woman in green blouse

anonymous asked:

“You can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen, cause guess what? It did!” and “What if I told you I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.” plance please.

So…I combined both into one, and ended up with a 3000-word one-shot in an AU I never really meant to write with bonus ‘childhood friends to enemies to lovers’. Oops?? Anyway, it’s probably not what you expected (it’s not what I expected either), but I hope you like it!!


(13) “You can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen, cause guess what? It did!”/ (46) “What if I told you I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”

Lance was a country boy at heart, but there was something about Arus City that made excitement thrill through his blood every time he returned.

It wasn’t home, but it served as his playground.

Now he loitered outside a crowded inn, leaning against the building while customers milled out during the morning rush, hefting luggage and patting their stomachs contentedly after a decent breakfast. The inn was reputable, in a section of town devoted to merchants and wealthy craftsmen:  not the richest quarter, but close.

Hunk mingled with those leaving as he returned, nonchalantly walking past Lance, who joined him without hesitation. Together they made their way down the street, and Hunk said, “So there are rumors.”

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[Mark] Teacher's Pet (Chapter Twenty Eight)

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A cheeseburger. I. Need. A. Cheese. Burger. My eyes flutter open. I’m hungry as fuck. The first thing I see is the grey ceiling. It all comes back to me. The gunshot. The pain. I know I’m in a hospital. I squint and blink, because my eyes hurt a bit. My hip aches. A face appears above me, towering over me. Brown wide eyes and parted lips, my mouth quirks.

“Mark.” I rasp. He’s here. Oh, I must be dreaming. He sighs in deep relief, closing his eyes.

“Oh, baby, I was so scared.” It’s almost a sob, his voice is barely audible. He strokes my hair and kisses my forehead. As he does, I smell his perfume. He smells good. I wouldn’t want to wake up to anyone else. But how come he’s there?

“What are you doing here?” I whisper as he gazes down at me. Suddenly, the door swings open. My mom walks in, in the middle of hanging up her phone. Shit! Mark doesn’t remove his hand from my hair. She sees me and freezes.

“Abigail?” She breathes in a mix of relief and incredulity.

“Mom.” I breathe. She closes the door and walks to me, on the other side of my bed.

“Oh, baby girl.” She murmurs, hugging my head.

“I was so scared. - she kisses my forehead- How do you feel?” She asks, gazing down at me. Did she notice?

“It hurts.” I place my hand on my wound over my blanket. Mark removes his hand from my hair.

“I’ll go call a nurse.” He says before turning on his heels. I watch as he leaves. He’s dressed in a black T-shirt but I recognize his jeans and shoes. I glance at my mom, and she caresses my cheek.

“He told me everything.” She says. The incident?

“What?” I rasp.

“About you and him. I know everything.” She replies. My eyes widen in horror. No!

“Everything?” I ask, and she nods. Shit! Why did he have to tell her? She purses her lips.

“Let’s be clear, I’m tolerating this, not approving. We’ll have to talk later.” She stares at me, impassible. I know she’s mad, but she’s holding it back.

“Thank you.” I whisper, my eyelids sagging in relief.

“Don’t thank me. You’ll have to deal with your father.” She replies. Shit, dad! Oh, no. He’s going to kill me. Before I can ask my mom if she told him already, the door swings open. A blond young woman enters my room, followed by Mark. She has blue eyes, like me. I like her nails. Her cheeks are really pink, I think she’s blushing. Mark closes the door behind them and stays at the back of the room while the young woman walks to me.

“Good evening, Abigail. I’m nurse Stephanie. Do you know where you are?” Her voice is husky, it’s really attractive. Why is she blushing?

“Yes, hospital.” I reply. My mom joins Mark at the back of the room, giving nurse Stephanie some space.

“How do you feel?” The nurse asks me. She glances in my mom and Mark’s direction and smiles to herself; she turns puce. I frown at her.

“I’m thirsty. And my wound hurts.” I reply to her.

“I’ll get you some water once I’ve checked your vitals. Dr Green will take care of your wound.” She says. She takes a quick glance in my mom and Mark’s direction. Mark is typing on his phone, their eyes meet, and she turns her eyes away as she checks the machines by my bed. I want to roll my eyes at her. Bitch, he’s mine. He can impulsive and bossy and mercurial, but he’s mine. I scowl at the entire planet as she does her work.

“Your blood pressure is fine.” She says, releasing my arm.

“Do you want me to remove your catheter?” She asks me. Her words bounce in my head.

“My what?” I ask. Her eyes look away from mine.

“Erm…” She looks for a way to explain it to me. Mark is smiling arrogantly at the back, amused. I narrow my eyes at him. My catheter? I have a what? Oh!

“Yes, please.” I can’t refrain the embarrassed blush that heats my face. I can go to the toilets alone! Well, maybe not. But I don’t want a catheter.

“Okay. If you could wait outside for a minute.” She pipes up, turning to my mom and Mark. They obey and walk out of the room, leaving us alone.

As the nurse does what she has to do, something occurs me.

“I have a tampon on?” I frown. She removes her head from between my legs.

“Yes. You’re on your period.” She gives me a sympathetic smile.

“I lost the baby?” I whisper.

“Yes. I’m sorry.” She says. So, the baby’s gone. I don’t know how to feel about it. It wasn’t its fault, it didn’t have to end like this. Okay, I’m not sure I would have kept it, but, it didn’t have to go like this. And Mark, how does he feel about it? He must know. My mom must be aware too. And I’m afraid to talk about it. I don’t want to know.

Letting Stephanie finish her business, I initiate an introspection. I don’t really want to go to deep in my feelings, because I don’t want to feel anything. I know myself, if I surrender in front of my feelings, I’ll sink into darkness. I’ll have to talk about it now or later, Mark is gonna insist. What will I say to him? How do I feel about the baby being gone anyway? I don’t feel that sadness of losing a baby, or the pain. But I feel like my baby didn’t deserve to go like this. I didn’t have the choice, but the result isn’t that saddening nor joyful. It’s not joyful at all. I was my baby, my choice to make. Yes, the pregnancy perturbed me and it prevented me from growing attached to the baby, but things could have been different. It’s unfair.

Stephanie leaves and Mark and my mom come back inside the room. Do I tell them?

“What time is it?” I ask. Mark checks his watch as he walks to me.

“It’s almost nine.” He says.

“I stayed unconscious for that long?”

“Yes. You’re a stubborn little thing.” He replies, his tone hiding a point of bitterness. What’s up with him? Nurse Stephanie comes back in my room with a cup pf water and a straw. Why is she so fast?

“Your water.” She says, giving it to me.

“Small sips.” She commands. My mouth is a better place to be now.

“Dr Green will be there soon.” She purrs, giving Mark one last embarrassed glance before leaving. Good. I hope she never comes back. I drink the whole cup in one sip.

“You told dad?” I ask my mom, my eyes begging her to say no. He’s going to kill me.

“I couldn’t reach him, but they said they’ll get him to call.” She says. So, the surplice is delayed. Maybe I can convince her not to tell her about me and Mark.

“Mom, he’s gonna kill me.” I beg. She scolds me with her eyes.

“This is not about you and your boyfriend, you received a bullet, Abigail!” She hisses, outraged. The door swings open once more. I swear if it’s that Stephanie again-

“Good evening, Abigail. I’m Dr Green. How do you feel?” A woman appears, blond bob, white blouse and stethoscope around her neck. She looks like a modern version on Marry Poppins.

“My wound hurts.” I reply as she walks to me. My mom and Marl leave her some room.

“I’ll get you some pain killers after examining you.” She says and gives me a warm, warm smile. I smile back at her as she takes my empty cup from my hands. She walks closer to me and grabs the end of my bed. From the corner of my eye, I can see my mom walking out of the room.

“The bullet bounced while in your friend’s head, which changed its trajectory. You could have been touched in the head. Unfortunately, the baby’s gone.” She explains to me. In the head? It could have killed me? The baby… I nod. Dr Green searches into my eyes for a moment, gauging my reaction, then starts examining me. She checks my reflexes, makes me touch her fingers…

“I’ll get you some pain killers.” She says once she’s done. I nod, and she leaves as the same moment as my mother comes back in. The room gets silent, and both of Mark and my mom walk to me. They’re going to talk. I don’t want to talk.

“Where is Bea?” I ask. My sister must be worried.

“She went home an hour ago. We’ll call her.” My mom says. So, she was here? She’s so going to insult me when she sees me. My little brat.

“You’ve made the headlines.” My mom says.

“Did I?” I raise both of my eyebrows.

“There are tons of paparazzis in front of the hospital.” She says. Of course, a gunshot in a high school, I bet I’m all over the world. The idea is chilling. Why did it have to happen to me?

“They know about the baby?”

“I asked the surgeon and the doctors not say it to the media, but tons of people could be aware in the hospital.” She says. The public will know now or later. I can’t begin to imagine the nightmare waiting for me outside.

Dr Green comes back a moment later with a pill and another cup of water. I want apple juice.

“Here. Take this.” She says, giving them to me. I gulp the water down with the pill. I’m still thirsty.

“You’re going to spend the night here, and we’ll see if you can get out by tomorrow depending on how you feel.” Dr Green says.

“Okay.” I reply. Dr Green smiles and turn on her heels to leave, and Mark hails her.

“Is food okay for her?” He asks her. Food! Oh, yes!

“Nothing too heavy. Soup, salad, or sandwich. No soda.” She says before leaving.

“Hungry, Abigail?” Mark prompts. Abigail? This man is infuriating.

“I want a cheeseburger.” I mutter.

“You heard the doctor.” Mark admonishes.

“With apple juice.” I add. Mark purses his lips, but remains silent.

“Katherine?” He turns to my mom.

“You haven’t eaten all day.” He says. She gives him a kind-yes, kind smile.

“A sandwich will be perfect, thank you very much.” She replies.

“You’ll have to get me back in.” He says to her. I frown.

“You have my number.” She says. Does he?

“I’ll be right back.” He says, to me this time. I watch as he leaves.

“What does he mean by getting him in?” I ask my mom as she sits in Mark’s seat.

“Only next of kin is allowed in. That’s why he told me about you and him, so I would let him pass.” She explains.

“Why did you let him in if you don’t like him?”

“He was in tears. He obviously cares about you. And he saved you.” She says. In tears? Oh, Mark. Now I feel bad. I can’t be mad at him, it must have been hard for him too.

“Would you like him if he was my age?” I ask her. She purses her lip, not giving me any answer.

“He risks his job and his reputation for me.” I take out my first argument.

“And you risk your heart.” She retorts. Yes, that’s true.

“That’s the only thing that bothers me. That, and your pregnancy.” She says. Oh, no.

I know she can’t yell at me after what happened to me, and I find myself being glad to be in a hospital bed.

“You’re so fragile-” She says. No, I’m not.

“He makes me stronger.” I murmur. She closes her eyes, and when she opens it, they’ve softened

“Abigail, I’m glad to know you’re happy, really. I just wished he was your age.”

“It’s bitter sweet for me, I never thought you would ever fall in love, but at the same time I’m afraid that if it doesn’t work, you’ll be as sad and wounded as you were before.” She says. She’s right. If Mark ever left me, I would… no. I don’t want to think about it.

“And I know I can’t keep you away from him. Even if I managed to, you would hate me, and you’d be depressed.” She says. I would totally run away from the house. I hope I won’t have to. I hope Dad won’t ask me to leave him.

“All you can do is be there for me. Please.” I murmur. She grabs my hand.

“Of course, Abigail. I’m your mother.” She cajoles, slightly offended.

“Now, the sex.” She says. I turn tomato red, instantly.

“That’s what bothers me the most.” She says. I tangle my fingers.

“I forgot to take my pill the first time we did it.” I whisper. She knows I have sex. I feel ashamed.

“You wanted to keep it?” She asks me. I shake my head.

“What about him?” She asks.

“He’s twenty-six, now or later, he didn’t care. It was supposed to be my decision.” I murmur.

“How were you going to do?”

“He said he would pay an abortion for me.” I reply. She sighs deeply.

“You hid all that from me.” She shakes her head in disbelief. I feel guilty.

“How did I not see it?” She asks… me? Or herself? I don’t know. I keep silent.

“When were you going to tell me?” She asks me.

“A little bit after graduating?” I reply. She sighs again. Her reaction is less bad because I’m in a hospital bed. I wonder how Dad is going to react?

“Dad is going to freak out.” I shiver.

“Do I have to tell him on the phone?” I plead.

“Yes, you have to.” She’s inflexible. Talking about phones…

“Where is my phone?” I ask her.

“I have it in my bag.” She says, picking up her bag from the floor. She hands it to me. Woah! 97 missed calls, 321 messages. Coach Barnes, Aurianne, Emma, Brody, Johanna, childhood friends, people I don’t even know. My twitter is blowing, my Facebook too. Later, later. I know I’ve made the headlines, but still.

“Does the police know about me and Mark?” I ask her. Does the public know? She shakes her head.

“The official version is that that boy was just a psychopath and that you were just unlucky.” She says.

“It was an obvious suicide, no one will ask any questions.” She adds. It’s… good? I guess. I put my phone on my ear.

“Who are you calling?”

“Bea.”

She picks up, and it feels like getting hit by a hurricane.

“ABIGAIL YOU FUCKING- WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?!”

Little brat!

I explain her the truth, not the official version. She is shocked. She says I’m on the news. After fifteen good minutes, we hang up.

My mom checks her phone after it vibrated.

“Your man is here.” She says. My man! Let’s see if he can make it up to me with the food. My mom leaves, and a minute later she comes back in, with Mark behind her.

“Here’s the food.” He says, waving the two plastic bags he’s carrying. My mom sits on my right.

“I hope you like Swedish bread.” Mark says, pulling out a baguette sandwich for my mom. She smiles.

“Thank you very much.” She says, taking it. Mark unfolds the tray of my bed. From the other bag, Mark pulls out a white bowl with a plastic lid. My scalp prickles. I sit up in my bed. It hurts a little, but the painkillers are making it bearable.

“Soup for the strainer.” He says, dropping the bowl on my tray. Chicken soup?! I eye my bowl, incredulous.

“I said I wanted a cheeseburger.” I say. Mark ignores me deliberately, placing a spoon, a napkin and a bottle of apple juice on my tray. He gives a bottle of water to my mom and pulls out one for himself.

“And a cheeseburger for me.” He says, waving a square cardboard box in front of my eyes. The bastard! My mouth drops open, I’m outraged. How can he do this to me?

“Eat.” He orders before I can say anything. I glance down at my tray, speechless. Soup. Soup?!

I’m not eating that.

“Will the police want to hear me too?” I ask my mom, reminding Mark I’ve been shot and he shouldn’t be so cruel to me.

“I just called them. They’re coming tomorrow morning.” She says. Mark opens the plastic lid of my soup. I gaze at him, and he looks at me intently. I won’t eat this! It smells good-

“How long have you been together, already?” My mom interrupts my thoughts.

“Five months.” We reply in union. Our eyes meet, and I try to read into them. Should I smile? My mom interrupts my thoughts.

“Were there times you lied to me?” She asks. I think she knows the answer.

“Sometimes when I said I was at Bea’s. I knew you would never call Liz to check.” I reply. She sighs but remains silent. I look down at my tray. Soup! I don’t want soup. Fuck this. I hate everything.

“Eat, Abigail.” Mark orders. I glare at him. Getting bossy on top of that? He holds my gaze.

“What?” He asks, staring at me impassively.

“If you’re mad at me, just take it out. I’m freaking mad at you too. But you must eat.” He adds. In front of my mom!

“You’re mad at me?” I’m exasperated. I’ve received a bullet, yet he can be mad at me.

“Quite, yeah. Eat.” He mutters. Oh, joy!

“What did I do?” I ask him.

“Abigail, we can have this discussion later. Eat.” He replies dryly.

“I’ll eat if you tell me.”

“Miss Kraige, you are as challenging as ever. Eat.” I roll my eyes at him. He’s mad at me, he’s impossible when he’s mad, he doesn’t listen when he’s mad. I obey. We all eat in a heavy silent.

“Done.” I sigh, giving Mark my empty bowl with my spoon, my dirty napkin and the lid inside. Mark has one bite of his cheeseburger left.

“Good.” He says. He drops his cheeseburger on my tray and takes my empty blow. He bents to put it in a plastic bag. The opportunity is here. I take his last bite and put it in my mouth. There. Mark puts my empty bowl in a plastic bag before throwing it into the bin next to my bed. He looks back at my tray, and a confused frown knots his eyebrows together as he looks for his hamburger. He glares at me.

“You really are a little monster, you know that?” He says, making me grin. I can hear my mom giggling softly. Mark shakes his head, taking a sip of my apple juice. This definitely lightened the mood in the room. My stomach full, I lay on my back, sighing deeply.

“Tired?” Mark asks softly. I shake my head, lying.

“No?” He repeats.

“You look tired to me.” He says. No, I don’t want to sleep.

“I want to watch TV.” I murmur. Mark’s lips form a thin line.

“You always do this.” He sighs. Reproaches? Again?

“Do what?” I roll my eyes at him.

“Try to district yourself from what you’re feeling. You know I hate that.” He says. Why does he know me so well? It’s not fair. I don’t want to talk about what happened, he can’t force me.

“Abigail-”

“Stop calling me that!” I snap. I know why he calls me by my full name, and it makes me mad. I glare at him.

“What’s so funny?” I ask him, his small smile irritating me.

“Now you’re expressing your feelings.” He says, pleased, too pleased. He takes my hand in his.

“Go on. I’m listening.” He says. I sigh. I don’t want to talk about it, I want to forget. I turn to my mom, looking for help.

“Abigail, your friend killed himself right next to you. Don’t make us believe you’re just hungry and thirsty.”

“I’m mad.” I say, because that’s all I feel. I’m angry.

“At me?” Mark asks me.

“Yes, and at him too.” I reply.

“We’re listening.” He murmurs before kissing my knuckles. I look at my mom, and she smiles warmly at me, her hand caressing my cheek. Okay, I’m gonna cry.

“I’m mad at you because you told my mom about us when you knew I wanted to wait.” I say to Mark.

“I am mad because I wanted a burger, and because I want to know why you’re mad at me.”

“I am mad at Henry because he never talked to me about his problems.”

“What problems?” Mark asks me.

“He said he liked killing people.” I whisper quietly. Mark’s eyes widen in horror, and his mouth drops open. I hear my mom gasp.

“He was sick.” I add. They must know this; Henry didn’t want to be like this.

“He said he didn’t want to kill me, but that he felt the urge since I said no to him.” I explain. Mark looks mortified.

“That’s what he said?” My mom breathes. I nod. Mark closes his eyes as if in pain and sighs, squeezing my hand. When he opens them, they’ve softened.

“Go on.” He says to me.

“I am mad at him because he didn’t tell me he was feeling so bad. I mean, I was his friend, I could have been there for him.” Okay, I am angry, and guilty.

“I’m mad at him because he fucking spilled his brains on me and I was covered in his blood.” Guilty and traumatized.

“And I’m mad at myself because if I wasn’t being so selfish, maybe I could have done something.” I whisper, feeling my throat tightening. I feel like it’s too late. Like I arrived after the drama.

“But if I get past all those things, in the end,” Tears spring to my eyes as I realize Henry’s gone. Okay, he was a crazy psychopath, and I probably wouldn’t have talked to him if I knew, but who’s going to punch my chin when I say bad jokes? I remember what he always says to me before each full out. ‘Stay tight, do what you do. Be pretty and smile, chin up, because you’re not coming down.’ And he was right, our stunt group never came down, not even once. Oh, Henry, why?

I have to stop, Abby. For you.

“And it’s my fault.” I burst into still, surrendering in front of the mess I made. Why do I always have to mess things up? Someone died this time. My friend died. He’s gone.

Mark hugs me silently. And I cry, for a long moment, until my eyes are swollen and red.

“He was sick, and he said he killed people.” Mark murmurs, dropping a soft kiss onto my forehead.

“He didn’t deserve to die.” I reply. He was an amazing person, regardless his mistakes. Yes, it wasn’t the real him, but the him I know was like a brother.

“Neither did the persons he killed.” He says. I frown. I look at my mom, and she’s nodding.

“You think it’s for the best?” I ask both of them. They look at each other

“I think it was a drastic and painful solution.” My mom says. A solution? I can’t forget he killed people. Killing is wrong. But, really? Henry? A killer?

“What if he lied? What if he never killed anyone?” I propose, wiping my nose on the back of my hand.

“The police will investigate. You’ll have to tell them tomorrow.” My mom replies

“I think you should get some sleep now.” Mark says. Sleeping? Aguish grips at my heart, and I’m almost shaking. I don’t know if I can.

“No.” I shake my head. I’m scared. I know what’s going to happen. Mark gazes at me, his eyes sad.

“I don’t want to sleep.” I can’t help the pleading tone of my voice, the distress in my eyes. Mark’s eyes get even sadder, almost apologetic. He knows what’s going on. I’m going to have nightmares, and he can’t sleep with me. Could he? Will my mom be okay with that?

“I can’t be there when the police comes.” Mark says quietly. I know, I know. I nod, and he sighs.

“I’ll come back tomorrow.” He says, getting up from his seat. Don’t go. He strokes my hair and kisses my forehead.

“Please, try to sleep.” He murmurs against my forehead. He gazes down at me and take my chin in his hand. Don’t go. Don’t go. My heart sinks.

“Don’t cry.” Mark pleads. I know he hates seeing me cry. He’ll stay if I cry. I want him to stay. He can’t stay, I can’t cry. I swallow my tears back.

“Good night. I love you.” He kisses my lips. His lips! They’re gone too soon. I nod weakly. I can’t talk, or I’ll cry.

“Good night, Katherine.” He says to my mom.

“Good night.” She gives him a tight smile. The kiss made her mad. Mark gives me one last look, and then he’s gone. I don’t want to sleep, not without him. I feel empty.

After asking me more details about me and Mark, my mom passes out on her chair, exhausted. I only have me to entertain myself. Or maybe not. I haven’t been alone with Mark, I don’t know how he feels about all of this, about the baby. I grab my phone.

God dammit! I know he’s not the kind to talk about feelings via text. What was I expecting?

Fuck! Why does he always hatch his anger? I think he likes fighting with me. But why? And why is he mad?

I pull out my biggest weapon: love. I love him, he can’t stay mad at me.

My lips curl despite myself. He’s trying. But whatever, my phone is dead now. I sigh heavily, dropping my phone on the small table by my bed and close my eyes, but it’s to very long until Henry starts haunting me.

Portrait of a Woman with Green Vest, White Blouse and Red Choker, after 1750

Pietro Antonio Rotari

Italian, 1707-1762

Oil on canvas

17-¾ x 13-¾ in. (45.1 x 34.9 cm)

Norton Simon Art Foundation

unilock: 'the relationship conundrum'

sherlock & molly being roommates, during uni au. rated t. 

1994, October

Molly blinked against the door - voices - and it was more than one voice, not just Sherlock talking to himself out loud, which was a regular occurrence. Locking herself in she stared in surprise at Sherlock sat on the sofa, but there was also another person in one of the chairs. Another bloke, lanky, ginger-haired. “You have friends?” she said without thinking. “Oh - I’m - I’m sorry-,” She almost wanted to smack her hand in front of her mouth, but desisted. It wasn’t meant to be mean, but she hadn’t - “I mean - I’ve not seen people come round-,” she blurted out quickly. “Sorry." 

"This is Victor Trevor,” said Sherlock easily, a bit more cooly than usual, his eyes practically gleaming. “Victor this is Molly Hooper - my girlfriend.”

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