#I am *loud sobbing* MY HEART IS MELTED AND MY WEEK IS BLESSED

[kanene-yaaay-o-retorno]

THERE ARE TEARS IN MY EYEEEEES!!!!

Oh my gosh. Oh, my heeeeart. So, so, SOOOO pure and adorable and precious and LOOK AT THEM BEING SO HAPPY TOGETHER LIKE THE AMAZING, LOVELY FAMILY THRY ARE!!!!

Maybe 48-49 with Patton and Toddler!Virgil? (Or however you wanna spin it? Much love. 💛

This went a little older than toddler and probably a bit angstier than you may have wanted but I hope you still enjoy it? Definitely ends in fluff. 

CW: Allusions to past abuse

Prompt: Bedtime kisses

--

It didn’t start out as kisses.

When Virgil first came to live with Patton, he was a world-weary five-year-old with haunted eyes and a cautious demeanor who immediately broke Patton’s heart.

“It may take some time,” the social worker told him, while Virgil hid behind her leg and stared at Patton anxiously. “He’s been through a lot.”

And it did take time. For the first few weeks, Virgil mostly hid in his room, rarely venturing out other than to use the restroom and come down for dinner when called. He would stuff peas and potatoes and dinner rolls in his pockets and take them back to his room, and for the first few weeks, Patton found himself cleaning old moldy food out of every conceivable nook and cranny.

But he didn’t yell, or tell Virgil to stop. Instead, he started stocking the cabinets and pantry with pre-packaged foods like granola bars, pop tarts, and gummy bears, and made sure Virgil knew he could take as many as he liked whenever he wanted.

If he really thought about it, it probably started with those snacks.

“Virgil,” he said that evening after dinner, as Virgil had started to totter off with a pocket full of garlic bread.

Virgil turned back, wary and startled as a baby rabbit, and Patton had done his very best to stay casual and he’d said, “I bought some new snacks. May I show you?”

Virgil hadn’t responded (he didn’t much in those early days) but he’d approached the cupboard with Patton. Patton had been careful to store the items on the lower shelves, where Virgil could reach. “These are snacks for everyone,” he said. “Whenever you’re hungry, even if it’s not meal time, you can come get some, okay?”

Virgil had indicated he understood, but didn’t reach for any of the items, so Patton had done so for him that first time. “Here,” he said, pulling out a package of veggie chips. “Trade you for that garlic bread?”

Virgil looked abashed, but slowly reached into his pocket, pulling the crumbling pieces of bread from their stashes and handing them wordlessly to Patton. Then he accepted the veggie chips and scampered away. Patton heard his feet thudding on the stairs, then the sound of his door closing, and sighed.

Baby steps.

It became a tradition. At bedtime, Patton would go to the cupboard and open it, perusing the selection of pre-packaged treats. And Virgil would appear at his elbow, waiting to be handed a treat of Patton’s choosing. (He’d tried at first to see if Virgil had a favorite, one he wanted to pick for himself, but Virgil had refused to choose, so Patton had continued to do so for him, trying to select a wide variety so Virgil had something he liked).

The next step in their journey came when Patton told a joke about Oreos, and Virgil had giggled. Patton’s heart had stuttered to a near stop, because that was the first time he’d ever seen the child smile, let alone laugh, and Virgil’s eyes had gotten wide and fearful, waiting to see what the result of his transgression would be.

But Patton had simply laughed too, and said, “I know, I’m pretty funny, huh? I’m working on my stand-up routine. Maybe you can help me out?”

So then the tradition was a snack and a joke. Patton spent the day scouring the internet for age-appropriate ones, everything from knock-knocks to puns (Virgil seemed to like those, and it still amazed Patton how smart he was).

“So Virgil,” Patton said, holding up a bag of gushers. “Why doesn’t the lobster like to share?” Then, as he handed the snack to the waiting child: “Because he’s a little shellfish!”

“Hey Virgil,” Patton waved a bag of fritos in the air. “What did the ocean say to the beach? Nothing! It just waved!”

The first time he tried a knock-knock joke, he was afraid Virgil wouldn’t answer, so when Virgil’s timid voice replied, “Who’s there?” Patton almost dropped the bag of mini chips ahoy chocolate cookies he’d been holding.

“Justin,” Patton said, hoping the tightness in his voice just sounded like anticipation of a good punchline.

“Justin who?”

“Justin time for dessert!” The cookies were presented with a flourish, and the gap-toothed grin and giggle were sweeter than any dessert Patton had ever had.

It did take time, though. The social worker was right about that. And it was six months before the snack-and-joke tradition took on an extra element.

The most rewarding part of it, though, was the fact that it was Virgil himself who initiated the addition.

“So Virgil,” Patton said, rooting through the cabinet--he was certain he’d stashed at least one box of hostess cupcakes in here, and they were Virgil’s favorite-- “Why did the superhero flush the toilet?”

He expected silence, or maybe a soft ‘why?’ Instead, Virgil said, “Because it was his doody.”

And without thinking, Patton turned around and beamed, holding up his hand. “Yeah, high five!”

Virgil shrank away at the sight of the raised open palm, and Patton froze, the smile dropping from his face as he realized what he’d done. But before he could begin to babble apologies--before he’d even had a chance to lower his hand--Virgil squared his shoulders, bit his lip, and lifted his hand, smacking his palm lightly against Patton���s.

So the high-five became part of the tradition. It was the first piece of physical affection Virgil had shown him, or allowed him to show in return, and Patton treasured every single one of them.

It wasn’t the only change. The snacks, which had originally disappeared up the stairs into Virgil’s hidey holes the moment Patton gave them to him, were now sometimes eaten at the kitchen table. The smiles, once so rare, were beginning to make regular appearances. Instead of sitting still and silent, Virgil began sitting...well, like a kid, swinging his feet where they dangled from the kitchen chair or shifting position on the couch during their movie nights.

“Be patient. Let him come to you.”

And he was. Little by little, Virgil was opening up, regarding him with less fear and more curiosity and even--sometimes, perhaps?--hope.

Still, Patton didn’t want to push it. And sure, sometimes Virgil fell asleep leaning against his arm during movies, or took his hand when they were crossing the street, but it didn’t prepare him for the moment Virgil stood at the cupboard for snack time and asked--timidly--if he could tell the joke this time.

“Knock knock,” Virgil said, looking up into the cupboard, at the shelves of snack food, and beyond them, the regular staples.

“Who’s there?” Patton asked obligingly.

Virgil hesitated, then said, “Can o’ peas.”

Patton arched an eyebrow--a knock knock joke he hadn’t heard? “Can o’ peas who?”

Virgil shuffled a little, then swallowed audibly. “Can o’ peas have a goodnight kiss?”

You could’ve knocked Patton over with a feather in that moment. He drew a soft breath and, trying to keep his voice light and casual, said, “But of course! Where would you like it?”

Virgil shrugged, not meeting Patton’s eyes, but Patton didn’t let that deter him. “Hmm. How about...right...here?” he tapped the center of Virgil’s forehead with one finger lightly, and Virgil giggled.

“Okay.”

Patton leaned forward and pressed his first goodnight kiss--light and quick--against Virgil’s forehead. And when Virgil smiled up at him after, he knew his heart was permanently spoken for.

The bedtime tradition didn’t start out as kisses. And it didn’t end with them either, because after that first one, Virgil took it as a given that he would get one every night. And shortly after, he wanted hugs too, and bedtime stories, and to be tucked in--the typical demands of a typical child, and Patton’s broken heart began to heal, hoping that in spite of everything, Virgil would bounce back.

“Children are resilient,” the social worker said, when Patton reported on his progress.

Patton thought there was resilient, and then there was brave beyond all reason, and he thought his little Virgil, his kiddo, was both.

The adoption paperwork was a bit of a hassle, but it was more than worth it. Because there were traditions that, once you had them, you fought to keep them.

It didn’t start with kisses, but as Patton stood in the courtroom with Virgil at his side, as the judge reviewed and finalized the adoption proceedings, Patton was determined to make sure it would continue with them, and with hugs and bedtime stories and as much love as there was to give, for as long as Virgil wanted them.

--

Oh shock look everyone, LJ  wrote another story where Patton ends up adopting Virgil!

We’re up to like seven cakes at this point. Hope you all are hungry.

[1kook]

jungkook + pure female pleasure

no joke that was deadass the title of the pornhub vid that inspired this tags: smut, domestic if u squint, handjob (f-receiving), a lil tit grabbin  wc: not even 2k lol  notes: why do all my ideas come to fruition at 1 am also this is one of many Jungkook fics I’ve started in the past week many of which will never see the light of day <3 god bless x2 bc its not proofread 

-

Realistically, Jungkook knows you don’t mean to entice him the way you do. You just loved being in his general vicinity, loved being drowned in his affection, being the sole object of his attention. And he knows it’s the long, busy week you both had that’s making you like this tonight, extra cuddly and extra sweet to him. He’d almost died when you opened the door to your apartment, so soft and warm in one of his big t-shirts and a pair of shorts so little your ass fell out.

He was whipped, anyone could tell you as much, but Jungkook didn’t care. Sure, he’d been deeply connected with other women before, but the way you made him feel, the comfort and adoration you’ve brought him in only the past six months of dating, was surreal. He knows now, all those other relationships he’d been in? Those flings and short-lived romances? Child’s play compared to the sheer amount of love you drowned him in.

Which is why he feels bad when he tells you he can’t tonight, right after your fingers toy with the waistband of his joggers—he came here straight after the gym, smelly and stinky and gross, because if he had stopped at his home, he’d most likely lose the energy to come see you tonight, and after the week you’ve had he couldn’t do that to you—and your lips trail across his neck. He’d felt terrible, watching the tiny pout on your lips as you registered his confession, and even worse when you smoothed it over and assured him all was right so long as he was here beside you.

It’s been twenty minutes now, and Jungkook was out of it. Was it the guilt from not being able to please you? You, who had done everything in your power to grant Jungkook the happiest six months of his life thus far. Guilt... or shame that he was so tired he couldn’t please you, his literal goddess. He wasn’t sure, and between being caught up in those thoughts, and balancing the bowl of popcorn on his lap, his brain can’t keep up. The popcorn tumbles over after a particularly jerky movement from him, the buttery food toppling onto your lap where it immediately sets into your tiny shorts.

“Jungkook!” You gasp in surprise, hopping to your feet to brush the oil away quickly. He sputters into action, rounding up the sullied popcorn bits and dumping them back into the bowl—it had no use now anyway. “Ah,” you say, when the chaos dies over and you’re left greasy from the food. “I’m gonna go get changed real quick, okay?”

“Wait—I’m sorry,” he sighs, catching your wrist in his hand. You pause, regarding him with curious eyes as you watch him slump over in his seat. “I’m fucking up real bad tonight, aren’t I?”

You plop down beside him, and Jungkook feels even worse seeing how sleek your thighs are with popcorn oil. “You’ve done nothing wrong, baby,” you assure him, brushing a hand down the nape of his neck. He relaxes into the touch. “Well, you did waste all that popcorn and get me dirty, but!” He rolls his eyes, obsesses over the quirk of your smile a little too much to be normal. “Nothing my little Rumba and a shower won’t fix.”

He groans as he leans back into the couch, and you chuckle at his dramatics. You shift, and his eyes flicker down to your legs again. “Take these off,” he huffs, doesn’t realize the implications of his words until you’re kneeling beside him in a little black thong. He folds your shorts around, figures if they’re dirty they might as well get dirtier as he wipes your thighs with the cotton.

“My hero,” you tease, wiggle your shoulders at him, and that’s when it hits him.

He gives your body a brief once over, doesn’t miss the way your thighs shift about the longer he stares at you. A lightbulb goes off somewhere, and he’s tossing your shorts to the ground, tugging you into his lap. “Baby,” you laugh, body pliant against his palms as he shifts you about. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Jungkook presses a kiss to your mouth, and part of him revels in the way your lips drop open so easily for him, a tiny exhale escaping you as he pecks your lips a couple more times. “Come here,” he says, ignoring your question as he spreads his legs wide, maneuvering you to sit in the open space between with your legs thrown over one leg, upper body thrown over the other.

“Jungkook,” you warn once the realization hits you, but he shushes you by ducking down and pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Let me take care of you, doll,” he murmurs, grabs the knee closest to him in one hand, slowly trailing his palm across the meat of your thighs.

You say no more as you melt into his hold, and part of Jungkook is happy to see that he has the same effect on you as you do on him. He massages your inner thigh a little more, let’s his fingers barely brush against the fabric of your thong. “So good to me,” he says, and the noise from the tv fades away as his ears hone in on the shaky exhales leaving your throat.

Your lower lip trembles when he makes eye contact with you, awaiting his first move. When he finally does run his palm over your mound, your hips arch deliciously into the air. “Woah, woah,” he chuckles, pressing his other hand down against your hip to hold you down, though it eventually let’s go in favor of smoothing over your stomach and ribs.

“Jungkook,” you huff, and he hums, pressing his thumb down over your bud. “J-Jungkook!” You gasp, hips swiveling at the sudden contact. He shushes you, rubs his thumb in circles as you continue to twitch and wiggle about.

You were so sensitive, and he was so in love.

“So pretty,” he tells you, stretching his fingers down to rub over your clothed folds. You moan, and your ability to stay still slowly begins to wither away as he presses harder and harder into you. “Just wanna fuck your pretty little brains out,” he admits,

Your back arches, and his big t-shirt slides down (up?) your body, pooling just before the swell of your breasts. He knew you weren’t wearing a bra, had felt your soft chest when you’d hugged him at the door. He pushes your shirt out of the way, massaging your boobs. You cry out at the sensation, hips circling up into his palm.

“More, more,” you whine, legs and arms stretching out wildly the faster he rubs his thumb over your clit. But it’s not enough, Jungkook Can tell by the way your brow furrows and the way you press his hand tighter against your breast.

“Take these off for me, doll,” he encourages, tugging at the hem of your thong and watches the way it rolls into itself the further down it goes, until you’re kicking it off your ankle with no consideration. He knocks your knees apart, can’t help but salivate at the glistening folds that present themselves to him.

“So wet, and tight,” he mumbles, dives his finger down just barely between your folds. You squeal, bucking into his palm. “And so, so responsive.”

“Please, just touch… touch me,” you cry out, grinding into his palm.

“Don’t worry your pretty head off, sweetheart,” Jungkook assures you, slides the point of his middle finger past your folds and into your core. You’re tighter than he remembers, but so warm and inviting. “Wanna make you cum and cum, until you’re shaking,” he says, and though he’s become so riled up by seeing you like this, his heart still flutters when you grab onto his shoulder, the fabric of his shirt bunched between your clenched fist.

Without the presence of that skimpy thing, there’s nothing that stops him from pressing his thumb against your clit. You positively mewl at the touch, your leg sporadically kicking out, sending a throw pillow tumbling off the couch.

“Oh—oh!” You weep, hands desperate to hold anything, anything, and they find their place wrapped around his bicep and grappling onto the side of the couch cushion. Jungkook basks in your reactions, reaches both hands down to rub against your dripping pussy. Every touch of his fingers to your most sensitive parts riles you up more and more, hips bucking into his palm, only to jerk away right after.

“Keep still,” Jungkook coos, smooths a palm over your stomach to push you down again. You moan, the simple touch sending tingles down your spine. And when you squirm about again and end up with a foot dangling off the side of the couch, face so close and overwhelmed, Jungkook can’t help but slot his mouth against yours for the briefest of moments.

It’s apparently the wrong thing to do, because when he pulls away, you're nearly sobbing and desperate for more. “Jungkookie, ther—there!!” You shriek, use the foot on the ground to push your hips up into his palm.

He lets you, mostly because it’s usually Jungkook desperate and horny for you, so to see you quivering and sobbing on his lap, pussy spread out for him to toy with, it boosts something inside of him. He gives your clit another few rubs, swallows the loud moan that threatens to escape, before trailing his hand further down your center.

“No, no,” you cry, looking at Jungkook with watery eyes. Your skin is so warm, every inch soft under his roaming palms. “I’ll cum, Jungkook, I-I’ll com—“

He silences you with another kiss, and for someone who loves you so much, he absolutely adores the way your lips tremble against his, the more distraught you become. “That’s the plan, doll,” he huffs out a quiet chuckle, smiles down at you as your face twists in pleasure.

“Koo—Kook!” You sob, hips bucking wildly into his palm, and Jungkook doesn’t even try to hold you down anymore, let’s you squirm and flail about as you chase your high. His fingers don’t slow either, rubbing against your glistening folds and your clit, until you’re sobbing his name some more.

“Come on, pretty baby,” he croons, reaching down to massage your breasts again. You cry out, flailing wildly. Your back arches so prettily, Jungkook thinks you could have been a renaissance statue, and you come.

“J-Jungkook,” you weep, body releasing a tiny series of twitches as your pleasure washes over you, and you cum all over his hand. He tries his best to keep it from staining your couch, but you come so much that he can barely push it back into you. “Jungkookie,” you whisper a second time, when the waves are beginning to slow and his fingers become too much.

He rushed to reassure you he’s still there, pressing a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Right here, baby,” he murmurs, kissing down your face until he’s sucking against the soft spot behind your ear.

“Fuck,” you murmur, limbs still loose and weak against him.

He hums, pumps his fingers into you one last time, much to your surprise, because he loved the slick feeling of your warm heat enveloping him. “Feel good?” He asks, and you release another pitiful whine when his fingers curl inside of you. He muffles a smile against your jaw.

“Uh huh,” you groan, hips twitching again. You clench around his digits, and Jungkook wonders just how many more times he can unravel you tonight.

[halpertstuna]

someone to stay - jj maybank pt.2

summary: an abandoned child who felt unwanted since day one got adopted once again and was required to move to the outer banks to live with a lovely elderly woman, but just as she started to feel happy, something had to go wrong and as a result she took a job where she met none other than the blond busboy, jj maybank.

A/N: this is part the second part of my imagine “someone to stay”, if you haven’t read part one yet you can read it here

paring: jj x reader

word count: 2,171

warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of cancer, death, mentions of abandonment, almost a panic attack? probably typos

-> masterlist <-

{2/2}

(gif credit: @sebastianstahn )

The next morning you were woken up by the ringing of your phone.

“Hello?” You answered, your voice raspy. “Hi, am I speaking with Y/N Y/L/N?” a woman’s voice chimed on the other side of the line.

“You are” you replied still half asleep, trying to focus.

“I’m calling from the hospital, Dr. Brown has some news to give you about Noreen Lewis, but it’s not for the phone. Can you come here?”

As she spoke you felt your heart begin to pound out of your chest, is Noreen okay? What did she mean when she said it wasn’t for the phone?

“I- I’ll be right there” you blurted out hanging up.

You quickly brushed your teeth, showered without washing your hair, got changed and ran to the hospital.

When you got there you went up to the receptionist’s desk, asking for Dr. Brown.

You were told to go to Noreen’s room, Dr. Brown waited outside the door for you and ushered you to the chairs in front of the room. He signaled you to sit down and you hesitantly obeyed.

You tapped your foot rapidly whilst looking at him anxiously, waiting for him to talk as you played with the ring on your finger, the one Noreen gave you for your sixteenth birthday.

“there really isn’t an easy way to say this...” he started, “the chemotherapy... it wasn’t affecting the way it was supposed to-“ “what do you mean it wasn’t affecting?!” You interrupted cutting him off, your face and body radiating off infuriation and disappointment.

He continued “we did another MRI scan and found out the cancer had already progressed to stage 3B by the time we started treatment”.

You were overwhelmed, in absolute shock, you didn’t know what to say.

An exasperated look spreading across your features entangled with sorrow.

He gave you a sympathetic look, which only irritated you more.

Growing up as a child that was abandoned by their mother, meant always being pitied and looked at with sad eyes and as much as you hated it, you eventually got used to it.

But this time was different.

This time you felt absolutely useless, you despised it.

Him giving you that look only made it worse.

“Where is she? I want to see her.” You seethed through greeted teeth and furrowed your eyebrows once you noticed how much remorse his eyes held.

“Now.” Your voice firm and filled with rage as you got up.

You followed him into the room and rushed to her bed, she was asleep. “When she wakes up, it’ll probably be a good time to bid your goodbyes” Dr. Brown calmly noted exiting the room.

You sat next to her bed until it got dark, crying as you watched her sleep, lost in your thoughts.

It reminded you of that one stormy night when you were 12 and couldn’t fall asleep due to the noise of thunders, so you snuck into Noreen’s room.

You didn’t want to wake her up, but didn’t want to be alone either so as a result you just sat on the small mint coloured sofa chair near the bed, while you watched her sleep.

About half an hour later she woke up, looking at you.

“Hey” she rubbed her eyes “how long have you been sitting there?” You shrugged. “Were you watching me sleep? Cause it’s kinda creepy” she mentioned sarcastically and you snickered.

“Well, are you gonna keep sitting there or join me, muffin? I guarantee you the bed is more comfortable”.

She shifted making space for you and you quickly climbed into the bed, tucking yourself under the comforter.

You fell asleep right away, knowing you were safe.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a cough, her eyes slowly flattered open and you shifted in your seat the second you noticed she was awake.

“Hey...” you whispered with a faint smile.

She mirrored it and you felt your heart swell, even in times like these, her smile still managed to melt it.

“I’d ask how you’re feeling but that’s a stupid question” you tried laughing at your comment but instead a sob escaped your lips.

She lifted up her shaking hand and rested it on your cheek, wiping the fresh tears with her thumb

“d-don’t cry, I want my last view to be your beautiful smile” she mumbled and you giggled, nodding your head.

“Does it hurt?” You asked. “A bit” she replied nonchalantly, as if she had only fallen down slightly scraping her knee and wasn’t on the verge of death.

You reached out and held her hand in yours. You couldn’t help but shed another tear, knowing she was in pain.

“All I ever wanted since the moment I met you, was to make sure you knew how loved and cared about you are. How worthy you are of a beautiful life. I hope you know that.” You sniffed and nodded.

“I’ve lived a spectacular, full life. And I am thankful for every moment. I’ve had the privilege of knowing you, getting to watch as you turned from an inverted child who isolated her heart from all of humanity, into this incredible, caring, not to mention immensely funny and talented young woman. Who is honest, never afraid to say what’s on her mind and is completely selfless. And for that, I am thankful.”

The tears you desperately tried holding back were now streaming down your face.

“It’s ok, everything’s gonna be okay” she said in a calming tone squeezing your hand but you averted your gaze from her, unable to face her. “hey, look at me” her words soft, you turned to her with puffy red eyes, you didn’t want her to go.

“I’m going to be okay. And so are you. You’re going to achieve everything you want. Don’t be afraid to let people in my love, and from what you told me, I better be seeing you with that JJ living the happily ever after you deserve” you chuckled in tears.

She let out a series of loud coughs and you felt your heart sink.

She looked up at you with loving eyes “I’m going to join Jasper now, and I’ll tell him all about the daughter I was blessed with” you held her hand tighter as if it would keep her here, with you.

“We’ll be watching you, making sure you’re okay. I’m ready to let go now. I will always, always love you muffin” she confirmed and you nodded quickly “I love you too, thank you for everything, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you” you sobbed out.

She smiled at your words, then closed her eyes.

You felt the grip on your hand loosen, a few seconds later an audible, long beep came from the ECG.

You refused to believe the scenario in front of you, you had to get out of there.

You sprinted out of the hospital stepping into the cold, dark night.

You started running, you didn’t know where, you just knew you had to leave.

A series of heartbreaking sobs left your slightly parted quivering lips, rocking your body as you felt your heart crumble into a million pieces.

Your vision was blurry from tears and you couldn’t see a thing.

Out of breath you came to a halt, resting your hands on your knees as you tried stopping the tears.

Your chest heaving, your breathing only intensified as you felt rain drops fall on your skin.

You didn’t even notice you were stood outside your house until you looked up. The rain got stronger and the wind blew through your now wet clothes.

You were a sobbing wreck. You grasped the hem of your shirt in pain, balling your hand into a fist and felling to the ground, the other hand tangled in the roots of your hair, pulling slightly.

You felt helpless, cold and alone, that was until two arms wrap around your small frame, shielding you from the rain.

Your eyes darted up in fear, but once you recognised the scent of JJ’s cologne which you memorised from all the times he drove you home, you relaxed in his touch.

“it’s okay, it’s just me” he cooed rubbing circles on the small of your back. you cried into his chest in which you found comfort.

“It’s not fare” you whimper, gasping for air.

You couldn’t breath, you felt your chest heat up.

You started choking, coughing as the air just didn’t seem to find it’s way to your lungs.

“Hey hey hey, look at me” he demanded in a hush tone, holding your shoulders in arm length, “everything’s going to be okay, you just have to breath” you looked at him as if he was speaking a foreign language.

He pulled you back to him, placing your head on his chest which rose and fell in a steady pace “breath with me” he stroked your hair gently.

It was hard but after a few minutes you managed to steady your breathing back to normal.

He helped you up and into the house, then let you shower and change into dry clothes, whilst he sat on the other side of the door.

He was too scared to leave you alone, but still respected your privacy.

When you finished, JJ took the liberty to make you hot chocolate and you wrapped yourself in a blanket plopping down on the couch with him beside you.

“Thank you” you broke the silence, “anytime” he gave you a closed mouth smiled.

“what were you doing here anyway?” you questioned.

“I was really worried after last night and when you didn’t show up for work today I knew something was wrong, so I finished my shift and came straight here to check up on you” you looked at him with a surprised expression as he confirmed he genuinely cared.

‘Don’t be afraid to let people in’ the words echoed through your mind.

You scooted closer to him on the couch and hugged his side. He didn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around you and hold you close.

“My best friend died tonight. She was all I had. She saved me but I couldn’t save her. When I was ten she adopted me and a few weeks ago she got sick. I took this job to pay for treatment but unfortunately, it didn’t help. She didn’t deserve this. And now I’m alone again. This is why I don’t let people in... they always leave.” You spoke through unshed tears.

He only held you tighter, clueless of how to respond. He knew how it felt; being unwanted, distancing yourself from others to avoid the ache you feel when they leave.

“I know how it feels, you’re lost and hurting right now, it’s okay” He showed you empathy, “and I promise, i will never leave you”.

And for the first time in a while, you felt relieved, not alone. His words gave you hope and that was a promise he intended to keep.

“Do you want to tell me about her?” He asked squeezing your shoulder gently, you didn’t even know where to start.

You went on a rant, telling so many stories and memories.

“She sounds amazing” he noted “she was” you remarked.

“Too bad I didn’t get to meet her” he regretted his words the second they left his mouth, afraid he said the wrong thing.

“She said the same thing about you!” Your voice slightly louder than you intended.

“Oh so you talked to her about me? What else did you say?” A self-satisfied smirk played across his face as he tried to lighten the mood, succeeding.

“Don’t let it go to your head Maybank” you warned nudging him lightly, an amused laugh escaped his throat.

The two of you talked for hours, it was nearly 3am and you started feeling drowsy.

“Will you stay?” You pleaded “I’m tired of being alone”.

“Of course” he swiftly responded “I’d never leave you” he promised.

You didn’t bother going to your room. He laid down on the couch and you placed your head on his chest.

His hands found your waist and you found home in each others embrace.

He kissed your forehead, lingering for a bit longer than he should, and you dozed off in his arms to the sound of his heartbeat.

The sight of your smaller figure wrapped around his looked so natural to him. He couldn’t comprehend how someone could leave you.

Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed it was morning.

Your eyes flattered open and you greeted him with a croaky “hey”.

A smile spread across his face as he greeted you back.

“Were you watching me sleep? Cause it’s kinda creepy” you sarcastically marked and he chuckled.

The two of you gazed silently into each other’s eyes for a few minutes before both falling asleep.

He helped you through your highs and lows after Noreens death, always by your side. He was there for you when you needed someone the most, someone to stay.

And he did.

[themagicalmysticalboy]

John and Paul had a big argument about Brian, Paul still cant forget about Spain. It's a very cold and raining night, after very intensing session of drinking John appears under Paul's house, but Paul isnt inside...The next morning Macca finds frozen wet and limp figure curled at his doorsteps.

a/n: this has lit been in my inbox for so long and i feel awful. So sorry anon. hope you’re still around to see it <3

Three minutes. 

That’s all it took for John to have Paul fuming. When the phone rang throughout the house he had half the mind to not answer at all, figuring it would be John. But now he was stuck on the line with a drunk and poorly apologizing Lennon. In reality, he was so incoherent that Paul wasn’t even sure if there was an actual apology buried in his mumbling. On the contrary, he seemed to be blaming Paul, if anything.

“Lemme jus- I’ll come… come over, yeah.” John hiccuped through his words.

“Don’t, alright? I’d rather not deal with you now.” He almost told John he wouldn’t be home, anyway, but that wouldn’t be clever. So, he kept his lips sealed on the topic. 

“It didn’t mean a thing, Paul. Brian was just there.” He said it as if it explained everything. 

Paul pinched the bridge of his nose, his other hand tightening around the phone with a death grip. “I don’t want to hear how it happened.” His voice almost didn’t sound like his own. “I don’t want to hear you blame Brian if that’s what you’re at.” John tried to interrupt but Paul only raised his voice higher. “He doesn’t even know we were together!” Paul’s eyes widened as his mouth snapped shut. Would John catch it? Or was he too drunk to comprehend it?

Deafening silence made Paul’s heartbeat in his ears. “You said ‘were.’” John’s words came out slow and almost sober. “Were together, Macca.”

Paul swallowed down the lump in his throat, his eyes stinging with tears he wouldn’t let slip. There was no going back now. “Yes. We were together.”

He slammed the phone to the receiver just in time to clamp his hands over his mouth, holding in a sob. Rained poured down outside his window as tears slipped down his cheeks. All he could do was stare at the raging storm and wonder if there was any way to fix what was now so painfully broken. He thought of calling off his plans with Mal and just staying by the phone for another call from John. But that was pathetic. He had promised to watch the football match with Mal a week in advance. There wasn’t a good reason- or at least one he could say out loud- to cancel. There was also the issue of not being able to move. Paul seemed immobilized with sadness and fear, quiet sobs escaping him as he stared into the haze outside his window. 

He stayed by the phone for a while until a crack of thunder jolted him to life and he hurriedly wiped his cheeks free of tears. With some much-needed washing up in the bathroom, he was ready to go, wanting to leave before the storm became too much and he would be stuck in his house with only his thoughts. The idea of that terrified him into rushing through the house and hurriedly leashing Martha. She helped him in his hurry, not letting him think twice before tugging him along and to his car. 

They made it into the car, assaulted by the frigid rain, shivering. Paul cranked up the heat as soon as the car was running, rubbing at his arms. The car ride wasn’t long enough for him to get lost in his thoughts, thankfully, and when he arrived at Mal’s the man kept them busy with snacks and other guests and drinks. Paul easily dropped into social mode and left his strife with John in the back of his mind. He knew it would rear up as soon as he was home, maybe even just in his car, but he wouldn’t ruin Mal and everyone else’s fun while he was there. 

Whether it was the knowledge of having to face his own actions or the still-raging storm keeping him, Paul didn’t leave Mal’s house until very late into the night. Mal had suggested they play a board game to sober everyone up and it drug on until almost five in the morning. The rain was at a drizzle when Paul put his car into park. 

He wanted to wait just a bit longer for it to come to a halt but Martha was wiggling around like mad, whining and pawing at his arm. He sighed, letting his forehead hit the steering wheel. “Fine,” he breathed.

She shot anxious glances between him and the door until he undid his seatbelt to lean over and pop the passenger door open. She shot out of the car and into the darkness with a happy wag in her tail the instant she could, leaving Paul to stare after her. Exhaustion mingled with dread, making him unwilling to go to his house. He sluggishly got out of the car. As he leaned back in to grab his wallet, Martha began to bark.

He dragged out a long sight, head dropping, before snapping back up and yelling out for her. She only barked louder, followed by a pained whimper. The pitiful sound shot a spike of alertness into Paul’s core. He yelled out again as he ran but the dog had gone quiet. Fear was shoving his senses into full throttle and he bolted to his doorstep.

When he finally arrived, he was struck still. The droplets of water now moved in slow motion, the biting cold a distant memory. His dread filled the void left by his other senses.

A figure was curled up on his doorstep, Martha nudging gently. With a rough nudge and a nip at the hair, the figure's head tilted into the dim porchlight. The aquiline nose and auburn hair of his John was illuminated. His mouth just barely open, eyes softly closed.

All Paul could do was stare in shock and horror. The world was thrown out of pause when a trickle of water sent a shiver down his spine. He was suddenly aware the rain had picked back up and the cold was whirled up with a nasty wind.

Words were leaving his lips but he didn't know what he was saying or why he was talking. All he knew was that he had to get John inside. Martha, bless her, was ahead of Paul, biting on to John’s collar and pulling him towards the door.

In a flurry of movement, the door was thrown open and John was dragged across the threshold. With a deep huff of breath, Paul lifted John into his arms. “John? Johnny, come on, please!”

He continued to plead as he rushed to the nearest couch. Once laid out, John let out a groan before curling into a ball again. He was shivering like mad, nearly vibrating off the couch. 

“Hey, you’re alright,” Paul cooed softly as he stripped John of his soaking wet clothes. “Can you talk to me?”

“Where- wherewereyou.” His words rushed together in an airy gust before his teeth began to chatter.

Snatching up every blanket in eyesight, Paul wrapped him up into a tight bundle. “Do you need an ambulance? Should I call-”

“‘S fine.” His eyes cautiously opened, lulling around the room until they found Paul. “Where were you?”

“I’m phoning the ambulance,” Paul decided. He moved to leave John’s side but felt a strangely strong grip pull him back. He fell onto the cushion, sitting by John’s hip.

“I’m fine.” The words came out with a startling levelness, only to be followed by more chattering of his teeth.

Paul studied him, their eyes locked in battle. With a hum, Paul narrowed his gaze, “I’m getting you a warm washcloth.”

“Alright.”

Once a basin of hot water was filled and the fire was lit, Paul began his nursing. He fused over John as neither man uttered a word. Grabbing more covers and some pillows, Paul tucked him in tight and lifted his head to put down the pillows. All the while, Martha sat wearily at John’s feet.

Now thoroughly bundled, he ran fingertips along John’s temple and down to his jaw. “Sure you're alright?”

“I waited for you,” John said with malice, only to be betrayed by a faltering voice. Paul had not noticed the lingering smell of alcohol on his breath until just then. He was obviously no longer drunk, only sad and cold, but it must have taken a lot to pass out in the freezing storm.

“I was a Mal’s, love. Do you want a cup of tea? Or I could run a ba-”

“Stop!” John pushed at his mountain of covers and forced himself upright. “Get-” 

Paul grabbed him by the shoulders to steady him only to be pushed away. They both tumbled from the couch, hitting the hardwood with two distinct thuds. Martha let out a bark but didn’t move. 

Paul made to speak but as soon as he opened his mouth, John spat out, “Shut your bleeding trap and listen to me.”

His mouth was still hung open so he snapped it shut and gulped through a strained throat. John’s eyes danced viciously between his.

“I’m sorry! Alright? I’m sorry and I know I can never take it back but I am. I-” Tears were welling in his eyes. “It was so stupid. Stupid of me to try to shift the blame. Stupid of me to do it at all. But,” John’s hands were in his damp hair, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I love you.”

 John was breathing hard and Paul felt he wasn't breathing at all. There was a delicate sheet of glass creeping between them. A single mistake could shatter it to the ground and leave them bleeding. 

Much softer, slower, and steadier, John said, “You don’t have to forgive me. I don’t deserve it. Sure as hell don’t deserve you.” When Paul didn’t respond, John continued. “I was drunk when I came. Was quite intent on telling you off- maybe break a vase or two.” Paul huffed a pained laugh. “But I’m sober as I can be now. I just want you to… You should know how much I mean it when I say that I’m sorry. If you don’t want me any longer, that’s fine.”

The sheet of glass dissolved on the spot, melting into the wood and warming the space. There was a vague awareness of the short bursts of nervous laughter leaving his lips. All he could do was stare at the half-naked man on his floor that had just poured his heart out. He had no clue how much the thought of them being over had weighed on him until the moment the worry lifted away. Gathering himself for the sake of the confused Lennon, Paul scooted towards him and threw a cover over his shoulders. Biting hard on his own lip, Paul cupped John’s face with both hands. 

“You’re the stupidest man I have ever met.” He smiled with all the sincerity and adoration in his body.

“I’m what?”

Paul laughed again, nerves completely drained from it, his hands moving to John’s shoulder and head falling into his chest. He breathed in the man, pulling him between his legs to hug him tightly. His skin was still cold, his body still trembling. “First of all, that’s all you had to ever say. Second, I’m just glad you didn’t kill yourself in the cold.”

John nuzzled his nose into the crook of Paul’s neck. “I’m slightly offended that me not dying was your second point.”

Paul only held him closer. “I hate you so much. But you’ll always be the love of my life.”

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

The Bad Guy, pt. 3 - Haunted (Gang AU)

Summary: Grayson’s attempt to pull out of his gang related business seems futile as his past comes back to haunt him. Deciding to keep it a secret only brings more issues as it creates a distance between him and Y/N he can’t bridge.

Warnings: angst, fluff, SMUT, injuries, blood, death, swearing...

Word count: 18.5k

The Bad Guy - Series Masterlist

Frowning, my eyes struggle to adjust to the light basking my skin, squinting to try and get a better view of the perpetrator although I know it's him.

If anything was certain about Grayson Dolan it was his love for sunrise and while I'm far from a morning person, waking up to watch his mesmerized gaze has become the epitome of a full life.

Quietly, afraid to startle him and ruin my favorite view, I stand up too, fighting the lightheaded feeling swaying me from side to side, nearly blinding me for a moment or two.

And I stand there, silently watching this beautiful, handsome specimen I still can't believe is mine. I watch him with fervor, with a fire unequaled to any volcano. And I admire him - every muscle, every scar, every mark life had left on his body.

He could have any woman he lays his eye on and yet he chose me? Sometimes I think it's a dream, a cosmic joke to give me everything I ever wanted before ripping it away once reality sets in, but it's not. He's here and he is mine and even after countless, nearly lethal obstacles, I can't fathom regretting being a part of his world.

Meeting Grayson Dolan has been the highlight of my life and I count my lucky stars every day as I thank the universe for giving me a chance to not only love a man as magnificent as him, but also be loved by him.

To be loved by Grayson Dolan is a powerful thing, a force of nature that is all consuming. It's a blessing and he might not agree with me on this, but if I had a chance to do it all again? I'd choose him over and over until I am nothing but ash and dust.

Perhaps we aren't the luckiest lovers in the world, but we're far from Romeo and Juliet. They had tragedy sown in their souls, but we have the space to make our own destiny and I am determined to make it a happy one.

Stalking toward him on my tiptoes, I smile when I'm almost behind him, my arms instinctively reaching for his waist and I sense his gentle gasp as my hands glide under his arms and over his stomach. I lay my head to rest between his shoulder blades, listening to the soft breathing reminding me how lucky I am to be alive - how lucky I am he's alive.

His arms reach back and his hands rest awkwardly on my back, and I know he's smiling. He's appreciating the beauty before him as much as the tenderness of my love for him.

If Grayson knows one thing for sure it's how my love for him will always trump my love for sleep and I'm not sure he will ever truly get used to that.

We remain silent, enjoying each other's company and sweetness of another morning we get to spend together, all until the alarm clock screeches and we both jump at the loudness.

Turning around, his hands move to my hips and while I've always felt insecure about the fat he'd actually rest his hands on instead of my bones, Grayson simply gave me a reassuring squeeze, almost as if he could tell I'm once again struggling with my appearance and the latest weight gain I couldn't explain certainly didn't help my body dysmorphia.

"All my favorite days started and ended with you." His raspy voice brings chills, awakens my heart and I've always said he's better than caffeine in the morning.

"Cheesy." I remark, almost teasing him with a raised eyebrow and a swift, playful wink. "You're lucky I'm into cheesy romance."

Rolling his eyes at me with the slightest inkling of a smirk upon his plump lips, Grayson is quick to pull me closer, making me squeal and not in the attractive ways girls do it in movies, rather a pig like way.

Our noses collide before our lips firmly press together, finding our normal rhythm easily. Hands roaming his chest, fingers playing with his chest hair, I can feel my mind turn numb to our surroundings, the rest fading away. Grayson always had that effect, making me forget about the world and he didn't have to try, even one look was enough.

"Y/N." He whispers my name in between kisses spelled with our lips, my teeth sinking into his bottom lip, nibbling on the soft skin until an exasperated groan leaves him and I know his morning wood has begun to bug him and our kisses certainly didn't make it any easier on him.

"I can help with that." Coy, I inch away, breathing heavily. He's smilingly shaking his head and I can't help the disappointment on my face for I know what he's going to say.

"I want to, TRUST ME, but I have an early meeting." Apologetic as ever, Grayson steps back as if distance would somehow stop some sort of an imaginary spell I've cast on him. But this has become a rather common occurrence. It's why I wake up so early, hoping to steal a few peaceful moments in his arms before he leaves for work and more often than not, he's not back until late.

I'm not better with my intern year exhausting me all the time either, but I miss him ALL THE TIME and he seems to lack the same emotion. Sometimes I wonder if he misses me too or if his job, as legal as it’s supposed to be, is still his number one priority. He changed his tune on the matter, but his actions are faltering that belief in my heart.

I want to believe in him – in us, but love is a flower that needs to be watered and lately, there’s been a draught. And we are still intimate…a lot, but we lack the kind of quality time we spent together back when we had the world against us.

Sometimes, as selfish as it may be, I wonder if having my life threatened is the only way to have his undivided attention.

"Sure. I should get ready too." Biting my lip, I thread my fingers through my hair and sigh, avoiding his eyes to hide my dejection. It's not easy realizing we're officially becoming like any other couple where we don't seem to prioritize each other and if I'm being honest, it's killing me.

Grayson is the one to break the silence first. "Doll, have you seen my shirt?"

"Pretty sure I ripped it off you last night. Might want to grab that hoodie instead, because I'd rather not have you flaunting those flawless abs in public." I smirk, stopping once my eyes catch the horror in his.

"You. Want. Me. To. Wear. A. Hoodie? I can't be seen in a hoodie!" Grayson's words only make me chuckle, reminding me that behind his bad boy facade truly is a drama queen with a notable fashion sense. It makes me feel normal, and maybe being normal isn't always a bad thing. Maybe I’m just addicted to thrill of danger we were stuck in for so long I’ve forgotten that we’ve finally found serenity – a reality that should be more comfortable for me.

"Yes?" It was more of a question than a statement, paired with an amused look in my eyes and once my teeth sunk in the left corner of my bottom lip, Grayson's heart skipped a beat.

"The only reason I own a hoodie is because I bought it so you, my girlfriend, could steal it and we'd have some sense of normalcy as a couple. You know? No bloodshed, no tortured souls or kidnapping, just the old run of the mill girlfriend stealing her boyfriend's hoodie." Grayson justified, only making me giggle.

"And it worked, so now you can do what every boyfriend does and steal it back while giving me a glare for stealing it in the first place only to kiss me and tell me I look better in it than you anyway." I retort, enjoying his casually entertaining sauntering toward me, both his eyebrows raised.

"Well, it isn't even mine anymore, it's ours." He rolls his eyes with a cheeky smile, making my heart melt. This is how it’s supposed to be when two people love each other - easy as breathing. This, right now, just him and I and no obligations tearing us apart – this is how it should be.

Grabbing the hoodie, he shakes it before me, granting me a teasing glare. "I'm not gonna wear it but stealing isn't nice. Even if it does look better on you." Reenacting my little speech, Grayson pecks my lips before continuing his morning ritual and I draw a deep breath, shuddering at the thought of losing him.

I didn't come home that night, forced to pull a double shift at the hospital yet my phone didn't ring.  Most nights, Grayson would call and check up on me even though I know it’s mostly to hear my voice – he explained it was soothing, a comfort he never takes for granted.

Sighing, I lock the screen and chase a few peas across the plastic plate, wondering what Grayson is doing, if he is hungry or tired, if he's wishing he could be next to me as much as I am. I’ve almost never been to his company, my hours at the hospital too long and Grayson always volunteers to come for lunch a few days a week anyway. He hadn’t been around for two weeks now.

Perhaps I've become codependent, maybe he coddles me way too much, but something is different and I'm hoping it's about our jobs and not about his feelings shifting, a familiar fear creeping in - he wasn't the type to stay with one girl for long, so what if my time is up?

Could I ever say goodbye to Grayson?

Shaking my head, I remind myself how important communication is and how I fucked up the last time I allowed out relationship go down a rabbit hole - maybe there's an explanation for this too?

Chewing on the inside of my lower lip, I roll my eyes and set aside my pride like he has done for me so many times before. Dialing his number is easy, but the wait for him to pick up is what makes my eyes water.

Grayson always picks up before the third ring, I'm on the eighth now.

And when he does pick up, I realize it's not him.

"Sorry hon, he's busy with me."

Eyes wide, breath caught in my throat, I try to speak but the line is dead before I muster enough bravery to move my lips.

Slapping a hand over my mouth trying to hold back a sob, I realize how unnecessary that action is as my throat closes with emotions shaking my entire being.

There has to be some explanation for this. I should have some faith in him after everything we've been through, right?

Fear, hate, anger, anxiety, love, sadness, an insurmountable amount of emotions and thoughts overwhelm me, dragging me through the past and every time I was told I simply wasn’t enough – pretty enough, smart enough, ambitious enough, creative enough, sexy enough – all of the times I was reminded over and over again that no one would love me, especially not someone as grand as Grayson who can certainly replace me in a moment’s time and I’d be left on the outside looking in, seeing his many girls on the front pages of every tabloid which would slowly kill me.

I want to wash my brain in cold water, cool the whole thing but I can't. I want a coffee but the caffeine will put me over the edge.

Regardless, I find myself dialing Ethan's number, seeking advice. If anyone would be honest with me, Ethan Grant surely would even if Grayson is his brother.

Does the truth imprison us, or does it set us free?

One thing I know for sure, the truth can hurt. Especially when the truth bears what can break a heart in half.

But I have to know.

3rd person POV

"Who was that?" Grayson frowns as he sees his assistant put down his phone, wondering why would she answer his personal cellphone when it isn't in her job description.

"Wrong number." Smirking slyly, she revels in the world of pain she was certain she caused to the woman on the other side of the line, enjoying it as much as she's enjoying the way Grayson pulled his sleeves up, accentuating his biceps.

Licking her lips, she watches as he sits in his chair, exhaustion in every line of his face and she can't imagine a better moment to make a move she had been planning for a few months now. Sliding over to him, she wasted no time in moving her ass onto his lap, her lips hungrily covering his.

"Bro!" Ethan busts inside, worked up after hearing from a clearly upset Y/N, willing to reassure her it's only a misunderstanding but when he sees a woman in his brother's lap and her mouth on his, one of the women he remembers from Grayson's past? That's when Ethan loses it.

Grayson is quick to push her off and on the floor mercilessly, growling as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand, but Ethan has no patience, slamming the door behind him with enough strength that it breaks the tinted glass, shattering it all the way to the woman's floored ass.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" Ethan screamed, not even flinching when he feels a piece of glass graze his left forearm, the cut superficial. He’s red in the face, his eyes narrowed and if looks could kill, Grayson and the pathetic excuse for a woman would need CPR.

Gripping the woman by her shoulders, Grayson sets her back on her feet, the pressure of his hands on her enough to leave a mark. Shaking her like a doll, he gets in her face, spraying spit as he makes his intentions clear.

"I am a taken man and if you ever, EVER, try that again, I will have no mercy. Understand that?" Shaking her again until she managed to mumble a clear YES, Grayson pushed her toward the door.

"What the fuck are you looking at?!" Grayson screams in outrage, his eyes set aflame with ruthless self-loathing shimmering under the surface. His rage had always made men cower in fear, but never Ethan.

He wasn’t calm either, willing to spill blood for every tear Y/N shed and while he could easily start an altercation, Ethan realized violence begins violence and he can’t turn on his own blood. Not while they’re still so vulnerable to the criminals that want them both dead.

Apparently, no one is happy to let a gang disband without bloodshed and they’ve both been working overtime to make sure that doesn’t turn into a new gang war where their loved ones would be at risk. To be honest, Grayson has been overbearing and Ethan was wearing thin, but they have to find a solution before they end up burying their mother or sister, Y/N or even each other.

"Y/N called me in tears asking if you're cheating on her and I promised you'd never do that. Was I wrong brother?" Asking calmly, Ethan surprised himself with his poise. If he could, he'd at the very least land a few punches, damage the pretty boy look Grayson attracts attention with, but he realized Y/N might not want that.

Even if he transgressed, she’d want Grayson unharmed. She’s that kind of a soul – innocent, naïve and untouched by the madness surrounding her. And she hasn’t been quite the same since the ball but Ethan noticed her getting back to who she was when they first met her at that shady club.

She is his sister now and he can’t stand the thought of what pain this might cause her.

"No. She kissed me and I ended it as soon as I could. Y/N doesn't have to know." Grayson decides, his head a chaotic explosion of fear, anger and frustration - fear of losing the only woman he ever loved, anger over the way he was completely unaware of the situation and frustration because he's clearly not as scary as he used to be and damn it, Grayson absolutely loved instilling fear in people around him. It made him feel powerful and invincible, something he gave up for a quiet future with the love of his life...something he still missed.

"I won't lie to her." Ethan says through gritted teeth, shaking his head as his fingers thread through his hair. "She deserves better Grayson." Sighing, Ethan swallows thickly. "Do better."

And while Ethan said he wouldn't lie, he called Y/N back, faking amusement.

"No worries, sis, his assistant picked up the phone and they've been working like crazy today." Pausing, he pinches the bridge of his nose as if that would wash away the shame of lies he speaks, but what good would it do to hurt her with the truth?

He is a reasonable man and bringing this up would break her heart, besides, Grayson said it's a one-time unwanted occurrence and he wanted to believe him. He needed to.

"Are you alright, babe?" He feels a familiar pair of arms slide down his chest, holding onto the hands firmly.

"Yeah. Just my brother. Same old shit." Studying her, Ethan can't help but smile at the woman Y/N hired for him just a few months ago - at first to help him after he got shot and now to help him around the office...a woman he had taken a liking to.

"Anything I can do to help?" She smirks, pecking his nose from above, implying exactly what she wanted and Ethan wasn't about to protest.

"I can think of a few things."

1st person POV

The weight finally off my chest, I smile to myself. Of course Grayson isn't cheating on me. He loves me. He does no matter how hard I found that hard to believe before.

Perhaps it's time I trust him on that.

Barely able to stand, only a few hours of sleep in a thirty-something long shift keeping me alive, I stumble into the penthouse, kicking off my sneakers immediately.

I've been tired lately, feeling queasy and faint but it's probably the long hours and worsening eating habits. I should definitely drink more water too, but admitting this to Grayson would end up with him asking me to take some time off and take care of my health but that’s not an option. I need to finish this internship so I can get a first-rate fellowship. I may be stuck in a crazy environment, but I have every intention on finishing my journey.

Groaning, I manage to find my way to our bedroom and I wonder why was I ever so stubborn about living together. I didn't want to be seen as gold digger or an opportunist, I wanted to earn my own money but after we got cornered with paparazzi in my dorm more than once, the choice was obvious. Thankfully, I graduated just in time to start an internship not too far away from his luxury penthouse, reducing the commute.

Besides, waking up next to him is better than being alone.

The moment I enter, I see something is different - a dress laid out on our bed, rose petals around as well as a bouquet on my nightstand.

Reaching for the note, I sigh, aware Grayson planned a romantic date and while I'd rather sleep and have him rub my back, I remember relationships last only if both parties contribute to its growth and for a few months, neither of us did our part.

I can't be the one to say no.

'An exquisite dress for an exquisite woman. Put this on, doll and meet me up on the roof'

Smiling, I shake my head lightly, feeling my heart skip in my chest because even if I am about to faint, the gesture is incredibly sweet. The dress is even better - the one I had my eye on but refused to even try - red as blood, back open and lacy sleeves down to my elbows.

Managing to push my swollen feet into heels a size too big for me even now, I force my legs to take the few stairs toward the roof, a smile upon my weary lips. The wind pushes my unkempt hair back, revealing a faint scratch just below my ear that I earned in the ER.

"You look magnificent. As expected." Grayson's compliment makes me look away, smiling at the ground. It's impossible not to blush when a man of his caliber tells you how amazing he believes you look.

Pecking my lips, Grayson's finger lifts my chin, gracing me with one of his disarmingly charming looks.

"Don't go all shy on me now." His smirk is devilishly handsome and now I understood how the devil cheats humans out of their souls. It's not hard to fall for a smile like that.

"I missed you." Smiling back at him, I allow him to lead me to the table he set for us, devouring the food with my eyes already.

"And I love you for this food. I'm starving!"

3rd person POV

As soon as dinner ended and the conversation became rather nostalgic, Y/N couldn't help her smile as Grayson dedicated himself to her. It’s exactly what she’d been craving, worried that their romance might be wavering after the time they had to each other.

Holding her hand, his fingers brushing her knuckles, Grayson leans his forehead on the back of it, drawing a deep breath before letting out a heavy sigh.

"You're scaring me." Y/N giggles nervously, her right leg bouncing on her knee, making it a little uncomfortable since her heel keeps slipping off thus reminding her she really needs to buy a new pair - one that actually fits and on a day Grayson is too busy to come along. Shopping is a nightmare when the big bad CEO ex mafia boss that is also known as Hellhound joins because she refuses to let him pay for it all but he always insists.

"Do you know how it feels to love you?" Grayson asks, a rhetorical question from what she can tell and he's quick to continue, confessing all that's in his heart.

"It's a consuming, fiery passion." Smiling, he tilts his head ever so slightly to his left shoulder.

"It's a need, a primal drive to protect you, make you laugh and... well, I'm not going to sugarcoat this doll, but an essential desire to give you pleasure." Raising an eyebrow, Grayson licks his lower lip, leaving it shining under the candlelight, rendering Y/N speechless.

She's already trembling, confused with his current emotional gushing. It's not like she's unused to his love proclamations, it's that she can feel it in her bones that this one means something more than all the ones before and after the recent scare and fill of self-doubting, Y/N wasn’t keen on more surprises.

"Gray", she starts softly, worried it would discourage him or somehow hurt his feelings.

As soon as she tries to interrupt, Grayson interjects again, determined to finish his speech.

So, when he stands up and smirks at her widened eyes, Y/N only grew more confused and a little frightened when he suddenly dropped on one knee, opening a tiny box with a stunning, flower themed sapphire ring.

"You've given me hope, something to fight for, a reason to live. You've made me happier than I believed is possible and you've reminded me of what it means to be human. You make me want to be a better man." Swallowing thickly, he noticed she's barely blinking, perhaps in shock with his unexpected proposal, but he couldn't ignore how he feels and what he wants.

And he wants her.

He wanted Y/N to look at him with love in her eyes from the moment he first saw her in that tacky bar, he simply couldn't wait any longer. "You...you're everything - fun, thought provoking, caring, independent and merciful and exceptionally tactful when need be. You're spring and you're summer and you're a woman any man would be lucky to call his."

Lips parting, Y/N tries to speak, to articulate anything that she knows she feels in her heart for this incredible man, but she can't. All she can think of is the why. Why is he, a man who said dating wasn't even his thing, a man who struggled to open up for the longest time is now proposing?

She couldn't help but feel it's to appease her, but that only made her sad. She didn't want him to appease her nor did she want to succumb to society norms. She loves him, he loves her, so why complicate things?

Besides, how can she ignore the unwavering doubt in her mind? Ethan swore it was a false alarm, but her heart told her something is wrong – a sudden romantic gesture of this magnitude is suspicious, isn’t it?

"Will you marry me?" The hopeful look in his eye dwindles almost immediately when she reaches out and closes the box.

"No." Standing up, she throws the rags onto the table, her arms fold over her chest.

"We don't need to get married to love each other and be together, okay?" She could tell by the way his eyes narrowed and his lips pressed together he felt a little humiliated, but she couldn't allow him to entirely change his view on life and love to make her happy and she was certain he wouldn't ask otherwise.

In fact, she was certain he’s using this proposal to hide something she’s not supposed to know and an affair was currently on her mind. She couldn’t accuse him; she didn’t want to. But she needed to make sure the motive behind his proposal is love, not guilt.

"But I want to." Grayson stood, willing to argue on this but he could tell she's not ready and while he didn't understand why, he realized he will have to wait a little while longer.

Maybe she is right, maybe this is just his guilty self-consciousness pushing him into proposing and officially claiming her as his...most of all, allowing her to claim him as hers.

"I really do. But if you're not ready I will wait. As long as it takes." Noticing his flushed cheeks and desperation laced in his voice, Y/N caved…a little.

“Can I think about it?” And while it wasn’t even close to the definite YES he expected, Grayson had to settle for a maybe, regardless of the way it tore his heart to bits. Yet he felt this is much better than the reaction he’d get if he came clean.

Being with her is all he can ask for and he wasn’t ready to give up on her, on them. And maybe he should have told her the truth about everything, she’d probably be understanding, but he couldn’t be sure. He had put her through so much shit that Grayson feared she had too much and would use the latest troubles as an excuse to finally do what he fears the most – walk away from him.

They laid in each other's arms, holding on with a sense of uncertainty - Y/N felt guilty for making him believe she needed him to change, about the sordid lack of faith she has in him and Grayson felt guilty about the kiss he kept from her.

When he opened his eyes the next morning, Y/N was already gone, just a note left about being paged early even though she was supposed to have a day off. He planned to use that day to spend some time together and rebuild their relationship he just realized isn't as unbreakable as he thought before.

1st person POV

Days passed and Grayson never mentioned the proposal again. In a way I was grateful because dealing with a stomach flu and that night wasn't easy. Though he stayed quiet, I knew he was going back to old habits - using sex to change my mind.

It wasn’t difficult to understand Grayson is angry with me and my decision or lack there of. His usually sweet caress had become hard, gripping. Fists in clothes, shoving me against a wall hungrily, as if he’s trying to make me see that without me he’d be nothing more than this – a rampant animal out for blood even when he loves the one he hurts.

Unfortunately for him, I’m not a dainty little snowflake. He made sure of that. I can do both soft and angry and even if he tries, he’s never that violent with me even when I ask.

And as his fingers dig into my hips, I find myself thrown on the bed, enjoying the look in his eye as he takes me in – lips plump, almost bruised, cheeks crimson and desire behind my lustful gaze – something I practiced in front of a mirror but never knew if it works until he laid on top of me, keeping his body weight off just barely – he wanted me to feel dominated, trapped even, but his kisses, as always, melt away from that fiery, blinding passionate rage.

They turn into brushes of lips between shaking breaths, his hips meeting mine in a slow rhythm, allowing every inch of him to fill me to the brim and he wanted me to feel that. His lips are slow until they’re out of energy and parted, until we are left just lying there, holding each other, fingers carding through hair.

Blowing a few of my hairs off my neck, Grayson settled in the crook with a plagued look in his chestnut colored eyes. I could sense something is tormenting him, a secret he keeps and I’m not exactly talkative either. I’ve never asked him about the girl that picked up the phone…I’ve rarely been to his office at all.

“How are things at work?” Sliding my hand over his forearm, I can sense the sharp intake of breath through his nose and while it would be far too easy to just ignore it, the fact I could surely pinpoint his lack of verbal communication created an unsettling feeling in my stomach.

Pecking my shoulder, Grayson spoke – his voice oddly cool as if nothing happened moments ago and I am once again reminded Grayson isn’t just any guy I met off the street – he used to deal with people much scarier than his curious girlfriend.

“A lot of work but it’s been wonderful. The transition is going smooth and while there are a few minor issues to deal with, the company is officially legitimized and honest.” Lying is easy for him and that scares me. Maybe he’s not lying to my face, rather omitting the truth but isn’t that just as bad?

Waves of nausea force me to sit up, feeling my mouth salivating as bile rises at the back of my throat and I’m running before I even know what is happening, running to keep myself from ruining the ridiculously expensive rug Grayson splurged on a few months ago.

Sinking to my knees, retching until only clear liquid was coming up. My stomach kept on contracting violently and forcing everything up and out but the hand on my back and forehead keeping me from falling face first into the toilet kept me earthed. I could only imagine how my face looks, white and dripping bile, sweat, and tears.

“Can you leave? I don’t want you to see me like this.” My voice is hoarse and the pungent stench invaded my nostrils and I heave even though there is nothing left to throw up. My throat feels sore from the stomach acid that was layering it and my mouth tastes of vomit.

As if he could read my mind, Grayson quickly flushed the toilet and helped me lean back against the wall, rushing to fill a glass of water to help me rinse this horrid feeling out of my mouth.

I can’t remember the last time I got sick like this and I certainly can’t remember someone being there to help me and while I wanted him to leave initially, I was so grateful he decided to stay.

“You scared the crap out of me.” Sheepishly admitting to it, Grayson presses his lips together, looking ahead than at me. “You’re seeing a doctor first thing in the morning.” He adds and I scoff, giving him a quick glance.

“I am a doctor. Sort of.” Chuckling, I lean my head on his shoulder, hoping I’m not smelling like a combination of sweat and vomit, but hey, we both need a bath after what we’ve done an hour ago. Besides, making him worry won’t do him much good. There are more pressing matters he needs to dedicate himself to.

“Still. Doll, I never want to risk your health or wellbeing. Okay?”

“I’m aware which is why I know I’m fine and this was just a fluke.” I lied. This is more than just a fluke and the nausea has been going on for a month now, I just never actually had to throw up. And I understand why. My period’s late, long enough to make me fairly certain of what I plan on confirming in the morning – I’m pregnant.

I never understood how women miss their pregnancy for so long, how they don’t notice not having their periods or any other pregnancy symptoms but after everything – thinking we might die, Ethan being shot, starting this internship and then the worry about how solid our relationship is, I just assumed it was late due to stress.

I don’t think that’s the case anymore and I know I have to be more responsible now when I suspect it.

Hands folded in my lap, I interlock my fingers for comfort. Imagining this moment in the past included Grayson, excited and asking me if I'm okay about a hundred times, but never could I imagine being alone, asking a colleague for discretion after having my blood taken.

The thought of being pregnant is daunting, especially at an uncertain time for Grayson and I - another thing I never imagined happening. If anything, I could swear we finally got our happy ending. We were supposed to be stupidly in love while working toward our goals, being a power couple. Instead, we got separated by our schedules, seeds of doubt planted in this time where we were supposed to be stronger than ever.

Is the thought of having a gun held to my head just to have Grayson back too crazy? Probably.

"Hey." Looking up to see the nurse holding a paper in her hand, one I'm sure has answers to my questions and if her smile is anything to go by, the news are supposed to be happy. "Congratulations Y/N. If you need anything, just ask."

For a moment my heart stops, feeling it sink at the thought of telling Grayson and have him be anything but happy. But I am. I am elated.

Placing a hand over my stomach, a smile creeps up on me, spreading until my entire face lights up and I can't help the cheerful giggle escaping me.

"I'm gonna be a mom."

3rd person POV

Standing in front of his windows, looking down at New York with a pensive smile, Grayson thought about how he needs to step up. His first attempt at a proposal failed, miserably, but he wasn't planning on giving up.

She means too much to him to ever give up on her.

The way she said no told him there is more to the story. It was painfully obvious she loves him with all her heart but Grayson wondered what would make a woman in love refuse a proposal.

"Bro, we have a huge problem." Ethan's out of breath, stepping beside his brother with mouth open, still heaving. "And when I say huge problem, I mean a massive, colossal fucking problem."

Looking at his brother, Grayson's jaw clenches with resolve because the blood on Ethan's face is speaking volumes of their issue.

No matter how often he tried to tie up loose ends, it turns out it's nearly impossible to entirely pull out of a decades long criminal history.

"Who the fuck is it?" Fists tights at each side, Grayson's face hardens and his lips press together as Ethan sighs.

"We don't know yet. It's a paid hit, that's sure." Wiping the blood of his bottom lip, Ethan smirks. "But I intend to find out who hired him and I plan to do it the hard way." Raising his eyebrow mischievously, revealing a side of him that's usually dormant but it's awake now and Grayson already knows this would be a fine line to walk on. "You in or what?" Ethan's snarkiness makes Grayson roll his eyes as well as his sleeves.

"I actually liked this shirt." But then again, Grayson is worse than Ethan could ever be and he was about to make that man regret the day he was born. Grayson ‘CEO’ Dolan was gone and Hellhound took over.

"Oh well, I'll buy another one." A cold smile upon his lips, he reverts back to the man he was and he couldn't find it in himself to regret it.

1st person POV

Chewing on the inside left corner of my lower lip, I knew this anxiety wouldn't be good for the baby. Isn't it odd how quickly a mother starts to love her child? Even before it's a formed human being the love is so great you can't put yourself first.

I'm already daydreaming of the day I get to meet my baby, to hold it and see it looking back at me with Grayson's eyes. I'm imagining all the things we'll do together and all the ways this baby could change the world.

Drawing a deep breath, I close my eyes and smile, resting my head on my propped up hand and make a choice - I have to tell Grayson and no matter how he reacts, I will not be hurt by it.

If he wants nothing to do with us, I will survive.

Dialing his number, I tap my nails against the metal table in the canteen. Waiting for him to pick up seemed as fruitful as waiting for rain in the Sahara Desert.

Rubbing my forehead, I sigh and lose a little bit of my resolve before realizing I'll have to call his office instead.

"Dolan enterprises, who am I speaking to?" The gentle, feminine voice on the other side of the line makes me tense up, recognizing it immediately. Isn't this the same voice that picked up that night I had nearly lost my mind and frantically called Ethan, weeping as if someone had died? It's the same voice that made me doubt Grayson and the doubt never quite left me despite Ethan's reassurance.

"Y/N Y/L/N. Mister Dolan is expecting my call." I cringe at the mister part, especially since I use it way too often in a sexual manner in private.

"Oh. Well, I have no record of that. Beside, mister Grayson is a very busy man. He has no time for frolicking whores." And the next thing I hear is her hanging up on me, the line going silent.

Looking at the phone in shock, I hold onto it with a death grip. The nerve this bitch has is definitely irking me. I'm most certain she knows who I am and this disrespectful behavior is going to get her a slap - a bitch slap for a bitch.

Gritting my teeth, I let out pent up air through my flared nostrils. Usually, this sort of thing wouldn't leave a dent - perhaps I thought we were stronger than that before but now? Now when I can tell he's keeping secrets and lying to me? It's impossible not to question everything, and that doubt is exactly what breeds jealousy, possessiveness and utter hatred for the woman picking up MY MAN's phone.

3rd person POV

The last thing Y/N expected is to come home before Grayson, a little after three past midnight, courtesy of a chain car crash. What she expected less is to have him come up to their penthouse few minutes after with his normally white shirt drenched in blood.

Swallowing thickly, Y/N tried her best not to lose her mind over the sight, walking toward Grayson who looks like a deer caught in headlights. He hoped she'd be asleep by now, giving him a solid chance to hide his extracurricular activities he never wanted her to find out about.

Yet, he can't seem to find it in himself to lie to her. He's not ashamed of who he is or who he was. He's not ashamed of those he killed to protect his loved ones, her included.

She knew who he is when they fell in love. She loved him when he was drenched in blood as much as when he was picture perfect, her prince charming...from a much darker fairytale.

"Doll, I..." Before he could make an excuse or apologize, Y/N interjects, her hands cupping his scruffy, bloodied cheeks, her eyes boring into his bloodshot ones.

"Are you okay?" That's all she cared about. She didn't give a shit whose blood is on him, as long as it isn't his or any other Dolan's.

She's not supposed to condone his behavior, she's not supposed to blindly accept the fact that he made her a promise and he just broke it, yet she wanted him safe more than she wanted to safeguard her beliefs. More than she could focus on the future well being of the heartbeat under hers.

"Yeah." Grayson nods faintly, managing a weak smile for her sake but also in admiration. If it were any other woman, he'd be arguing right now, but it's not. It's Y/N, his doll, his soulmate. She simply takes his hand, as gory as it is and leads him toward the bathroom.

Sitting him down on the toilet, she works on unbuttoning his shirt, peeling it off his perfectly chiseled body. His eyes are fixed on her face and tired eyes, realizing she may not be screaming at him but this - him and his choices are wearing her thin. She's fading and he's doing nothing to help her and that makes his chin tremble, making her glance at his lips.

It would be easy to ignore it, to ignore him, but she couldn't ignore the desire to kiss his plump lips, the very lips that signify both heaven and hell to her.

Grayson stands, his fingers hooking the bottom of her shirt, pulling it off with ease, especially since her hair is up in a fish braid as it always is when she's at work.

Leaning in, his forehead rests upon hers, noses brushing as he waits, giving her a chance to bail, to choose if kissing him now would compromise her sanity. And it would. She knows that her sanity is compromised either way, which is exactly why she kisses him, giving him a hard and needful, so incredibly emotional kiss that it used up every last bit of oxygen in Grayson's lungs and he smiles against her lips because she is the only woman that has ever been capable of making him lose his breath. No one ever came even remotely close until she came into his life and claimed him hers for the rest of his life.

"Take your pants off." She commands, slipping her own off along with her panties in one try, walking into the shower without looking back.

She knew he would obey.

Starting the water, she smiles when she feels his hands on her hips, swiftly turning her back to face him in all his glory.

Her hands gripping his forearms, Y/N uses the chance to pull him under the running water, rubbing the blood off him carefully without making eye contact.

The blood pooled around their feet, making Y/N wonder if this is the rest of her life - consuming passion and cleaning the blood off him, no questions asked because she might not like the answers.

She couldn't deny the lure of darkness, of loving a man who is capable of horrific acts that seems to care for her more than anyone else in the world.

Grayson could see the wheels in her head turning, overthinking as always and once again, it is his fault. So, he does what he always does when he wants her to stop thinking - he slams his lips against hers, his left hand at the back of her neck and right one delicately sliding down her back to grip her ass.

“You’re so perfect.” He whispers against her lips, pushing her back against the cold tiles behind them.

“Really?”

A growl escapes him as if her words anger him. His hands leave her ass and move to her stomach. His lips finding hers in a rough kiss. One of his hands move lower, fingers playfully flicking over her clit before he pushes a finger inside her.

“Really.” 

She moans softly at the feeling of his oddly cold fingers in her warm folds. Grayson pushes another finger in and starts moving them in and out at a slow rate.

“Faster”, Y/N moans impatiently, bucking her hips against his hand. Moving his hand faster coaxes soft moans that spill from her lips.

“Tell me what you need”, Grayson smirks, enjoying how easily he can make her his, how even when she should be screaming at him, she’s screaming for him.

‘‘You’’, she responds, her breathing fast, shallow and unpredictably paired with faint gasps that make him shiver with his own need growing.

‘‘Be specific, doll’’, teasing, Grayson slows his fingers down.

‘‘Your dick in my pussy’’, she groans with irritation, gripping his hips as if it would make him stumble into her. Yet, Grayson grins at her and his kisses grow sporadic as his hands grip his length, carefully holstering her up.

Pushing inside, he can’t help but snicker at how wet she is and how easily he fit this time around. He’s loving the ego boost, knowing she craves him with all her being and she’s taking him so well.

However, neither of them can focus too much on anything but the arising orgasms and while Grayson tries to keep a steady rhythm, celebrating every moan and pant passing her glorious lips, he can sense her clenching around him before he’s quite there. 

Holding her in place until the aftershock waves pass her body, Grayson litters her neck with tender kisses.

“Let me go.” She orders, her voice a little shaky and while Grayson wanted to hold her a while longer, not even in a sexual manner, he obeys. Assuming she’s leaving, Grayson shuts the water off only to raise his eyebrows when she goes to her knees.

“Didn’t really think I’d leave you high and dry, did you?” Smirking, her hand grabs a hold of his base and slowly sucks the tip into her mouth.

Looking up at the amused man through her eyelashes, she takes more of his hardened length in her mouth. She never really saw the point of blowjobs, especially watching it on porn where it looked like every girl acted as if they’re eating the most delicious treat and would gladly choke on a guy’s dick, but with Grayson, she came to realize it’s not about the act or about it tasting good – it’s about how badly you want the other person to be puddy in your hands, how even a man as powerful as Grayson will resort to begging when she’s edging him to the brink of insanity.

It’s about power, about pleasure and most of all, it’s about love.

“Y/N”, he moans, grabbing her hair before pulling on it. She glances up at him coyly and he grunts, nearly coming because of the mere sight of her.

‘‘Doll’’, Grayson moans, bucking his hips into her mouth.

“I am going to cum”, he warns in an attempt to pull out, letting go of her hair but she holds his hips firmly, allowing him to come into her mouth, swallowing every last drop.

Panting, he stares down at her as she wipes her plump lips, unable to let the moment pass him by. She’s everything he ever wanted. "Marry me." His words make her choke on her own spit, her eyes widening.

"You're asking me while I'm literally on my knees in front of you? Was the orgasm that mind-blowing? Is it because I swallowed?" She continued berating him with a coy smile, taking his hand on her way up, allowing her hands to travel his body with care, teasing him with her fingertips fanning across his skin.

"Ah, maybe?" He chuckles, groaning as her lips connect with his collarbone only to grunt when her teeth come to play and she nibbles on his skin.

Realizing he won't get anywhere with her if she keeps on working him up, Grayson pushed her lightly, enough for her to pout but understand he means business.

"Seriously though. I asked you once and you told me you'd think about it, but can you honestly imagine a day where we aren't together?" And he made perfect sense, she knew that. But ever since she nearly died...more than once, Y/N wasn't sure about anything in her life except Grayson and she loves him, so much so she can't breathe when he's gone for too long but marriage? It still didn't seem like something he wanted nor needed.

If she is being completely honest, she's still scared he's only asking to please her, to make her happy, not because he wants to be a husband, or that he might resent that down the line.

And most of all, she’s terrified of him doing this to cover up he cheated on her. Something she’s been agonizing over that for a while, trying to have some trust in him. He’s earned that much.

"No, I can't imagine a life without you. But that doesn't mean we have to get married, Gray."

Narrowing his eyes suspiciously at her, Grayson scoffs. "You really don't want to marry me, do you doll?"

"I do. But the thing is, are you asking because you can't imagine not marrying me or because you think I won't be with you if you don't? Because that piece of paper means nothing to me if it's pressuring you to do something you aren't comfortable with. I love you too much to do that to you." Holding back some of her concerns, she finally leaves the shower with a little help from the naked specimen before her.

"I'm doing this because I want to marry you, doll. I want to be your husband, to be yours in every possible way."

"Sure you're ready to part with that bachelor title?" She cocked an eyebrow, smirking at him as her hands form a protective circle around him, pulling them closer together.

"I've been ready since I met you."

Maybe telling him she’s pregnant won’t be such a disaster after all.

Watching him run into their bedroom, Y/N follows with a new wave of certainty. He loves her. She loves him. Any of the doubts her mind created are likely due to her insecurities and she was done letting them drive her insane.

For the first time in forever, her mind was clear and she was happy to give her hand to Grayson, watching him slip on the ring officially with no regrets.

“Can we talk though?” Y/N draws a shaky breath, hoping to finally shed some light on the second fear.

“Always.” His comforting reassurance made her smile, but her heart quivers in fear.

“Did you cheat on me with your assistant?” Holding his gaze, she notices a slight shift in his pupil, lips parting.

“No. Kerry works for me. That’s all. Why…Why would you think that?” It’s not the best solution – lie right as he put a ring on her finger, even worse to make her feel guilty for asking, but Grayson panicked and he needed the suspicion gone. All this time, he assumed he was in the clear after Ethan said he lied about it after all, but he never once realized it was eating away at her.

“Maybe because she keeps messing up our lunch dates? Or how when I call I’m suddenly called a frolicking whore or how when she picked up your phone she said you’re busy with her and it didn’t sound like it was work kind of busy and I might be overreacting but I swear that woman makes my blood boil and I want to break her like a twig. You trained me!        I could do it!” Rambling, Y/N started to laugh at her own jealousy, especially when she realized she’s arguing while they’re both naked. In fact, they just got engaged naked and if anything, Y/N surely couldn’t ever think they’re normal or boring.

Pulling her closer, Grayson kisses her temple. “I promise Kerry isn’t an issue. I’m devoted to you. So, don’t worry. I’ll deal with her myself.”

But happiness can never last forever. In a week’s time, exactly on the day the pair planned to escape their duties for lunch and longer, Y/N was ready to share the news with Grayson. She was prepared to tell him he’d become a father in about six months or so and she was even more excited to see the confused look on his face when she takes him to the doctor’s with her, allowing him to see the baby and connect the dots himself.

But, that didn’t happen. As always, when one makes plans, destiny sure loves to fuck with them.

"Kerry, can you please let Y/N know I'll be a few minutes late for our lunch date? Just let her into the office." Grayson smiles at his assistant, his eyes bright as they always are when Y/N is on his mind and while he would kill, literally, to be there on time, she's the very reason why he can't do that anymore. He can't be that person and love her at the same time. She deserves better than that. She deserves the man he's trying to be. The man only she brings to the surface - someone he's proud to be.

"Of course." Kerry returns his smile, a little wider, her eyes unblinking as they always are when he's around - filled with emotions Grayson never gave any fuel to. She watched him leave, her grin reduced to a wicked smirk as he disappears behind the corner, just in time for Y/N to arrive.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You don't have an appointment with the boss." Fake pleasantries and smiles never fooled Y/N, though she struggled to understand what exactly made Grayson so certain Kerry isn't an issue.

Ever since she met the snake, well, talked to the snake, Y/N was painfully aware of her attempts to drive a wedge between her and Grayson and the worst part? He's either too daft to see the truth or he's willing to drag her through hell for another woman.

"I don't need an appointment to see my boyfriend…Well, fiancé." Y/N remarks, folding her arms across her chest, glaring at the blonde before her with confidence she's having difficulty maintaining.

Kerry is breathtakingly gorgeous, incredibly well built and perhaps part of the issue stems from the fact that Y/N still can't understand why a man like Grayson would ever settle for her. Because she truly didn't know if someone like Kerry would eventually make him see how plain she truly is.

"Either way, he's not in his office. Something about a lunch date with his new client. Feel free to wait around." Chuckling, Kerry smirked, her words dripping with venom.

"Be more pathetic than you already are. Because in the end, he will come back to me." Clicking her nails against the solid wooden desk before her, Kerry bore a sly smirk, almost victorious once she realized Y/N is clueless and she finally has something to hurt her with.

"He didn't tell you. Did he? How he used to fuck me. Or how he kissed me recently." Raising her eyebrows, expecting tears and maybe even a full breakdown, Kerry wished she could take a picture for gloating.

Y/N stared at her for ten seconds, maybe more, holding her breath in order to hold back her anger, disappointment, and most of all tears. She couldn't afford to show weakness, not even in front of the secretary. Grayson might not be the scariest person in New York anymore but she couldn't allow any trace of emotion show. Perhaps it's all she went through with Mikhail or the Serpents, but she had hardened, her face remaining impassive even in the face of certain death so what is just another woman who plays with her claws.

"That's the key difference." Y/N smiles coldly, stepping closer to the desk with an air of confidence around her - fake it till you make it, she thought.

"He fucked you but he makes love to me." Planting both her palms flat against the desk, leaning closer to the woman who is hell bent on making her relationship crumble and she speaks through gritted teeth: "Get in line bitch, before I make you."

"Ahh, doll! Hope I didn't keep you waiting." Grayson comes up from behind her, placing a hand on the small of her back and she straightens up, faking a smile for Kerry before turning back on her heel, her lips finding Grayson's instinctively.

She let her frustrations free, consuming his lips shamelessly, rather unlike her in public and Grayson knew.

"Tell me you have some time for me?" She whispers against his lips, aware of Kerry's glare at the back of her head. In fact, she hoped the bitch is paying attention because if she has to stake her claim again, she'll need nose surgery. She couldn’t focus on her claims of recent events, but to learn he bedded her destroyed her.

“Actually, you have a meeting in ten.” Kerry interjects but Grayson shakes his head.

"Always have time for my favorite girl. Already took the rest of the day off." And that was an official win in her books, pecking his lips again with genuine enthusiasm.

“Reschedule Kerry. And make sure Ethan calls me back once he’s done…with his current client.” His voice is deep and authoritative, starkly different than when he talks to her. Y/N couldn't help but wonder if he purposefully speaks in a softer tone when he is with her.

Walking off with their arms linked, Grayson decided to ask about the palpable anger once they’re out of the building. So, the moment they found themselves in the limousine Grayson liked to use lately, the gloves were off.

"Want to tell me what that was about? And don't tell me nothing because I could feel you wanted to slap a bitch." Chuckling under this breath, he noticed her lips press together, her eyebrows furrowing and her gentle, warm gaze turned icy, dangerous.

"Your secretary told me you cancelled lunch and then she proceeded to tell me we wouldn't last because she's apparently so fuckable and you know that from experience." Pursing her lips, she could tell he wasn't happy with Kerry and her revelation.

"She's lying. Right?" He swallowed thickly, blinking a little too fast for an innocent man.

Avoiding her gaze, Grayson cursed at the day he took pity and allowed Kerry to be his secretary after closing his gang related business. There was no way around it, his past coming back to haunt him. No matter how hard he tries to run, to hide, it always finds away to ruin his present.

"There was a time we were friends with benefits." Admitting the truth, Grayson could see her horrified expression, the ache it caused.

"Oh my God, WHO HAVEN'T YOU FUCKED?" Grayson once admitted to an array of one night stands, she just never realized she'd be surrounded with them on daily basis.

"I'm seriously asking! How many of them do I see every day and smile kindly at while they discuss how I'll be just another girl on your list?"

"You're not another girl on my list." Grayson interjects, unaware he'd only make it worse.

"Why does she even work for you? She's been nothing but trouble since the day you hired her! She lied about our lunch date, so what else had she fucked up for us?" Shaking her head, Y/N pulls her hair back, feeling suffocated under the weight and warmth it exudes, making her sweat profusely.

"I owe her. Okay? Because when I was recklessly aiming to kill anyone who'd harm you, her brother got murdered as retaliation. Can you not understand that?" Frowning with the memory of his friend's lifeless body, Grayson let out a heavy sigh, one that reminded him of the weight he only ever feels lighten around Y/N. She was usually his cure, a medicine for all that ails him but for the first time since she came into his life, she added onto that weight.

"And that justifies leaving her in a position where she will do anything to break us up? Because if that's so, at least I know your priorities now." Turning away from him, unable to escape while driving in the back of a limousine on the highway, Y/N wished she could jump out and risk it, anything to avoid looking at him or even breathing the same air, but she couldn't. Not with a new life inside her. Not when her worst fears came true – she wasn’t his fiancée because he loves her, but because it’s convenient for him to ease his guilt.

1st person POV

“I’m pregnant.” I admit, deciding to air out all the secrets I’ve been carrying around, all the pain I’ve held inside. If he wants to end it, this is when it happens because even when I tell him news he should react to, all I get is a faint nod.

“I know. Saw the labs in your purse.” And that’s when everything comes barreling down.

Is this why he proposed? Is this why he stays?

“I wanted you to tell me on your own. I found out this morning which is why I took the rest of the day off. Thought we could go up to the garden.” But I couldn’t listen to him anymore nor his lies. The ache in my chest had torn my heart to pieces and I was so tired of holding it together, allowing a single tear to slip past my defenses.

"Grayson, I know." I frown as my voice cracks and he furrows his eyebrows. His hands are close, forming fists. His eyes focus on me, unblinking and empty as if all emotions drained from them when I spoke up, sharing what's eating at me.

"Know what?" His calm, almost political response didn't anger me like I expected, I didn't throw a fit. Instead, I simply shake my head and press my lips together, holding my breath in hope of holding back tears.

"When did you stop loving me?" Speaking is hard, especially with a growing lump at the back of my throat that's making it harder to even breathe.

My words anguish him, terrify and confuse him and I wish I could believe the sudden show of emotion but it's impossibly sad how much I wish I didn't doubt him. I wish I could trust everything he says or does, perhaps I do, but I can't allow myself to immerse in his charming, murky brown eyes again. Not when the uncertainty is gripping every inch of my aching heart.

"I didn't. I love you so, so much! Doll, I love you more than life." He speaks with such conviction, his hands quickly taking mine for reassurance. And it’s romantic and all I needed to hear, yet I can't help but wonder if that's only because I'm pregnant with his child...his heir.

Is that something I'd want for my baby? To live with a target on its back, being groomed to take over an empire their father can't seem to dismantle?

I clear my throat, fixing his fearful gaze with my softer one. "Never love anything more than life." Unless it's our baby. Love our baby more than your empire if you can't love me as much, I think but don’t say.

Wanting to do the right thing is far from doing it.

"Why did you kiss her?" I finally clarify my initial statement, because now I know and no matter what the goal was...I know and there's no going back.

"I didn't want to.” Grayson tries to clarify before I can get another word in, almost pissed I’d ever doubt him. But how can I not. How can I just ignore the signs?

“She kissed me. I pushed her off. I did everything right!" Raising his voice makes me flinch and I hate that. I hate how easily I submit when someone raises their voice and he knows that. He’s aware that’s why we talk and not yell at each other, but emotions are running high and I’m praying he’s not doing this on purpose.

"That's not the point, Grayson! The point is…why did she feel so comfortable to get so intimate? Why would she think you'd kiss her back?!" Folding my arms across my lower stomach, I try to ignore the slight ache spreading inside.

It’s impossible not to worry about the baby, if this argument is something that will cause an unfortunate event and I draw a deep breath, looking at Grayson who is shaking his head as if I’ve asked the most ridiculous question in the world, but I’ve gotten to him. His pause is simply because he is out of excuses.

"Because she's a psychopath? How should I know?! Doll, I love you."

"Don't fucking call me that!" I snap, wiping my chin to clear the spit that escaped me when the anger burst and if I could, I’d have hurt him in that moment too. I’d show him my wounds, but I stop, trying to compose myself.

Not only is my fiancé lying to me, but he’s had his brother help him cover up his deeds as well.

"Don't push me away. Don't use your insecurities as excuses to push me away and break us apart. We're supposed to be happy! Engaged and expecting!"

The audacity!

"Well, I'm not the one who lied. I’m not the one throwing your flaws in your face. Had you told me the truth or at least tried to nip it in the bud, I'd be fine with it. But you felt the need to lie, to force Ethan of all people to support your lies and I... there must have been a reason for that. You're keeping things from me and I thought it was my fault and this is the second time you've made me feel guilty for the issues that stem from your inability to communicate like a normal human being and I'm so fucking tired of it. I'm fucking tired of picking up the pieces every time shit goes down because you believe you're blameless." Looking away, I bite my lip and for a moment I wonder if I went too far. But I did mean it. All our issues come from his secrecy and lack of communication and it’s impossible not to wonder if it comes from a lack of trust too.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. It was never my intention to make you feel like that." Reaching for my hand, he sighs when I move it away, disgusted with him at this point.

"Does that actually matter when the result is pain? Fuck, Grayson, I thought you said it would be different now. I thought I'd be your priority for once, but it remains a verba, not res thing."

I can hardly stomach his presence, let alone touch and the pain in my stomach isn’t letting up.

“Gah!” I scream out, the sudden sharp pain making my defenses fall, revealing the vulnerability beneath as I grasp his hand, desperate to have him close.

No matter how much pain he causes, I still look to him for a cure. How fucked up is that?

"Are you okay?" His free hand braces me, holding me as if I’m made of porcelain, not steel.

"I feel like I'll be sick." I mutter, cold sweat running at the back of my neck and forehead, my hands shaking as they grip his as if he would save me. As if he would make it all better.

Shortage of breath is the first sign my pain has caused a panic inside, the thought of harm coming to the baby draining every bit of sanity I’ve got left. I'm breathing but the air just won't go in, like my lungs are caged birds. Next comes the rising panic I wanted to avoid, the dizzy feeling and the need to get low to the ground.

“Breathe.” Grayson whispers and I soon feel the car stop, the door opening and our driver giving me a look of pity – the kind I hated most of all.

"I'll help you out." Grayson all but carried me out, allowing my feet to touch the ground simply to save my pride, probably afraid I’d make him let me go if he tried anything more. Perhaps I would if the pain and panic didn’t blind me entirely, leaving me gasping, my mind spiraling as I look down in fear of what I might find. Noticing no blood, I manage a faint smile and tilt my head up to meet his dazzling, warm eyes.

Damn those eyes I love so much.

Swallowing my pride, I decide to thank him as the pain gradually subsides. Holding me close, keeping my heart beating, Grayson had managed to calm me down, my breathing synchronized with his and I realize my blood pressure must have skyrocketed during the argument and it must have caused pain.

"Tha –“, but I don’t get to say it. Not when a deafening sound of gunshots leaves me breathless. It takes me a moment to fully understand what is happening, the screams around me fading to nothingness as Grayson spins us around, his arms firmly around me as if they’re my armor.

Gasping for air, I feel the arms around me loosen, a loud thud following and the warmth disappears only for horror to take its place.

“GRAYSON!"

3rd person POV

Y/N’s scream rippled through the street, the raw intensity of her fear cracking the heart of any human close enough to hear. She falls to her knees, helpless as her fingers grip his white shirt lacking evidence any harm came to him.

Her eyes lay upon his, desperately searching for signs of life and while the driver dials 911, Y/N needed someone else. She needed Ethan but she couldn’t move, her entire body shaking violently.

“Doll”, Grayson breathes out and she no longer remembers the anger in which she told him to forget that nickname. It’s a distant memory as she sobs, her vision blurred with tears. His hand clutches her right one, forcing a smile to ease her mind but even he knows that’s impossible at this point.

“It’s – It’s”, a cough interrupts his need to comfort her, yet she knew exactly what he wants to tell her. She knows exactly what he means and it only breaks her further, especially when she notices the blood pooling under her knees – his blood – the blood he needs to survive. And she’s practically a doctor, she’s supposed to help him, but she can’t – there’s nothing she can do. She can’t even move him.

“It’s not fine! None of this is fine!” Inadvertently screaming, she wipes her left cheek with the back of her hand, pissed and so, so in love with him for trying to calm her down and give her some hope and while she can hear the sirens in the distance, he is fading right before her eyes and the terror of a thought invaded her mind – he will die.

“I don’t want to live without you. Grayson, we have so much more to do and I…I’m so sorry I didn’t accept your proposal the first time you asked!” Her voice cracks, forcing her to stop and swallow for a moment, long enough to catch a crooked smile on his quivering lips.

“I’m so angry at you Grayson Dolan! You don’t get to die if it’s not by my hand! Do you understand that?!” Squeezing her hand, Grayson’s lips part with intent to tell her he understands.

He wanted to tell her he loves her and always will and that she will never be alone even if he doesn’t survive. For the first time ever, Grayson looked up at Y/N with fear because he knew whoever did this to him was aiming for his girl and the baby inside her. Grayson Dolan, the Hellhound, the man who fears nothing found himself frozen in fear as his Y/N stood above him, almost hysterical. And he couldn’t do a damn thing. He couldn’t do more than he already did – save her.

He couldn’t hold her and make her tears dry and he couldn’t manage his last I love you nor a meek smile.

What he could do is imagine if she would be happier if he just let her go when he had the chance?

If he never came back into her life once she walked out that door?

She made him happier he had ever been, but did he do the same for her or is the danger he put her in by loving her worth it? She could have done all the things she wanted to without him holding her back and yet she stayed. She stayed and loved him so well he actually saw a future past the life he was born into.

She’d be happy without him, he knew it. Maybe happier than she ever was with him, but he was too selfish to allow it, too possessive to imagine another man’s hands upon her.

She isn’t happy now, he’s certain of it. The tears in her eyes tell him that and all he wishes is to take back what he said in the limo, to remind her how they were and not their last day of screaming…of blur.

Eyelids growing heavy, Grayson’s smile fades, praying she find happiness she deserves once more.

All that he kept thinking throughout their whole flight is it could take his whole damn life to make it right because he knew he had wronged her. They had gotten through so much worse than this before and he wondered what's so different this time that she just can't ignore? He could see her saying it is much more than just his last mistake and had the pain nor this shooting happened she’d have asked for some time apart for both their sakes.

And Grayson doesn't know where to look, his sight fading. His words just break and melt, there’s not enough time to ask for forgiveness. There is never enough time and he prays, for the first time in a long time, he prays for someone to save him from this darkness. All he needs is one more moment to make things right, for his last words to be of love and not a fight.

Closing his eyes, he feels his shoulders are shaking with force, realizing it’s Y/N and her attempt to keep him awake but he can’t do it, he can’t open his eyes. He can’t even hear her anymore, but he senses her hands on his face, the olive hand cream he bought her invading his senses and he’s grateful – he’s in the arms of the one he loves most – not a bad way to go for a man with his past. 

“Grayson?” Y/N croaks, shaking him once more before her shaky hands grip his cheeks and her tears fall down on him as well.

She’s gasping for air that simply isn’t there. Her throat burns, forming a silent scream. The pressure inside her chest pushes forth, releasing the most hysterical cry, the screaming sobs only interrupted by her need to draw breath.

It’s a deep, primal sound, one humans are programmed not to ignore. Those who hid previously finally continued on their way, turning their heads toward Y/N, some of them even filming the scene. Caught between an impulse to help and another to stay out of bother, some simply looking for something to gather followers on Twitter, people gathered around them.

But whatever they chose their day had been altered. To be so close to such pain changes a person, even just temporarily. Their own pains come a little closer to the surface; their empathy is triggered.

Y/N can’t remember when the ambulance came, still checking his pulse – the only part of this keeping her breathing. His pulse is faint, but it’s there and she selfishly thought it’s her man fighting to stay with her.

For her.

She stepped away as they dragged him away from her, as if she wasn’t even there. Stepping up into the vehicle, she sat beside him and grabbed a hold of his hand, struggling to keep herself afloat. His hand is cold, something she never once felt in all the time she knew him and it only deepens her emotional breakdown.

It was all happening so fast, she couldn’t keep up. They got to the hospital rather quickly, taking him away from her without even giving her a chance to kiss him one more time.

Just in case.

She shakes her head at that thought, refusing to think so negatively at a time where Grayson needed hope. She needed hope too.

Pulling her phone out, she calls the one person she knew could give her some.

“Ethan?” Her hoarse voice is a dead giveaway something happened all while Ethan was in much bigger shit, blood up to his elbows after executing the last man they captured after procuring vital information.

“Who died?” It’s all he can say, realizing the answer may just kill him. He was calling Grayson minutes ago to tell him of a shooting they planned to kill Y/N in order to break him and he didn’t pick up. Shivers run down his spine as Y/N’s pause chips away what sanity he has. And it’s not much at this point.

“I need you.”

Ethan didn't think, grabbing his gun and jacket, his heart sinking at the sound of her voice. "Tell me where you are."

His assistant jumped as he barreled through the hallway, blood still fresh on his hands, a telltale sign he's losing his mind and someone might suffer for it.

"Where do you think you're going like that?" She hissed, stepping in his way confidently, refusing to buckle under his ruthless glare.

"Move." Ethan growls, his jaw clenching and his lips pressing together. He's furious, but he doesn't scare her. So, instead of moving away, she moves in, her arms wrapping around his tense body, ignoring the fact he's not returning the hug. Instead, she takes a whiff of his cologne, comforting herself since he didn't allow her to comfort him.

"I'm coming with you." Is all she says, taking her bag and his hand firmly, disallowing his near attempt at pushing her away. After months of caring for him and catering to all his needs, Selena wasn't about to abandon him when it counts the most.

Ethan wanted to thank her, to say he appreciates her kindness but the lump in his throat is too big and he fears speaking would make him crumble and he can't afford to be weak now. He can't break when he has to be the rock. So, instead of saying a word, Ethan grips her hand tighter and leads her into the company car, deciding it's best if he doesn't drive.

"Take me to the hospital." He orders the driver, turning to Selena with uncertainty in his eyes. She's trembling, he can tell, yet she's there with him - no questions asked.

Better yet, she's opening her bag and grabbing wet wipes, rubbing the blood off him meticulously to hide his crimes instead of reporting him and he never understood why Grayson was so keen on protecting Y/N before.

Truth be told, he loves Y/N like a sister and he can't imagine not having her in his life, but he finally realized the reason why Grayson loves Y/N, as selfish as that emotion is in their line of work.

Everyone needs someone to lean on and Ethan never expected to find someone he wanted as much as Selena, but in that moment he thanked his lucky stars he did. He wanted to kiss her like the moon does sea, weightless with the ability to move the deepest parts of her soul.

Ethan no longer wanted only sex and companionship, he wanted romance and vulnerability.

A faint smile appears on his lips as he shakes his head at the crazy thoughts plaguing him. Getting shot isn't always a bad thing, is it?

But reality isn't going anywhere and it weighs on him heavily.

"It's Grayson. It was a drive by shooting." Ethan tells her, noticing her pause in shock, unable to look in his eyes.

Selena lets out a shaky breath, glancing up at the tormented expression on Ethan's face and she can't help the tears forming in her eyes.

She knows Y/N and she knows Grayson and if they hadn't hired her when they did, she wasn't sure what her life would be now. She liked them, enough to make her heart ache but what made her cry is Ethan - if he hurts so does she.

And while she never thought of herself as a violent person, she discovered there is a lot more she doesn't know about herself in the past few months. Seems like Ethan is a man who is allowing her to reach into the depths of her very being, finally in tune with her own soul. So, before she comprehends it, she speaks with no remorse.

"Kill the bastard who did it."

Nodding, Ethan cracks a pained smile. "I intend to."

"Sir, we're here." The driver pipes in, ending the moment they shared effectively. Ethan had just gotten his hands clean but as he stepped out of the car, he could already tell his hands would be bloody yet again.

He didn't wait for Selena, making great strides toward the emergency room with his mind screaming at the possibility of what he might find.

He couldn't breathe until his eyes find Y/N, swallowing thickly as he sees the state she's in. Her hands are folded in her lap, bloody as are her legs. There is no light in her once bright eyes, the dash of spring her usual smile brings now turned into a harsh winter chilling everyone who dares glance at her.

Black tracks on her cheeks are constantly watering down with new streaks her unyielding, sorrowful tears create. And it breaks his heart to see her so lost, so beaten down that he can't help but remember the last time he saw her in that state - the day she rushed into his arms when Mikhail was killed and that was after a long while of torture.

This seemed worse.

Much worse.

"Y/N." His voice is deep, low, as if speaking in any other way would be disrespectful, as if her pain matters more than his.

Looking up at him, Y/N's eyebrows furrow and her eyes narrow, almost as if she can't believe Ethan is there...little did he know her mind played a trick on her and the light above his head nearly made her believe Grayson had come for her.

Standing up with the last atom of her strength, Y/N throws her arms around Ethan, holding him so tight he could have sworn she wanted to kill him. But she didn't.

She closed her eyes and pretended. She pretended it was Grayson, just for a moment. She couldn't cry anymore, not in heartbreaking sobs like she did when it first happened; the tears fell silently and her lips quivered on their own.

"He thinks I hate him." She whispers, her voice raspy and emotional, putting more weight on Ethan's shoulders. "We were arguing before it happened and", letting go of Ethan, she takes a step back only then noticing Selena behind Ethan.

Glancing at Ethan, she pressed her lips together, drawing a shuddered breath.

"If there is one thing I know it's that he loves you and he doesn't doubt your love either. He'd die for you." Ethan places his hands on her shoulders, bending enough to force eye contact she avoided as if she is ashamed of what Selena heard.

But Ethan's words rattle her, only reminding her when Grayson told her he loves her more than life. She warned him not to say that. It was heartfelt, she knew that and today she saw he truly meant it.

"And that's exactly what he did today. I want to believe, E...I want to so bad but...this was different than the first time. This was different than you." Holding her breath, Y/N felt a wave of desperation flood her and her eyes brought forth faster, anguished tears that drew their force from the very essence of her pain, so much so they don't fall but crash.

"I want to know who is responsible. I want them dead." Y/N's eyes harden as she spat hate, anger taking over as her hands form fists and Ethan could see she's out for blood. He wants to act too, he does. But she can't be a part of it.

The last thing Grayson would want is his sweet Y/N getting her hands dirty.

"I'll take care of it. I already know who it is." Ethan assures her, meaning well but all it does is set her soul aflame.

"We will take care of it. This is personal."

"No, no, no. Stay here and I'll come back when it's done. I promise." Ethan insists, pushing her back when she chuckles dryly, trying to pass him as if Selena knew the information she needed, as if she could do this herself.

Speaking though gritted teeth, Y/N stepped closer. "You can take me with you or I can follow you. Really wanna risk that?"

Licking his lips, Ethan couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her stubbornness. He’s heard how it usually troubled his brother but being confronted with it wasn’t exactly a picnic.

Her eyes are red and puffy but the determination in her eyes honestly scared him. Y/N isn’t bluffing and he had no possible way of controlling her decisions. If Grayson couldn’t, how could he?

Sighing in exasperation, Ethan rubs his chin, aware this is happening and he can’t escape. Well, he could, but it would include using force and Grayson would kill him if he even tried. Hell, he’d kick his ass just for considering it even if it was just a thought.

“Selena, can you please stay and keep us informed?” Ethan glances over his shoulder at the sweet brunette, smiling when she nods. He wished to hold her, even for just a moment but the last thing he needs is Y/N telling Grayson about them after all this is done, and it would be – Grayson would live to yell at him for inappropriate work relationships again. He knew it in his heart.

“I’ll call the boys to pick up the guilty party. Let’s go.” Y/N had to run to keep up with his stride, annoyed but unwilling to nag him when he’d given her the best possible gift – revenge.

Sitting in that waiting room would have drained her entirely, the guilt eating away at her. Y/N needed to do something to forget about Grayson’s current state, to ignore the fear’s iron grip.

The drive to their usual warehouse was longer from this side of the city, giving Y/N plenty time to think. Too much time.

It didn’t take long before her mind began to remember all the things she loved and hated about Grayson.

Ever since they moved into the penthouse, she absolutely hated his habit of spending all the hot water and forgetting to warn her about it. She hated how often he’d keep her up snoring and even more how he loved to frighten her when she’d come home from a night shift. It was a constant battle to teach him to wash the dishes properly and not just throw them away saying he’d buy new ones. Same thing applies to his clothes. She also hated how meticulous he was about the way his clothes were to be folded and especially about the way he’d insist the thermostat is supposed to be.

But there are so many things she loved about him too. She loved how sweet he is, how he’d cuddle her every day even when she was too shy to ask. He’d just know she needs it and his arms would already be around her. She also loved how he’d cut up fruit for her because he knew how she loves to snack on it, or how he’d leave her hearts on the mirror every time he’d finish his showers only for her to discover them after he’d gone to work. She adored how much thought he’d put in every word, every touch, every single gift he’d given her including his unwilling attainment of a singular hoodie for them to have a sense of normalcy. And most of all, she loved how he dismantled his gang related business just to make sure they have a bright future together.

Smiling, she realized every single action he does is to make her feel safe and loved. It’s his way of telling her he loves her without a single word passing his tender lips.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she hated herself with such ferocity over her last words spoken to him in undiluted anger. Their last interaction should have been filled with love not rage.

She never quite realized it before, but she was always his greatest achievement, the one he was proud of the most and now when they were inches from their happily ever after, from becoming a real family, they took him away from her – they ripped her heart out and she wanted to repay the favor.

“If something happens to me, you’d protect her, right?” Grayson tilts his head, hoping his brother would give him some sign he’d make sure his doll would be safe even if one of his enemies take him out. He’s tried to retire and forget the world he was born into but to do so isn’t up to him. It took him a while to understand that he will never truly be retired.

Even if he isn’t a criminal anymore, they still remember him and he’s still the symbol of the undefeated gang – The house of the rising sun ruled over New York for decades and many wanted to dethrone them, unfortunately that is possible only through slaughter.

“I would. She’s like a sister to me. I’d never let any harm come to her.” Ethan responds, not even thinking about it. It’s true, his affection for Y/N is strong and platonic.

“Promise me.” Grayson demands softly, aware he shouldn’t be distrustful toward his twin but he couldn’t help but be irrational when it’s Y/N’s life at stake.

All the signs and latest assassins have made him paranoid, spending so much of his time making sure none of them ever get close to Y/N and he wasn’t sorry.

When Y/N is at stake, he’d let blood run until there’s a river flowing through the streets. She’s his weakness and yet the reason why he remains Hellhound to any with intent of using her against him.

Those who tried are all dead now.

Ethan understood, though, willing to make his brother a vow. “I promise.”

He didn’t feel like he’s upholding his promise anymore. It felt like he broke it before his brother had even died, even more when he saw Y/N reach for a gun in her purse.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ethan gave her an incredulous look, nearly having a stroke when he saw her take the safety off.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Her impassive response only made him more anxious and he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

“I thought he bought you a taser not a fucking gun!” Shouting, he tried to pry the gun from her hands but he found resistance.

“He did. But I took his.” Pulling away from Ethan, she rolls her eyes at his paled face.

“He thought me how to use this as well how to fight. I’m not a damsel in distress and I’m done waiting for someone to protect me and the baby.” Opening the door, she stepped out swiftly, setting off to where Grayson once took her. Granted, he took her against his will because she demanded to know everything.

“BABY?!” Ethan’s gruff scream had made her stop, waving him over to quicken his pace.

“Yeah. Congrats on being an uncle. Well, you’re not one yet but you will be.” She chuckles and Ethan can’t help but wonder if she’s completely mad at this point.

There’s one thing to put her in danger but the baby too?

Grayson will surely kill him when he finds out.

“You’re going to get me killed.” Ethan complains as she opens the door and is found face to face with three people, all tied up and gagged. Two men she had never seen in her life and a woman.

“Fucking Kerry.” Y/N spat, walking over to her, backhanding her without remorse.

Kerry seems almost amused as she shoots Y/N a wink only sending her into a fit of rage. “You fucking bitch!”

No one dared to hold her back as Y/N screamed, throwing punch after punch, not even when Kerry’s nose was clearly broken and bleeding and Y/N’s raw knuckles weren’t much better.

Ethan grabbed a hold of her, pulling her arms behind her back seemingly the easiest way to stop her without harming her or the baby.

“I will fucking kill you!” Y/N screamed as Ethan dragged her out and away from the situation. Before the door closed, Y/N could hear three distinctive gunshots. It only made it worse.

Ethan didn’t care if she hated him, he protected her as he promised his twin. Rage often makes us do what we regret when our mind is clear once again and he knew she’d regret it eventually. Killing is never easy and someone as pure as her would be haunted by it as he and Grayson are.

“WHY?! I WANTED TO DO IT!” Her venom turned to tears and before Ethan knew it, her body shook with new sobs breaking through the surface. “I can’t do this without him, E. I can’t!” She wailed, allowing Ethan to carry her back into the car.

He cradled her like a child, holding her close, his own tears showing. They truly understood one another, their pain is the same. “Shh.” Ethan whispered, worried about the baby and the stress this day had brought. “You won’t have to. My brother is nothing if not stubborn. He won’t leave us yet.”

The two returned to the hospital, neither capable of speaking anymore. There’s nothing to say anymore, nothing to do, just wait.

“He’s out of surgery but we won’t be able to see him for a few more hours until he’s stable.” Selena explains, only then receiving a hug she craved for the entire day. Ethan’s chest had become home for her and it felt indescribably good to be home again.

Y/N watched with envy, wondering when will she be able to return to her safe place. “Can I at least see him through the glass?” Y/N pipes in, weary of interrupting them in a moment they both needed. She was happy for Ethan but she couldn’t help but be bitter about her own unhappiness.

“I’ll make it happen.” Selena promised, ducking out of there quickly, a woman on a mission and she never fails.

“You lied to me.” Y/N accuses, her tired eyes giving him a bleak look of disappointment but there is no more anger left inside her. She’s desolated and the only one who would ever make it better is unconscious in a hospital bed.

“About Kerry.” She clarifies as confusion settles. “I asked you if he was cheating and he told me they kissed…Well, she kissed him. It was obviously a ploy to separate us.” Y/N musses, fixing Ethan with her gaze and he shifts uncomfortably, feeling as if he had let her down.

“I know. I saw it happen and Grayson explained. I thought the pain would be unnecessary. Besides, her motive was to break him. She admitted it to our men who took her. She wanted him to lose you, me, the company…everything before she could kill him herself. She blamed you…and him for what happened to her brother.” Ethan explains, taking her hand in his for comfort she so desperately needs but she shies away.

“It wasn’t. Anyone’s fault, I mean. Her brother knew what he was getting himself into when he joined us and Grayson avenged his death. She used their history and her brother’s death to manipulate Grayson who is drowning in guilt, but he loves you Y/N. He’d never cheat on you.”

“I know.” She manages a meek smile, averting her eyes toward the door they took him through – the door that took him away from her.

“I lost sight of it along the way, allowed that psycho to get in my head and I’m just dreading losing him now. It’s always been my worst fear…to have him choose another or lose him to death…I guess I really need to start working on my insecurities and believe in him more.” Shrugging, she glances at Ethan who nods, ecstatic she isn’t holding his lie against him.

“But you can’t lie to me like that again, E. I love you like a brother, but lying isn’t something I enjoy. Not about the psycho bitches kissing my man and not about the obvious issues regarding his past. He’s always gonna be haunted by them, won’t he?” She tilts her head to the right, sucking her bottom lips in and Ethan realizes she’s right – it’s more dangerous if she doesn’t know.

“Yes. I don’t think we’ll ever truly be rid of them. But it isn’t as bad as it seems. Not many dare come after him and those who did have all died. I expect a long while before there’s another issue. But when it comes, we will deal with it. I promise you.”

Sniffling, Y/N offers a crooked smile in gratitude though her words are borderline sarcastic. “My heroes.”

“You can see him. Go through there and they’ll take you to him. Just gotta put on those clothes, you know that better than me.” Selena’s words are like rain after months of draught and Y/N’s legs move quickly, nearly stumbling as she rushes toward the door.

1st Person POV

Shaky legs, trembling hands, I try my best not to cry as I follow a nurse on the way to where my heart lies. It’s impossible to keep my head up high anymore, this had defeated me – today had nearly killed me.

Resting a hand on my lower abdomen, I draw a quick breath to keep my mind clear, as clear as it can be considering the circumstances. What I’m certain of is that today had the power to break me yet I’m still standing and he…he’s still breathing.

Putting on the cap and gown, I’m fast to enter his room despite what I’ve been told. No one could keep me away from him in this moment, not even death.

His skin is ashen, far too pale in comparison to his usual tan. The eyes I love so much are closed shut and while he’s not dependent on a breathing tube, his state is shocking. The ever-present smirk is gone from his lips, no more teasing or sass leaving them and that’s probably the scariest part of it all – he’s quiet, eerily so.

When we first met, Grayson was a man of few words but when he gave me his heart, his trust and undying loyalty, Grayson never really shut up and while I used to be annoyed with his incredibly long stories while I was trying to study, I’d trade everything to hear them again.

"Thank you for saving me." I murmur, delicately placing my hand on his cheek, terrified it would somehow hurt him. But it doesn’t, in fact, Grayson’s eyelids flicker, his struggle to open his eyes taking my breath away.

"It's nothing." Grayson sighs; his voice raspy, his face twisting in agony as he attempts to move his hand to encase mine.

"You could have died! It’s not nothing, Grayson! Kerry could have killed us and you protected me. You kept me safe. " Helping him, I take his hand and give it a light squeeze, the one that ensured he knew how much he means to me. He manages to open his eyes, his gaze longing and sweet, no anger about Kerry or our argument from before reflecting in his brown hues.

Grayson's lips twitch as if a smile would hurt him but he wanted to try for my sake. It's as if he found my words to be ridiculous. "Dying to save the woman I love? My child? There are worse ways to go, doll. It's the most honest thing I have done in my entire life. But next time you warn me about someone, I’ll believe you."

Turning his head so his lips would press a tender kiss upon my palm, Grayson lets out a heavy sigh. "I'd have done it a thousand times over if I had to. You mean more to me than I can say, especially with morphine making me question what's real and what's a dream."

Licking his dry lips, he succeeds and smirks. "Sometimes I worry you're just a dream. You're far too good for me."

Chin quivering, I shake my head and lean in. Resting my forehead on his as gently as possible, my nose brushing his cheek, I feel my heart clench in wake of his words. I've always felt he's too good for me, but never had it crossed my mind he might feel that he's unworthy of me.

I love him very much. More than I can trust myself to say. More than words have the power to express.

“Never. We’re just right for one another.” My whisper brings about a goofy smile on his face and I can’t help but reciprocate, holding back tears I know would only weigh on him.

“Soulmates.” He speaks as his eyes close again.

“I guess you could call it that.” I nod, chuckling, receiving no response. I lean back with a fond smile, realizing he’d fallen asleep again, his relaxed smile remaining put. “Sweet dreams, handsome.”

Grayson’s recovery had certainly been difficult, especially when I once again imposed the ‘no sex’ rule until his wounds healed. “This really isn’t fair.” He’d argue but even if I did desire him, I wasn’t as easy to break.

Another thing that bothered him greatly is being unable to return to work. Ethan had taken over the business for a while, allowing me to confiscate Grayson’s work phone thus ensuring he’d take it easy for a while. However, I soon realized Ethan had a hidden motive for doing that as it protected his secret as well. Unlucky for him, one moment in the same room with him and Selena and Grayson was up to speed.

“You’re fucking your assistant, aren’t you asshole?” Grayson whisper shouts, using the first alone moment with Ethan to chew him out.

“Literally not the bigger issue here.” Ethan chuckles, watching Grayson’s face turn red and that vein on his forehead appear only signifying his frustration.

Trying to sit up, Grayson swings at Ethan in hopes of catching him and pulling him closer to do some actual damage but Ethan maneuvers around his attempt easily.

“No fighting and no getting up!” I reprimand him from outside the room, not even pretending I’m not listening in. I mean, can you blame me?

“THIS IS THE THIRD ONE IN A ROW!” Grayson growls, already seeing the headlines once a reporter catches a whiff of the story and oh the lawsuit that would follow that could bankrupt them wasn’t far in his mind either.

“At least I didn’t impregnate anyone!” Ethan retaliates and I can’t help but pipe in, slightly offended.

“HEY!”

“Sorry sis, I’m still happy for ya!” Ethan’s apology makes me smile but it also makes me walk into the room with my arms crossed.

“He’s obviously serious about Selena and from the way she handled everything that day, I’m rooting for them. So stop being a grumpy old man and start be encouraging. Love love Gray.”

Needless to say he pouted for a few days for taking Ethan’s side in the argument, but he was still the cuddliest human being on the planet. I didn’t really mind. It had given us plenty time to genuinely talk and revise what we’ve gone through and for once, neither of us had any reservations about our future.

“I never really imagined myself having kids.” Grayson admits, quietly as if it’s a sin as he lays on my chest, my fingers threading through his hair. “I mean; this life we have now is…let’s just say the old me would never believe it’s real. I still struggle believing in it.” His hand moves down to my stomach, rubbing soothing circles over my shirt.

Smiling, I pull his hand lower where the uterus is, causing him to chuckle in the process. “I hope our baby gets your brain.” He whispers, warming my heart.

“I hope she gets your eyes.” I add and in seconds, he lifts his head and looks at me with a confused look on his face.

“She?” He questions and I shrug, running my knuckle along his sharp jaw fondly.

“Just a feeling. You’re gonna have one tough girl on your hands.” I respond, enjoying the way he pales this time around.

“I can barely handle one of you. Oh, God.” Plopping his head between my boobs, he groans once more before pulling himself up and beside me. “I love you, but I’m not sure I’ll survive this fatherhood thing.”

“You ran a gang, you still run a company. You’ll do just fine you big baby.” I remark, earning an earnest cackle.

“You’re badass. More badass than me from what I’ve heard. A force to be reckoned with. Untamed, nothing but flames.” Raising his eyebrow, Grayson leans in, his eyes undeniably set on mine wishing to lean upon them with passion and fierceness.

“Thought you liked me being innocent and all that.” I roll my eyes, dragging my tongue across my lips as if to lure him in and I can tell it’s working, his gulp and dark, piercing gaze speaks volume of it.

“I supposed I was wrong. I still love all of you – innocent and ferocious. A perfect combination.” And with that, his lips meet mine and I’m in heaven once more. The happiness Grayson invokes is infectious.

It starts as a tingle in my fingers and toes, a lot like the feeling I get when I'm anxious, but instead of worry it brings forth warmth. I feel it pass through me like a warm ocean wave, washing away the stress of my days to leave me refreshed inside. As the wave fades I savor the memory of its gentle touch. The feeling is a blissful evocation of time spent with Grayson on the beach when he whisked me away to Hawaii and we dared to dream how we’d could run away and forever be as carefree.

How I loved those days when we walked on the sand and simply talked, laughed and made silly jokes as well as the long, fiery nights filled with nothing but intimacy and pleasure. But they can continue here as well, our love can remain as strong as it was back then.

There will always be another who wants to take the crown of the Hellhound – the king of New York and I was afraid. I was terrified.

Not anymore.

Grayson is no longer the only one with a taste for blood and God help those who try to harm my family.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Tags: @voidgray @dancingstardolans @love-mysterious-love @kayla20448 @purplelilac0223 @whotfiskate @yellowitsmendes  @lanadeldolans @reblogdolan  @graysdiabla  @cuteunicorns11  @its-pickle @ancoraesisto @mutuallynotmutual @annyanns @beinscorpio @fallinginlove-16 @dxlansfxck @yazziemp3 @usdolans @bqbyyhoneyy @dolanficrecs @sugarfootdolan @heyits-claire @godlydolans @accalialionheart @lacydolans @starrydolan  @g-e-dolan @kaiadolan @jeffxchella @mmmmmgd @livelongdolan @woeitsaly @stephdolan @dangerouslybitchyb  @grayson-dolans-dangly-earring @sparklydonkeyhandsdeputy @hey-graysondobrik @cheepwine @smileygrayson  @sadboidols @needysposts @soontobecool @r3sil3nc3 @chvrrydolan @ahoneybeing @daddygraysonsbitch @dolandolll @prettymuchdolansbitch @babyboydxlan @blueporschedolan @mindlessdolan​ @mmoonx​  @giggling-grayson​ @ethanhes​ @harryigprompt​ @ancoraesisto​ @kpoppindolans​ @dolansmith​ @mendesficsxbombay​ @peacedolantwins​

[yukiwrites]

Looking Forward to the Future

Thank you so much for the support, anon! I’m,,, SOFT FOR DIMILETH...

Summary: Neither Dimitri nor Byleth had good thoughts regarding childbirth -- their mothers had died giving birth to them, after all. And yet... they couldn’t help but feel the bubbling happiness of finding out they would be parents themselves.

Commission info HERE and HERE!

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Byleth couldn't say that she led the healthiest life around -- she preached on how to take good care of oneself and how to take proper breaks... But she hardly ever did it for herself.

It was no wonder that she had been feeling sick for quite a while now, but being so lightheaded she almost fainted? That had been a first. Now that she amassed the positions of both Queen of the Unified Kingdom of Faerghus and Archbishop of the new Church of Seiros, Byleth had her work cleanly cut out for her. A lot of it.

Regardless, startled by her blink of consciousness, a soldier brought her to the infirmary whence the former professor Manuela held the highest position of Chief Physician inside the castle.

"Oh my, that's an interesting color you have on your face, Your Majesty! Do sit down before you throw it up all over the place, please." Was how Manuela welcomed her former colleague and now Queen, smiling while she looked for the proper tools to start the examination. "Now, tell me how you're feeling. And don't hide a single detail, hm?"

Byleth slowly curled up into a ball of misery over one of the beds, her breath shallow. "I feel so sick I could- ughh..."

Manuela gasped, quickly flinging a washbasin to the floor right beside Byleth's bed. "Try not to make a mess, please! Take your time in explaining, dear, and don't force yourself. I'll be here patting your back very, very lovingly until you feel better."

"Ugh, I feel even sicker now." Byleth gurgled a laugh under her sickness, holding the basin as though it were her own child, ready to vomit inside of it at any moment. Manuela threw her head back in laughter.

"The nerve!"

After the good half of an hour passed, Byleth started to feel better. She managed to sit up on the bed, the color of her skin still a bit off, but much better than before. Wasting no time, the Queen started explaining her symptoms, fully aware that they were due to stress and exhaustion, but nevertheless wanting the opinion of a professional on the field.

The more she explained, the brighter Manuela's eyes shone, her smile turning into a huge, unsettling grin.

"And you have a history of missing periods for this long?" She asked here and there as the twirled her long smoking pipe with one hand, fiercely taking notes with the other. "My, I'm afraid I have quite the news for you, dear..."

Frowning, Byleth opened her mouth to protest, but was interrupted by a loud bang, followed by a thunderous cracking sound. Startled, both women turned to the door only to find it hanging by only two hinges, its handle nowhere to be seen.

Ah, no, wait. The handle was still in Dimitri's hand, who had rushed to the infirmary once he had heard his wife had collapsed, not paying attention to keep his strength in check. Huffing and disheveled, the King looked from the physician to his wife.

"Are- I heard that you collapsed-" he panted, meaning to walk towards her, but Manuela's laughter made him flinch out of his skin.

"What an entrance, Your Majesty! Was breaking the door to my infirmary not worth of an apology?"

Blinking, Dimitri looked from the door to where he stood, then to how he still firmly gripped the broken handle within his fingers. "I, uh-" realization started to sink in, making him blush, "forgive me for my manners, I shall have it, well, replaced within the week." He cleared his throat, walking towards the bed Byleth sat on, meaning to sit right beside her. "More importantly, what has happened?"

Watching Dimitri change his behavior entirely was always so amusing to Manuela: first, he was so flustered and worried he quite literally ran through the door, then turned to red with embarrassment Manuela had to blink and then wore a worried and fulfilling smile as he sat beside his wife, his eyes deep with worry.

"Well, now that you're here, it's gonna be much easier to give my diagnosis!" She winked to the couple, who turned their attention to her.

"Diag-" Dimitri started, but Manuela's pointing her long smoking pipe right into his face made him stop himself.

"Congratulations, Your Majesties!" She pointed it to Byleth, "you're pregnant!"

"Pre-" both Dimitri and Byleth choked on the word, yet another loud cracking sound breaking the silence like a thunder.

Widening her eyes, Manuela once again looked at the King's hand only to find that the remains of the handle he somehow still held turned to dust into his surprised grip.

"Pregnant- Byle- I-" Dimitri blabbered, his eye unfocused as his hand shook as it tried to control its strength.

Byleth silently brought one hand over her stomach, resting another one by Dimitri's right hand. She looked down as her heart thumped and her mouth ran dry.

Pregnancy.

A child.

Hers and Dimitri's.

Blinking, Byleth couldn't understand how she received such blessed and wonderful news with dread inside her chest. What was it?

"Is that a... sentence?" Dimitri blurted out under his breath, his grim thoughts taking over the happiness he was supposed to feel. Would he have to lose yet another precious person of his? There was no way he could simply be happy to have a family of his own -- undeserving as he was, there had to have some kind of exchange for such joy.

Byleth breathed in slowly, closing her eyes. So that was it... so that was how she felt.

"What?" Her brow furrowed, Manuela leaned over to listen more closely. "A sentence, Your Majesty?"

Snapping out of it, Dimitri quickly raised his chin, "I! No- of course not! This is a happy moment, yes? I should not be thinking such terrible thoughts- Everything will be fine, will it not? Indeed!"

"It's... fine, Dimitri." Byleth squeezed his hand in hers, needing its warmth. "I can't say I haven't had the exact same thought as you just did."

Manuela crossed her arms and legs in annoyance. "Will you two lovebirds stop with the telepathy and tell me what's going on?"

"Hah," Byleth chuckled before lifting her gaze to her former colleague. "I suppose it can be silly to someone with a... lot of life experience," she started.

"Well, that's a nice way to insult someone, but go on." The physician rolled her eyes.

Clearing her throat, Byleth felt the minimal squeeze Dimitri gave on her hand as support, leaning on his shoulder to feel it even more deeply. "The both of us, well, we don't have many examples of what to look forward to during childbirth -- in fact, we only have one. Our mothers died giving birth to us."

"Ahh, I see it now. No need to go on, darling. I've got the picture." Manuela took a long whiff of her smoking pipe. "So now you're holding yourself back from feeling happy about your own child because you think you'll die when it's time to deliver?"

Both King and Queen lowered their gazes to their shared handhold.

"Humph, you insult me!" Manuela bonked the both of them with the round end of her smoking pipe, making them snap their heads up to look at her. "I never once lost a mother during the delivery, and I am no stranger to such things, I'll have you know! No one will die on my watch, darling, so don't go on worrying your little heads about it, okay? Besides, you are not your mother, dear Byleth. You're so much stronger than that, it'll take much more than a single childbirth to bring you down!"

Byleth opened her mouth to retort, but the icy grip of dread started to melt inside her heart, making her unable to speak. She lowered her head once again, digging her face into Dimitri's mantle. "Can I... truly be happy about this?"

Dimitri felt a lump grow in his throat, his breathing shallow. Manuela winked.

"Of course, dear. Both of you can. It's a wonderful time for a parent to prepare for their little bundle of joy to come to the world, so enjoy it to your heart's content. Now, where's that smile we all love?"

Byleth pressed her lips into a thin line, trying not to grin like a fool. She dug her face even deeper into Dimitri's cloak, sneaking her hand through his waist to start a hug. Trembling, the King reciprocated the gesture, his eye burning with emotion. Was it alright for him to hope? To look forward to a future whence he had both Byleth and his child?

To anticipate being with his beloved through and after her term; to carry their crying child and soothe them to sleep; to watch over their growth alongside Byleth and see them grow up in a land free of war and oppression...

Was he really that fortunate? Could he- could he simply... enjoy the moment?

"Don't cry, Dimitri..." Byleth whispered by his neck, his silent, choking sobs setting her off as well. He held her ever so tenderly, nudging her neck with his nose, his drenched face matching her own.

"Th-there are happy tears, my love. Happy, wonderful tears..." He sniffled, taking her warmth into his, uncaring -- or rather, forgetting -- about watching eyes.

"You two keep on playing nice," Manuela whispered under her breath before getting up to give them some space. She would lecture them about their usual overworking behavior and what to expect during Byleth's term, but that could wait until they had digested the news.

As per Manuela's instructions, Byleth and Dimitri both were forbidden of working past usual work hours -- after all, if one was seeing working, the other would follow suit. So, no overworking for either of them.

Also, Byleth needed to have a complete nutritional makeover, so the physician had to be kept in constant contact with the royal cook and with the handmaids. Constant walks were recommended, but no more weapon or body training! Riding was also banned, though a slow, short ride could be done only if they were together.

"Professor Manuela being so strict is a sight to behold," Dimitri commented one evening after they had been scolded about being up late. Byleth giggled, squeezing her hand on his.

"She's not 'professor' anymore, though."

"Oh," the King took his free hand to his lips. "You are right as always, my love. Although I wager Manuela would relish on being called 'Professor' again."

"Because of her age? My, Dimitri, I never thought you were such a shrewd man..." Byleth teased, enjoying how a shade of red covered her husband's entire face.

"Now you are simply making fun of me! That will not do." He cleared his throat, picking his wife up in his arms. Under an 'eek', Byleth held onto Dimitri's mantle to her dear life.

"Dimitri! What's this about-"

"No more walking for you today -- time to rest, my adored Queen and mother of my child." He tried to smirk, but the bubbly happiness in his chest from simply calling Byleth 'mother of his child' made it look like a foolish grin.

Snorting, the Queen wrapped both arms around her King's neck, nudging her face on his. "Is that a royal decree, Your Majesty?"

Dimitri adjusted her on his arms, his heart quite literally on fire due to his wife's teasings. "Why, it very much is." He chuckled, turning his head ever so slightly to touch her lips with his. "I will be your support through all of this, my love," he whispered as their lips still touched, his eye comfortably closed. "Through your term; everything. For all eternity."

Byleth bit his lower lip, their breaths as one. "Then, will you heed a request of mine, O eternal protector?" She whispered solemnly in between kisses, trailing them from his mouth to his cheek and ear, making him shiver where he stood.

"Anything, my Queen." He huffed, not realizing he had stopped walking since a while ago, distracted by his wife's adorableness.

Byleth pressed her forehead on his. "Please, I beg you... take me to the kitchen. I'm craving a very specific kind of fish and I think I'll die if I don't eat it right this instant."

"Pfft-bwaha!" Dimitri snorted, then full blown laughed. "Your wish is my command, dear wife!"

Giggling, Byleth strengthened her grip on him as he started running through the halls towards the kitchen. "My hero!"

The sound of their dissolving laughter could be heard through the echoes from the large palace, bringing a smile to its residents' faces.

[mogitz]

They warn you that it’s hard, you know.

The moment you announce that you’re pregnant, there’s no shortage of horror stories - from the terrifying birth to the uncertain college years, every mother seems to have a tale to tell. These stories are often bookended with how regardless of the sleepless nights and the constant worry looming overhead, having a baby is the best thing that’s ever happened to them. I’d like to think that I was never naive about having a baby - I worked in childcare for almost a decade. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But no one can truly express to you just how hard it can be until you actually experience it yourself. You had all those months to prepare for it, but nothing ever really does. Because out of nowhere, your life is split between two realities: what it was like before, and what it is now. I’ve told people the strangest part about being a new mom is waiting for things to feel “normal” again, but slowly realizing that they never really do. At least, not in the way that it was before. What you have now is a “new normal,” and like all major life changes, it just takes time to get adjusted. What no one told me was that while it might be the happiest time of your life, there’s also a quiet, dull ache of grief for the life you had before. It sounds so terrible when I actually say it aloud, but it’s true. Life - as you knew it - is gone now. And you’re suddenly putting your every need on the back burner for this little person. “You barely eat anymore,” Daniel told me a few days after we’d come home from the hospital with Cece. I pondered that for a moment. I couldn’t recall my last full meal. I hadn’t even thought about it; it didn’t even cross my mind. And in the first three and a half weeks since Cecilia was born, I think I maybe showered 4 times… (I’m working on that). As the hours pass and days melt into weeks, time doesn’t really make sense anymore. As she whimpers and sucks on her fingers, I think to myself that she couldn’t possibly be hungry already. Then I realize her last bottle was 3 hours ago - it feels like it was only 15 minutes since I did this. Diaper change. Bottle. Burp. Diaper change again (because thanks, Cece). Then rocking her back to sleep. Maybe. Hopefully. Then the cycle repeats. Over. And over. And over again. And I’m mad at myself that the parts of me that seem to be struggling the most are the selfish, “human” parts. The part of me that doesn’t WANT to make another bottle. The part of me that crawls into bed with a heaviness on me as I remember that I will not sleep more than a couple of scattered, restless hours before she needs me again. The part of me that audibly sighs when she immediately dirties her fresh diaper that I just changed seconds ago. The part of me that brokenly sobs on the phone to my husband while he’s on his way home. The first time I left them alone together, I remember explaining to Daniel with the certainty of an expert that there were logical steps to take to get her to stop crying. I even wrote him a little cheat sheet: Is she hungry? Is she peed? Is she pooped? Does she have gas/need burped? Does she want her binkie? Is she swaddled? Is she too cold? is she too hot? Does she want to be held and rocked?

But then 4:30 pm rolls around - Cecilia’s Witching Hour - where my cheat sheet is rendered useless. And nothing logical helps, nothing seems to soothe or her keep her from crying. Her screaming this time of day is the kind that slices through the entire house, cutting down everything in its path. It is shrill and loud; alarm bells that demand to be heard. And I can neither hear nor focus on anything else. I can feel my anxiety rise as I try to bounce, rock, swaddle, pat her into silence. I look at that clock knowing I have another three hours until Daniel returns home, and I just need to keep it together until then. How strange that those three hours feel so long - a sharp contrast from all those other hours that seem to bleed into one another and are gone in a flash. Then 6:30 pm is here, and she has finally given up, finally let sleep overtake her (but only in my arms). I almost wish she wasn’t so still and calm, so Dan can walk into the mayhem and see that I wasn’t making it up. That today was hard. Her cries are still ringing in my ears, although not so painfully now, as we settle into the silence. Once I can think again, I look down at her precious, perfect face. I want to cry when I realize that it’s useless to try to memorize each line and curve of her because her face is changing every day. How strange that I wanted nothing more than for her to sleep only moments ago, but as she sleeps now I already miss her. She is looking more and more like a baby now, less like a newborn. I am reminded time doesn't discriminate, it passes with or without us. I am achingly aware, in this moment, that I need to cherish every second I have with her. But some days - days like today - it’s harder and harder to remember that. And that just makes me even more angry at myself. Because my home feels like a warzone. Soiled diapers are littered around, bound tightly into little balls that resemble grenades. Tiny clothes, stained with spit-up, are scattered across the room like fallen soldiers. I haven’t fully slept in days. But she’s asleep now. Finally. And I have that nagging feeling that I might have won the battle, but I’m losing the war. I’m terrified to move from this position that seemed to finally quell her discomfort and get her to drift off to sleep... but not so soundly. One wrong move and she’ll be up again, declaring war on me and everything around us - her pleading screams feeling more and more like a warcry. I’ve never felt more helpless than I do in those moments where I cannot soothe her. Sometimes I’m anxious. Sometimes I’m scared. Mostly, I’m just exhausted. And right then, I’m sick to my stomach for feeling this way. How? How could I possibly feel anything but complete bliss with this perfect little being in my arms? I think about how much I wanted her to stop crying before, meanwhile, there are mothers out there that don’t get to hold their babies in their arms. There are childless mothers out there who would give anything to bring a baby into this world and tend to her cries. There are mothers out there who would give anything just to hear their babies cry one more time. Shouldn’t I be grateful? Shouldn’t I be so damn happy that my baby is healthy and here, and WOW, she has a set of lungs.

Dan calls me on his way home, and that’s when I let myself break down. He listens patiently as I cry to him about how hard it is. I am torn between loving this little thing in my arms so much, and admittedly (guiltily, and humanly) resenting her for not letting me comfort her before. As I weep, Dan is still about an hour away from us. He’s stuck in traffic, helpless to do anything to soothe me. And I can’t help but wonder... Does he feel about me the way I feel about Cece, sometimes? He offers me advice the way I offer her a pacifier - she spits it out and so do I. I don’t need him to fix it… I just need him to understand.

And I think he does. Or at least he really tries. And in that way, I’m incredibly blessed… but then come more lingering feelings of guilt. It’s not as though I am doing this alone, as some mothers do. He’s there for me, offering me help and reprieve that I hardly accept in the moment. Because I told him that I know exactly what she needs just based on the furrow of her brow - as a mother should. But today, I am glaringly aware of my shortcomings and it makes me feel defeated. But even through the toughest nights, the fear, and the guilt, I know that this time is only temporary. This acts as a mantra when she’s inconsolable, and a lesson when I just want time to stop so I can hold her just a little longer. The contradictions you face being a mother are so vast. I could be doing the mounting laundry and tending to my to-do list as she sleeps, but I’d rather just hold her and savor every second I have with her. It won’t be like this for long - this thought both soothes me and breaks my heart.

Daniel gets home, with food, and a hug. Cece’s still asleep, splayed out across my lap, so Dan and I can just be us for a little while. We watch a movie. We laugh. These are the times it feels like what normal used to be. But there’s always that part of me that knows she will be awake again soon, and reality will settle in again. Cece sleeps well that night, only waking with hardly a fuss for a clean diaper and a fresh bottle. I get longer stretches of sleep, and wake up to her cooing and smiling. As she looks up at me, I am back in love again - somehow even more wholly than the day before. Just when I think it’s not possible to love her more than I do, I feel something shake loose within me and my heart expands - more room to let the love in. Things will never be how they used to be, and I know that I don’t want them to be. It’s harder… but it’s better. They warn you that it’s hard, you know. And they are totally right about that. But they are also right that it is completely, undeniably, beautifully worth it.

[abstractragedy]

jude x reader

words: 7.2 k (i wish i was sorry, but i am definitely not)

rating: E (mostly just a/b/o smut)

this fic has been a long, long time in the works, with its ups and downs. everyone in the love cabin knows this. @callmehopeless most DEFINITELY knows this. that’s why she has my eternal love and devotion for believing in this story when i didn’t, and encouraging me to keep going when i felt defeated. thank you so so much my dearest wife :3 honestly, words can’t ever describe how grateful i am for your support. 

anyways, here it is, at last. enjoy!

When March comes to an end, April takes hold.

The fragile heaps of slush that can hardly even be called snow at all start to melt from the corners of the streets as the sun shines warmer each day, peeking behind the clouds. Jude can feel it on his face while he walks, the spring and summer yet to come – a new, flourishing beginning. Bestowing light upon him, like a blessing of some sorts. Something he feels like he doesn’t deserve.

However, as it always does, spring awakens the instinctual need, the want that resides in small of his back, mostly dormant during the winter. Mating season, as betas call it; a fancy medical term alphas and omegas have no other choice but to accept as theirs.

It feels foreign, it feels wrong to him. To call it such, when really, no definition can ever truly describe it, the primal calling that lives within him. The silent gnawing that keeps growing in size as the weeks go by, a pestering feeling taking root from the pit of his stomach and spreading across his body. It makes him yearn after a warm, soft body, someone who could sink their teeth into him and let him to do the same in return: a mate, a sweet little omega to look after and care for. An omega who would look after him, who would let him dote and fuss, who would nest and curl beside him and love. Be loved.

With the spring comes the sun, and the knowledge that he is alone, will always be so. His subconscious cravings will never be satisfied, and it hurts – mentally even more so than physically, even if the ruts spent alone are no walks in the park either. While he can at least try to sate his physical needs, the voice in the back of his head screams louder each time he comes by his own hand. It bleeds through, the longing, and he hides his muffled groans into the pillows. Another moment wasted, another pleasure given alone.

The physical pain of not having someone next to him, having nothing to hold onto is gut-wrenching. Jude curls on his side, silently shaking and panting from the spoiled high that tastes hollow and carves a hole in his chest. He feels too hot, the itch under his skin teeming. Still two more days of rut to go through, moments spent in a waking hallucination. Trying to quiet the primal need that cannot be fulfilled, not like this.

He scrunches his eyes shut and breathes in the stiff scent of his rut, sharp and full of pent-up anger. Things that cannot be eased without a mate to soothe him. His eyes prickle with tears, frustration and loneliness welling up inside him like an avalanche ready to tumble down, and it’s all too much. He roars from the pain in his heart, loud and clear without bothering to conceal it, a hopeless noise that transforms soon into a sob as he can’t stop the tears from falling.

He is all alone, and the pain won’t let him go.

Jude weeps for a time that stretches into an eternity, until he simply cannot do it anymore. At some point, the wrecking sobs and the tears cease, making way for restless sleep.

This struggle, this feeble attempt to feel something, anything at all is not the same. It could never be.

--

Passing you in the staircase is slowly becoming its own special brand of torture.

Your routine intersects perfectly with his; whenever he comes back from work, you’re heading out. Going to work or doing something else, Jude doesn’t know. But it doesn’t matter.

What matters is that the spring is here, and you’re an unmated omega. A rarity in the eyes of society. And an unfathomable beauty in his.

The first time you two cross your paths and he can scent you, he physically stops in his tracks in the middle of the staircase. Luckily you don’t notice, headphones in and mind lost to the world around you – you merely walk past him and out of the door into the sunlight. Your small heels echo in the hallway.

Jude can’t move for a while, your scent trailing behind as it wires itself into his bloodstream, settling deep into his marrow and making him shiver. It is the embodiment of gentle pleasure and sweetness; a warm cup of tea in the morning, the subtle floral of your shampoo and perfume, old fuzzy blankets forming a nest for the pups. Familiarity, comfort. He finds all that in your scent.

The rational, well-read part of his brain pipes in, reminds that if an alpha is attracted to the scent of an omega, it indicates that the particular pair has compatible chemistry on a biological level. Your scent truly is incredible – nothing like others’ have been, something never truly being right, always ways off from something he could like. But yours? It is everything, a whole lifetime hiding in it, waiting to be discovered.

This time, he’s not sure where the shivers come from, fear or pleasure, running up his back until he can feel his mating gland itch: a subtle, small reminder. He’s so very uncertain, both terrified and utterly mesmerized.

His body tells him much the same – just the scent of you has him half-hard already, asking for release. From you.

But he can’t, he shouldn’t; he won’t. To run after you and beg would be a humiliation even he would not be able to handle.

Instead, he dashes up the rest of the stairs, first careful to not cause too much noise and alert the overly curious neighbours. Everyone in this apartment complex knows what he is, have heard him more than once – the walls are painfully thin and he’s growing tired of hiding himself.

That’s why he actually ends up not caring at all, leaving all pretense to his front door as he sheds his clothes on his way to the bathroom. This is not the same, pressing frenzy his ruts give him, aimless and without direction and have nothing else but pure, unadulterated want. This… is almost gentle, but only barely. It has true warmth, real meaning finally hiding behind his need. Finally, it has a face and form: you.

He turns the water as cold as it gets and steps under the spray, but even the sharp sting of the freezing water does not will away your scent. It lingers, it prompts him forth, and then he has to touch himself to relieve this new, resonating ache. His groans of pleasure can’t be hidden by the rushing water, but really, he doesn’t care. Not right now.

Let the whole world hear how you’ve made him feel.

--

For two weeks he keeps getting glances of you, short-lived moments shared in the staircase. Many times, you don’t notice him or pay any attention. Occasionally, you bless him with a smile as you pass one another, and it’s something that makes his lips turn into a smile of his own. His day is always vastly improved after that; you noticing his presence feels brighter than the mid-March sun.

He is so very taken by you, and you have no idea.

Until you two finally cross paths, physically as well as figuratively. A little innocent bump of your shoulder against his in the staircase.

“Oh, I’m sorry, mister!”

Your voice: god, your voice. It’s low and soft at the same time, polite but not yielding. Holding your own ground while still being kind. He has a hard time matching his tone to your nonchalant one, for he’s so affected by you.

“Please, no misters. Jude will do just fine.”

You’ve both stopped now right in the middle of the staircase, and he has to look up to meet your eyes properly as you stand taller than him. But he doesn’t handle eye-contact well – even though his primal part tells him to assert dominance – and he’s painfully shy, especially with a woman this beautiful right in front of him, scent divine and making him ache. It’s immediately clear that you’re still unmated, something he wouldn’t otherwise notice if it wasn’t for the relief blooming within him as he realises it. Still free to be claimed, croons the Alpha in him.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jude. I believe we’ve seen each other a few times before, haven’t we?” you say, smiling, although something shifts in your gaze. The corners of your lips are trembling, and you take a deep breath. Brow furrowing, as if you’re trying to solve a puzzle that ends up being more advanced than you imagined.

“I– We have, but never introduced ourselves.”

“No time like the present, right?” You reach out your hand and tell him your name.

“I’m sure you’re right. It’s great to properly meet you,” he says in response and clasps your hand, just like any other acquaintances would upon meeting.

Your palm is warm and soft against his, the handshake firm, but then his fingertips accidentally brush against the minor scent gland on your wrist. It’s a moment quickly passed, hardly even a touch at all, but you gasp under your breath and let go of his hand with frantic urgency, like you’d just touched something forbidden. Jude looks up and sees your widened eyes, lips slightly parted. The knowledge of the situation dawns on you like a fever – first unnoticed, then fast and sharp. Taking hold of your whole body.

“Fuck, I– I’m so sorry, Alpha– Jude!” That is definitely a slip-up, that word something you didn’t mean to say at all. The way you say it is almost desperate, a product of your instincts – he has to clench his jaw to keep himself from responding. To hear you talk like that, even if it’s just accidental… it becomes so difficult to stay still and silent.

Before he gets to speak, you turn away and dash down the stairs. Slipping through his grasp again, leaving behind only your scent.

--

When you return home not too long after, Jude can actually hear the sound of your door closing from a story below, and your footsteps as you pace in your apartment. His senses are so attuned to you, sharp and delicate in a way they’ve never been before. He knows that during the spring his hearing and sense of smell are heightened, but this is a completely new experience for him. It’s as if you’re right next to him; it feels peculiar, but still somehow comforting, to know that you’re somewhere close. He can hear your breathing quicken even with the distance between you and him.

Then your front door opens and closes again, and he hears your footsteps in the staircase. It takes him two seconds to realise you’re coming up; another two that you’re coming to his door.

He’s at the door before you get to knock on it, and opens it after you’ve first laid your knuckles on the wood.

There is a short silence as you two regard each other. At the sight of you, his body tenses once more, as he’s in the very close proximity of your scent, warm and comforting but also needy. In a way it hasn’t been before, a tangible sense of new vulnerability.

It tells him everything he needs to know.

“Jude–“

“You’re going in heat,” he says, voice low and direct, almost commanding in a way that surprises even himself – he had no intention to interrupt you. But his subconscious could not stay silent. This is not a moment for hesitation.

His words are not a question, but a statement. Anyone could see it, but he can sense it. Your cheeks are red and your breathing is heavy, and when Jude dares to look you in the eyes he sees your pupils dilate. Your hands curl into fists and open in steady intervals at your sides, looking for something to grasp and hold. Textbook example of an omega who will be in heat in the next half an hour or so.

“I– I don’t use suppressants in spring, I’ve never had to. I know I should, but I haven’t met an unmated Alpha in…” you trail off and he finishes your sentence in his head: in my whole life.

You clear your throat and continue: “When I first saw and scented you, I thought I just wouldn’t react.”

“But you did.”

“But I did. And now I’m here.”

Jude knows what it is that you’re asking, listening to the unspoken. Please, help me get through my heat, your eyes say, even if your pride is keeping you from uttering the words out loud. He swallows and opens the door even further, the first step of invitation. Having your in his apartment – his den, his nest, all prepared and ready for an omega – is something he never thought would happen.

There’s only a handful of minutes left before both of you start to become delirious, all rational thought casting aside as your instincts take over. He is already feeling it, the slow embers of his rut sparking into life in the small of his back, responding to your heat.

Soon, you’ll both lose it.

Before that, he needs to know.

“Are you absolutely certain?”

That you want this? That you want me? Am I an Alpha good enough for you? Do I please you, Omega?

Closing the door behind you, you take another step forward and your right hands comes up to rest on his chest. Warmth radiates from you, from him, and you meet in the middle of all this: a beautiful collision in the making. Ready to create another universe, in time with the beat of his unsteady heart.

“I am. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think so,” you say, and he knows you’re being honest. But it doesn’t stop you from leaning in until he can feel your rapid breathing on his skin. “Trust me, Alpha.”

For the first time, Jude looks you truly in the eyes and doesn’t shy away – no, he holds the stare, almost proudly. You’re simply mesmerizing, utterly captivating and now that he has your permission, he never wants to stop looking at you. The first flames of a forest fire dance in your eyes, ready to spread and catch him too, but he doesn’t mind. For you, he would burn. For you, he will.

When your mouth finally meets his, he feels the embers burst into flames.

He forgets the years-long deprivation for another human’s touch, he forgets the fears that kept him up at night and the thoughts that assured him he would never be good enough. Everything disappears around him, and all he can feel, all he can sense is you. It feels right, it feels natural, like something he’s always been waiting for. His primal needs take control and then he’s pulling you closer, bodies pressed together, slowly melting into one another. His hands grasp your waist, the touch making you whimper as you can feel his hardening cock even through the layers of your clothing.

Two short steps and Jude has you backed against the door. You slip a fumbling hand between you two and set to unbutton his shirt. The need to breathe makes the kiss break but you clutch him by his shirt to keep him near. His whole body vibrates with the desperate need to be inside you right now – a feeling so new but still achingly familiar. His glands burn with your presence, aching to scent you and mark you as his.

As soon as you get the first buttons open, your mouth descends on his skin. He sighs as you kiss upwards from his sternum to his neck. You press your nose in the crook of his neck and breathe deeply while your hands come around to slip his shirt from his trousers. He shivers at the feel of your fingertips in the small of his back, where the very roots of this fire reside. It’s as if you’re stoking the embers there, coaxing them further into life.

“I had no idea,” you murmur, lips brushing his skin as you speak, “that anyone could ever smell as good as you do.”

A wave of pride swells within him at your hushed words. She is pleased with me, he thinks. It makes him bolder, such a simple but powerful revelation.

He claims your mouth in a new, earth-moving kiss, the hunger bleeding through, and you respond to it with a soft moan and an audacious sweep of your tongue. The first tentative mark of ownership. He belongs to you already, just from the way you kiss him, with a heart so wide and a touch deeply gentle, always content with what you receive, asking only for what he wants to give.

He wants to give you everything.

You finish the task of unbuttoning his shirt and then slide your hands up and down to feel his abdomen with an appreciative hum. His sharp edges have softened over the years, a touch of life visible within his body; something he hasn’t always liked, but when you break the kiss to grace the tip of your nose with his, Jude sees the acceptance in your eyes. To you, he is exactly what you’ve always silently wanted, without knowing. Without reason.

“I want to see you, Omega,” he says, voice low, lips barely brushing yours. The subtle touch tingles, the shifting scent of you compelling as it twists around his, making something completely new out of the two of you; something he never imagined he could witness. “Please.”

“Anything… Anything you want,” you respond, out of breath and then move your hips just so. Your core meets his hardness; he groans against your cheek and presses you closer to him, seeking for more. In response you repeat the thrust, and he kisses you again just so that he can bite your lip and make you whimper.

This teasing dance has to end, or the fire will consume him before he’s had a change to be inside you. Jude moves back an inkling to give you space, even though it hurts to be separated even just the smallest distance, for the shortest moment. Animals do not listen to reasoning – the pursuit has now passed and it’s time to end the hunt.

Two heartbeats pass and you’re pulling your sweater over your head, sending it somewhere behind him in a dash of colour. Then you’re left with your skirt and your underwear, dark grey fabric contrasting against your skin. The most beautiful vision he’s ever seen, begging to be touched and unravelled even further, to be ravaged beyond belief, until you’re gasping for breath and repeating his name in a fevered bliss.

Your pleading eyes tell him that nothing is stopping him from doing just that.

When you unclasp your bra and let it meet the same fate as the discarded sweater, his brain short circuits; any semblance of thought lost on him. Your blush has spread from your cheeks further down, a delightful flush painting your skin.

This beautiful Omega is mine, is all he can think of. Mine, mine, mine.

He should be afraid of his possessiveness, a new sensation pushing his blood forth and making his head spin, but no such thing comes to his mind as he finally kisses you again. Bare chests push against each other and you let out a moan that he devours with his teeth and tongue, swallowing every needy sound that comes after. Your skirt bunches between your bodies as he grips your thigh and you lift your leg, gaining purchase on the small of his back; all done on instinct, bodies calling towards one another like they’re familiar.

Gravity shifts. Jude’s fingers grip your thigh, almost rip the stockings in haste. Your hand has slid to the zipper of his trousers and he bucks to meet your palm, cock straining and aching for relief. A growl tickles in the back of his throat, ready to escape. He lifts you higher so that you don’t touch the ground anymore – so tightly he holds onto you, now suspended between his sturdy body and the door. His forehead falls to your collarbone, mouth itching to move just a little bit lower.

“Hold on.” He rumbles a command, and before you get to say anything, he lifts your other thigh so that your legs are wrapped around his waist. Hands behind you back to keep you as close to him as possible. Then carrying you like it’s nothing, like it’s something he was meant to do. You clutch his shoulders, teeth scraping the soft flesh just above his collarbone that sends shivers straight to his cock. 

A few long strides and then he has you in his bedroom, setting you down on the bed. The mere idea of your scent mingling with his, your combined cum staining his sheets, marking territory – marking you – as his; it has him trembling.

You call for him silently, scream your want in the heave of your chest, breathless and far from having had enough. He sits on the edge of the bed, vibrating with the possessive, pleased purr of seeing you spread out. Without much thought he finds the zipper on your skirt, pulls it off along with your stockings and underwear. Your arousal hits him like a wave during a storm, anticipated but it takes him off guard all the same – brings him to his knees with this primal lust burning within.

Beautiful, strong mate. Needs her Alpha. Knot her, claim her.

He tugs off the rest of his clothes and pounces.

There’s nothing more he wants than to bury himself into you. But he has to taste you first.

He gently drags you to the edge of the bed so that he can kneel before it, right between your legs. You lift yourself up to your elbows and your eyes meet his. 

”Can I?” He knows he doesn’t have to, but he feels like he needs to ask.

With a breathy permission from you he grasps your thighs, winds his arms around them. He doesn’t waste any time but first kisses the junction between your thigh and pelvis, soothing your trembling, breathes in the tantalizing scent of your arousal. He hears you exhale deeply and then gasp when he lays his mouth on your cunt.

You taste divine.

Both of you groan and his grip on you tightens. Without any shame, he works his way with broad strokes of his tongue and listens to your encouraging moans. A sense of fulfillment finds him; secure and silent, but powerful. There’s something sacred in tasting you, drinking you up as you sigh, too lost in the sensation to make any other noise. 

Your silence speaks louder than anything else could.

It tells him when you come; the sudden, sharp gasp shelters the release you’re still a bit unsure to show. But it doesn’t matter. He knows, and that’s what matters.

You’re breathing heavily but your eyes are sharp, trained on him as he crawls over to you, sprawled out on the bed. A small smile pulls your lips; he responds to it instinctively, finding relief in the contentment and pleasure that is visible on your features. The hungry look isn’t gone yet, though.

That’s what shakes him, what truly grounds to the reality that’s taking place before his very eyes. Your vulnerability, your eager sincerity is moving, it’s raw and it’s real; Jude feels incredibly honoured to be able to see this side of you. He only hopes what he gives in return is enough for you.

You seem to be perfectly content with him, if the way you pull him closer is anything to go by. 

He eases in slowly, tracking your face as it scrunches up every few moments as you body accommodates itself to the size of his cock. Every muscle in his body is wound tight from anticipation and he wants nothing more than to plummet into you, sink his cock deep within you in one thrust. But he also wants to save his Omega from pain, and so he goes slowly. Kisses your neck, nuzzles close to your mating gland to keep you relaxed. Soon you’re keening, hands reaching around his shoulders to pull him close with harsh touches that will leave blooming bruises behind. That’s when he buries himself to the hilt and lets himself go. 

Nothing has ever felt quite like this. There is no way to describe the feeling of closeness, being wholly together like this. Every thrust is pure pleasure, slowly bringing him closer to the edge, and the little gasps you make when his cock fills you just right tell him you share the feeling. Your warmth around his cock is intoxicating, maddening, only spurring on his rut and he is so ready to just sink his teeth into you, forever mark you as his. Your needy scent is heavenly, perfect, so right, and he yearns to claim you.

But he resists. His forehead rests where your neck meets your chest, at the crossroad of your collarbones, his lips over your sternum, mouthing the heated skin that hides your quickened heartbeat. He could eat your heart whole — but only if you let him.

“Fuck, Alpha, I–“ you moan, a broken string of words trying to make sense. His head is dizzy, drunk on your scent, eyes slipping close as his pace becomes frantic. He’s not near enough, he needs to be closer, needs to be deeper, he needs to...

“Anything you want…” he responds, echoing your words from a moment ago. “I’ve got you. I’ll give you anything–“

“Please, knot me, I need your knot.”

At that, he growls, deep within his chest. He’s so close to coming already, but he can’t do that until you clench around him. He needs to feel you come on his cock.

”Come for me first, Omega,” he commands in a low but unwavering rumble. Your hand finds his hair while he takes a hold of your right thigh, lifting it so that he can sink even deeper. 

And you do, with a press of his thumb against your clit, you come. With a shudder and without a warning, he comes too. The pleasure bursts to his whole body, catches in his throat as his knot swells. You clutch him close, whimper from the pressure of his knot inside you, and he swears he can feel the stars bursting into life. 

He pants into your neck, trying to form coherent words but everything seems to have left him. It’s not over, he keeps coming, the stars won’t quieten. It’s the end, it’s the beginning; everything in between. Nearly never-ending, lasting onto eternity, both frightening and utterly mesmerizing in its longevity.

Jude feels your shaking fingertips brush his cheek, and he’s pulled back from his mind into the moment. Your dazed eyes gaze up at him, mouth agape in wonder. 

”Alpha— Jude…”

Oh, how he already adores the way you say his name, rendered to speechless. 

He settles down on his side and you two lay there like that for a while, locked together in the most intimate of ways. He feels it still, the small waves of pleasure pulling to the shores of afterglow, sparks that could easily be nursed back to life. But for now, the need has subsided. You’re much calmer, too. This situation is new to both of you, but the feeling of rightness guides you in uncertainty; the primal beast has been tamed for this moment, and it has brought a new, exquisite sense of serenity. If only for a short little snippet of time.

Soon you both untangle from another but still remain close, your head on his chest and his arms around your back. You fall asleep in a blink, exhausted in a way you haven’t been before. Jude feels tired as well, but even stronger is the exhilarating feeling of wholeness. His senses have grown even sharper, more precise, and he watches over you as you sleep, listening to the small sounds of the apartment complex. The streetlight from outside casts sharp shadows on the walls; the nights are still dark, the final reminder of the winter passed. Soon, the summer will arrive and every night is bright. 

Jude feels alive. For the first time in a long, long time. 

--

Between everything you nest, gather every soft blanket and pillow that you can find from his apartment, walking with weak, shaky legs. You pull them all to the bed, pull and tug and arrange until you seem satisfied with everything. Jude brings you something to eat whenever he has the chance — he cannot have you weak, and he needs to provide to you, prove you he’s the right Alpha for you. A warm sense of pride rises in his chest as you accept his offerings every time with a kind smile. She is pleased, Jude thinks during those moments. I’m looking after her well.

Now you’re asleep once again, but for how long, Jude doesn’t know. Presumes only for an hour or so. You’re not done yet, he can detect it from your scent, and his primal part hums, eager to please and knot you again whenever your needs become too much. But for now, he is content to look at you, still sleeping, afternoon sunlight pouring from the windows and making you glow. 

You’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen; someone he could marvel forever. There is no end to your glory.

At some point, you begin to stir. Your scent spikes up, not so dormant anymore, and a soft whine forms in the back of your throat. 

”...Jude?”

He sharpens immediately at your voice, feeling how it awakens back to the presence, searching for him, your Alpha. Your eyes flutter open to meet his, still cloudy from sleep.

”I’m right here,” he answers to your call, and shifts closer until you’re only a breath apart.

You’re much more forward than him, taking his hand without another word and bringing it down to your mound. His fingers find your slit, already wet. Slowly, he touches you, revels in the way you moan and writhe against him, closing your eyes in pleasure. But it’s not enough.

”Don’t tease me, please,” you whisper, almost pleading. 

How could he deny you?

He pulls you along with his other hand until you’re on top of him. His mouth seeks out yours and you respond to his kiss in kind, hungry but with intent. He wants to savour it, the languid sweep of your tongue, your hand on his bicep, in his hair, on his cheek. Little touches setting him alight.

”I need you now, Alpha.”

This is different. Everything about this — your heat, his rut, the way your bodies work together and bring you both pleasure and release in ways he could never imagine — is different. He takes control without shame when you want him to; after he first knotted you he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back anymore, not with the need within him that rises to meet yours. Your keen eyes and breathy pleads tell him you don’t want him to stop. 

He’d do anything, if you just asked. If you say you want him, then he’ll give himself to you. Without questions or explanations.

You settle on top of him and his hands land on your hips, thumbs digging to the soft skin just below your hip bones. Above him, you sigh and toss your hair to the side, setting your own hands on his chest. Waiting for his sign to let go. 

You sink onto his cock with few, precise moments, three deep breaths and a moan, once he fills you completely. It feels… simply incredible in ways words can’t describe. He can only follow along as his body responds, thrusts up to meet yours.

But before it gets too much, he makes you stop. Lifting you up with his hands, with a strength he wasn’t sure he had. He holds you there, suspended in the moment. A string being pulled just too tight, balancing on the edge of snapping. He can see it in your face, in your body, how you tense above him. Mere inches away from his cock.

”Please, Alpha…” you plead. ”I can’t—”

You can, he knows it. One more moment. 

His hands squeeze your hips, keeping you in place. Preventing you from the release you so deeply crave. 

Two more seconds, brushing the side of desperate pain, then he lets go of his tight hold and you settle on his cock again with an eager sigh. Fuck, it feels so good. Better than he could’ve ever thought. He’s going to come soon, knot you again; he feels it already.

It comes with a rush, he comes with a fearless plunge that is almost like falling. He feels limitless, endless, part of nothing and everything at once. Part of you.

But what truly moves him is you, above him like a higher being, something ethereal, pleasure storming on your face as you come. He squeezes your thigh in a comforting, grounding gesture. Making sure it’s still all real.

”So beautiful…” he murmurs under his breath, lost in the spell you’ve cast. 

--

The heat ends as quickly as it began. A subtle build-up, a quiet snap; fire extinguished with the ease of blowing out a candle.

On the fourth morning you wake up next to him, but your scent is not needy anymore. You keep close to him, reach out with your hand to trace his nose and eyebrows, but it’s all done just because you want to. You don’t seek him out in need like you did in heat. The begging and moaning have turned into chuckles and little bursts of laughter. You don’t nest anymore, just curl beside him even when sleeping; wanting closeness in other subtler ways.

You don’t leave his bed yet, though.

It’s an unspoken promise, but you’re here for the weekend. On Monday, you two will part your ways. Permanently, or with the idea of meeting again.

It hits him then, that he has no idea where you two stand on this relationship. Sure, you’d been neighbours for a while before this, and it’s not uncommon for Alphas to merely help out an Omega during heat, nothing else. You didn’t exactly have much time to talk about the logistics of this – when your heat came, there wasn’t much either of you could do. Today, there’s a feeble ember of hope, though, nestling in his heart that so desperately wishes you want this to become something else as well. His head has cleared from the primitive state it always sets into during his rut, and his thoughts are sharp, but hopeful. 

Still, a certain kind of unease surrounds his mind that he can’t quite get rid of. Something that he knows can only be talked through. Otherwise, it will fester in his mind with no end. 

It’s about nine in the morning. Not that either of you care; on days like these, time has no meaning.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into the still silence.

The sky is cloudy today, that much he can see from the window. April showers in the horizon.

“What for?”

“For being…” Too aggressive, too demanding, too loud, too fast, too much like an Alpha. “Too much.”

“You weren’t. You did what you wanted, and I wanted you to do that.”

He heaves himself up and takes a deep breath, shaking his head a little. Your words should feel good, reassuring, but he can’t help but feel this small, stinging sense of guilt. “I know, but it doesn’t– it feels wrong to me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like myself when I let that side of me control my actions.”

You don’t respond, and when the silence becomes too long Jude turns his gaze from the windowsill to look at you. Sprawled on your back, one hand slung over your head, your eyes meet his. Even if you don’t say anything, he isn’t alarmed. He sees you thinking; gears turn in your head, looking for a way to answer.

“You have those moments too, right, when you have a thought, and immediately after that you think that’s just your designation in you that’s talking. You might even feel ashamed of it, like it’s something you think you shouldn’t have, and you want to banish that side of you that says such things.”

Jude nods in earnest but doesn’t say anything yet; he senses you’re about to go on.

“For a long time, I tried to separate myself from what the biology and genetics had given me. I didn’t like myself when I presented. Almost all of my friends were Betas, and those who were Omegas or even Alphas didn’t tell me outright. I felt the need to stay silent, too. Even though everyone knew. But at some point…”

You sit on the bed, covers pooling at your waist and turn to look at him properly. The fire of your heat is long gone from your eyes, only profundity residing in them now. There is hesitancy, too, but it’s overridden by your need to speak and be heard; you don’t say it, but you’re craving it, the silent understanding. You are stripped bare, in more ways than one, and it feels more intimate to him than any previous moments.

That’s when Jude realises you haven’t spoken about this to anyone else before.

“I just got so tired of it. And I mean, whether or not we’re Alphas or Omegas, our designation is not something that we can just exclude out of our own being and bring it back when it’s appropriate in the eyes of society, you know? It’s us, it’s a part of ourselves just like any other part of our personality. It makes us who we are, who we would’ve been thousands of years ago.”

You continue, voice fragile but insistent: “And sure, sometimes I do hate how needy I get, how I don’t seem to be able to be in control. I need to prove myself I can still be me, the independent and clever person I’ve always been. Being an Omega doesn’t take that away, right?”

Unable to say anything, so deeply touched by your words, Jude reaches out his hand to lay it on top of yours that rests over the covers. You glance down and smile at his reassuring touch before looking back up to meet his eyes.

“You’re still you, because being an Alpha is a part of you as a whole, not necessarily a side of you. I don’t want you to feel guilty about it. You’re beautiful when you don’t hold back. When we were like that, I…” you trail off, blushing slightly and averting your eyes.

His heart does an unexpected leap, a little kick of joy. You are headstrong and well-spoken but have your shy moments, just like he does. It is terribly endearing.

“I felt like I could be me. I didn’t feel ashamed of begging because I knew you didn’t see it as something embarrassing. I could see it in your eyes, how you liked it. And maybe not because I was submitting myself, but because… You could respond to something you recognised in that moment? Am I making sense?”

When he remains silent still, you swallow and gnaw your bottom lip, thinking it over. “Or maybe I read it all wrong. I don’t know, I mean, my mind was clouded by–“

“No! No, you’re right,” Jude rushes to say, not letting you think otherwise. “I didn’t think of it that way at first, I’ll admit. But it’s true, everything you just said. I… felt connected to you.”

You let out a relieved sigh, a smile slowly forming, but he isn’t finished yet: “I haven’t felt such way about anyone. I never thought I could feel so.”

At his words, blush spreads to your cheeks and his hand moves to cup one, thumb gracing your cheekbone. You close your eyes in contentment and nuzzle against his palm, then nose the scent gland on the inner side of his wrist. Little sparks move up his arm at your gentle touch, first stages of warming up. But he’s in no hurry, in no need. This moment is all he wants.

“I feel like I know you,” you say then, voice lowered down to a whisper. Confessing something you didn’t dare to give voice before. “I don’t know why, or how. But I don’t want to question it.”

It begins to rain; sonorous tapping on the windowsill.

--

It’s still raining on Monday morning when you gather your things and stand in front of Jude’s door. This time, you’re leaving with a peaceful mind instead of arriving in a frenzy. Now, you’ve been thoroughly fucked.

And he’s forever spoiled for anyone else.

If he didn’t know it before, he is certain of it now. You have changed him for good. Nobody else could ever begin to compare. He doesn’t doubt it, like he doesn’t doubt the sun rising from the east every morning; there’s never going to be anyone else for him. He wants to think you two are meant to be, on a deep, fundamental level, and he hopes you share the feeling. If the words you spoke before are worth anything, then... He just might believe you two are facing the beginning of something. Together.

“So…” you start, eyes wandering around the room before securing on him, “are you free on Wednesday evening? I was thinking that we could go out. If you’re not busy.”

Something near his heart softens, an anxious grasp loosing its hold. He chuckles at your words. “I promise you, I am not busy.” 

Never too busy for you.

You smile, clearly relieved and undoubtedly excited. Like you’ve finally solved the puzzle, and the reward is far greater than you expected. “That’s great. Around seven, maybe?”

“Sounds good. I’ll pick you up and we can go from there.”

“If picking me up means going down the stairs to my apartment, then sure,” you respond, voice teasing, maybe a little sarcastic, but then it becomes gentler. “Let’s just hope the rain stops by then.”

Before he gets to say anything, you press a kiss on his cheek, a tantalizing touch with softer, kinder intent than you’re letting on. Your fingertips tease the collar of his beige sweater, lingering.

“See you later, Jude.”

Then, you’re off, disappearing into the hallway and down the staircase, just like all those times before. Today, Jude doesn’t have to look after you with longing in his heart, hoping something would change. 

Instead, he can smile, truly smile, from the new, elated feeling rising within him.

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Someone Like You-Final Chapter

All previous chapters on AO3

Chapter 35

On the Saturday before Christmas Edith and I made Beef Wellington and served it to my two friends from school. They were coming to look at the carriage house to rent for the next school year. Jamie and I had already moved all my things to Lallybroch and I felt so weird walking through the place empty, so many memories here.

After they measured everything we all sat down to eat with doctor Lu and the girls were very complimentary. Lu kept them entertained with the medical application of hypnotherapy and Edit and I smiled watching him in his glory. The girls agreed to rent and I was happy to have arranged Edith’s next tenants so I didn’t leave her in the lurch.

The butter lovers had played until exhausted and the four of them were crashed out in Butters bed while he laid on the carpet and put his head on one of their beds. Edith got quite a laugh out of that and brought out her camera to take some pictures of our ridiculous dogs.

“I didn’t know they still developed film, Edith.”

“Of course they do and I will compare my pictures with any taken with a phone, any day.”

I hugged Edith goodbye after she loaded me up the leftovers to take home and a pecan pie she made for Jamie, his favorite. I fell into my car completely exhausted and made my way home. As I turned down our street it started to snow, big, fat flakes that stuck to the windshield and wipers. It was beautiful. I pulled over and got out to see the heavy snow falling as far as the eye could see. I marveled at the silence. I started doing this to ease my anxiety of driving in the falling snow after I got lost. Now I couldn’t stop.

I opened the kitchen door to banging and the sound of loud ripping. When I  put the food away I followed the noise and was shocked when I opened the study door. All the walls in three rooms had been pulled down and it was a big open space clear to the block wall of the house. I was thrilled at how much they accomplished today until I heard the voices of Rupert and Angus and realized they had help. That made me feel warm and fuzzy inside until Angus started telling Rupert about seeing my ass hanging off Edith’s roof. Rupert could have been super rude with his comment but he just smiled. I was already feeling embarrassed so I was grateful.

“Claire, glad ye home, we need to get started on these invitations. Grab yer favorite pen. Stormy is comin to help us.”

I was excited about seeing Stormy but the rest could hang in my opinion. Jenny had already called the guestlist for the wedding since it was a short week away, why did we need formal invitations? She insisted every invitation be handwritten as well. I would rather build a snowman with Butter and Jamie. In protest, I walked extra slow to the kitchen.

“Christ almighty, look at the snow come down. I’m callin Stormy to stay home. It’s not safe to be on the road tonight. Them boys might want to get out while they can.”

“Oh no, Jenny! You sit. I will tell them and be right back.”

When I joined Jenny again I had told each person it was snowing like crazy, gone to my room twice to look for my favorite pen, and checked on Butter. I looked at the list thrilled Jenny was almost done. I started to write an address and found myself staring out the window at the snow, pen twirling in my fingers.

“Claire yer worse than a ten-year-old. Concentrate lass and let’s get this done.”

By the time I finished my envelope, Jenny was done with the list and I launched out of my chair, throwing on my jacket, scarf, and gloves. I turned around to get Butter and he was right on my heals so I almost tripped over him. When the kitchen door closed I took a deep breath and tried to shake off my claustrophobia.

“Ok Butter, watch and learn.”

I started with a snowball and rolled it in the wet snow until it was about to my waist, then I did another but I could not lift it. Damn, I thought, the size I can lift will look like a toy snowman. I sat on the largest ball and thought about how I might do this.

“Please tell me yer not having second thoughts mo gradhag. You look like ye got the weight of the world on ye shoulders.”

“I do, it’s just too heavy. The snowman’s stomach, it’s too heavy for me, but not you! C’mon, I’ll help.”

I jumped off the snowball and crouched down to help hoist the midsection on top of where I had been sitting. Jamie pushed me away smiling and pulled the ball of snow on top of the other. I was already rolling another ball and picked it up easily to set it on top.

“Perfect!”

Jamie hugged me and pulled me into the house. We all thanked Angus and Rupert for the extra hands and they were anxious to exit our road before it became impassable. They both pointed and laughed at my snowman on the way to their vehicle. I stuck my nose in the air like I didn’t care and went upstairs to relax.

When Jamie came up later he jumped on the bed next to me and fanned out all the brochures he had collected of the islands and the fun things to do. I was so excited about the hut he rented over the water. A peer stretched 500 feet into the ocean with huts attached. Ours was on the end so it was just us and the ocean out there. It had a glass floor so we could watch the sea life underneath. We completely agreed on snorkeling daily and picked out the restaurants after reading the reviews. The rest we would figure out once we got there.

“It’s like New Orleans on steroids mo chridhe.”

It was indeed and I couldn’t wait to get there as Misses James Fraser. We just had Christmas and the wedding to get through. I should not be thinking of them as a chore but right now that is exactly how I saw it. *********************

It is the eve of my wedding and I cannot sleep. I’m having an anxiety attack and coming out of my skin from the walls closing in on me. I need Jamie like I need my lungs but Jenny insisted we separate for twenty-four hours before the wedding. She asked if I wanted to jinx my own wedding which I certainly did not. Jamie kissed me at the bottom of the stairs tonight and I almost cried the way he looked at me. Now I wander around our room feeling so weird, so displaced and I don’t understand it. I feel like I want to sob my heart out, on the night before my wedding?

I sat on the stairs with a blanket around me shivering in the cold house. It was like I was transported back in time to when I was ten years old dreading my trip back to Peru. I was going to marry the man who pulled me into his room that night and I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. So why am I blue? I crept down the stairs and laid next to Jamie on the sofa feeling his arms pull me to him immediately.

“I could hear ye pacin upstairs and hoped ye would come down here so I can tell ye how much I love ye. What’s wrong mo chridhe?”

“I don’t know. I feel anxious and sad and excited all at the same time.”

“Well, if yer like me yer missin yer parents. I know I am. My mam talked about fallin in love and having a family of my own. I would give anything for her and my da to be here.

“Yer missin yer parents tonight love?”

That did it. The sobs came and I clung to Jamie for five minutes of emotion that had been right under the surface for the past week.

“Dinna fash wee one, I’ve decided I love ye enough for me and them. I believe in heaven Sassenach and yer parents and mine will be here with us tomorrow. I believe we will feel their presence and their blessing. With all my heart I believe that mo chridhe.”

I started to get up and he held me to him asking me to stay for a few hours, then he would carry me to bed. I was so relieved I melted into him and started to relax. I felt him lift me off the couch hours later and he laid next to me in our bed until I was asleep again. Jamie was gone when I woke up and I didn’t see him until the wedding.

I fed the chickens and piled hay into their cubbies for warmth even though our heat lamp provided a toasty environment for them in the barn. I worried about Golfarb and went to look for her. She was nowhere to be found. With a pounding heart, I quickly counted the chickens and there were twenty! Golfarb was with her sisters, probably to stay warm, but I was thrilled. While the chickens ate I gathered the few eggs I found and carried them to the house. Egg production had nearly dropped off completely with the onset of winter and I was not unhappy about that.

Jenny was up stirring her maids punch when I walked into the kitchen. It is a wicked brew that includes a bottle of rum and a dozen other ingredients of which half are alcoholic. Jenny would be my only maid due to the limited space but six of our girlfriends were coming early to help decorate and drink.

“The bride is up and has her snow boots and parka on. Put them boots outside before ye track mud all over the house lass. Are ye ready to marry my brother Claire?”

“I have never been this ready for anything in my life Jenny.”

“The way yer blushin, yer gonna be a beautiful bride. But get those boots off and get in the tub, the big tub, I left ye a pre-weddin gift. Dinna tell Jamie about it cause I didna get him anything.”

I laughed and hugged Jenny before going upstairs to enjoy that amazing tub and lose myself in COCO Chanel! I jumped up and down and yelled out the door that I love Jenny more than Jamie right now. I poured it into the hot water and closed my eyes as the room filled with that magic scent. After twenty minutes of heavenly hot water, I grabbed my razor for what I hoped would be a fun surprise. I had steadily increased the width of my racing stripe for this very occasion and took my time sculpting a perfect heart. I was very happy with the way it looked and I hoped Jamie would like it or at least think it was clever. I wanted the heart right above my bud so much of my racing stripe was now gone. It felt a little bare but it looked really good. At least I thought so.

I realized that we would be swimming in the crystal clear waters of the Bahamas at this time tomorrow, and my heart rate shot up. Every single thing in my life was exciting at this moment and I felt ready to burst.

I was already packed for our trip because we were taking the red-eye tonight giving us two hours to enjoy the party before we have to leave for the airport. It seemed exceptionally odd to be packing sundresses in the middle of winter but it made me count the days to eighty-five degrees and sunshine and it was finally here.

There were all kinds of commotion downstairs and I looked out the bathroom door and saw two men bringing huge flower arrangements into the room. They were beautiful with white roses and orchids, baby’s breath and evergreen branches. I wondered where they came from because Jenny and I had not planned for those arrangements.

By the time my hair was dry Jenny was laying on our bed resting her back. She closed her eyes and announced she felt nothing otherworldly happening to her, she didn’t have a mad urge to rape Ian.

“I suspected ye were in an energy vortex like I saw on U Tube, but I feel nothin unusual so that can’t be it. I want to believe there’s hope that I will scream with a minute-long orgasm so I refuse to believe it’s ye and Jamie. Oh well, let’s start yer hair. Stormy called and she is on her way.”

“Jenny, I can start my own hair. You stay right there. Stormy can help me if I need it. Can I get you to do the Jessica Rabbit hairdo at the end? Hey, what do you think of my heart?”

“Holy shit Claire! Give me some warnin before ye expose yerself that way. I am so jealous I want to drop to the floor kicking and screaming but this baby is in the way… of everything.”

Stormy is such a great friend and she was so gentle with my hair while we gabbed about everything. I was so relaxed with her soft hands in my hair I lost track of time. Jenny woke up, looked at the clock, and turned into a house on fire. Her large brush drove into my hair pulling it into a flat iron with an intensity that snapped me out of my Stormy haze. The wedding started in one hour and Jenny still had to dress so I sat perfectly still and helped however I could. The whole time I heard banging and dragging going on downstairs and wondered what on earth was happening down there. Two of our friends did my make up with Jenny watching closely, smiling for the most part.

Jenny was touching her fingers like she was counting and mumbling. Then she announced I did not have something borrowed to get married in. I thought it a weird tradition until Jenny returned with the most sacred possession of her mother’s and we all gasped looking at them.

“I insist you where my mam’s earings Claire. You were a daughter to her, same as me. She is here today with da, I know she will feel honored that ye wear them to marry my brother.” Loops of sterling silver, so thin they moved like water and caught the light as they shimmered. They were absolutely perfect for my dress and the winter theme of the wedding. I felt my eyes well with tears and the whole room was running at me with a kleenex. I held up my hands and laughed at the startled looks.

With my hair swept up and ringlets falling at my temples and down my back, beautiful silk stockings and the tiniest beaded thong, I stepped into my shoes as Jenny chased the girls downstairs and suggested they drink her special Maids punch. The silence in the room was so wonderful for my frayed nerves. Jenny held my dress up as I had done for her and I slipped into it, suddenly transformed into a bride.

“Christ and all the saints yer a beautiful bride.” Jenny grabbed a kleenex and wiped her tears.

“I have something for you Jenny, to say thank you for being my best friend my whole life.”

I handed her a box and watched her open the special gift I spent days looking for. I decided on a delicate eighteen carrot gold bracelet with four diamonds that were a half-carrot each and superior quality. I could tell instantly that she loved it because her eyes were popping out.

“Lass, it’’s amazin how real cubic zirconian looks these days, is it nae?” She said it just above a whisper and her face was the color of a pink rose.

“Thank you for saving my life year after year with letters and hugs hello and promises goodbye. I love you so much and those are not cubic zirconian. Thank you for everything Jenny.”

She turned around and left to get dressed with a dreamy smile on her face, then she ran back in and kissed me, then gone again.

There was a quiet knock on the door and Edith peaked in. She took my hands and looked me up and down. “Well, my little mustang is a beautiful bride. I love you. Congratulations sweetheart.”

I wanted to see and feel Jamie so badly it was hard to sit still. When Jenny came back I jumped to my feet. She wore the bracelet and it shot sparkles out in every direction.”Ready lass?”

We went down the back stairs and I nearly fell over when I saw Murtagh in a tuxedo with his hair slicked back and a shiny face.

“Murtagh, you look amazing.”

“Well lassie, I dinna ken the right English words for how ye look. It might take some time.”

I giggled at that and took his arm. Robbie Mcnab, the son of a neighbor was waiting to give the signal and ran around the corner when Murtagh told him to. What seemed like seconds later the massive front door opened and Ian offered his arm to Jenny, walking her into the house. I heard the wedding music and Murtagh walked me in slowly. I lifted my eyes to Jamie’s cool, sparkling, indigo gaze and felt my heart in my throat. Murtagh kissed my cheek and handed me to my true love.

Our favorite reverend officiated the wedding and started the ceremony with the story of when we met. He spoke eloquently of seeing the love in Jamie’s eyes as he watched me that day and the way I blushed like a spring rose when he held my hand. It was so beautiful and wonderful of him to speak of it. The ceremony was beautiful too I imagine. I was too lost in Jamie’s eyes to listen but I felt soft warm fingers on my elbow and knew it was time to bless the rings. I turned slightly to smile my thanks at Jenny and realized she was too far from me to reach my elbow, In fact, no one was close enough to touch that arm. Then I heard, “you may kiss your bride.”

Jamie’s kiss was a promise of undying love that touched my soul. The reverend said, “Ladies and Gentlemen, may I introduce Mister and misses Fraser." I could feel myself smiling and saw so many faces approach, hug, and speak to us. I was in a pink bubble of happiness and looked at the most beautiful decorations throughout the lower level. It was hard to take it all in and I wondered who set all this up. I looked around at all the friends I have in my life now, the people that I loved, and knew any one of them would have done it for us.

Jenny pressed a glass of juice in my hand and smiled at me with so much excitement.

“Are ye alright lass? If yer feeling faint just look at that ring on yer finger and it’s sure to wake ye up.”

“Ring?”

I lifted my hand to see the sparkling diamonds that spanned the top half of the band. I looked at Jamie wide-eyed and he kissed me before leading me around to thank our guests for coming.

Doctor Abernathy and his wife Gail were there as was Lucy who was loving the punch she found in the kitchen. While we talked I watched people bringing trays of food from the kitchen placing them on any flat surface they could find. I was flabbergasted at the quantity and quality of the food. When I found Jenny again I asked her where all this amazing food came from.

“Mister Dunsany provided the flowers and catering, the likes of which we may never see again so eat as much as ye can, everything is delicious. Oh, Claire, he sent an envelope with yer name on it. It’s next to one of the arrangements." I found the envelope and felt dizzy when I pulled out a one thousand dollar gift certificate to the baby store in Edinburgh. How extraordinary, I thought.

Before time ran out I spoke with all of our girlfriends and gave them the date of Jenny’s surprise baby shower. All heads nodded and smiled and I promised to call them when we got back.

I laughed at the level of happiness in the room and it made me so happy.

“Sassenach, we have a minor problem. The snow is comin down heavy. It won’t impact Jenny’s Hogmanay guests, they’re used to the flatbed shuttle the neighbor provides. He makes a boatload of money from tips so he’s dancin a jig right now. We need to find a way out of here tonight or miss the plane. Can ye get changed and ready to leave? I’ll see if Angus will help.

Alarm bells were going off in my head and I quickly slipped my dress back on the hanger and changed into my jeans and a soft long-sleeve T-shirt. In ten minutes we were wading through so many people just trying to get outside. Angus was in his truck gunning the engine. I hugged Butter and reminded Jenny to feed the chickens and collect the eggs or they would eat them and we would be out of the egg business. ”And don’t forget Butter’s food is in the freezer, and have Ian check the warming light every night in the barn and …” I felt Jamie lift me up and wave us out the door.

We jumped in Angus’s huge truck, out of breath of running. It was toasty warm inside.

“My God it’s comin down, pray they don’t close the airport tonight,” he said with an evil chuckle.

They did close the airport however we were already in the air high above the swollen clouds that threatened our honeymoon. We stole kisses from each other whenever we could and curled up to sleep our way to the Bahamas.

24 hours Later

I laid on Jamie’s chest in the huge hammock that attached to our hut and hung over the water. It was so relaxing to swing and watch the crystal blue water. We had snorkeled all day and now, pleasantly exhausted, we tried to rouse each other to shower and dress for dinner. Laying in each other’s arms, watching the sunset over the water was too much of a pull so neither of us could move until it was dark.

Jamie kissed me deeply and whimpered in my ear he was hungry.

“I am not sure how we were able to do this Sassenach but we have not consummated our marriage and I am too weak with hunger to try.”

“Well, you are my favorite thing to do but the water was so amazing. Let’s go eat and remedy the situation. Oh,” I said giggling, “I have a silly surprise for you.”

“Give me my surprise Sassenach, it will give me the energy to get to the restaurant.”

“It’s not like a decoder ring or anything like that. Now I feel weird mentioning it.”

With great effort, we made it into the hut and Jamie gave into temptation and laid on the floor to watch the sea life through the glass floor. There were so many fish that were attracted to the underwater light. “It is a mystery this surprise.” He grabbed my ankle and pulled me down to the floor with him.

“I have a surprise too mo chridhe.”

Jamie stretched his arm and pulled the refrigerator door open laughing.

“Holy shit! Where did all that come from?”

"I stuffed a thermal bag with all that, zipped it up, stuffed it in another suitcase and checked it. It was still cold when I took it out. I forgot all about it." He started pulling gorgeous treats out that looked more like a piece of art than food.

“Oh my God, this is so good Jamie. This one is even better. What does that one taste like?”

At some point in our gorge-fest, Jamie picked me up and carried me to the bed nibbling on my stomach, making me giggle. I was still eating but it was getting harder because his nibbles were now warm and wet. He pulled my bikini top off and sucked on my breasts before he linked his thumbs into the bottom half and pulled them off.

“Christ Sassenach, oh my God, what a perfect wife ye are! I love it and ye so bare now.”

“Oh yea, that’s my surprise.” Jamie was rubbing his cheek over all the new skin exposed.

“It’s so much better than a decoder ring mo gradhag, he laughed. I love ye, and I’m fallin in love with yer pussy all over again.”

He opened my legs and laid on my thigh looking at me and touching places that were stealing my sanity. When I felt his warm wet tongue I was but a minute away from my explosion. I pulled Jamie up and pressed on his buttocks to push him toward me. I wanted to feel him inside me for as long as possible and like the best husband that ever lived, he made it last.

We had an amazing shower outside of our hut with the full moon shining down on us. Jamie kissed me over and over as I spread soap lather all over him. I felt like someone had given me knock out drops however and walked quickly to the bed before I passed out on my feet. I heard Jamie’s voice echo in my dream asking to see my heart again. I don’t know if I answered him or not.

My eyes opened late in the night and I heard Jamie breathing next to me. I turned my head and could see his face in the moonlight. I smiled at his serene expression and tried to fall asleep again but couldn’t. Rather than wake him I slipped my short robe on and walked outside to lay on the tiny patio in front of the hut. It was so peaceful and I ached for Jamie until I felt his hand on my hip as he laid behind me whispering lovely things in my ear.

“You’re naked Jamie.” I looked down the length of him and wanted to touch him everywhere.

“I came out to lure ye back to bed but that’s not gonna happen with ye lookin at me that way.”

I pushed him onto his back and crawled to his feet placing kisses from his ankle to his knee. He was watching me and I smiled. From his knee, I kissed deep on his inner thigh letting my kisses get wetter as I got closer to his lovely balls. I pressed my face into them sucking and licking, hearing Jamie start to pant. I played with his heat until he held my hair and pushed my mouth onto him. I teased his arousal to the brink of orgasm and then backed off. When I did it the second time he pulled me off of him and spun my back to his chest locking me into position with his thighs and arms.

“Yer a wee tease Sassenach and I’m gonna punish ye for it. “

Being completely at his mercy I could do little when he pushed into me with force. I felt him so deep as he pulled my leg behind his knees opening my core to his touches and making me pant for release.

“Come for me lass,” he panted in my ear as he rammed me. “That’s a good lass, oh God Sassenach.”

I was thrown so high I barely noticed Jamie’s climax, becoming aware of his grip on me as I came back to earth. We made it back to bed and slept like the dead until morning.

For the next week, we played all day, ate sumptuous food in the evening and made love through the night. Jamie was cerebral about my new heart for the entire week. He would get very quiet and then pull me to our hut, remove the bikini, and stare at my heart. 

We walked down the beach to listen to music one night and Jamie danced slow with me. Halfway through the dance, I knew he would be pulling me out of the bar. We couldn’t get home fast enough so he pushed me into the sand in a secluded place and pulled my clothes off. I could see his neck pulsing with his hammering chest. Once he could see the heart he just touched it, almost reverently at first. It started with a kiss, additional kisses, my hands in his hair, pulling his head to my bud, panting his name, his wet tongue, my deep moans and begging for him, and then he stopped, leaving me breathless. He dressed me again and pulled me along as we ran down the beach to our hut. I laughed so hard I almost tripped but when we crossed our threshold the humor ended and Jamie rocked my world.

I had trouble sleeping again that night and finally went outside to lay in the enormous hammock. The sounds of the water under me was calming and I dozed on and off. Jamie woke me with a dozen kisses on my face and cuddled us back to sleep. Just before dawn, I felt him suck my nipple and I gasped. I saw fire in his eyes and tried to get out of the hammock but he held me there and pressed into my slick center. His kiss took my breath away and our stomachs slapped together while he pushed into me without mercy. I felt him pushing me right off the hammock but could do nothing except tell him harder and faster. When we both climaxed together I was staring down at the ocean beneath us and Jamie was holding onto to my hips gasping for breath. I told him to let go and my naked body slipped into the water just four feet under us. 

Jamie and I swam naked as the sun peaked over the horizon. It was magical. We climbed out and showered off before being caught by the fishing boats that passed each morning. 

When I woke up there was coffee and scones to fuel my excitement for another incredible day.

We packed as much as possible into every minute and I knew I would never forget our incredible honeymoon.

I felt Jamie’s kisses all over my face before he nuzzled into my hair.

“Sassenach. We’re home, time to wake up.”

I could see he just woke up himself and I was relieved he was able to rest.

Scotland looked like a winter wonderland. It had snowed again for the last three days and I was very happy to see Angus waiting for us curbside. My God it was cold. As we piled in he handed us our coats and we were homeward bound.

What awaited us at home? Let’s see, pounding, sawing, drilling, hammering and an inch of drywall dust on everything. Snarky Jenny going into her last month of pregnancy. I start the hardest semester of my nursing program tomorrow and probably cannot get down our road with all this snow. I will probably deliver our baby after second semester, during finals week, necessitating special arrangements, proctors when I can take the exams, and a letter from the Dean to allow it all.

I looked at Jamie when he whistled at the depth of snow on our slightly plowed road. In my mind, I just saw roses… everywhere. They were up and down the road, all over the white fields, blooming every color imaginable. They were even in the rooms under construction. Everyone else might see a construction disaster zone but I just saw roses. Life's challenges will have to get much harder before I dread a single moment of this beautiful existence with Jamie, and that makes me happy.

The End (for now)

[temeyes]

Runaway | Sam Drake

Hi! This is my first attempt in writing a Sam Drake reader insert. I’ve had this idea for a while, and I thought I should give writing another shot. This was inspired by the song of the same name by Maroon 5.

This is also more on reader’s point of view, but by the end, I promise it shows Sam’s perspective of the entire situation! WORD COUNT: 2,608 WARNING: ANGSTY AF EDITED: JANUARY 17, 2018 | fixed some lines again, lmao.

RUNAWAY | Sam Drake/Reader

What am I supposed to do with this time? If there's so many holes, I stay afloat But I feel out of control So petrified, I'm petrified

 “Do you have to go?”

You spoke as carefully as you possibly could. Sam, who was packing his stuff inside a worn-out duffel bag, whipped his head to meet your gaze and let out a soft sigh.

“Hey, we’ve talked about this-“

“I know! It’s just- I worry okay? For both you and Nate. I mean, Panama! This is Panama we’re talking about,” you argued. “-And not to mention that the two of you would be staying in prison. A Panamanian prison!”

Sam abruptly stops packing and turns around to face you. Looking at the carpeted floor as he placed a calloused hand on the nape of his neck and started to rub it a bit, hoping to ease his tension. Reluctantly, he lifted his gaze once more to focus on your stature. You were leaning against the dresser, refusing to look at him directly in eyes.

Sam can sense that you were trying your best not to burst into tears, seeing that your eyebrows were narrowed and your teeth biting on your lip as tightly as you could. God, he sincerely hated leaving you for work. Sometimes, it would take him weeks, maybe even months, before he’d come back in the security of your arms; and you’d be there at home, wasting away in concern.

But he just couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste. This was for his mother’s legacy after all.

He cautiously approached  your figure, in fear that he might trigger you even more by merely walking up to you, as gingerly placed his large palms on both sides of your face. His thin lips touched your forehead as he heard you let out a heavy sigh; you snaked your arms around his torso and held him tightly.

“You know how much this means to me, babe- to me and Nathan.”

“I know…”

--

What am I supposed to do to get by? Did I lose everything I need to survive? Cause at 4 AM, when the sweat sets in; Did you get my message? Did it send? Or did you just get on with your life? Oh.

It’s been weeks and you still haven’t heard from either Sam or Nathan. Bad thoughts have been eating you alive ever since they departed for Panama and you can’t help but feel guilty for thinking so negatively of their safety.

You shook your head and continued to type on your typewriter; trying to muster up ideas for your book. Unfortunately, foul thought had begun to aggravate your mind once more; making you groan out loud in annoyance.

You looked out the window to see that it was already dark outside; you checked the time just to see that it was already late into the evening. You muttered out a curse as you leaned back on the office chair with a frustrated huff; pushing up your glasses while doing so.

Your eyes began to wonder, landing its attention towards the framed photograph sitting on the side of the wooden desk. You reached out for it and charily held the picture in your hands; it was a photo of you and Sam during your vacation in Greece the year before. The memories you shared made your lips curve slightly upward across your exhausted face.

“They’ll be alright,” you said to yourself. “-They’ll be home before I know it.”

Suddenly, a loud and rough rapping against the front door made you jump up from your seat; placing a hand on your chest in attempt to calm yourself from the mini heart-attack. You put down the photo back to its original spot as you stood to answer the door.

Oh, I'm taking time to think and I don't think it's fair for us to Turn around and say goodbye I have this feeling when I Finally find the words to say But I can't tell you if you turn around And run away, run away

The continuous, hard knocking on the door started to become even more obnoxious by every passing second. You pushed your legs a bit faster so you’d scold whoever that person is at the other side, coming by this late hour.

“Coming!” You called out.

By the time you reached the door, you slowly opened it. To your surprise, it was Nathan in a blue prison uniform; all bloodied and bruised.

“Oh my god,” You said “Jesus, Nathan c’mere, get inside!”

After pulling him inside, you immediately closed the door and dragged Nathan into the kitchen; grabbing the first aid kit inside one of the cupboards, and instantly began to work on his wounds. Thankfully, none of them were too serious that required him to seek actual medical help.

Nathan was oddly quiet, but for some reason you didn’t question it. As soon as you finished tending to everything, you finally realized that Sam wasn’t with him. You glanced at Nathan as you were putting away the kit; his eyes were downcast and were frozen in place. What happened anyway?

There it was, the negative thoughts began to gnaw your head again. You inhaled and released the held-up air and cautiously placed a hand on Nathan’s shoulder.

“Nate? Hey, are you oka- Woah!”

Startlingly, Nathan hugged you so tightly that you could barely breathe. You immediately melted into the gesture and hugged him back. You felt your shirt becoming damp and see that Nate was breaking down. This made your heart drop, hard.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry…” He said, over and over again.

What?

“Nathan, calm down buddy. What happened?” You pressed. “And where’s Sam?”

Nate let out another wave of sobs and by the time he lifted his head to face you, you felt your entire world crumble because of the four, horrible words that went past his bloodied lips.

“I couldn’t save him.”

--

What am I supposed to do with these clothes? It's my twisted way of keeping you close I'm a nervous wreck, I'm a broken man Did you get my message? Did it send? Or do you get along on your own?

How long has it been? Weeks? Months even? You couldn’t even recall.

After that little occurrence with Nathan, you just couldn’t help but hate yourself. You loathed the fact that you couldn’t even stop him.

The pain was just… Overwhelming.

It was so overwhelming that you couldn’t even cry, and you couldn’t even think of an alternative to ease out your pain. You just…Lied there on your bed, clutching to Sam’s shirts as if you’d lose any evidence of his entire existence.

Nathan didn’t want to dwell on that depressing memory, so he continued the search for Henry Avery’s treasure with that asshole, Rafe, in hopes to distract himself from his own misery.

The publishing company and even your distasteful co-writer had been pestering you endlessly about your draft, but you couldn’t bring yourself to write anything at all- not during your current state that is.

You were about to fall asleep until your phone irritatingly rang right beside your ear. You cursed as you answered the call and placed the device upon your ear. You half-listened to the person on the other side of the line, who you recalled to be as Piper. Although, catching a few words she said.

You needed to report to the publishing company to personally talk about your current piece.

It took you a while to decide whether or not to bless them with your presence, but since you knew that they would either never stop cornering you or you’d lose your job- you didn’t want to take such chances. You lazily sat up and scratched your head in frustration.

You hastily placed any piece clothing you caught sight around your room and grabbed your wallet and beanie. As you finished dressing up, you check yourself in the mirror and you were completely disgusted with yourself.

“God,” you thought. “I’m a horrible mess.”

--

Let’s just say that you had a terrible day. You didn’t get to shower, you got yelled at and pretty much got soaked in the pouring rain-

Damn it, the weatherman said it would be completely sunny today. Liar.

You really wish you stayed at home and mourned all day and now there you stood in the streets: cold, dripping wet and depressed. Damn, you really wanted cry right now- You had no idea how you were going to go home since the rain was literally pouring at the moment.

Unexpectedly, the strong rain wasn’t hitting you anymore; curiously you looked up and saw a brightly yellow-colored umbrella was placed above your head. Looking beside you, you saw a lean man whose hair is pale blond and eyes of brown with a tint of red to them. The strange man was smiling at you as you gave him a quizzical look.

Out of the blue, the handsome stranger gave out a soft chuckle that sounded quite nice when it went past your ears.

“Seems someone’s having a bad day.” He started. “Want me to walk you home?”

You glared at him, suspicious that his actions may lea-

“Hey, I don’t bite! Just wanted to lend you a hand is all.” He said defensively.

“You’re awfully defensive.” You quipped

“Aha, you look quite horrid when you glare.” He joked.

You giggled and the stranger quickly joined in. It’s been a while since you had a chuckle.

There was a comfortable silence between the two of you, after a few passing moments; he decided to break the silence.

“Hi, I’m Robin. It’s nice to meet you.”

--

Oh, I'm taking time to think and I don't think it's fair for us to Turn around and say goodbye I have this feeling when I Finally find the words to say But I can't tell you if you turn around And run away, run away

 Fifteen years. It’s been roughly fifteen years, and you’ve never thought that you’d be able to settle down and a family of your own. You were now a famous book author and happily married to Robin and the both of you had built a wonderful and healthy family over the years.

Alas, there was still this painful ache every once and a while, as if there was something missing. Maybe it was the sore memories that Sam left. Not even Robin can replace what the both of you had back then.

You were home alone, so there you sat behind the desk once more, typing away on your laptop; merely about to finish another literature masterpiece. Suddenly, an abrupt ringing of the doorbell had pulled you away from your intense focus. You let out a sigh as you pushed yourself away from the desk and went ahead the front door.

You peeked at the door’s peephole, there was a looming figure outside although, the man had his back turned against the door. You took a step back and placed your tired hand upon the cold, metal door knob; turning it slightly and pulled the door open.

And it breaks me down when I see your face You look so different but you feel the same And I do not understand I cannot comprehend The chills your body sends Why did it have to end?

“May I help you-“

“Hi, I’m looking for a [Y/N], does she live here?”

You froze in your place; the voice sounded awfully familiar.

You snapped your eyes open and your gaze landed on familiar hazel eyes. It took you a second to realize who the person in front of you was.

Samuel Drake.

“Sam…?” You quietly questioned.

“Hi, babe.” He replied with small smile plastered on his aged face.

Sam didn’t expect you to jump into his arms, sobbing like there’s no tomorrow. He quickly returned the embrace as he inhaled your scent. You looked almost unrecognizable with your short hair and aged features, but nonetheless- still beautiful.

God, he missed you.

 ---

“-And, that’s how Nathan and I got out of Libertalia.” Sam finished as he smoked his cigarette.

“Wow…” You said breathlessly as Sam finished his story.

There was a thick and awkward silence in the air, you gritted your teeth and you sharply inhaled.

“So…” Sam started. “I heard you got- I don’t know, married?”

There it was.

“Yup, for 12 years now, crazy right?” You replied, trying to act as chill as you could. A forced smiled spreading on your face.

“And a kid? I never really thought you’d settle for the normal life, [Y/N].” Sam joked.

There was something about the tone of his voice that sounded off. It was strained and has a pinch of distaste. Was he jealous? Another wave of agonizing silence commenced. The two of you just sat there next to each other, unwavering and tense. It wasn’t until Sam broke it once more.

“I regretted it.” He flatly stated.

“Regret what?” You answered.

Sam looked at his feet as he let out a shaky exhale.

“Leaving you.”

Then you looked at him with disbelief, and that hurt his feelings a bit (but he’s never going to admit it.)

He really didn’t really expect you to laugh out of the blue. Your trail of laughter faded as you slowly turned to face him with a genuine smile on your face.

“I told you so.”

“Told me what?”

“That Panama was a dangerous place.”

“Okay, alright. Fine, you were right.”

“Good.”

You scooted next to Sam and placed your head on his shoulder as you entwined your hand with his. Sam quickly placed his head upon yours, after a while of comfortable silence; he glanced at you and saw that you had a solemn expression plastered on your fragile face.

“I’m sorry.” You said.

Sam immediately ‘tsked’ his tongue as he kneeled in front of your and wiped the dripping tears staining your cheeks. He gave you a look that made you flinch a bit.

“It wasn’t your fault, baby girl.”

“Sam, I-“

“Mom? I’m home!”

The front door slammed closed, making both you and Sam jump in surprise. You turned your head around to see your son, Morgan, walking inside the living room. Morgan had a smile on his youthful face but quickly faded when he saw Sam. Shortly, he gave you a questioning look.

You cleared your throat and stood abruptly, Sam followed suit. You dusted imaginary dust off your clothes and wiped your cheeks then faced your son as you placed a reassuring hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“Morgan, sweetie-“You started. “This is Sam, an old friend of mine.” Sam held out his hand as he anxiously fixed his attention on Morgan, your son warily looked at him up and down; making Sam even more nervous. Nonetheless, he gripped his hand and gave it a firm shake. 

After short yet curt introductions, Morgan excused himself, as he wanted to finish homework early. You quickly dismissed him; resulting to him running up the stairs and into his room.

Sam tapped your shoulder, and you quickly met his warm gaze.

“I think I should go.”

“Yeah.”

--

“It was nice seeing you again, [Y/N]. Even though it was just for a short while.”

“I could say the same, Sammy.”

Sam gave you his signature grin and began to take his leave. It was like time suddenly became frozen. Your legs practically dragged you towards Sam’s direction.

Drake was shocked to see that you had your arms around his torso once more and your face nuzzling on his back. You look up and said.

“I’ll always love you, remember that.”

He chuckled and replied.

“Same here.”

He let go of you and went forward; not sparing you a second glance- Then, you never saw him again.

---

Runaway, runaway Turn around and Runaway, runaway Runaway, runaway But I can't tell you if you Runaway, runaway Turn around and runaway

[paradisobound]

Forever the One

Summary: When Omega Dan is of age, he is told by his father that he will be sold off to find an Alpha mate. Cue, Alpha Phil. Alpha Phil is in desperate need for a mate, and although Phil is only a few years older than Dan, he holds a reasoning behind why he needs a mate so quickly. When secrets are revealed that give up why Phil needed a mate, this story may not have a happy ending. 

Chaptered Work: This is chapter 2 of 16

Warnings: Slight anxiety attack, mentions of running away, and a slight bit of forced touching (Phil touches Dan to scent him)

Word Count: 1675

Authors Note: Honestly, I’m just being generous at this point. Like, do not expect updates like this everyday. I just have the time right now, but this weekend into next week, I will not have time at all. So be blessed that I updated. Happy reading! :)

*Masterlist*

I took my items to the room that Alpha Lester showed me, and didn’t speak another word. The house was built like a normal two story house, the living room, kitchen, and dining room in the downstairs and the bedrooms upstairs. It made me miss my home, so much so that when I went to set my belongings on the bed, I began to cry silently. 

I fished through the big bag that was packed, and pulled out the photo that I had packed with me. It was of my family and I, sitting at a picnic table in the middle of summer. We all looked happy, but this was also before my sister and I presented. It was a much happier and stress free time. 

As I went to set the photo on the nightstand, I really was able to look around at my surroundings. And that’s when I realized I was in someone else's room. I got up from the bed, and immediately went to grab my things and leave. But then I saw a photo that caught my attention. It was of a skinny, raven haired and fair skinned male, and what appeared to be another boy. It was sitting on the bedside table. Curiously, I went over and looked at it. 

The male with black hair was smiling widely, almost laughing, and his eyes were scrunched up so tightly that crows feet donned the sides. He was wearing a blue tee-shirt, with a graphic design on it. 

Was this Phil? 

I set the photo down and decided to look around the room. 

The wallpaper was blue stripped with a green base halfway down, the bedding was blue and green to match the walls, and miscellaneous posters. It was really the epitome of a teenage boys bedroom. But it was cute and cozy. 

I grabbed my bag and began to fish through it, remembering the items that I had brought. My father is supposed to send the rest, or drop it off, I don’t know which. So I just had a few shirts and personal items. 

And then I found my biggest life savor: my suppressants. 

I went on suppressants right after my first heat. So now, when I’m about to get a heat, which is normally three times a year, I just feel a slight fever and nothing more. It’s amazing really. 

I looked over the bottle and shook it slightly, the sound of the pills clacking against the hard plastic calmed me. Mostly because I knew how Alpha’s got when their Omega’s went into heat. And that was terrifying to me. I didn’t want to be so out of control of my body that an Alpha forces himself into me and then something like a pregnancy happens because of it. I’ve heard all the stories. 

My mind suddenly began to think about running away before I could meet Phil. What if Phil and I didn't get along? Then what would happen? If I ran away now, maybe no one would find me. 

I don’t know where these thoughts came from, but they began to get more and more frequent as time went on. I don’t even know how long I was contemplating jumping from the window and just running off. 

A knock on the door brought me from my thoughts and I quickly shoved the bottle I was still holding into my bag, pulling clothes over the top of it, “Dan, we have someone we’d like you to meet.” 

It was Alpha Lester. 

And he was probably talking about Phil. 

Earlier, about two hours ago to be exact, Alpha Lester told me that Phil had been away but he would be back tonight. So now that he’s here, that makes my skin tingle and my heart leap. I was about to meet my mate. The man who I’d be serving. 

It was all so…overwhelming! 

I yelled ‘coming’ before looking down at my clothing and frowning. I was wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a black tee shirt. Would an Alpha like that? I had no idea what Phil would want me in. I’ve heard where some Alpha’s even request that their Omega be naked all the time so they can pleasure themselves when they would like with no restrictions. I hope Phil has more decency than that. 

I figured I didn’t have time to change, and I didn’t exactly have the correct clothing either to make a good first impression, so I took a deep breath and exited the room. I creeped down the hallway and made my way to the stairs. I felt like I was making some gran entrance like a prom date. 

It was honestly kind of exhilarating. 

I walked down the stairs, step by step, praying that I didn’t trip over my own feet and fall to my death when I’m supposed to be meeting my Alpha. I focused everything on just making it down the stairs, so much so that I made it to the bottom, and didn’t realize I had done so until I saw feet. 

I looked up slowly and came face to face with Alpha Lester, Phil’s mother, and Phil, the same raven haired boy I saw in the photograph in the room. 

He was taller than me, but only by an inch or so. He was skinny, and lanky, but his body was proportionate. His skin was pale, paler than anything I’ve ever seen actually. It was nearly translucent. That seemed odd to me. But what struck me the most was his eyes. They were the clearest shade of blue and you could swim in the them. They were bright and full of life and I could see that he was going to be a good mate for me. 

He swept his black hair off from his forehead before looking at me and smiling, “Hi, I’m Phil,” he introduced himself. 

I smiled at him and blushed, “I’m Dan.” 

There was an awkward few seconds before Alpha Lester pushed Phil forward with a ‘go on’ gesture, and then Phil had his hands on my hips. I gasped, a little uneasy with the touch. I could feel him shaking against me, so I knew he was nervous about all of this too. 

And then he leaned forward, sniffing my neck where my mating gland was. I involuntarily whimpered, because his smell was filling my nostrils and it was amazing. He smelled so sweet to me and I couldn’t believe it. He leaned closer, and I could feel his breath against my neck. He breathed in a few more times and I noticed that his scent began to change completely. 

He was scenting me. 

But it was over soon. He pulled back and looked at me nervously before stepping away, “My parent’s have prepared dinner if you’re hungry,” he said, his voice barely heard. 

I nodded, “I am.” 

He led me to the kitchen and I couldn’t help but smile. 

He couldn’t be more perfect already. 

After dinner, Phil took me up to his room: the one I was in before. He didn’t say anything and when he sat down on the bed, he kind of just neglected my belongings were on there as well. I think he was scared to touch it. 

I immediately moved my bag and set it on the floor of his room before just standing there, “Are you sleeping in here tonight?” 

I heard his words and it took a moment for my brain to process them, “Sleep in here?” 

He nodded, “Yeah, sleep in my bed…you know, with me.” 

I looked around the room nervously, not making eye-contact, “I don’t—”

He shrugged, “You don’t have to, but I know that it’s normally customary.” 

My heat began to race. Did I just upset my Alpha? I looked him over and noticed he was staring at me. I began to feel like the room was spinning. I’ve upset him! It’s only been a few hours and I’ve already done something wrong by not agreeing to my Alpha’s commands!

I sat down on the floor where I stood and felt silent tears run down my cheeks. “Dan?” I could hear as he got up and padded over to me, and then I could hear the sound of his jeans as he bent down to sit. Everything seemed to be super loud now, “Hey, you can sleep wherever you are comfortable. I’m not gonna make you do something you don’t want to.” 

I looked up at him and felt a sob escape my throat, “But I didn’t agree to your command.” 

“I didn’t command anything,” he said gently, “I asked and suggested but I didn’t command.” 

I nodded and shut my eyes for a moment. I began taking deep breaths when I felt his arms go around me. He cradled me to his chest and I instantly melted into him. His touch was so soothing already. 

“If you want, I can ask my parent’s to set up a spare bedroom and then if you want to come in here and sleep with me, you’re more than welcome to, okay?” I nodded against his shirt and breathed in his scent: it was still really appealing to me, “okay,” I whispered. 

We sat like this for a while, until I calmed down fully and was able to really process and get control of my thoughts again. I picked my head up from his shirt and smiled at him meekly. He smiled back and when that happened, I felt the connection that everyone spoke about. 

In just a few short hours, I was sure that Phil was my mate. He was already so gentle and kind to me. And he was so understanding. I really lucked out by getting him to be my Alpha, “Thank you Alpha.” 

He shook his head, “No, I’m not Alpha. I’m Phil. Please just call me Phil.” 

I nodded at him and bit my lip before saying, “Thank you Phil,” and melting into him again.

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[ponytailsandpaperbacks]

2016: A Reflection via an Escape

2016 kicked my butt. It punched me in the gut from the very beginning (Losing Alan Rickman is a pain I will never get over), picked me back up and shook me like a ragdoll. Now, I'm pretty strong. I do not go down easily. At the end of round one, I was still standing, albeit a little shakily. I mad it through the end of my junior year and thought from then on it would be easy cruising. Ha.    Summer was hard. A lot of heart sickness and feeling lonely, but nothing I couldn't handle.      I spent half the summer grasping at what was slipping away. Things were changing quicker than they ever had, and everything I thought was strength had melted into weakness. Things fell apart and I'm still not entirely sure how. I see now that this was for the better. My solid ground wasn't gone, it was just changing.         One of my favorite literary devices is The Escape. It is the very literal form of taking a step back and examining your life. It usually goes about like this: The main character is in a huge mess and every step they take seems to tangle it up even more. Suddenly something (a side emergency they don't have time to deal with but have to anyways, or an opportunity they can't miss, or maybe even something as simple as an obligation they scheduled forever ago that caught up with them at the most inopportune moment) comes up and they have to leave the center of the action to go on an entertaining but (seemingly) narratively pointless  journey right in the middle of the action. Did I make up this trope? Probably.       The big purpose of this trope is usually REFLECTION. The main character is very literally removed from the center of the conflict and can perceive things more clearly than they can in the middle of it all.  This is what sparks the resolution, as the protagonist comes to realize what they really need to do. Examples: Elizabeth's trip to the countryside - Pride and Prejudice , Dumbledore's office- Every Harry Potter Book Ever.        I think about this trope that I might be imagining every time I go out of town. I pull a cliché mid 2000s music video moment and stare out the car window as the rain rolls down the glass. I think. I reflect. I work out all the knots in my life. I think over all the jagged bits that threaten my world until they are rubbed dull and jagged. No, it doesn't always fix things, but it makes things generally easier to deal with, and helps me face my problems instead of mentally blocking them out. I did this on my trip to Colorado in July, and I did it again when I spent Christmas break at my Grandparents house a few hours away. In Colorado, I learned that: I'm okay. I'm loved. Life is full of revolving doors. Maybe not an even ratio of closing : opening, but it fluctuates enough to make up for the times when closing is ahead. There are some things that can never be taken away from me. There are some things I'm not meant to keep. I don't always have to be in control. Sometimes it's alright to loosen my grip. I am incredibly lucky to have the family I have. I have more confidence than I think I do. Burgers are especially fantastic when the bun is a cronut.

Getting away is therapeutic. It is too difficult to do a puzzle when you are one of the pieces.

I don't remember all that much about the rest of summer 2016, except crying a lot in my mom's car. Also Wing Stop. There were a few tears at Wing Stop if I remember correctly. More than anything, I was crying because I was exhausted in a way I had never been any more. I remember one phrase kept threatening to break out of my mouth, and it about a month after school started I finally couldn't help it anymore, and I said it out loud to my math class. "I just feel stretched so unbearably thin that anything else and I would bust like a rubber band. Give it a few months and I'd be getting home at 10 to eat dinner and start my homework (every night for about three weeks), and I started to notice just how many tears there already were. I desperately tried to fill in the places pulled so taught with superglue and Saturday mornings.

     Coming back to school was weird. I'm a senior. Now that I've had a semester to get used to it, it's- Nope. Still super weird.      Everything is a last, and there's so much pressure to make it all count. On top of that, there is the uncertainty of the future, the headache of a forever growing To Do List, and endless worries. Some worries are not that serious, admittedly. It probably won’t matter in 20 years who I go to prom with or how successful I am in band this year. Some are a little more serious, like where I'm going to spend the next four years or whether or not I get my IB Diploma.       As someone who thinks that worrying is actually pretty proactive, I would beg to differ that just because they might not matter later shouldn’t mean that they don’t matter now. If I spend my whole life thinking towards the future, how can I find be happiness in the present?        However stressful this year is, I would be remiss if I didn't recognize that this year had more joy than almost any other. Remembering this year is remembering a year of hugs. Hugs from teachers sharing in my success, hugs from someone very important to me as we looked back over how much we've been through together the past 6 years since we met. Hugs from my role model. Hugs from the family members that I became so much closer to this year. Hugs from people whose affection surprised me. This year I hugged people I hadn't seen in a few days like we were meeting again after years at war.

         And then, a different kind of adventure. October 2016 was easily the hardest month of my life, it’s only competition being the month that Began with my grandfather getting sick a few days before my first day of Junior High.          My family went through a lot in October. We lost someone we never even got the chance to know. We'll never get to tell them a story or listen to one of theirs. We'll never know what his laugh sounds like. It is so hard. It's harder for others in my family than me. We had 15 days. It wasn't anything close to enough, but it was all we got, and I'm trying so hard to be grateful that we got as much as we did. We lost a dog in October, too. That was gut wrenching. It felt like after everything else, we were being kicked while we were down.       October was heartbreaking. It was so unfathomably hard, and even now I'm tearing up typing this. I didn't handle it well. That is, I didn't handle it at all. I just kept going. I held my sister as we watched a baby die and 3 hours later I had my instrument and was getting on the bus to a football game. I put my head down and worked. The good news is that I got  a lot of college applications in that month. The bad news is that while I did a lot of work, I didn't work through anything I was feeling. I didn't talk to anyone about it, I didn't think about anything.     The next month or so went by in a blur. Christmas break came and I survived the first semester of senior year. Again, I packed my bags and escaped. Finally, it hit me. I sat in the twin bed at my grandparents house, hearing my sister talk about everything through the door the night before Christmas eve, and I lost it. I started hyperventilating. Without really knowing why or how, I was suddenly sobbing and couldn't stop. It hit me. The next day, everyone in the family would be over at the house. It would be fun and loud and everything I love about the holidays. It also wasn't going to be how it was supposed to be this year. There was supposed to be a baby. The youngest cousin is about to be 9, and I remember when she was a baby, someone was always holding her while everyone else mooned over her, playing with her feet and fingers. It was supposed to be like this again this year. And instead of there being this gaping hole in the family, it was just going to be like every other year. That somehow made it worse to think that he wasn't around long enough to have carved out a niche. At first, I panicked. I was supposed to be okay. I thought I was fine. I've always been the strong one, and suddenly I'm falling apart out of the blue? Then, I was relieved. I was relieved because I realized how many emotions I had kept bottled up, all so I could keep pretending that I was okay. I realized that I'm a jerk to myself. I hold myself to impossible double standards. To everyone else, I preach that emotions are natural and nothing to be ashamed of, but personally I put so much pressure on myself to be strong that I don't allow myself the weakness of being sad or scared. With this relief came healing and talking. I talked to my sister. I talked to my aunt. December was my emotional detox. I worked on some other things too. I talked to my grandfather for hours. He's the most amazing person I have. Every college I'm considering, it's always "that would just be so wonderful if you went there". It only matters to him that I'm happy. He is the only one who has told me that I go to college because that is what is going to make me happy, not because it is what someone else wants for me. He also helped me get some perspective, telling me that whatever I decide, I'm not marrying a school. My commitment to whatever college I chose is a semester long, and If I hate it I can always come home at the end of the semester and try again somewhere else. So 2016, know this: I refuse to let what I lost define this wonderful, transforming period of my life. For the rest of my life, I vow to look back on you, 2016, and see instead what you have given me. You gave us fifteen days with a tiny baby boy and in those fifteen days he brought us all closer together and defined our future as one we spend together as a family. You gave me perspective. You gave me big decisions and risks worth taking. In you, I found both triumph and failure like I never had before. My birthday gift this year was the recognition that I have the most amazing support system, and that I am so blessed to be loved by so many people. I spent most of you worried, stressed and sad, however, I also had some of my best moments so far during you. I went to a punk rock concert for nerds with my dad and best friend and had more fun than I ever have before. I accomplished things I really didn't think I could. (Cough, Chem IA, Cough). I went on a couple dates. I had a sleepover with my cousin and sister. I hung out with a few people I hadn't hung out with in years. I road around In shopping carts with some of my best friends in a dress and fancy heels. I became so much more confident in my own skin, even if my skin hates me sometimes. I road rollercoasters (as well as road in some of my friends cars which felt like being on a roller coaster- not always in the good way). I had fun and said screw it. I slow danced. So thank you. Thank you 2016 for proving to me what I already knew, but needed reminding. I am strong.  I can do anything I set my mind to, and I am special. I can't say that I'm sad to see you go, but I can appreciate what you leave me with.

2017, I have so much hope, and at the end of the day, isn't that all that matters?