…. - @ethanramseytwilight

They break up. Set in Book 3, before Ethan’s hearing. [3.15]

Part 1 | Part 2

I won’t give up - @perriewinklenerdie 1.12 Rewrite. Ethan’s perspective.

I’ll be here - @estellaelysian Alishka comes to find Ethan, very drunk, at Donahue’s. This is set after Ethan’s mom returns.

I’m All Yours - @crystalwillow It’s their wedding day.

I’m Comin’ Over - @ladybaelish The time after the ethics hearing was trying. They text and have a phone call to try and sort things out.

I’m So Into You - @thanialis The annual gala has arrived. Because of her status being below Ethan’s, they have to keep it professional.

“I’ve been in love with you for years.” - @brooks-eden He encouraged her to pursue a career elsewhere and they’re having growing pains.

If I’d Been In Your Position - @missmiimiie 2.11 rewrite where Ethan comes to realize how deeply he loves her. He would want the spend his last night alive with her too.

If Only I Could - @cariantha After conducting surveillance on Louise, Sawyer is frustrated with Ethan’s mixed signals. [2.7]

If The World Was Ending Would You Love Somebody - @utterlyinevitable When crisis befalls Boston will the two ex-lovers put their fears aside?

If You Love Someone - @takeharryandgo Ethan’s POV for the first scene (after the flashforward) of book 2. [2.1 Rewrite]

If you don’t like then you should have take your suite off - @ambraambrose Retelling of 2.11 scene with Ethan and MC.

It Was Heaven A Moment Ago - @usuallyamazinglyaverage A retelling of the office conversation, in which both Ethan and Anna struggle. 2.1 rewrite.

Impulse - @rookie-ramsey MC finds out Ethan and Harper are dating again and Rafael’s with Sora.

In a Mood - @cariantha The Grumpy-Sunshine dynamic is reversed when Sawyer's feeling out of sorts.

In Between - @storyofmychoices Ellie has recovered physically from the attempted assassination of the Senator, but mentally she is still struggling.

In My Veins - @genevievemd Ethan finds himself in a bar, trying to get Genevieve out of his head.

IN NOCTEM - @gryffindordaughterofathena The thoughts that flood our mind when the world around us sleep, is the truest window to our soul. What will a journey through Ethan’s thoughts show us?

In the dark - @alwaysmychoices Drunk and dancing in a dark club, MC can only think of Ethan Ramsey…

In the End - @socalwriterbee Ethan and Tessa are at the lawyer’s office to sign divorce papers.

In the Morning. - @writinghereandthere Long term unmarried couple deciding to get married when one of them receives a terminal medical diagnosis

In the Thunderstorm - @potionsprefect Victoria’s head is swimming after her kiss with Ethan.

Incapable - @alj4890 MC has a chance to actually come to terms with being back at work after she nearly died and her budding relationship with Ethan.

Inconvenient Truths - @liaromancewriter When Ethan’s mother is brought to the hospital after a drug overdose, it raises emotions he’d rather stay forgotten.

Inevitable - @alwaysmychoices They were thousands of miles and several years apart wondering if they should have tried harder.

Infallible - @angstymarshmallow MC wonders if Ethan thinks MC is his soulmate, too?

Innocence - @potionsprefect An incident brings up painful memories for the Ramsey’s

Insecure - @jerzwriter A bright day turns stormy when Kaycee overhears a conversation that leaves her doubting herself. Can Ethan help her see the light? Or will the lights flicker out?

Insecurity and riddles -@lapisreviewsstuff Ethan shattered her heart. Bryce was there to pick up the pieces, so she’s marrying him. Told from MC, Ethan and Bryce POVs Feat. Bryce x MC x Ethan

Intonation - @utterlyinevitable In lieu of barging into Ethan’s office in that totally bizarre scene, later in the day when things get too much, Ode goes to cry in a closet. Of course the last person she’d ever want to see catches her in such a state.

It Was Heaven Moments Ago - @mvalentine MC has a harsh realization. Takes place in 2.19 after Edenbrook closes.

Its Happening - @utterlyinevitable Set a few months after FATL, it’s Becca’s wedding day.

It’s time to go - @genevievemd Instead of leaving, Camila decides to get to the bottom of how Ethan Ramsey fell in love and got engaged. Part 2 of Champagne Problems

It’s Time to Say Goodbye - @oofchoices If MC left for the Amazon instead of Ethan. Ethan’s POV.

Jealous - @parisa-kh When a patient recognizes Haley from a party long ago, Ethan realizes she has her own way of moving on.

Jealous - @starrystarrytrouble When MC goes on a date with someone else, how will Ethan react?

Jealousy, Jealousy - @bex-la-get Nat wasn’t the type to get jealous. But when she meets her, things begin to change.

Jealousy - @lightofcordonia Lately Bryce has been more flirty towards Genevieve. Let’s just say that Ethan wasn’t too happy about it. Light smut and brycexfmc

Jupiter - @terrm9 Set in Chapter 19, after MC leaves Ethan in the atrium and meets her friends.

Just a Dream - @openheartfanfiction Ethan and Claire end up breaking up and he sees her with someone at an event.

Just For Tonight - @utterlyinevitable The gang ends their night on the town at the Edenbrook helipad but a certain attending crashes the party.

Just Hold On - @trappedinfandoms Chapter 2.11 Rewrite

Just Maybe... - @storyofmychoices After a successful dinner with the Governor to secure funding for Edenbrook, Ethan drives Ellie home, while she wonders what future they could possibly have.

Keep You Warm - @choiceskatie Ⓜ Ethan steps in when Teddy struggles to take care of herself. TW: Character Death

Kiss My Best Friend - @genevievemd Gen asks Ethan: “Would you kiss my best friend to save my life?” What’s Ethan’s answer?

Knowing Me, Knowing You - @jamespotterthefirst AU where she is dating someone else upon his return from the Amazon. Feat. Ethan x F!MC x M!OC

Kung di rin lang ikaw - @izzyourresidentlawyer Ethan returns back from the Amazon and their emotions are running high

Last Kiss - @gryffindordaughterofathena He left her alone, yet she finds traces of him everywhere she goes.

Last minutes - @perriewinklenerdie In her final moments, all she wants is to hear his voice one last time.

Last Night On Earth - @liaromancewriter If it’s her last night to live, there’s nowhere he’d rather be than by her side. [2.11]

Last Night Alive - @rookie-ramsey 🛸 What if Ethan was in that room? AU to chapters 10-11.

Late Night - @kittykatchoices MC and Ethan find that they have more in common than they realize. TW: past childhood abuse and trauma.

Leave Me Alone - @kashmire-blanche 🎭 Ethan Ramsey has been plenty of mistakes in the past but he must have really messed up now.

L'espirit de L'escalier - @helloayz What happens when Ethan learns that Anj might be leaving again.

Liars - @ernestlysinclaire Ethan calls MC into his office after noticing some conduct between her and Bryce. Feat. Bryce x MC

Life is Short - @takeharryandgo Baseball and housewarming chapters. (Book 1, Ch. 5 & 6)

Life Without... - @alwaysmychoices What if Charlie never texted Ethan that night? What if they never saved Naveen, and what if Ethan left Boston all together at the end of Book 1?

Light of My Life - @takemyopenheart Confronted by the sight of his mother, Ethan retreats back to the anger that’s consumed him for the past 25 years.

Like the Shoreline and the Sea - @stygianflood Ethan is asked out on a date right after Miami in Book 1.

Linger - @blazerina Ethan struggles within himself to figure out his true feelings for MC.

Lockdown - @rookie-ramsey This story features gun violence/a mass shooting. Loosely based off the Grey’s Anatomy shooting episode.

Lockdown - @hopelessromantic1352 🎭 How the story progress between Ethan and MC after the Maitotoxin attack. TW: mentions death, poisoning, sickness. [2.11]

Looking for the Light - @anonymousrookie Attempting to escape the memories of Miami, Keegan decides to explore Boston and unexpectedly stumbles across the very man on her mind.

Lose - @choicesaddictionwriting MC loses her first patient on the job, Ethan tries to figure out her unusual reaction to the loss and learns something new about his favourite intern.

Lost in Translation - @anntoldst0ries What happens when it’s just Dr Ramsey and his thoughts?

Love & Hope - @drethanramslay 🩺 Just angst and an alternative ending of oph b3

Love Found - @peonyblossom Ⓜ Ethan takes care of Sadie after her miscarriage. TW: Pregnancy complications.

Love Lost - @peonyblossom Ⓜ Sadie got pregnant during her second year of residency and had a miscarriage before she told Ethan. TW: Pregnancy complications

Lows - @drethanramslay MC’s trauma after 2.11.

Lux Solaris - @gryffindordaughterofathena It's the morning after the balcony kiss and they are at the seashore watching the sun rise in the wake of their new predicament.

Make-Believe - @gryffindordaughterofathena A death bed confession leads to a game of make-believe. 2.11 Rewrite.

Making mistakes - @perriewinklenerdie Her new intern sparks jealousy in Ethan. Feat. Jealous!Ethan

Makita Kang Muli - @izzyourresidentlawyer The story ends with healing, forgiveness and coming back.

Margarita boy - @lapisreviewsstuff After her ethics hearing Ethan goes to Donahue’s and watches her dance with Bryce.

Maybe Someday... - @txemrn Ⓜ A different kind of motherhood. TW: heavy discussion of pregnancy, infant loss and depiction of PTSD

Me Before You - @liaromancewriter A confrontation leads to the truth from one Ethan Ramsey after the silence upon the anniversary of a close friends death. TW: mentions of death

Medicine - @oofchoices 2.11 Rewrite of Ethan staying behind with MC.

Merry Christmas - @openheart12 MC joins Naveen for the holiday and runs into Ethan.

Messed Up - @blazerina MC misses Ethan but doesn’t know how to process her feelings so she tries her best to ignore them, but Ethan has other plans for the two of them.

Midnight - @starrystarrytrouble MC finds Ethan at Donahue’s after his mom returns in 2.13.

Miles Apart - @utterlyinevitable Becca gives Ethan a call. She never anticipated he would pick up the phone.

Mistakes - @lsvdw-blog MC confronts Ethan about standing her up.

Mistakes don’t define you - @perriewinklenerdie A mistake made a long time ago refuses to let him move on. There’s only one person who can help him get over it, and she just so happens to find him in the middle of the desert.

Mistletoe Kisses - @openheartchoices 🎄 It’s the very first annual Edenbrook Christmas party, and Olivia can’t help but spend her night filled with jealousy and mistletoe.

Mommie Dearest - @heauxplesslydevoted After 26 long years, Ethan finally comes face to face with his mother. Feat. Mother Ramsey

Montage - @togetherwearerapture After returning from the Amazon, some liquor and the sight of Elle with another man makes Ethan realise that the feelings he’s been running from, are deeper and more powerful than he had ever imagined.

More Than Coffee - @txemrn Ⓜ After an intense argument, a simple message in the most unlikely of places reminds Ethan of what matters most.

Motion Sickness - @droppedmydamncroissant Calypso thinks about the implications of being a doctor after Dolores’ death and what it means to be working underneath the great Ethan Ramsey.

Moving On - @lapisreviewsstuff She left Edenbrook 10 years ago. What happened?

Moving On - @lem-20 Will Ethan’s trip to the Amazon help him move on from a certain someone?

Moving On - @jerzwriter When Ethan left for a WHO mission without saying a word to Casey, then returned with a "reset" in mind, he told her that he wanted her to move on. Now that she has, he's not taking it too well.

Mugged - @therookie MC coming into the office of the DT a little late, looking a bit weird and when asked what happened she says she was mugged

My Oasis - @droppedmydamncroissant While in the Amazon, Ethan is haunted by the choices he made - he stumbles across an enchanting visage on a magazine cover that forces a few realizations into the depth of his torment.

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tabloidtoc · 4 years ago

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Globe, April 12

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Brad Pitt Blindsided by Abuse Bombshell

Page 2: Up Front & Personal -- former Vanderpump Rules hunk Jax Taylor hauling trash outside his L.A. home, tennis star Venus Williams had some courtside cuddles with her pet pup in Miami, sitcom star turned pot peddler Jim Belushi during a spin around Santa Monica

Page 3: Chrissy Metz runs errands in L.A., David Hasselhoff with his wife Hayley Roberts in Calabasas, Lena Headey buzzed around in L.A. on an electric bike

Page 4: Toxic TV talker Ellen DeGeneres is trapped in a tragic tailspin, belting back booze while struggling to get a grip on her fading career and rocky marriage -- after losing 1 million viewers this year alone, Ellen's once high-flying show is on thin ice and she's fighting with wife Portia de Rossi amid talks of a $300 million divorce -- her ratings are tanking, and her marriage is coming apart at the seams and she's knocking back the red wine to drown her sorrows -- her strategy is to let the storm about her talk show die down and then pull in some huge guest stars to win back her audience and reestablish herself as top dog on the talk show circuit -- at the same time, her 12-year marriage to Portia has been hanging by a thread and the two had been at loggerheads after serial house-flipper Ellen put the estate she bought from Maroon 5's Adam Levine on the market for $53.5 million and Portia thought it was finally going to be their forever home and it was like pulling the rug out from under her -- then another crisis struck home as Ellen rushed Portia to the hospital after she collapsed and Portia underwent an emergency appendectomy and is now recuperating but her spouse is a mess over Portia's health crisis and she's been drowning her sorrows in booze -- Ellen realizes much more than ever how much she desperately loves Portia and what she's got to lose if they split but she also knows it's be a lot of work to get the relationship back on track once Portia recovers

Page 5: Chevy Chase secretly cheated death after a secret heart condition landed him in the hospital for five long weeks and now he may never be out of the woods -- the 77-year-old, who is now recovering at his Westchester, N.Y. home, recently revealed the heart issue snuck up on him -- Chevy needed valve replacement surgery, and recovering boozer Chevy's long history of swilling alcohol had left him with an enlarged heart and acute cardiomyopathy, a disease that makes it harder for the organ to pump blood to the rest of his body and his heart problems stems from his years of drinking plain and simple and it's affected his heart, weakened it over the years -- however, before risky surgery could be performed, docs needed to make sure the comedian was stable enough for the procedure -- in 2017, Chevy claimed he'd finally gotten sober after one of his daughters said she gave up on him and his wife Jayni threatened to leave him if he didn't clean up his act but it may be too little too late for the comedy legend because valve replacement surgery could affect his activities for the rest of his life and it means his heart was pumping through an ineffective valve, and this damages heart muscles, which never grow back and he could have ongoing chest pains or dangerous heart rhythm disturbances, which could lead to heart attack or death

Page 6: Dr. Dre's estranged wife, Nicole Young, claims the rap mogul knocked her out cold in a drunken rage -- it's the latest bombshell in the couple's brutal divorce war, with Nicole making the explosive charge in an application for a restraining order that was denied by a judge and she also alleges Dre punched her squarely in the face after he felt she disrespected him at a party in 1999 and Nicole claims she woke up in their car with Andre speeding at over 100 miles per hour, drunk and out of control and he was swerving and weaving and she thought she was going to die and she also claims a drunk and angry Dre held a gun to her head during a 2012 dispute, saying she was terrified he was going to kill her -- Dre has denied all of Nicole's abuse claims

* In a desperate bid to save their crumbling romance, Jennifer Lopez and Alex Rodriguez are seeing a sex therapist to spice up their fizzling bedroom romps -- the duo called off their wedding plans after a stormy four-year affair and are on the brink of the end -- A-Rod staved off a break at the last minute by dashing down to the Dominican Republic, where J.Lo's filming her new flick and patching things up for the moment -- the biggest issue has been Alex's roving eye plus sexting various women on the side, and Jennifer wants to get to the bottom of why she's not enough for him

Page 7: Jeopardy! contestants want celeb medic Dr. Mehmet Oz axed as guest host -- casting the dubious doc celebrates the elevation of talking heads at the expense of academic rigor and consensus, according to a group of the game show's former winners and contestants in a letter -- the letter cites instances in which Dr. Oz used his authority as a doctor to push harmful ideas, and referred to a 2014 letter penned by faculty at Columbia Medical School, where Oz also teaches, calling for his removal from the program and the letter concludes inviting Oz to guest host is a slap in the face to all involved

Page 8: Jeffrey Epstein's accused madam Ghislaine Maxwell's third desperate bid to get out of jail on bail has been nixed by a federal judge -- the 59-year-old British socialite it rotting in a Brooklyn, N.Y. federal slammer denying charges she recruited underage girls to be sex slaves for her late lover Epstein, whose 2019 death in his jail cell is suspected on being a staged murder, despite an official ruling of suicide -- Maxwell's offer to plunk down $22.5 million and give up her citizenships in England and France was nixed by Judge Alison Nathan, who agreed with prosecutors the suspected Israeli intelligence asset was still a flight risk -- meanwhile, Ghislaine's lawyers claim she was abused by a guard and is losing hair and weight due to poor treatment in the slammer, where she's awaiting a July trail date

Page 9: Billionaire Queen Elizabeth is bracing for a big pay cut -- due to the financial crash triggered by the COVID pandemic, the Sovereign Grant, the tax money allowance the royals get, is expected to be slashed by more than 25 percent when it comes up for its five-year renewal in 2022 -- last year, Her Highness raked in $114.2 million from taxpayers, but that bundle was exceptional and cannot expect that to be repeated -- a major cost, besides allowances for the royal family, is a renovation of Buckingham Palace, which prices out at $500 million over 10 years -- one saving is Prince Harry and wife Meghan Markle have been stripped of their titles and public paychecks -- Her Majesty is aware of the current financial situation and is happy to play her part in cutting costs

* Prince Harry has landed a job as a hot-shot exec of a firm providing mental health and life counseling but it sounds like the tech start-up company is really using him as a celebrity showhorse -- Harry, who studied art and geography in college, will be Chief Impact Officer for BetterUp Inc, saying he intends to help create impact in people's lives -- BetterUp CEO Alexi Robichaux refused to say how much he's paying the prince, but noted Harry will have a meaningful and meaty role and will attend all employee meetings at the San Francisco headquarters and Robichaux also hinted at Harry's true value, saying he'll be a special guest at company events; in other words, the company will use him as a celebrity draw and they'll lure potential clients and investors to events by saying they can run shoulders with the prince and Harry has no psychology training; he will be a showpiece -- Harry first hooked up with BetterUp by using its app that gives proactive coaching and provides endless possibilities for personal development, increased awareness and an all-around better life and Harry says he was matched with his coach who is truly awesome and has always given him sound advice and a fresh perspective, which is so valuable

Page 10: Lisa Marie Presley is getting back on track after her son Benjamin Keough's tragic suicide and bitter divorce from Michael Lockwood, but she's still a hopeless addict -- Elvis Presley's 53-year-old daughter smokes like a chimney from morning until night and is struggling for every breath and she goes through a pack or two a day minimum and she simply can't quit and she has cut out triggers like booze and coffee, but she still needs her cigarette fix from the moment she wakes up until she puts her head down at night -- she was snapped having a smoke outside a COVID-19 testing center in L.A.'s San Fernando Valley and it was the only time she was spotted in public since her son died in July -- she started smoking at age 15 and has admitted this is the one thing that got her and bit her in the ass that she can't shake even those she's kicked pain pills, cocaine, booze and opioids and she's tried everything she can think of to quit: patches, nicotine gum, going cold turkey, but nothing works and she did stop for a spell after being hypnotized but a day or two later she was lighting up again -- she's losing weight, exercising more and eating healthier, but her smoking habit is the elephant in the room

Page 11: Following the heart-crushing suicide of her brother, Elvis Presley's granddaughter Riley Keough has become a death doula, a counselor who helps terminal patients and their cope with the devastating trauma -- Riley announced she'd completed her training on social media -- the daughter of Lisa Marie Presley and her first husband Danny Keough, Riley was devastated when her brother Benjamin Keough committed suicide with a shotgun last July -- spurred by the tragedy to become a death doula, Riley says she thinks it's so important to be educated on conscious dying and death the way we educate ourselves on birth and conscious birthing

* Reality TV train wreck Mama June Shannon claims she and her boyfriend Geno Doak spent $900,000 in a year to feed their drug addiction and the couple were spending $2500 a day, if not more, on methamphetamine -- June entered rehab with $1.75 in her pocket and they've been clean 14 months

Page 12: Celebrity Buzz -- reformed boozer Luann de Lesseps sips a soft drink in Mexico (picture), Real World star Rebecca Blasband believes she had an otherwordly 15-year beyond-the-grave relationship with Beatles legend John Lennon's ghost, in Australia a not so itsy bitsy spider bite turned into a giant wallop of a headache for Melissa McCarthy, Ilana Glazer and husband David Rooklin are happily expecting their first baby ironically right before of her horror movie False Positive, Sarah Silverman says no one ever told her not to use tongue in screen kisses and it got her fired from a show called Pride & Joy

Page 13: Al Pacino gets all gussied up in Italy to play fashion godfather Aldo in the biopic House of Gucci (picture), Justine Bateman (picture), Tom Selleck covers up his signature 'stache with a mask in L.A. (picture), first-time mama Katharine McPhee hit a sour note with composer husband David Foster for blabbing their newborn son's name Rennie David Foster on Today

Page 14: Rihanna plunked down $13.8 million for a new Beverly Hills mountaintop mansion that's literally surrounded by noteworthy neighbors like Paul McCartney and Mariah Carey and Madonna who live in the same exclusive star-studded cul-de-sac, Tom Cruise is on a mission to unload his Rocky Mountain getaway for $39.5 million, Goldie Hawn gushes her life partner Kurt Russell is still hot as heck after turning 70

* Fashion Verdict -- Miranda Lambert 4/10, Taylor Swift 5/10, Phoebe Bridgers 1/10, Giuliana Rancic 7/10, Brandi Carlile 6/10

Page 16: Cover Story -- Angelina Jolie is determined to paint her ex Brad Pitt as an abusive, drunken monster, and now she's got their kids backing her claim that he's the dad from hell -- the mom of six, who's been battling Brad in court over custody and money for five years, filed new bombshell papers saying she and her children want to testify their life was the pits -- while the documents are sealed, Angelina is making sure their kids paint Brad as violent and aggressive and her shocking charges continue earlier accusations by oldest child Maddox, now 19 and in college, who accused a booze-fueled Brad of abusing him on a private flight five years ago and Maddox essentially painted his dad as a demented monster and he went into detail about Brad's terrible temper, the abuse he inflicted on the whole household with his binge drinking and the scars that exist to this day because of the appalling way he alleges Brad treated his mom during the marriage -- Brad has reportedly been sober for years and Angelina's new claims of domestic abuse are basically a rehash of the old accusations -- legal experts also maintain the minor kids can only testify if Brad agrees to it, which is doubtful -- the superstars have spent a combined $10 million in legal fees and are currently battling over visitation rights for their brood and Angelina has refused to compromise, wants full custody and calls it a fight to the death and she doesn't care about Brad or how anybody sees their fight, she just wants what she feels she is entitled to as a mother and will fight with every inch of her body and soul to get it

Page 19: 10 Things You Don't Know About Topher Grace

* Katherine Heigl boasts she's bionic after having two titanium disks inserted into her neck and the actress says the surgery has freed her from the most excruciating pain

* Wendy Williams broke wind in a stunning fart-burp combo while she was live on camera, right in the middle to discussing Kim Kardashian's divorce from Kanye West -- the gassy lassie seemed surprised at her own outburst and apologized to the audience

Page 20: True Crime

Page 23: William Shatner is creating an artificial intelligence-powered version of himself -- in true sci-fi fashion, people in the future will be able to ask him questions about his life and times -- the 90-year-old icon is the first person to be captured by an advanced video and sound system developed by the L.A.-based company StoryFile -- Shatner says with StoryFile, we can now be present for the future; your authentic self, for all time

* Furious perfume mogul William Lauder is battling to kick his former mistress Taylor Stein and their 13-year-old love child out of her home and into the street, because their supposedly secret love affair was revealed -- the big stink exploded after the 60-year-old Estee Lauder heir learned his secret teen daughter wrote on social media that her parents were divorced but actually, Lauder never wed Taylor, but kept her like a queen in a $7 million, 6000-square-foot Bel Air mansion with a $1 million annual allowance for years and the only condition was that she keep their affair and the child under wraps, but the Park Avenue playboy claims she blasted their pact to smithereens when his illicit daughter blabbed about the relationship online -- Lauder hooked up with Taylor in Aspen in 2000 while still wed to wife Karen, mom of three of his daughters -- he knocked Taylor up in 2005, but told her to get an abortion because he was then in the midst of divorcing Karen but three years before the 2009 divorce, Taylor got pregnant again and gave birth to their girl and that's when the moneybags lover boy drew up the hush-hush deal

Page 24: COVID vaccines hidden dangers -- scientists warn shots don't work and have nightmare side effects

Page 27: Gal rock roadie Tana Douglas is snitching on music superstars including George Harrison and Iggy Pop, who she got close to during her wild years traveling with bands -- in her book called Loud, she recalls her job hauling equipment for bands nearly ended at age 21 when Beatle George Harrison was ready to propose, but she blew it; the two were getting close under a kitchen table after George fled his own birthday party, where he was embarrassed by his present: strippers and she ruined the mood by firing up a cigarette and George told her he would marry her tomorrow if she gave up smoking but the first female rock roadie couldn't kick butts -- she has crazy stories about saving AC/DC's frontman Bon Scott when he overdosed, Elton John who did drugs and threw tantrums, The Go-Gos, and doing a line of coke with Iggy Pop intended for David Bowie

Page 28: Health Report

Page 30: Julianne Hough has plumped up her kisser, and her new look falls flat -- the newly single star may have gone overboard with lip fillers to the point where she's almost unrecognizable -- Julianne's had some surgical and nonsurgical things done, but her lips just look wonky and no one can understand why she'd do it because her lips looked fine to her friends and family, but Julianne obviously thought they needed more volume and clearly got carried away -- she's also totally gone overboard with the spray tanning and hair extensions and she ditched the short blond bob that suited her so well and now she's looking like a Kardashian -- her lips look a bit swollen, so it's possible they will settle down and her natural lip proportions appear to have changed, with her upper lip the same size as her lower lip

Page 32: Tori Spelling has got the marriage blues and she's been out and about without her wedding ring -- the 47-year-old mom of five was spotted buying veggies at Underwood Family Farms in California's Moorpark with her kids but minus husband Dean McDermott and her wedding ring -- Tori's fed up with her mate, whining he's not doing his share around the house or paying her enough attention and they've found themselves in a real rut where they spend less and less time together and barely mention one another on social media and they haven't had a date night since goodness knows and Dean is never in the romantic mood and lately, they're more like brother and sister than husband and wife -- Tori wants Dean to step it up and start acting like a hubby instead of a leach and Tori's exhausting herself by taking care of the domestic chores single-handedly at times while Dean has other things on his mind and he hasn't picked up a vacuum or washed the dishes in weeks and sometimes he doesn't seem to be aware she's in the room and it's frustrating her to no end -- ditching her ring is sending Dean a very clear message that he needs to stop taking her for granted and work on the marriage

* Paul McCartney dove deep into his Beatles past and emerged with a children's book inspired by the group's 1966 hit Yellow Submarine -- Grandude's Green Submarine, a sequel to Paul's picture book Hey Grandude, will be released in September and changes the color of the submerged vessel

Page 36: Reality TV momager Kris Jenner is worth an estimated $190 million and masterminded the megabucks careers of her reality star daughters, but she confesses she was clueless about dough when she became divorced -- Kris confesses first husband Robert Kardashian handled everything and she never paid a bill during their 13-year marriage that ended in 1991 -- she said she woke up to responsibilities that she didn't have the day before but she says she's a quick study and she knew she had to get it together and she felt such an enormous sense of accomplishment to be able to figure it all out and pay her own bills and make her own money and do her own taxes and there were times when she didn't have a lot of money, but she was very organized -- now she studies business for new opportunities and she's interested in different businesses and how they evolve and how they become successful and she just enjoys the business world

* Bobby Brown's son Bobby Jr. died after accidentally overdosing on a killer cocktail of alcohol, cocaine and fentanyl, his autopsy reveals, but lawmen say they are now opening a criminal investigation into the 27-year-old's death at his father's home in suburban L.A. -- the autopsy report showed in his final hours Bobby Jr. consumed a deadly mix of tequila, cocaine and the prescription medication Percocet -- he was Brown's second child with former galpal Kim Ward

Page 38: Long-lost letters written by Nazi dictator Adolf Hitler's father, Alois, reveal the freaky Fuhrer grew up to be a cruel, tyrannical, arrogant lout, just like his old man -- the 31 letters were discovered by retiree Anneliese Smigielski in the attic of her house in the Austrian town of Wallern and are the basis of a new book by historian Roman Sandgruber -- penned to Anneliese's great-great-great-grandfather Joseph Radlegger, who sold retired customs official Alois a farm when future Nazi monster Adolf was six in 1895, the letters reveal Hitler's dad was a brutal boozer and boss of the house, but depended on the skills and money of his third wife, Klara, a former servant girl the cheating creep had seduced and wine-guzzling Alois was awfully rough with her and beat little Adolf and the other eight kids -- like his father, Adolf felt superior through the knowledge he had acquired in self-study and he saw himself as a military, technical and artistic genius, not only as a painter, but also as an architect, writer, composer and actor

Page 40: Bethenny Frankel is sporting an engagement ring from fiance Paul Bernon -- the three-stone ring features a huge eight- to ten-carat emerald-shaped center stone and if it's a real, natural diamond, its estimated value is up to $1 million

* Gwyneth Paltrow just babbled something her second husband, Brad Falchuk, probably doesn't want to hear: she never wanted to get divorced from Chris Martin but she wed Brad in 2018 and Gwyneth calls him the most amazing man adding they've built something that she's never had before

* Suzanne Somers brags she and husband Alan Hamel are having sizzling sex three times a day before noon -- she blames doses of hormones for their frisky urges in their golden years

* Klutzy comic Chelsea Handler jokes about her subpar skiing skills online, but later revealed she wrecked her knee and broke two toes after she flew into the trees on a snowy slope in Canada -- Chelsea confesses she took the terrible tumble in British Columbia, where she was training with a personal instructor

Page 41: Vin Diesel's son Vincent is learning it's a good career move to have a movie star dad -- the 10-year-old has landed a $1000-a-day role in his father's new Fast and Furious flick -- the kid plays the younger version of Vin's character Dominic Toretto in the already completed, ninth F&F film -- Vincent's mom is Vin's longtime galpal, Mexican model Paloma Jimenez, who also has two daughters with Vin -- unlike his dad's megabucks salary, Vincent got the basic $1005 daily rate

* The faith-based Duggar family of 19 Kids and Counting fame is still feuding after a sleazy sex scandal ripped them apart -- Jill Duggar Dillard, who's outed herself as one of four sisters molested by big brother Josh Duggar, reveals she hasn't visited her parents' home in years -- Jill and husband Derick Dillard, say they aren't allowed at Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar's Big House without her father's permission and Jill reveals there's some restrictions but also they just feel like they have to prioritize their mental and emotional health -- TLC axed the family's show after Josh was exposed as a child molester and in the past, Jill's admitted she's not on the best terms with some of her family

Page 42: Kim Kardashian has been getting back in touch with her body big-time now that she has booted Kanye West from her bedroom and her life and she's been strolling around totally nude -- with the pair's six-year marriage officially kaput, Kim is gleefully letting it all hang out, while indulging in once-forbidden McDonald's french fries -- Kanye made a habit of telling Kim to cover up and picked her to pieces for wearing sexy outfits and he said she needed to class up her act and grow old gracefully but now she's free to express herself and a lot of the time, especially when Kanye's looking after the kids, she's walking around totally in the nude and it's liberating for her to be at one with her body and she's made no secret of her desire to pursue a racy image and right now Kim's priority is to get her mojo back and learn to love herself again physically

* Britney Spears confesses she's been so wrapped up in battling the conservatorship over her estate, she forgot about singing until her mom reminded her -- the singer hasn't cut an album for five years as she's battled dad Jamie Spears for control of her $60 million fortune after a court gave him control when she went bonkers in 2008 -- she now realizes she's neglected her career after mom Lynne Spears sent her a video of her signing You Got It All at a '90s concert in Singapore and Britney tweeted that her mom reminded her that she can sing and she never sings anymore

Page 44: Straight Talk -- Cradle-robbing Scott Disick has struck again, scooping up a new galpal half of his 37 years, who is barely out of high school -- the latest victim is Amelia Hamlin, 19 years old and daughter of Lisa Rinna and Harry Hamlin

Page 45: Sharon Osbourne is demanding at least $10 million to walk away from The Talk after being accused of racist and sexist attacks on co-hosts -- Sharon is playing hardball, saying she was wrongly vilified for branding lesbian co-star Sara Gilbert a fish eater and calling Chinese-American Julie Chen slanty eyes -- it's going to become a battle royale and Sharon's made her demands clear and will fight tooth and nail and she's a street fighter and is used to playing down and dirty, owing to her years as a hard-nosed rock manager for husband Ozzy Osbourne

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chiefpasca · 1 year ago

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mama-germany · 4 years ago

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~i have been working on this for MONTHS~

this is a thus-far comprehensive bio of my edgy emo child Keira. I’m using her in a Cyberpunk Red campaign so this is her bio as relates to the campaign, so some modifications have been made. This is not her canon form, but it’s close. if you’re part of the Swordfish campaign, go away, bc backstory spoilers. And trigger warnings for, uhh, a lot.

Keira’s the oldest daughter of Joey Youngwood and his wife Olivia. Her sister Carly comes along two years later, and two years after that, her parents go through a nasty divorce. Because of Joey’s demanding career as a contract Samurai for Biotechnica, Olivia gets primary custody. Keira’s childhood, while not particularly eventful, is marked by a distant relationship with her mom. Keira is a daddy’s girl through and through, she takes after her father, she resembles her father, she cherishes her time with him. Meanwhile she and her mom have little in common, and her resemblance to her father doesn’t really help. Keira’s dad teaches her about guns and how to defend herself and plants the seed of a love for rock music. He buys her her first guitar.

Andrew comes into the picture when Keira’s about 14. Olivia’s new boyfriend, he started out mediocre enough, but didn’t take well to standing off against the rebellious, petulant, and disobedient teenager, especially compared to her agreeable mother and mild-mannered sister. Their arguments turned physical more than a few times and Keira’s mother rarely intervened, on the basis of ‘Keira needing discipline’. For the record, to the best of Keira’s knowledge, Andrew never raised a hand to Carly.

Memories of Keira’s teenage years include studying music, similarly emo (and short lasting) boyfriends, piercing her ears and face by herself or with the help of acquaintances, occasionally stealing cigarettes, hooking up with her boyfriends in shady places, and going to prom in a short quinceanera dress at the behest of her father.

The second Keira turned 18, she moves out of her mother’s home and starts getting tattoos. She moves into her father’s Biotechnica funded apartment. While her father is thrilled, he’s also a busy man and Keira can’t really be trusted to keep herself out of trouble. He asks Skyler to keep an eye on her and keep her from getting herself hurt. That’s how they meet. Keira resents this straight-edge man trying to ruin her fun, but at least he’s cute. Through him she meets the rest of his friends, all elite corporate Samurai and soldiers who’ve been raised most of their lives for this kind of work. Maddelyn takes a shine to her, fascinated by how different her relatively normal life is by comparison to hers. Her boyfriend Dean despises her - seeing Keira as a stupid, obnoxious brat just getting in the way - and the feeling is more than mutual. Alina is ambivalent to her presence. Luce dislikes her attitude and distrusts her, but eventually they come to friendly terms over some common interests. Maddelyn and Keira eventually become close, bonding over Keira exposing her to things normal young women tend to do. They paint their nails, go out to bars, and Maddelyn is always a willing audience whenever Keira wants to practice her guitar.

For a short period of time, Keira’s got a boyfriend, Hunter, whom she meets at a music club. They manage to last a few months, longer than any fling she had in high school, but they too eventually split. Keira was spending more and more time with Maddelyn and the rest of the squad and, of course, Skyler. She’s very good at getting a rise out of this generally very even-tempered man, but at least she’s entertaining. Turns out that when she’s sort of behaving herself, he doesn’t really mind her company. He eventually shows an interest in her guitar, he asks her to attempt to teach him, and while he doesn’t take to it easily, it’s not too long before what do you know, Keira’s got a crush. She secretly considers Bad Company ‘their song’.

So her life’s pretty good, for a year and a half or so. Out of an unsafe living situation and spending time with the people that matter to her, and a couple new friends. That doesn’t last. Her dad’s essentially a soldier, after all. One day he leaves for work, and he never comes back. None of his squad do. Night City’s dangerous. Something took them all out. But Biotechnica’s excuses are pretty thin. Not that it matters to Keira - at first. Her father’s dead. She sees his body sent to the ovens before her eyes. She doesn’t know what to do, where to go. She won’t go back to her mom. Skyler lets her know that she’s still welcome around them. He and Mad look after her at their headquarters for the next few days.

The next few months after are her worst. She’s erratic. She’s impulsive. She’s drinking and smoking more. When she’s not doing that, she’s attempting to navigate Biotechnica’s departments to find out exactly what happened, what could have taken out an experienced Samurai squad with so little a trace, but Biotechnica is opaque. Maddelyn shares some of Keira’s suspicions, Skyler doesn’t. The others mostly dismiss her as well.

Several months after her father’s death, in that stage where you begin to claim you’re doing better but you’re really not, Keira finds herself with an older boyfriend. A little too much older. More of a sugar daddy, really, someone who can buy her all the liquor and cigarettes she wants. She just wants alcohol and a distraction. He wants a little more from her. One night he plies her with alcohol - she doesn’t exactly make it difficult - and starts touching her and doesn’t really take ‘no’ for an answer. Keira manages to bloody his nose and fight him off, she steals the keys to his motorcycle and leaves on it. But she’s drunk, she’s shaken, her nerves are fried, she barely knows how to drive as it is, and she crashes head-on into a curb. She wakes up in a hospital bed with Maddelyn and Skyler relieved she’s alive but not exactly happy with her. She’s got lots of breaks and dislocations, but at least nothing needs to be removed. Skyler angrily resolves to never let her out of his sight again, and Keira resolves never to let this happen again. She gets wolvers, Wolverine-like retractable claws, implanted into her hand a few days later.

She stabilizes after that, sort of. Sobered up, she spends more time with Maddy and Skyler and the others, taking them up on their offer to have a place to go. She’s grown a lot more attached to Skyler. A lot. He’s barely let her out of his sight for months and she does not mind. Maddy notices. Oh she notices. The sisterly pestering begins. They go out drinking, Mad teases her about her crush on Skyler, maybe it’s a bit more than a crush, and she says Skyler likes her too. A lot. And Maddy’s right about everything, all the time, right? So the day comes when Mad decides she’s had enough of seeing them dance around each other and takes it upon herself to lock them in a room together. Keira takes the hint and makes her confession. She loves him. Skyler........... doesn’t really know what to make of that. He’s shocked. Kinda confused. On the spot. Doesn’t know how he feels or what to do. He tells her people say and think crazy things when they’re mourning. Don’t make big decisions about how you feel like this.

~so that hurts~

Keira takes a deep breath and takes it like a big girl and tells him to forget this conversation ever happened. Forget she told him anything. She will too. And she keeps it to herself, but he’s her best friend. She can’t lose him. She doesn’t have much left. So she won’t press things and make him uncomfortable and alienate him. She’ll back off. Because she loves him. She hates Maddy at the moment tho. So does Skyler. Neither of them talk to her for a little while.

At least things return to normalcy, more or less, after a few weeks of avoidance and non-eye contact. Keira actually spends more time than ever with Alina, because she cares the least about her company. They have so little to bond over, but it’s the most comfortable silence Keira can find around others. But life goes on. Mad and Skyler and Luce are still her friends. As life goes on, Keira’s mind begins to wander to her future. She can’t stay there forever. She isn’t a Samurai. She isn’t one of Night City’s best and brightest, wasn’t born into the elite. She can’t be one of them. Over the next few months, Keira starts pulling away from the group bit by bit. She uses the money her father willed her to move out of his Corpo apartment into a place of her own (it’s small and shit, don’t get excited). She starts heading back into the chromer nightclubs, starts meeting new people. She plays a couple of small gigs, the last of which she actually got paid a meager sum for. Talks of starting a band are swirling around her head. Her childhood dreams of becoming a Rockerboy begin to resurface.

till they don’t.

She’s out on the streets with the squad one night. She met up with them during a routine patrol. Hanging out with Maddy, trading insults with Dean, the usual. They get an impromptu call to deal with a disturbance in the direction of Biotechnica’s offices. No one’s very worried about it. But they’re in one of the city’s combat zones and Keira’s a civilian. She’s gotta go. The rest of the squad’s written her off as Skyler’s problem, so he gets to escort her out. The details are hazy, but when the groups part ways, they never come back.

In Cyberpunk RED In their absence, there’s an explosion and an as-of-yet unknown team picks off the rest of the squad. Maddy barely survives and Trauma Team manages to put back together what’s left of her, and she goes into hiding while she recovers. She eventually hears rumors that the story is, she and her friends were eliminated for selling off company secrets. Framed, of course. It’s unknown what exactly happens to Keira and Skyler.

In my story canon, that takes place 200 years in the future instead of 20, everyone’s on a spaceship, doing routine things, shooting the shit, and they get that disturbance call. Keira begins arguing with Dean about his treating her like a pet. Maddy knocks her out to make everyone’s lives easier, and Skyler leaves with her. She’s given an oxygen mask while she’s out cold to make the transition to the smaller ship easier. While Skyler’s bringing her back to base, he begins feeling faint and passes out. When Keira comes to, and sees Skyler unconscious, she knows something is deeply wrong, and manages to pilot them to a civilian hospital, not the base. Not on her life.

Skyler is sequestered and once he comes to, is told that the rest of his teammates are dead. There was an accident on the ship after he left. The reality is, time-release gas canisters were planted in the air ducts to dull their senses and knock them out, leaving them unable to defend themselves against another ship blowing them out of the sky.

It’s been a few days. Keira’s access to Skyler is restricted. And he’s not recovering. Maybe there’s something to the whole thing about dying of a broken heart, but Keira suspects he’s being poisoned instead. During visiting hours, she asks a hapless nurse to take him for a walk, like an invalid, and she’s allowed to. Once hidden in a back stairwell, she jams an adrenaline shot into his chest, sets the stairwell on fire with a can of hairspray and a lighter, and they escape as the fire alarms go off. She brings him back to her apartment and nurses him back to health as best she can, just weaning him off the poison.

In both stories, at least he’s still alive and he believes her now.

Back to Cyberpunk RED, after a few days Keira helps Skyler find a place to stay, close to her, and they start trying to pull it together and make a plan of action. All Skyler can think to do is Solo work, and despite his protests, Keira refuses to let him go it alone. That’s how they begin their lives alone together in Night City, just trying to stay alive and find out what their loved ones died for.

#keira #my ocs

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from-red-string · 4 years ago

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Instinct

I'm so nervous for posting this for Day 3, I worry if anyone would read about Ana and Mora since they're not even secundary characters, they are just extras not in my heart but in the show, and this made it harder to write it. Anyway, it's here and I hope you like it.

Shout out to @sapphire374 for easing my worries and beta reading it 💛

Find all fics for Soy Luna Ficweek 2021, here

Day 3

Prompt: “Is this the second time we’ve both gotten stuck in the same elevator?”

Summary: The first time Ana and Mora got stuck in the elevator was when they stopped talking, a week later when it happens again: is it the time to rebound? or something more?

Warning: unfortunately it's not canon. Tino and Cato don't exist, they have never seen them, no one knows them in this fic

Genre: angst

Pairing: Ana and Mora a.k.a the lesbian moms

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Another silent morning in the apartment, a rare situation for Nina. From what she could remember, there has never been a quiet day home ever since they moved in. Mora's sewing machine, some random song playing as background noise, or just Buenos Aires' downtown being crowded and busy. Although she appreciated the silence, it's odd, the girl is not used to it anymore.

Now both her mom and auntie didn't exchange a word, Mora has been working on arranging some photoshoots, she woke up for lunchtime and only came back late at night, while Ana left early for her meetings then arrived at 4 pm. Seems like they had it all planned out just so they didn't have to face each other.

Nina didn't know what happened between them but hoped it would go away soon.

Well, unexpectedly it got different from other days from the beginning. When Nina left her room, Mora was awake and making herself breakfast. The girl checked the clock again, still at 7 am.

"Good morning, cariño" Mora smiled at her while Nina approached to sit on the chair.

"Morning." She reached for the bread slowly, hesitant. Her instincts told her to move carefully. "I thought I'd only see you later." Mora laughed but it was too stiff.

"I have to drive 3 hours to check for some special fabrics I'm looking for." The redhead tried to show excitement, however, such a rush manner showed her nervousness. Nina knew it wasn't about the fabrics. As soon as the clicks sound of Ana's heels started, Mora stands up. "I really need to go. Bye, darling." And left through the door carrying her purse, phone, and keys.

"Good luck there." Nina greets her and takes Mora's plate away immediately. She'd rather not step into whatever happened. Ana comes from her room in a rush and Nina wide her eyes when her mom gets to the front door. "Mom, you can't leave without eating."

"I'm late already. Sorry, cariño. I'll be back early. Bye… Hold the door, please!" Ana fleed before Nina could react. The girl opens the door to check on them but they were already gone.

The silence from home followed them into the elevator. None dared to look up from their phones. Mora started to tap her foot impatiently when she noticed the elevator was slow today.

"Can you stop?" Ana asked, staring at her screen.

"Oh, good morning. Now you can see me." Mora smirked, still avoiding Ana's face, kept tapping her shoe.

"More like I can hear you. Always so noisy."

"Can you? It didn't seem like that last week." The snark got the fashion designer, she provoked back looking at Ana and waiting for a reaction but she got nothing. "Back to ignoring me. Hope Mario has a better shot talking to you than I do." The lack of response from the lawyer building up her annoyance. "Even though we live together and have been friends for a lifetime. You rather believe in him than..."

"Give me a reason," Ana said, losing her temper. The elevator stops, slowing down. "I need a plea." Walking side to side in this shiny box they were failing to realize they were trapped in.

"My instincts are not a good one. I don't trust him." Mora decided to watch her friend through the reflection, pretending to fix her hair in the mirror.

"Of course not." Ana laughed at her. "Do you think I can defend a case based on your feelings? A judge would accept it, declare him guilt for you." Her voice was cold, but the rage -boiling inside was still audible.

"You're not a judge, Ana." Turning around she steps in Ana's way, staring at her. "Ain't a case but your life." Each word was another step forward, the lawyer's back hit the wall, but she wouldn't give up on a debate, her index finger touched Mora's shoulder.

"That's exactly the problem." This time the designer was the one walking backward. "My life is never good enough for you. I can't even decide on Nina's life without you around." Mora's jaw dropped and she stuttered, with a non-comprehensible sound coming from her mouth. "Not even a boyfriend." That's the moment Ana breaks, lowering her head and resting on Mora's shoulder while the other was glued on the wall, still recovering from shook, nevertheless, she wrapped her arms around her friend's body.

"I… I'm sorry, I didn't… mean to make you feel less..." trying to find words at that moment was completely useless, not even in her wildest dreams she would have imagined she made Ana doubt herself. Her friend's knees seemed to give up and her body weighted, they sank to the floor while Ana let out all she needed to. It's been ages since the lawyer opened herself like this, they were best friends, Mora knew Ana has been holding up for who knows how long, well if that's even considered opening up.

All the signs Mora neglected before came down on her. Ana has been distant for months, she pushed Mora away, anytime they were alone and approached each other, Ana would step away like her skin burned from the contact.

Mora kept Ana pressed against her body until the very last tear she had, waiting for her to calm down. Once Ana's sobs were more spaced, she raised her head displaying her red cheeks, Mara's heart stings with this scene, her hands capture Ana's face moving toward her until their forehead touches.

"I'm sorry, I..." Shutting her eyes, unable to face the tears that still shine on her lover's face. Guilty fell hard on her shoulders. Ana fought to be an independent woman who could support her daughter without her ex's money, Mora watched how much she struggled to get there, yet the main person who helped her in all her lows is also the same who stuck her nose in all her matters, Mora was both a guardian and a butcher. Now that she has to take a good on her actions, Mora told Nina she should follow her heart and go after Gastón if that's her desire, while Ana, Nina's mother, had explicit disagreed about this idea. She should've considered that maybe she wasn't helping Ana see another point of view but making it harder to care for her own daughter.

There was an even worse thought haunting her, she told Nina to go because she feared Gastón would repeat her story, going to another country and losing the love of her life, forever wondering what would have happened if she stayed. That thought scared her, she denied it to herself but it had lived in her mind for so long.

When Mora went to Germany, she made her choice, decided to go on an adventure instead of staying with Ana. She was young, by the time believed they would still be the same through distance, their relationship wouldn't change, but that's not what happened. It came out to be harder than she thought, they never revealed themselves as a couple, it was so natural for them to be together like that, the sneaking out, sleepovers, kisses, and loving moments were part of their friends, they didn't feel the need to label that. Once distance came into the scene, it got complicated, both noticing how much they missed each other, although not willing to give up on their paths, not labeling their friendship made it easier to move on, no one but them knew what went on inside those walls, they just had to keep going. They never stopped talking completely, they called each other every other week updating about their lives, never talking about their relationship, how they missed each other's touch.

When Mora visited Argentina, she learned about Ana and Ricardo's relationship, they were dating, that's when what was between them seemed to be forgotten by Ana. Mora was happy for her friend, of course, but they never left her mind.

Nothing happened while Ana's married, Mora's life went on. Both of them supported each other, and were always around. Nina's birth was emotional just like all the previous months Mora spent by Ana's side. They never regretted the choice that took them to that day.

Then suddenly came the divorce, not long after Ana needed a place to stay with Nina, Mora's house was always open for them, so they started to live together.

The intimacy level acquired from sharing the same place made them go back to their old ways. Little by little, their old friendship came back to the same mold from when they were young. Sometimes they kissed after drinking some wine, sneaked to each other’s bed after Nina went to bed, or just cooked together and held hands during dinner. Plus, small touches in public, taking care of Nina, going to the supermarket. Small domestic daily moments that made them feel comfortable.

Mora finally had it in her hands, everything she imagines. Then, Ana backed away, slipping through her fingers. None of them said a word about it, the unspoken words lost in the silence.

"I'm sorry," She repeated, opening her eyes again, Ana shook her head, scaring Mora. "Ana..." She had to admit it, she knows it wasn't right to push her own experience on Nina.

"You were right." When Ana said that, More dropped her hands confused. Ana leaned back against the wall, now sitting by Mora's side and looking to the elevator's door. "Thiago is a liar." Mora was even more lost. Who the hell is Thiago? "He is married." Ah, he is the boyfriend. It wasn't that deep for Mora, nothing personal, she just felt it in her that guy shouldn't be trusted. She felt a little proud and bit her bottom lip to prevent herself from smiling. Ana looked at her frustrated. "You're annoying, I can see you smiling. Yes, you told me, whatever." Watching Ana complain was the same as seeing an old picture, Ana was still the girl from school days behind the successful lawyer and tough mom facade.

"Ana," She waited for Ana to look at her. "It was an instinct."

"Shut up!" The answer didn't surprise Mora, but the small that followed it did. Ana closed her eyes and faced the ceiling, the smile glued on her face. "It's not that I don't want you in my life, you were always there for me." She faced Mora again. "But when it comes to Nina, don't disagree with how I raise my kid. She's a teen, just wants echo to confirm her ideas, they don't know the consequences."

"Nina is really responsible, you should give her more credit." Mora couldn't stop the words from coming out. When Ana narrowed her eyes, she raised her hands in defeat. "She had an amazing mom to teach her." Added with a wink making Ana laugh, she approached her face to Mora. The designer became extremely aware of the short space between them, a few inches to no distance at all.

"She's 17." They exchange looks. Too meaningful, too painful. That's the same age they separated.

"Why didn't you go?" It came out as a whisper, due to the almost non-existent distance Ana could hear perfectly, Mora should've stopped herself. That was a forbidden question. Ana immediately pulled away, looked at the elevator's screen.

They weren't working.

She picked up her phone to look at the hours, then looked at her watch. 20 minutes since she left the apartment since she left to her next meeting, she doesn't have to worry about it for the next 40 minutes.

"Why are you up so early?" Ana questioned only now noticing how weird this scene was.

"It's time to look for fabrics." Mora answered, snapping out of her thoughts.

"You'll drive for 3 hours again? You should've scheduled it for later, you don't drive well when you're sleepy, it's early for you." Her worries were real, Mora wasn't awake before 10 am at least. Listening to her made Mora feel a little warmer and a wide smile appeared without her consent. "How can you drive? You didn't even notice we were stuck in here." Mora really didn't notice.

"Is this the second time we’ve both gotten stuck in the same elevator?” Mora joked that both of them laughed. "One time for the present, two times for the past."

"Yeah, this time is fixing what the first time did." Ana reached for Mora's hand, intertwining their fingers. Mora caught her breath. A voice came from the speaker above the floor screen.

"We're sorry for the inconvenience. The elevator will be moving in a few minutes." Ana recognized the janitor's voice. Mora was stuck looking at Ana.

"We'll be free soon." Ana stood up, keeping their hands locked, then noticed Mora's eyes on her face. "Is there something on my face?" She turned to the mirror. Her mask was ruined, her cheeks were reddened and glistened from the tears, hair fell from the elegant ponytail she caged them earlier, her lipstick was smugged. She was a mess, but in Mora's eyes, she was beautiful. "I'll need to go home and fix myself." Noted annoyed.

"No, I can do it." Mora raised from the floor, got her make up from the purse to work with it. Ana decided to let Mora paint her as she desired, feeling a bit nervous but she wanted to show Mora she trusted her. Ana knows Mora is feeling bad for today's argument already and she saw every wince of pain that flashed in her dark eyes every time Ana rejected her touch.

Mora focused on making Ana's make up, trying to tone down her ideas for Ana's face and making something that would make her comfortable and pretty. It worked well until it was time to work on her mouth, Mora decided on a lip tint, in this case for her own sanity, lipstick would demand too much time working on a painting she wanted to ruin, too tempting. Her hand started shaking, Ana noticed it too but before the suggestion of doing it herself came out, Mora put the lip tint in her pocket.

"I forgot the hair. Lips are the grand finale." As soon as Mora had to reach her hand for Ana's she noticed that was a terrible idea. While Mora pulled the lawyer's hair free, Ana shivered at the quick contact of her hand against Ana's scalp. Memories from other moments those same fingers touched that place rushed back to her mind, her eyes closing to better appreciate the feeling. Mora saw this reaction and rested her hand on Ana's neck, watching the reaction until she couldn't help but lean in and close the gap between them, crashing her lips on hers quickly. The kiss was chaste, as fast it came, it ended.

Seeming to Ana as if her imagination had created the feeling because when she eyed Mora, the lip tint was back and she was ready to place it. But the beam on Mora's lip couldn't be denied. It happened, an instinct told Ana it did.

#soy luna fic week #after posting this i'll disappear because ahhh i'm nervous #be back tonight

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fictionaffliction · 4 years ago

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Better Forgotten

Chapter Two

Pairings: Loki/OC

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

Rated M

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

June 6, 2024

The clock seemed too loud in Dr. Hansen’s office as the afternoon sun filtered through the unshaded windows. She glanced up at it, annoyed.

2:30 . Her clients were due half an hour ago. She swallowed her frustration and massaged her brow as she picked up the phone and called her receptionist, Lauren, whose desk was down the hall.

“Yes, Dr. Hansen?” Her voice was chipper, likely because of how much coffee she drank.

“It looks like the Coopers are a no-show. Can you please phone them and see if you can get them to reschedule?” Ingrid said, looking over their file. It was disappointing to see them skip an appointment. They had made good progress over the last two months.

“Sure thing. Would you like me to send in your next client?”

“He’s here already?”

“Yep.”

Ingrid was used to people being right on time or five minutes late. To be half an hour early was nearly unheard of in her practice.

“Sure, send him in,” Ingrid.

“You got it!” Lauren said and hung up the phone. Ingrid found herself smiling at her young employee’s enthusiasm. Sometimes she wished she could bottle some of that energy for herself. She took a moment to refresh her lipstick in the mirror she kept in her desk drawer and smooth the stray hairs that had escaped her barrette.

There was a hesitant knock on her office door and she put the mirror away. She stood and straightened her skirt, crossed the plush carpeted floor, and opened the door.

The man at the threshold was tall and slim, wearing a dark suit and deep green tie, which only served to emphasize his pale complexion. His coal-black hair was combed neatly back, which almost hid how long it was. She smiled up at him pleasantly, not allowing herself to linger on the strangeness of his presentation. He stared back at her with striking green eyes. Something about him seemed slightly familiar, but she couldn’t place it. For just a moment, he looked ever so slightly unnerved, but she blinked and his expression was once again composed.

“Mr. Lawson?” she asked, holding out her hand.

“Yes,” he said in a voice just slightly deeper than she had expected. He took her hand gently. “Dr. Hansen?”

She nodded and opened the door wider. “Come in.”

He stepped into the room and looked around. The office was decorated in Ingrid’s favored modern style, with tones of soft grey and blue being the dominant color scheme. She found the colors to be calming.

“You have a lovely office,” he commented, searching for something to say. She kept her face in its practiced neutral expression as she made note of his body language. He held his hands clasped in front of him. His posture was excellent but rigid, with his chin held a little higher than what she would consider to be normal.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile. “I like to keep the space organized. I find that it invites a clear mind.” She gestured to the soft blue couch with an open hand in invitation. “Have a seat,” she said as she settled into the short-backed chair on the other side of the coffee table, crossing her ankles gracefully. He sat, but only after she was sitting.

“Would you like anything before we begin?” Ingrid asked.

“No, thank you,” he said, settling in his seat. She flipped open a legal pad in a handsome leather portfolio.

“Your first name is Walter, yes?” she asked. He nodded. “Well, Walter, what do you do for a living?”

“Advertising,” he answered in an almost practiced way. She scratched a note on her pad.

“Ah, psychology’s evil twin,” she quipped. He smirked.

“I suppose so.”

“And what brings you in today?” This was the first hurdle. Sometimes a client wouldn’t be fully transparent and Ingrid would have to coax it out of them. Walter shifted in his seat and cleared his throat.

“I’m...I’m looking to reconnect with my wife,” he answered, his voice tense. She nodded in acknowledgment, taking another note. “I was told that you were the person to come to for this sort of thing.”

She smiled. “Well, marriage and family counseling is my specialty.” She pointed her pen at her degree on the wall. He remained stiff. Best to stay on topic, she decided. “Are you and your wife separated?” He nodded, thin lips pursed as though he was deciding what he would and wouldn’t tell her. “Divorced?”

“No.” His tone was final. She watched him closely, eyes betraying nothing but patience. He seemed to realize how rude he had sounded. “We never discussed it,” he amended. Her eyes darted to his ring finger, still adorned with a gold band carved with designs she couldn’t quite make out. He followed her gaze. “I never had the heart to take it off.”

“You sound a little embarrassed about that,” Ingrid observed. His knuckles turned white as he briefly clenched his fist.

“I’m not known for being particularly sentimental.”

Ingrid looked up from her notes and smiled softly. “Then you have made a very brave choice in coming here. It can be difficult to allow yourself to be vulnerable.” He chuckled and shook his head as though trying to shrug off the idea.

Ingrid let him linger a moment in the silence that followed before calling him back to the present. “How long have you been separated?” she asked.

He thought for a moment. “About thirteen years.”

She raised her eyebrows and leaned forward, lacing her fingers together. “That’s a long time.” He nodded. “Were either of you victims of the Decimation?”

Walter nodded again slowly, keeping eye contact with her as though trying to make her understand his reasons without speaking them aloud. She would get to the bottom of it eventually, but if he did not wish to discuss it now, she certainly would not push it. The elimination of half the population had caused a significant amount of trauma for most people. The sudden loss of so many loved ones left many feeling alone and instilled a sense of fear and uncertainty that left them feeling hopeless. Some feared that a second Decimation would happen, and the lives that they had managed to piece together would be shattered once more.

It was a topic for another session.

“Have you spoken to her since then?”

“No,” he said, his voice quiet. “No, I haven’t.”

“I see.” She sat back again and folded her hands in her lap. “Well, the Decimation certainly has affected relationships, whether it’s torn them apart or prompted couples to get back together. That being said, thirteen years of separation changes the dynamic of a relationship. It may be...difficult for your marriage to recover.”

He frowned. “Are you saying you can’t help me?” There was an icy edge to his voice that unnerved her. Something had peeked through his carefully crafted fa ç ade. Rage, loss, desperation? It seemed to be all of those things at once and then none of them at all.

“Not at all,” she said after a pause that was longer than she meant it to be. “I only want you to be prepared if your wife does not wish to pursue reconciliation.”

He ran his fingers over his ring, staring out the window again. “Don’t say that, Doctor. I need her back.”

“I will do everything I can,” she assured him.

“Thank you,” he said, refocusing his eyes on her. She nodded.

“The Decimation was only six years ago,” Ingrid continued. “What happened to prompt such a lengthy separation before that?”

Walter considered her carefully before replying, watching her as keenly as she watched him. “There was a...family disagreement regarding an inheritance.”

“And this was enough for you to separate?” she asked curiously.

His jaw clenched and relaxed again as he shifted in his seat. “Yes,” he answered after a pause that was a mere moment too long. She waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t.

Perhaps she could prompt him in the right direction. “Tell me about your family,” she said gently.

“I don’t see what they have to do with anything,” he hissed, a small snarl revealing itself under his sharp nose.

Though the severity of his reaction was slightly unusual, the sentiment was not. The connection between one’s upbringing and how they handled their personal relationships were inextricably linked, whether it was because the person wanted to be just like their parents, or the opposite of them, or simply because they mimicked what they observed and knew to be normal. More often than not, they were entirely unaware of the connection.

“Think of your psyche as a house.” Ingrid began. “If your childhood is your foundation, then everything built upon it is dependent on it. If the foundation is flawed, then the frame of your house might tilt. You might not even notice it at first, but sooner or later you’ll want to hang a picture and that picture will never quite hang straight.” He tilted his head and raised a brow in what appeared to be amusement. “We need to examine your foundation to see why your pictures aren’t hanging straight.”

He allowed himself a chuckle. “I don’t know if there are enough hours in a day to recount all of my family’s failings. Besides, I don’t think you’ve ever heard a story quite like mine.”

She sat forward. “Try me.”

He took in a deep breath and let it hiss loudly out between his lips. “It’s complicated.” She squinted quizzically at him. He huffed. “Why does this have to be so difficult?”

Ingrid closed her notebook and set it down. “The first session is always the hardest,” she said reassuringly. “Why don’t we take a break? I could personally use a cup of tea.” He sighed and nodded. She got up and went to the electric kettle she kept on the side table by the door and flicked the switch.

“I’ll take a black coffee,” Walter said from the couch. She set a bag of pomegranate tea in her mug to steep and poured him a cup of coffee. She held his drink out to him as she came back around to face him.

Walter’s hand reached out to take it from her. As he took the clean white ceramic mug, his fingers brushed against her skin. Surely an accident, but Ingrid found herself holding his gaze. Something familiar scratched at the back of her mind. Not quite déjà vu, but more like the hazy memory of a long-forgotten dream. But the harder she tried to dredge it to the surface, the further down it sank. A pain bloomed behind her eyes. She looked away and massaged her temple with her free hand.

She hoped it wouldn’t turn into an episode. The idea of getting a migraine during an appointment was mortifying.

“Is something the matter?” Walter inquired.

Ingrid shook her head. “It’s nothing. Just a bit of a headache. I’m sure some tea will clear it right up,” she assured him with a smile as she resumed her seat.

Walter sipped his coffee thoughtfully. His gaze did not leave her as he brought the mug to his lips. She found it slightly unnerving. The spot behind her eyes throbbed again. She set her mug down with a wince as she pressed her hand to her forehead firmly.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Walter asked, a slight tone of worry coloring his voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she insisted as the pain subsided again. “Sorry, that was so strange. Let’s continue, shall we? Tell me about your wife.”

He rubbed his thumb along the handle of the mug and sighed. “Gentle, kind most of the time, and beautiful of course.”

“Of course,” Ingrid agreed with a smile, though she wondered if perhaps he was seeing through lenses tinted with pretty memories. “What’s her name?”

Walter’s hands stilled. He set his cup down and steepled his fingers in consideration as he examined Ingrid from across the room. She raised an eyebrow, waiting for his response.

“Sigyn.” The name fell from his mouth with reverence, the syllables passing over his lips like an incantation. Longing draped itself over the word and Ingrid felt a pang of sympathy. His wife’s name was sacred to him even after so long being apart from her.

“Like the myth,” she remarked, pretending not to notice Walter’s initial hesitation. He sighed heavily, his eyes sliding away from her. “Have I upset you?” she asked with a practiced but sincere tone. Walter frowned but remained silent, running his fingers over his bottom lip in thought. “Walter?”

He glanced up at her again before getting to his feet and crossing the room to the window. Ingrid stood and followed him as he clasped his hands behind his back, reminding her of a ship’s captain surveying the deck below. She wasn’t alarmed by the behavior, having dealt with many couples trying to hash out issues and finding themselves pacing in an attempt to work off the nervous energy.

“Myths,” he muttered, studying the New York skyline. “That’s what we were reduced to.”

Her brow furrowed. We?

“Only they weren’t myths, were they? Thor is real. He’s out there making a spectacle of himself every chance he gets,” he said, spite cutting into his voice.

“Well, yes. I suppose that’s true,” she admitted. “A lot of things we thought were impossible have been proven possible over the past few years.”

He turned abruptly to look at her again, green eyes piercing her own in a way that made her suddenly feel like she was under a microscope. “More than possible, Doctor. Factual.”

She opened her mouth to agree but found herself mute at the sight of a golden shimmer passing over Walter’s body. She gasped and stumbled backward into her desk, knocking over a stack of paperwork. He stepped toward her as his suit was replaced by a black breastplate with gold inlay catching the light of the afternoon sun. A long green cape flared out behind him as he continued forward with a wicked smirk.

In his full regalia, the image of him finally placed itself in Ingrid’s memory.

“You-” she said breathlessly. “You’re Loki. You’re the one who attacked New York!” she exclaimed shakily, pressing herself farther against her desk.

His smile faded, replaced by a bewildered expression. “What?”

Panic ripped itself through her veins and she did the only thing she could think of. Ingrid opened her mouth to scream for help, but her cry was quickly muffled by Loki’s hand.

“Don’t,” he said in a low voice, keeping his hand clamped over her mouth.

She fumbled for something to defend herself with and blindly snatched a copy of the DSM-V, hitting him over the head with the heavy book, knocking his hand away. He grunted at the force of the strike but hardly seemed slowed by it. If anything, he looked annoyed. She made to punch him before he caught her hand, arresting her blow just as she was about to connect with his face. She tried again, only for him to repeat his defense and catch her other hand.

“Stop it!” he demanded, scowling down at her.

She stilled, trying to remember any negotiating tactics she could think of. Did the same rules apply to alien supervillains? “What do you want from me?” she asked, trying to match his scowl.

His grip slackened just a little. “I’m not--”

At that precise moment, the door came flying open and Lauren burst into the room. Ingrid wanted to shout to her to run, but then she saw the pistol trained on Loki’s chest.

“Why do you have a gun?!” was the only thing Ingrid could manage.

“Get down!” Lauren shouted back at her.

Ingrid felt herself being pushed away as Loki lept away and the first shot rang out. Ingrid screamed and took cover behind her desk, covering her ears in an attempt to block out the deafening noise of gunfire. She heard glass shatter and in a strange moment of confusion wondered how much replacing the windows was going to cost her. The gunfire stopped and Lauren swore.

Ingrid peeked out from behind her desk to see that the middle window was shattered. Her ears were ringing and her hip ached from where she had hit the floor, but she seemed to be otherwise unscathed. Loki was nowhere to be seen. Her eyes finally landed on Lauren, who was reloading her magazine.

“Lauren, what the hell-?” Ingrid said breathlessly, unable to articulate further.

“Dr. Hansen, are you hurt?” Lauren asked, her voice lower than Ingrid was used to hearing.

"No, I don't think so," she replied quickly.

"Good. I need you to come with me," Lauren said, barely letting Ingrid finish her sentence.

“But-”

“Now.” She grabbed Ingrid’s arm and pulled her out into the hallway and to the stairwell. Ingrid immediately regretted wearing heels that day and quickly pulled her shoes off, opting to carry them instead. Lauren urged her to hurry as she led a now barefoot Ingrid down the four flights of stairs to the ground floor parking garage.

“Where are we going?” Ingrid asked desperately.

“Getting you out of here,” she replied.

“But why? He’s not even here anymore,” the bewildered psychologist pointed out as Lauren pulled her to a shiny black sedan and ushered her into the passenger seat. “Hey!” Ingrid protested as the door slammed without a response from her receptionist.

“We don’t know that,” Lauren said as she hurriedly got into the driver’s seat and turned the key, peeling out of the parking garage as quickly as she could. She directed her phone assistant to call someone named Maria Hill. The robotic voice confirmed the call and the phone was answered before the first ring was finished.

“This is Hill,” said the steady, feminine voice on the other end of the line.

“Hill, this is Soren. We’ve had an incident,” Lauren said. Ingrid made a face.

“Soren?” she asked. Lauren just shook her head as a signal for her to be quiet.

“Who is that?” Hill asked, concern coloring her tone.

“One half of the incident,” was Lauren’s reply. “I have Dr. Hansen with me. She was confronted by Loki.”

There was a brief silence before a stern reply. “Get her here, now.”

“Already on it. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Good.”

The call ended and Ingrid looked at Lauren questioningly. “Am I being kidnapped?” Ingrid asked. Lauren smirked.

“No Dr. Hansen, you’re not being kidnapped,” she said in a flat tone that only vaguely revealed her amusement.

“Then do you want to explain just what the hell is going on?” Ingrid said, anxiety now dissolving into irritation as she slipped her shoes back on her feet. “Starting with your real name.”

“I can explain everything once we reach our rendezvous point, but I can tell you that my name is Soren and I am not a secretary.”

“Oh, well that explains everything,” Ingrid said sarcastically. “I want to know what’s going on, now, before I go anywhere with you.”

Soren stopped the car at a stoplight abruptly and Ingrid’s seatbelt constricted painfully across her chest. The younger woman turned to look at her with a face devoid of any amusement, her brown eyes narrowed. “Look Doctor, I know you’re scared and confused, but I have been ordered to keep you safe. We aren’t sure what Loki wants or why, but we’re going to figure it out. Right now, you just have to trust me, okay?” Ingrid swallowed and nodded. “Good.”

Soren hit the gas as the light turned green.

“Can I at least ask where we’re going?”

“Greenwich Village.”

The hour and a half it took to get to the grey nondescript building would have been a mere forty-five minutes if not for the New York traffic. Ingrid thought mundanely about how traffic in large cities was awful no matter where you went. They pulled into a parking structure that appeared to be largely abandoned.

“I know, it’s pretty austere looking,” Soren said. “We just want to make sure we aren’t somewhere where he might hear us.” Ingrid couldn’t stop the anxiety from creeping into her chest as they parked next to a black SUV. Soren got out and looked around before gesturing for Ingrid to follow. She obeyed and they climbed into the backseat of the second vehicle.

“Glad you made it,” a woman in the driver’s seat said to Soren as the two of them slid into their seats. The interior of the car was neat, with all the bells and whistles and then some. It smelled like new leather, though it must have seen frequent use given how much it must have cost.

“Me too,” said Soren. “Dr. Hansen, this is Maria Hill.”

Maria turned to look at her and offered her hand. Ingrid shook it.

“Don’t worry, Doctor. We’ll take care of you,” she said with a reassuring smile. Ingrid tried to smile back, but only managed a grimace.

“I appreciate it.”

A tall man with cool brown skin and a patch over his left eye turned to greet them from the passenger seat. Ingrid watched all three of them closely, her apprehension only growing as more people were introduced into the equation.

“Am I under arrest?” she finally asked.

“No, you’re not,” the man said, turning to look at her with his single eye. “Dr. Hansen, my name is Nicholas Fury,” he said, shaking her hand. “Just call me Fury. I heard you’ve had quite the afternoon.”

“You could say that,” she replied. He smiled, though she sensed he was only trying to put her at ease. She set her jaw. “Are you with the FBI or something?” she asked.

“They wish,” Soren said.

“We represent an extra-governmental intelligence agency that’s been keeping tabs on persons of interest,” Fury explained. The vagueness of his explanation did nothing to calm Ingrid’s nerves.

“And I’m a person of interest?” she asked. Fury nodded. “Why? I’ve never even gotten a speeding ticket. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I know,” Fury assured her. “It isn’t that you’ve done anything wrong, Dr. Hansen. We’ve seen your records. Graduated NYU after coming here from England after a boating accident killed your parents and nearly killed you too.”

Ingrid’s eyes went wide and she pressed herself into her seat, watching him carefully. “H-how did you-?”

“Like I said, intelligence agency.” His voice was smooth and calm, though she could not help but detect the barest hint of a warning through his words. Her mouth felt dry. She tried not to show her alarm, but she was certain they could all feel it pulsing through the air between them.

“But why me?” Ingrid pressed.

Fury and Hill exchanged a look, communicating all they needed to without a word. They must have worked together for a long time.

“Your accident corresponded with an unusual atmospheric event,” Fury began as he turned back to face her. “We wanted to make sure it was a coincidence.”

“That was thirteen years ago,” Ingrid reminded him. “You’ve watched me for that long?”

“Yes, and it turns out it was a damn good thing we did,” Fury replied with an edge of irritation. “I know this is difficult for you to understand, but after the events of the past several years, we couldn’t take any chances. The fact of the matter is that in our line of work, there are no coincidences. We don’t know what Loki wants, but we know that he came to you for a reason. It’s our job to figure out why.”

An overwhelming sense of dread filled her gut. Ingrid looked down at her lap, nervously wringing her hands together. “How can I help?” she asked quietly, looking back up at them.

“Why don’t you explain what happened today?” Fury said as he adjusted his posture to get comfortable.

Ingrid took a deep breath and told them how she had had an appointment with a man named Walter Lawson, everything he had told her, and how he was acting somewhat strangely, but nothing terribly unusual until he revealed himself to be Loki.

“He didn't hurt me, but I don't know if that means he wouldn't have,” she said. “And then Lauren...I mean, Soren, burst into the room.”

Fury squinted at Soren with his one eye. “The alias you picked was Lauren?” he asked skeptically.

Soren shrugged. “Rhymes are easy to remember.”

Fury shook his head and returned his gaze to Ingrid. “Is that all that happened? Seems strange that he would come looking for therapy, as much as I'm sure he could use it.”

“I’m sure it was a ruse,” Soren offered.

Ingrid frowned in thought. “But, he seemed sincere.”

“He’s the god of lies, a master manipulator. He knows just what to say and how to say it to get his way,” Hill reminded her.

“Yes, well I’m a doctor of psychology,” Ingrid said stubbornly. “I know what manipulation looks like.”

The three of them exchanged a look. “This isn’t a judgment of your abilities, Doc,” Fury said. “Loki could sell you oceanfront property in the Sahara desert and you’d thank him for it. He’s been at this a long time. Longer than any of us have been alive or even hope to live. I very much doubt he was telling you the truth.” He raised his brows expectantly as Ingrid considered this. Her pride deflated slightly. He had a point.

“I suppose you’re right,” she said.

All three breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” Fury said. “You’re sure nothing else happened during your appointment?”

“Yes,” Ingrid said. “I did get a headache in the middle of the appointment, but that isn’t out of the ordinary.”

“Do you get headaches often?” Fury asked.

She nodded. “I’ve gotten migraines a couple of times a month at least since my accident,” Soren and Hill exchanged a look at the mention of the accident.

“My mother got migraines,” he said. “I don’t envy you.”

“I’ve got some memory loss too,” she added.

“Sounds like something you should have checked out,” Hill suggested.

“I have,” Ingrid said. “CAT scans couldn’t find anything wrong. I guess it’s just one of those things.”

Hill, Fury, and Soren exchanged a quick look. “Must be,” the man said, looking back at Ingrid. “Dr. Hansen, I know you’ve had a harrowing day, but I’m afraid it’s not quite over yet.” She felt her stomach tighten. What more did they want from her? She was exhausted and her headache had continued to persist since the confrontation, and she had the distinct feeling of grime on her skin from running through a parking garage barefoot. “We’re going to have to insist that you stay in protective custody until you’re in the clear.”

“What?!” she exclaimed indignantly. She felt like he had just told her she was grounded. “But what about my patients?” she asked in desperation. “I can’t just leave them without explanation.”

“We’ll get it sorted out with you. Soren has told us that your practice is your pride and joy,” Hill said.

“Where am I supposed to stay?” The logistics were sending her reeling. She wasn’t prepared to drop a small fortune on a hotel room.

“We’ll take care of it,” Fury assured her. “The most important thing is that you’re safe.”

“I appreciate everything you’re all doing for me, but I’ll be fine if I go home,” Ingrid insisted. All three sets of eyes looked at her incredulously.

“With all due respect, Dr. Hansen, I don’t think you understand what this man is capable of,” Hill said, watching her closely. “We’ve arranged for a place for you to say where I’m sure you’ll be safe.”

“And where on earth is that?” she asked, her irritation growing more apparent.

Fury smirked. “We’re going to visit another contact of ours.”

#Better Forgotten #my fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #fanfiction #loki x oc #loki x ofc #doctor strange #stephen strange #Marvel #marvel fanfiction #loki #Doctor Strange x OC #Doctor Strange x OFC #SHIELD #SWORD

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sunflowerseedsandscience · 5 years ago

Text

Part Five! I’m leaning towards the supremely corny title of “If It Returns,” taken from that old “If you love something, let it go” adage. Part One is here, Part Two is here, Part Three is here, and Part Four is here.

There’ll be a bit of a break before the next part, while I finalize the outline, celebrate New Year’s, and recover from New Year’s. Thanks for reading and thanks for all the love!

Mulder stares at the photo, unable to speak or even form a coherent thought, aware Dana’s watching him anxiously. It only makes it more difficult to think clearly and he focuses harder on the image in his hands.

Wide, sparkling blue eyes. Red-blond hair, long and silky, flowing down in waves around a fair face. An aquiline nose sprinkled lightly with freckles and a bright smile that’s somehow simultaneously charming and precocious.

It’s like looking at a miniature Dana Scully.

Mulder looks up at the full-grown version sitting across from him and the fear in her face nearly breaks his heart. She’s probably run through a hundred possibilities of how he might react since Melissa gave her his phone number... not to mention who knows how many thousands more in the years since her last letter. He smiles warmly at her, hoping to put her at ease.

“She’s beautiful,” he tells her, and Dana immediately relaxes-- somewhat, at any rate. “How old is she?”

“She’ll be ten in January.” Mulder does the math in his head, and yes, it checks out. She must have sent him that two-line letter right after finding out. But even though the timeline makes sense, her reasoning still confuses him.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asks. “Dana... did you think I’d be angry with you?”

She raises her eyebrows at him. “Wouldn’t you have been?” He opens his mouth to say no, of course not, they were both allowed to see other people so he wouldn’t have had the right to be angry.

But then he stops to think. Would he have been angry? They hadn’t been a couple anymore. He’d had his fair share of dates, a handful of one-night stands, even a couple of relationships. Theoretically, what had happened to her could just as easily have happened to him-- or, at any rate, to any girl he’d been with, which in his book would have put him in almost the same position.

Still....

Right now, he’s looking at it through the lens of maturity, with the experience of a thirty-two-year-old doctor of psychology. And even now, seeing this little girl’s face, concrete proof Dana had been with another man, he feels a twinge of hurt. It’s irrational, but still, he feels it.

When he’d gotten Dana’s last letter, he’d rushed to the phone to call her, desperate to know what was going on, to talk her out of whatever madness had led her to tell him they could never speak again. The number had already been disconnected, but what if it hadn’t been? In that state of mind, how would his college-age self have responded if Dana had told him she was carrying another man’s child?

“I think at first, I might have been,” he admits. “But I would’ve realized eventually that I didn’t have the right to be angry. And then I would have wanted to know what I could’ve done to help.” He narrows his eyes at her as another thought strikes him. “And you probably would have known that’s how I’d react, too. So that can’t be the only reason you didn’t tell me.”

Scully looks down. “No, it wasn’t,” she agrees. She twists her hands together around her teacup, and he reaches out and takes one, relieved when she curls her fingers around his and doesn’t pull away.

“Tell me what happened,” Mulder urges gently. Scully raises her eyes to meet his, takes a deep breath, and begins.

“Emily’s father is a man named Ethan. He was a friend of mine at Stanford, senior year. He wasn’t my boyfriend, exactly-- senior year was way too hectic to carry on a relationship-- but we went out every now and then.” She bites her lip and blushes. “And sometimes... you know, to let off steam....”

Mulder grins. “Dana Scully, are you telling me you had a friend with benefits?”

Dana scowls at him. “Yes. Now shut up.”

“Sorry.”

“Anyway... we were both insanely busy with school and part-time jobs, so neither of us were seeing anyone else at the time. And because of that, and because I was on the pill, once I’d seen his bloodwork, we’d stopped using condoms. But....” She sighs. “Someone has to be that one out of a thousand who still gets pregnant. And in April, that someone was me.”

“And you decided to keep it.”

Dana nods “Not because of the reasons you think, Mulder. Eighteen years of Sunday School weren’t enough to convince me I had no choice. And I knew it would wreak havoc on my plans for med school, but....” She smiles softly at the picture of Emily lying on the table between them. “I already felt attached to her, Mulder. I knew right away I was going to keep her.

“Ethan, meanwhile, chose that moment to tell me he loved me, he’d been in love with me for ages, and that he’d marry me in a heartbeat if that was what I wanted.”

“Quite the romantic,” Mulder observes.

“I told him I appreciated his offer, but that I didn’t think we should rush into anything. I decided to to delay med school for a few years, work full-time, and save up the money I’d need to go back to school later, when Emily was older. Ethan already had a job lined up after graduation and he was going to share custody and pay child support. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was the best we could come up with.

“And then we broke the news to my father.”

Mulder winces. Captain Scully had always been quite the traditionalist... and Dana had been the apple of his eye.

“Well... as you can probably imagine, Ahab lost his mind. I knew it was going to be bad, but....” She shudders at the memory, and he squeezes her hand. “I never dreamed he’d say the things he said, or make the demands he made. He insisted Ethan and I had to get married, and when I told him I didn’t want that, he told me I had no choice, that he wouldn’t stand for me shaming the family like that.”

Mulder’s jaw drops. Ahab had always been strict and demanding, yes, but Mulder couldn’t imagine him ever accusing Dana of making him ashamed.

“So... I stormed out. But later that night, my mother called and said she and my father had come up with a compromise. If Ethan and I married, they would pay my med school tuition, let us live with them, and my mom would watch the baby while Ethan was working and I was at class-- and later, during my residency.”

Mulder whistled. “He really didn’t want you having that baby without getting married, huh?”

“No. He didn’t.” Dana tries to pull her hand away, and Mulder reluctantly relinquishes it. She rubs her upper arms as though chilled. Mulder waits for her to continue but she remains silent. She won’t meet his eyes. He suddenly understands: whatever she has to tell him, she’s afraid of what he’ll think of her when he hears it.

“Dana,” he says. “Look at me.” She purses her lips and keeps her eyes lowered. “Please, Dana.” Slowly, she looks up, and tears sparkle in her eyes. “Nothing you tell me is going to make me think any less of you. Understand?” She chuffs out skeptical laugh. “I promise.” He reaches across the table again and his heart leaps when she lets him take her hand. Holding it in both of hers, she continues.

“I know what I should have done right then,” she says. “I should have called you at Oxford, woken you up in the middle of the night, and told you everything. I should have asked what you thought I should do... and I’m willing to bet you would have convinced me not to take the easy way out.” She sighs. “Which is what I ended up doing.”

Mulder’s stomach clenches at what he knows is coming. She’s not wearing a ring, he reminds himself. Anything could’ve happened since then. Calm down and let her finish.

“Ethan and I got married a week later at City Hall. The last thing I did in my old apartment, before moving into my parents’ house, was to write you that letter.”

As much as Mulder’s been trying to stay quiet, here, he can’t help interrupting. “But why, Dana? Just because you thought I wouldn’t agree with you?”

“Because I thought you’d be disappointed in me,” Dana says. “And angry, at least at first. But honestly, I trusted you would get past all that eventually, Mulder." She sighs. “It was me I didn’t trust.”

Mulder frowns. “How do you mean?”

“I mean....” She looks down again, a blush spreading across her cheeks. “My most cherished wish all through college was that our paths would come together again one day. Right up until the moment I said I do, I fantasized about you somehow finding out what had happened and storming into the wedding to object.

“But even more than that, Mulder, I was scared that eventually, writing letters wouldn’t be enough for me, and I’d find some way to be where you were no matter what the distance.” Her blush deepens with her admission, and Mulder’s heart swells. Even after four years apart at college, she’d still loved him just as much as he loved her.

Does she still? He’ll have to wait and see.

“I felt like I had to do it for both of us,” Dana says. “As long as we were still in each other’s lives, I’d never be able to let you go. You deserved so much better than that. And Ethan deserved better, too. I loved him as a friend, and I convinced myself that I could learn to love him as more... but I was wrong.”

“Where’s Ethan now?” Mulder asks... and then, as much as he’s not sure he wants to know: “Are you still married?”

“What? Oh, God, no,” Dana laughs. “No, by the time I’d finished med school, even my dad was willing to admit how wrong he’d been in forcing us to marry. After four years of listening to us arguing over every little thing, my parents were almost celebrating when we announced our divorce. Which, as religious as my parents are, is really saying something. But they saw how miserable I was in my marriage and they didn’t want that for me.”

“He wasn’t cruel to you, was he?” asks Mulder.

“Ethan? No, not at all, Mulder. He’s a great guy, a wonderful father to Emily. He and I are still good friends.” She chuckles. “Actually, I called him this morning to tell him I was meeting you for lunch.”

“Really?” Mulder’s not sure how he feels about that. A friendly ex-husband isn’t something he has any experience dealing with. Most of the women he’s dated have, at best, been lukewarm on the subject of their exes. “What did he say?”

“He wished me luck,”she says. Mulder laughs.

“So, that’s it,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “The big, bad secret.”

“Yup,” says Dana. “Now you know all of it.” She pauses, tension settled deep in the lines on her forehead. “So... can you forgive me?”

“Dana... there’s nothing to forgive,” says Mulder. “You were in an impossible situation. Would I have tried to talk you out of it if you’d called me? Hell, yes. But ultimately it was still your decision, and you did what you thought was best for everyone at the time.”

Dana seems to deflate with relief. She pulls his hand to her lips and kisses his fingertips, and he could swear electricity crackles between them.

“But,” Mulder continues, “I do have one request.”

“Oh?”

“Have dinner with me,” he says. “This Saturday night.”

Her face lights up, but then falls slightly. “I can’t this weekend,” she says. “It’s my weekend to take Emily. Ethan had her for Christmas this year but she’ll be home in the evening on New Year’s Day. And I’d invite you to do something with both of us, but... well....”

“But studies have shown that introducing potential romantic partners to the children of single parents can lead to confusion and a heightened sense of instability when the short-term relationship ends,” says Mulder, fully aware he sounds like a psychology textbook, and Dana laughs.

“Right, I forgot,” she says. “You’re a shrink now. I’ll have to watch what I say or you’ll start psychoanalyzing me.”

“Who says I haven’t started already?” Mulder asks, and Scully glowers playfully at him. “Okay, so, this weekend is out. Maybe--”

“This might seem a little presumptuous,” Dana interrupts, “but do you already have plans for New Year’s Eve?”

Does he? Yes, he does. He’s supposed to attend a party thrown by one of his colleagues from his former practice. He’s already RSVP’d and promised to bring a cheese plate. And knows full well that the hostess is hoping he won’t be going home that night.

Will he be attending the party? No, he will not.

“Nope, nothing solid,” he lies, and Dana’s face lights up.

“Would you like to come over?” she asks. “I mean, my parents will be there, and Melissa too, at least for part of the night, so it’s not exactly going to be a romantic evening, so--”

“I’d love to,” he says, and Dana’s smile is blinding.

Over Dana’s shoulder, Mulder catches sight of the clock hanging on the back wall.

“I can’t tell you how much I hate to leave right now,” he tells Dana, “but I have to get back to the office. My next appointment starts in fifteen minutes.”

“I should really be getting back, too,” Dana says, gathering up her purse and shrugging on her coat. They walk out of the tea room together and stand on the sidewalk in the December chill, neither anxious to leave.

“So... what time should I be there?” Mulder asks.

“Is eight okay?”

“Eight is perfect. I’ll see you then.” He steps forward to embrace her, half-worried she’ll step back, but she doesn’t. She meets him with her arms around his neck, her face curled into his chest, and he buries his face in her hair.

She still smells the same. How can she still smell the same after fourteen years? He inhales deeply, trying to take at least some part of her along with him to tide him over until New Year’s. He releases her reluctantly, and she smiles at him, then turns and heads off down the sidewalk. When she reaches the corner, he calls after her.

“Hey, Dana?” She turns, eyebrow raised. “Just so you know... I absolutely would have showed up at your wedding to object. The moment I knew about it, I would’ve been on the first plane out of England.”

#Sorry this one took longer #I kept getting mixed up #I'm editing my ice dance novel #which also involves a couple reuniting after years apart

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