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sluttywonwoo · 3 years ago

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take it off || k.mg x reader

Pairing: mob!mingyu x fem reader

Summary: as much as you hate to admit it, jealousy looks good on your fiancé

Warnings: swearing, light smut (18+)

Word Count: 1.8k

a/n: reworked this old blurb originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark )

Masterlist

“Mingyu, slow down,” you said with a sigh, trying not to roll your eyes.

“What was he thinking?” Mingyu spat, not acknowledging what you had just said. He gripped the steering wheel even harder.

You watched as his knuckles began to turn white and rubbed his arm soothingly. “Baby, take a deep breath. Relax.”

He just shrugged you off and cursed at the car in front of him.

“Don’t fucking tell me to relax.”

“It’s not a big deal, Gyu.”

He actually turned his head towards you and looked at you this time. “You’re joking.”

You shrugged sheepishly. “I’ve had worse.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

You winced, knowing you’d probably made it worse and that Mingyu was likely now picturing the grimy hands of ill-intentioned strangers all over your body.

“I should have him killed,” he snarled.

To most, that threat would sound completely ridiculous or utterly insane, but your fiancé was the head of the Seoul mob-the South West branch anyway- and he was no stranger to violence. Having someone killed would be as easy as snapping his fingers.

You scoffed to call his bluff.

“You think I won’t?” he challenged and you groaned.

“You promised you were done with that.”

It’s true, one of the conditions of your engagement had been that Mingyu agree to put the more sinister side of his business to rest, and although you trusted him, in all honesty, you weren’t sure how well he was upholding his end of the deal.

“I’d make an exception.”

“Well don’t. I don’t want some poor guy’s blood on my hands.”

At that, the car screeched to a stop right in the middle of the freeway. The cars behind you honked and flashed their lights at Mingyu as they maneuvered to avoid a collision.

You huffed in frustration, wanting to bang your head against the dashboard. This was exactly why you didn’t like for Mingyu to drive himself: he pulled dangerous shit all the time like this. Literally, all of his other men had drivers who took them places and you desperately wished Mingyu would hire someone, but he insisted that it was safest if he was the one driving (yet here you were in the middle of the highway).

“You could’ve fucking killed us!” you shouted, more annoyed than anything.

Mingyu took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. But y/n, he’s not just some poor guy.”

“He was trying to get a rise out of you, Gyu. He fucking hates you, of course, he’d go after me, and he was drunk.”

Mingyu narrowed his eyes at you, foot still pressed firmly on the brake. “That’s not a fucking excuse, you of all people should know that. Why are you trying to defend him?”

“I’m not trying to defend him, I’m just saying he doesn’t deserve to die. Can we please just get home?”

Mingyu relented and put the car back into motion making you breathe a sigh of relief.

Even though he didn’t say anything else you could tell his mind was still going a thousand miles a minute. You watched him chew at his lip in silence and wondered what was going on in that beautiful head of his. Nothing good, you could be sure of that.

Mingyu’s mind was darker than most. Occupational hazard. He carried so much pain that you hadn’t known about when you first met him. He’d let you in slowly, keeping you at arm’s length for months, until he almost lost you. And then he knew he couldn’t keep things from you anymore. It was still a challenge to understand his thought process sometimes, but you liked it that way. How could a ruthless, power-hungry mobster also be the most loving, family-oriented person you’d ever met in your life? How could someone who dropped a grand on a dinner like it was nothing secretly rather spend one more night picnicking with crappy Chinese food on the bedroom floor in your old apartment? You couldn’t think of an answer, and you didn’t want to.

The guy at the bar tonight had been some rival of Mingyu’s. You hadn’t seen him before, but you could tell because when Mingyu got up to get the two of you more drinks he swooped in and laid it on heavy. He looped one arm around your waist and placed his other hand on your knee and began attempting to seduce you. Sure, you were uncomfortable but more than anything you were angry. And tired. Tired of being used as bait, something to get to Mingyu.

You didn’t want to make a scene so you listened to the asshole talk about how much better he’d treat you than Mingyu until your fiancé eventually returned with your drinks in hand, face beet red, eyes dark with anger.

The man, you never caught his name, left the bar with a broken nose. Mingyu left with bruised knuckles. You’d thought it would end at that, but of course, once Mingyu got started it was hard for him to stop. It was a gift in the bedroom, but a curse in the rest of your life.

Then, so softly you almost didn’t hear it, Mingyu broke the silence in the car and said “I know what he said to you,” and it all clicked.

Normally, a hand on your shoulder, thigh, ass was enough to set Mingyu off, but combine that with the filthy words he’d undoubtedly overheard spilling from the man’s lips… no wonder all he could see was red.

“Mingyu, I-“

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to start something.”

“Start something? Is that true? Or do you think he’s right?”

“No, of course not.”

“Do you think he can satisfy you better than I can?”

“Mingyu!”

“Well do you?”

You shook your head and rubbed your thighs together, fighting a shiver. As irritating as Mingyu’s jealousy could be, the effect it had on you was even more infuriating. The man could already turn you on without doing anything and whenever he started acting a little jealous it was game over for you. It was pathetic, really.

“Why the fuck did he even think it was okay to look at you, let alone touch you?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged finally settling in to play the game. “These big dudes with huge muscles just think they can have whoever they want.”

Mingyu whipped his head back towards you. “What did you say?”

You ignored him. “I mean he definitely wouldn’t be as good as you, but he could do some damage.” Mingyu was full-on glaring at you now, and you wanted to tell him to keep his eyes on the road, but you couldn’t give up so fast. “I mean, just one of his hands could probably wrap around my whole neck. Like they were giant, and you know what they say about guys with big hands-“

“Do you think this is funny?”

Any sane person wouldn’t even think about taunting Mingyu like this, not with his reputation, but you couldn’t be sane to be with someone like Mingyu anyway, and besides, you knew he was a big softie at heart.

“A little,” you admitted. “You look really hot right now.”

He really did. His hair was tousled with silver highlights from the moonlight streaming in through the windshield, his tan skin was flushed with adrenaline, and his white button-up was unbuttoned just a few times to show off his collarbone. You bit your lip. You were so fucking weak.

“That’s not going to work.”

“No?” You quirked an eyebrow and leaned over the console to see that he was already more than half hard in his dress pants. “Because it looks like it’s working.” You reached over and began to palm him through his trousers, smirking when he cursed and rolled his neck at the contact.

“Y/n, if I have to pull over, you’re not going to be able to walk for the next week.”

Oh no, that’d be horrible you thought to yourself and rolled your eyes. He had to know that’s what you secretly wanted, right? Right? Why were men so stupid?

Either way, you took your hand back and moved it up under the hem of your dress to where you were feeling a little desperate for some friction. You sighed deeply when you rubbed yourself over your panties, not even surprised at how wet you were.

“Fuck,” you hissed out and hiked your legs up onto the seat so you could give Mingyu a better view.

“Stop that.”

He said it so forcefully that you froze, fingers hovering over your panties, about to pull them to the side. Then you smiled.

“No.” You went ahead and did it anyway, slipping two fingers inside of yourself easily.

You weren’t one to defy Mingyu often, especially when it came to what he asked of you in the bedroom, but you knew how crazy it drove him and just couldn’t resist.

Mingyu groaned, trying and failing to maintain an angry expression. His eyes betrayed an absolutely sinful lust that made you want to melt and you wished more than anything he’d just pull the fucking car over.

“Fuck, Gyu,” you gasped, “I wish these were your fingers, you’re so good with your fingers.”

“Yeah? You sure you wish they’re my fingers? Not someone else’s?”

You shook your head vigorously. “Never. You’re the only one who knows how to make me cum that hard.”

“Is that what you want? To cum hard?”

“God, yes,” you moaned, pumping your fingers in and out of you faster.

“Take off your dress.”

“What?” you weren’t sure if you’d heard him right, you were still driving down the highway after all.

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

Not wanting to push your luck any further you didn’t hesitate to listen this time and pulled the loose fabric up and over your head.

“Good girl,” he praised and you whined. You were still wearing your bra and underwear and as much as you’d love to flash oncoming traffic, you hoped Mingyu wouldn’t ask you to take them off.

“You can touch yourself,” he said and you complied, knowing it was more of an instruction than an allowance.

It felt good, really good, but you still wished it was him instead of you.

“Fuck, darling you look so beautiful like that, God, I can’t believe I get to marry you.”

“If, you stop, killing people,” you managed to get out through gritted teeth and Mingyu laughed.

“I’m not going to kill him, baby. I made a promise. You’re too important to risk losing, even if he is a fucking prick.”

You whimpered, the mixture of complete head-over-heels love you felt for Mingyu and pleasure making you crumble.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he said, reaching over and taking you by the wrist, stalling your movements just as you were about to fall over the edge. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll forget you ever met that asshole.”

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#take it off #mingyu smut #kim mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x fem reader #mingyu x you #mingyu x y/n #mingyu x female reader #mingyu x fem reader #kim mingyu x female reader #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen x reader #svt x reader

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myveryownfanfiction · 2 years ago

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Rickmas day 14!

prompt: Icy Roads

warnings: car crash (into a snow drift), talking on the phone while driving, swearing, mention of blood

“How much longer are you going to be?” I sighed as I got myself into the car.

“I’m getting in the car now. I saw the news report about icy roads so I’m going to go slow. Stay on the line with me?” I gripped the wheel tightly as I pulled out of the parking lot. I hadn’t heard anything about salt trucks being able to get out but knowing the city they wouldn’t be out until after rush hour.

“Course.” Harry answered. “Salt trucks haven’t gotten out yet.” I mentally rolled my eyes and slowed to a stop at a red light.

“Figures.” I sighed.

“I know you’re nervous.” Harry’s voice was sympathetic.

“I grew up around snow, that doesn’t bother me. I always had four wheel drive. But these extreme back and forths drive me nuts. Icy roads have become the bane of my existence.” Harry chuckled at my little rant. The further away from the office I got, the worse the roads got.

“I know dear. How are the roads?” I slowed down and put on my hazard lights as the roads started to look clear of snow.

“Snow wise it doesn’t look too bad. But it’s hard to tell about ice.” I explained cautiously. “If I go quiet I’m concentrating.”

“Of course. Be careful.” I breathed out slowly and maneuvered across the road.

“Alright I think I’m clear.” I breathed a sigh of relief just as the wheels of the car hit a patch of ice. “Shit!” I cried out. I applied pressure to the breaks and turned the wheel away from oncoming traffic.

“(Y/N)?!” Harry was understandably nervous. I cried out as the car left the road and hit the grass. “(Y/N)! Talk to me!” The car hit a snow drift and stopped. My head hit the steering wheel with the force of the stop and when I sat back, I could feel the warmth of blood slide down my forehead.

“Oh fuck.” I groaned out. Putting a hand to my head, I hissed when I made contact with the cut. Opening the center console and pulled out a napkin. “I’m here Harry. I crashed the car though.” I pressed the napkin to my head despite the pain.

“I don’t care about the car. How are you? Are you hurt?” His voice was frantic and I could tell he was trying to get someone to call an ambulance for me.

“I have a cut on my head from hitting the snow bank.” I leaned my head back. “Other than that I’m ok.”

“Sarah called an ambulance and a tow. They should be there soon.” His voice started to even out once he knew I was alright. “Don’t worry about the car. We can get it fixed or buy a new one.” I nodded even though he couldn’t see me.

“Sounds good. Meet me at the hospital?” I asked, seeing the flashing lights appear on the road. I carefully got out of the car, phone in hand and napkin still pressed to my head.

“Yeah. I love you.” Harry was moving around, probably getting ready to go.

“Love you too. See you soon.”

#rickmas2022 #alan rickman #alan rickman fanfic #alan rickman fanfiction #alan rickman x reader #alan rickman imagine #harry x reader #harry fanfic #harry fanfiction #harry imagine #harry love actually #Love actually

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clouditae · 3 years ago

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First Love | 25

we finally coming to an end my dudes

Word: 4.8k

You first saw him in the multi-purpose room. Later learn his name, and on your third year, as he becomes your neighbor, you discover his lifestyle. Knowing your crush on him was nothing but that, you wanted to find the courage to look for love. Asking your friend for help, you’re pointed in the direction of the expert. Your neighbor, Min Yoongi

Chapter Index

“Camping?” you ask, your feet guiding you left to avoid the oncoming traffic of people heading in the opposite direction you’re going.

“Yeah,” Ari begins, the two of you rounding a corner, “remember last year we said we’d go camping during fall break? Well, since this is our last fall semester, why not have fun?”

You’re quiet for a moment, thinking her request over. As you begin your reply, the two of you enter the pizza shop at the lower level of the student center, “I don’t mind going, but I’m not sure if Yoongi will be as willing.”

“Hoseok is talking to him, and you know that if Hoseok talks to him, Yoongi will go. They’re best friends,” Ari replies, wrapping her arm around your shoulder. “Just like us,” she adds.

You chuckle as the two of you wait in line for your turn to order. With the time just hitting noon, you two will be able to get your meal and find a seat somewhere easily as several classes end, and students are making their way towards the food courts. After you’ve placed your order, Ari sets off to find a table while you wait for your number to be called.

It’s crazy how you’re already going to graduate. Four years you have spent at this university, and within those four years, you’ve experienced so many things and went through so much emotionally. But through all of that, you’re somewhere in life you never expected you’d be. You’re happy where you are, and you’re excited to see where life takes you from here on out.

Your number is called and you make your way towards the pick up counter. Grabbing the tray, you thank the staff and make your way outside the building, scanning the tables for Ari. She waves you down across the small court. You make your way towards her and place the tray on the table as you reach your spot, taking a seat next to her.

“I haven’t had a pizza in a hot minute,” your best friend exclaims, grabbing her slice, eyes lighting up with hunger as she takes a bite. “I forgot how amazing it tastes.”

You nod in agreement as you take a bite of your own, feeling the warmth of the cheese and pepperoni invade your taste bud. “Where would we be going?” you ask in between bites.

“Hoseok said it’s up in the mountains a few hours from here. Nice cabin in the woods—with other cabins of course. I’m not going out into the woods to die in some cabin with no one else around,” she states, shaking her head.

“Your mind should be focused on midterms rather than a possible horror film in the woods. They begin next week,” you remind, grabbing your cup for a drink.

Ari groans. “Don’t remind me please. I am not in the midterm mood to think about my two tests and two papers I have to worry about. Just let me focus on fall break, and the cute cabin I’ll be relaxing in for a few days.” You can’t help but sigh, knowing that she’ll do her papers last minute, stressing over how little time she has. All because she isn’t starting it now. As if sensing your disapproval, she adds, “I’ll start this weekend.”

“Boo.” Both you and Ari jump in your seats, turning your heads towards Hoseok who is grinning wildly at his accomplishment.

“You—” Hoseok’s laugh interrupts Ari as he leans down and kisses her temple. Yoongi walks up next to his roommate, shaking his head.

You smile at him as he takes a seat next to you, Hoseok claiming his spot next to Ari. “Class is over already?” you ask as he places his food tray in front of him. Usually right now he’d be in class and wouldn’t be out for another half hour or so.

“Canceled,” he replies, unwrapping his sandwich.

“So,” Ari begins, “about the trip.” Your attention turns back to your best friend. Ari looks between all three of you. “Our check-in time is around two. My last final ends at ten, so Hoseok and I will be able to make it to check-in.” Ari’s eyes land on yours. “I know your last final is the day before…” she trails off, eyes slowly scanning towards Yoongi who is taking a bite out of his lunch.

He looks up, takes a few seconds to chew his food before answering, “My last final starts at six, so I won’t get there ‘til midnight or so.”

Ari hums in response. “So any activity will be the next day. I’ll reschedule the dinner reservations for the next day.” Grabbing a pen and notebook from her bag, Ari jots down a note in it before placing it back into her bag. “Then I’ll make sure we’re awake to let you in so you’re not outside all night.”

“What are the plans for the trip?” Hoseok asks.

Ari’s eyes seem to light up as she looks at her boyfriend, ready to go into detail as to what is planned for the trip. She then goes into a very long, very planned agenda for fall break. Hot tub, watch movies, play games, build a snowman, sledding, and whatever else is possible if the snow isn’t too bad.

“What kind of movies,” Hoseok questions, tone cautious as if one of the movies is going to make him back out of the trip.

Ari smiles sheepishly. “I only have one scary movie. Everything else is comedy, romance, or action.” Hoseok gives a look of distaste. “Don’t worry, I was only planning on watching it with Y/N while you and Yoongi did your own thing.” Your roommate places a hand over her boyfriend’s in a comforting manner.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hoseok replies, snatching his hand away from his girlfriend as if she had just insulted him. Ari laughs in response.

“Are you going to ride with them?” Yoongi asks you.

You look to him. “What do you mean?” you respond, the little bickering between your friends drowning away as you focus on your boyfriend.

“When they leave for the cabin, are you going with them? If there’s anything that doesn’t fit in their trunk, you can leave it here and I’ll bring it.”

You shake your head. “I want to go with you,” you tell him.

“I’ll be arriving late,” he somewhat objects, as if your sleep is important when in reality just being with him is more important to you than sleep.

“I can sleep a little before we leave,” you counter. You want to go with him, and nothing will change that. It also seems that Yoongi caught on because in response he nods, a small smile growing on his lips. You couldn’t stop the fluttering in your chest at his smile.

You help Ari with the last of her suitcase, hearing a grunt from Hoseok as Ari closes the trunk to his car. You look over to him, watching him adjust the strap on his shoulder as he makes his way over towards you.

“What’s in the bag?” you can’t help but ask. Everything should already be packed, so why does he have one more?

“I bought a bunch of games yesterday for us to play in case we get snowed in,” he answers, a big grin on his face.

“How much is “a bunch”?” Ari asks, eyeing his bag.

Opening the back passenger side door, Hoseok carefully throws the bag in the car. “Enough to play all of them before we head back here.”

Ari sighs and you laugh. Hoseok closes the door and walks up to the two of you. Wrapping an arm around his girlfriend, he asks, “You ready to head out?”

“Hell yeah. I need a much needed break from this place.” Your roommate gazes over to you. “We’ll see you there, and be sure to tell Yoongi to drive safe,” Ari instructs, stepping away from her boyfriend and wraps her arms around you in a hug.

“You guys be careful on your drive there,” you tell her, wrapping your arms around her.

“We’ll be fine. You’re talking to the number one safest driver in the world,” Hoseok says, wrapping an arm around you once Ari had let you go. Both you and Ari laugh at Hoseok’s comment, earning an offended look when he separates from you. “I’m being serious,” he argues, a hand on his chest as if he really were offended.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go Fast and Furious,” Ari comments, patting his back before making her way towards the passenger side car door. “See you there, Y/N!” she calls before getting in.

“Later, Y/N,” Hoseok says before making his way towards the driver's side.

You wave goodbye and watch your two friends drive out of the parking lot. Once the car is no longer in sight, you make your way towards the food court. Walking up the stairs, you dig in your pocket for the chips as a pair of students exit the building, one holding the door open for you. You thank them before entering, walking up to the person behind the register. Handing your chips to the person, they reach down under the counter and pull out a plastic cup and container, handing it to you just as you press your ID to the scanner.

You enter the room lined with foods of all kinds. Scanning the varieties of foods for the day, you contemplate on what to get. After a few seconds of deciding, you make your way towards the far back room where they have a delicious pasta you can’t name. After gathering all the foods you want, including a broccoli cheddar soup and an ice cream, you make your way back to your dorm where a new episode of your favorite show is waiting.

And so, you spend the next couple of hours on your computer doing whatever to keep you entertained.

Hours have gone by and you’re awoken to the feeling of something soft caressing your cheek. You slowly open your eyes, adjusting to the bright light you had left on. As your eyes focus, you find Yoongi standing in front of you, a small smile on his lips. “Morning,” he says.

You’re fully awake now and sitting up as you ask, “Are you done with midterms?”

“Yeah.”

You frown. “How did you get in?” you question. You didn’t leave the door open—the doors are too heavy to stay open.

“Ari gave me her ID yesterday. She figured you’d fall asleep,” he replies, handing you your best friend's ID.

You take the card, nodding your head in agreement. “She does know me,” you confess. You look back up to him after putting Ari’s ID in your pajama pocket. “Did you eat? Pack? Are you tired?” you bombard him, eyes scanning him up and down for any signs of exhaustion or hunger.

Yoongi lets out a quiet laugh. “I did pack. I did eat. I’m not tired, I stay up pretty late, so I won’t be tired for a while longer.” His eyes glance down to under your bed where you left your suitcase. “You ready to head out?”

You nod, removing the blanket off you and hop off your bed. The two of you gather all your belongings—you double check to make sure you’re leaving nothing behind. Following him out of your dorm, you turn off your light, and make your way down the hallway towards the door. Your guess is that he already has his stuff in the car. Exiting the building, you’re met with cold, moist air.

Guess it rained, you think to yourself, carefully walking down the wet steps.

As you reach the last step, you follow Yoongi towards his car, which is parked at the closest parking spot. Yoongi opens the trunk, lifts your suitcase into the trunk and places it next to his. You were right about him already putting his stuff in the car. You hand him your smaller bag for him to place it next to your suitcase. As he closes the trunk, the two of you make your way to the front.

You climb into his car, put on your seatbelt and place your pillow on your lap. Yoongi straps his seatbelt and starts the engine. He looks to you. “Ready?” he asks. You nod.

The entire drive is a comfortable silence with soothing music playing, and Yoongi never once letting go of your hand.

By the time Yoongi pulls into the driveway of the cabin, it’s a quarter till two. You see Hoseok’s car, confirming that they made it. As Yoongi cuts the engine, you unbuckle your seatbelt and climb out of the car. There’s no snow yet, but it’s very cold here compared to the city you had just left. The cabin looks like your fairytale with ivy hanging off the wooden walls, deer figures scattered across the lawn. It’s beyond cute, and you’re so excited to stay here.

Hearing the trunk open, you turn your attention towards Yoongi at the back of the car. You make your way over towards him, taking the small bags while he takes both of your suitcases. With everything in hand, you two walk up to the door. Yoongi releases on of the handles and punches in the code on the doorknob and a small click sound is heard. You enter the cabin.

It’s dark, with the furniture outlined from the moonlight, but you can’t see anything else. As much as you want to see everything, you don’t want to wake up your friends, so you opt to tour the entire cabin tomorrow.

“Hoseok said our room is at the end of the hall,” Yoongi whispers. “Take the suitcase,” he instructs, handing you one of the suitcases. You take it and wait a few seconds, hearing some shuffling sounds before a sudden light appears from Yoongi. You realize it’s his phone’s light. “Let’s find the room.”

You make your way towards the hall, passing the sofa, the kitchen it seems, and a closed door. As you make your way down the hall, you pass a few more closed doors. You’re unsure as to which one Ari and Hoseok are sleeping in, and you’re beyond curious as to what it looks like. Reaching the end of the hall, Yoongi stops at a closed door. He twists the handle, opening the door. A few seconds later the bedroom light comes on. The bedroom looks so modern, as if it doesn’t belong to a cabin. The walls are gray, floor an oak wood, a desk to the right, TV hung on the wall across from the bed, and just decorations on stands, bookcases and hung on the wall.

“Looks cozy,” Yoongi comments, walking into the room and closer to the door for you to enter. Once you’re inside, the door closes behind you. He places both of your belongings against the wall, and you do the same.

You take out the essentials and decide to worry about unpacking the rest later. You climb into bed and scroll through your phone while Yoongi takes a shower. You decided to wait for him before going to sleep. When he finally comes out, he’s wearing just sweats, his hair dripping wet and his towel draped around his shoulders. You can’t stop your heart from beating rapidly as you watch him dig through his bag. You watch him carefully as he pulls out a shirt, making his way towards the foot of the bed and takes a seat. His back is to you. His glistening back with beads of water falling down to his sweats.

Your body seems to move on its own. You crawl over to him just as he stands and tosses his towel on the love seat in the corner. You sit up on your knees behind him, the tips of your fingers touching his back. He lightly jumps and turns to look at you. He stares at you with curious eyes, but his eyes soon change to something else when your hand grabs the waistband of his sweats and pull him closer to you. The shirt is no longer in his hands.

Yoongi closes the gap between you two within seconds. His lips are warm and eager much like your own. He kisses you as if he’s been deprived, and you know you’re the same. You’ve waited so long for this. So long to just have him. All of him. Every heartache, every unsaid word that has built up between the two of you since he agreed to help you is just fading away within this one kiss.

You feel his hands at your side, fingers gliding under your shirt, brushing along your skin. His fingers only linger for a moment before they grab the hem of your shirt and he lifts it up. You break the kiss, lifting your arms for him to pull your shirt over your head before your lips meet again. There’s desperation between the two of you. Desperation to feel each other, to be close to one another. To feel that pleasure you’ve longed for.

You’re not going to let anything stop you two from going all the way.

Your hand that is still holding on to his waistband travels inside his sweats, pushing past his boxers. You reach down until you feel Yoongi’s member. Taking a hold of it, you bring your hand from the base to his tip, earning a groan from your boyfriend. The sound—his sound encourages you to do more. To keep going. And so you do. You move your hand back and forth, every now and then twisting your hand, and as you do so, you feel it get harder and harder.

Yoongi grabs a tight hold of your hair, pushing your head back just a bit as he takes a light bite of your lower lip. His eyes bore into yours, showing nothing but lust. A shiver erupts throughout your body. Yoongi releases your lower lip, and you whisper, “I want to taste you.”

He releases your hair, letting you take control of the situation. You get off the bed, turning his back to the bed, and lightly push him to sit down. You get down on your knees, grabbing a hold of his sweats and boxers. Yoongi lifts himself just a bit for you to pull it off of him. They fall to his ankles and you focus your attention on his hardened member in front of you. You reach out, taking a few strokes before leaning forward, letting your lust take control. You take him into your mouth, feeling his warm, throbbing shaft invade your taste buds.

“Fuck,” Yoongi mutters, his hand going back into your hair to remove it from your face.

For a moment you let your tongue swirl around, tasting the saltiness from his pre cum before you bring your head up to the tip, and then bring it back down to the base. You feel his tip hit the back of your throat as you bring your head back up. His hips jerk as you go back down, swirling your tongue; his grip on your hair tightens.

Your body is burning as you continue your motions. Your body aches for his touch, your ears beg to hear his moans, and your mouth lusts for his taste. You can’t control yourself. You don't want to control yourself. You want to get lost in the lust your thoughts are giving, give in to the need your body is craving. And you do.

You’ve always been slow when it comes to pleasing, but your body wants to go faster, deeper. You want to wake up with a sore throat all while knowing you gave Yoongi the best pleasure you can give. All while knowing that he released himself in your mouth and you swallowed every bit of it.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Yoongi moans, gripping your hair even tighter, and holding your head still. You look up at him with curious eyes and you're met with one of hunger and need. You feel your face flush as he mutters, “Let me finish, baby.” He’s never called you “baby” before, and it sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You nod as you let him be in control, and when he does, you’re only more desperate for him to be in you.

Yoongi thrusts into your mouth with such quick and hard thrusts that your eyes water and you’re gagging every time he hits the back of your throat. But he doesn’t stop. He never once stops as he ravages your mouth, moaning and praising you as he pleases himself. He thrusts and thrusts until he goes rigid, warm liquid filling your mouth. You swallow, licking everything you can off of him before breaking away from his member. You look up at him as he cups your cheeks, thumbs running across your cheeks.

“Was I too rough?” he asks, eyes searching yours as he continues to wipe away the tears that have fallen.

You shake your head. “Please touch me,” you say, hands going over his. “I need you, Yoongi. My body is burning, and I can’t control all these thoughts that are running through my head. I want you. I want to feel you inside me—I want to feel whatever it is my body is yearning. I don’t know why I’m so desperate for you right now, but I am. I want you to take me and make me yours.” You ramble, letting everything you’re feeling at the moment come out. You were never like this with Hanbin, and you don’t know how to understand your thoughts and needs. All of this is so foreign, and you need Yoongi to fix it. To put your body at ease.

Yoongi takes a hold of your hand, pulling you to your feet as he stands. He caresses your cheek once more before kissing you. He’s soft this time, and slow. You instantly feel at ease as you kiss him back. Kissing him as if it’s your first shared kiss. There is so much love and tenderness to this kiss that you feel as if you can get lost into it.

You feel Yoongi’s hands on your back, traveling up to your bra. He only takes a second to unclasp your bra, the two of you letting it fall to the ground along with the rest of his clothing articles. As your tongues dance around each other, one of his hands cups your breast. His thumb rubs against your nipple, every now and then giving it a pull and earning a gasp from you.

“Yoongi,” you beg, and he catches the hint.

He pushes you back onto the bed. You take a seat at the edge of the bed, looking up at him with eager eyes. Yoongi follows your motion and gets to his knees. He grabs the waistband of your pajama pants and underwear and says, “Just like our first practice.”

Your thoughts flood back to the first time you felt Yoongi’s tongue between your legs. It was your first time experiencing something like that. You had your eyes closed, unsure as to what pleasure you were feeling until you finally opened your eyes and looked towards the mirror. You couldn’t see Yoongi’s face, only the top of his head as he busied himself with your core. You watched in awe for a moment before you let out a moan. Then you were lost in the ecstasy that you felt that day.

You prop your feet at the edge of the bed once the rest of your clothing is removed. Yoongi grips your thighs, spreading your legs open wider before his mouth finds your center. You let out a moan, your back arching as you clutch the blanket. Yoongi lapses his tongue between your folds, sucking on your clit when his tongue reaches the top. He swirls his tongue between your folds, sticks it in your entrance, and repeats those motions until you're a moaning mess. You’re panting and begging for him to not stop, moaning his name.

“I’m close,” you cry, your hand clutching his hair. Yoongi’s mouth travels up from your entrance to your bean. He licks and sucks as he pushes two fingers in your entrance. “P-please don’t stop,” you beg, your toes curling. You’re so close—you’re almost there. Yoongi picks up his pace, his fingers curling as he pulls out. You see stars as you shut your eyes, one of your hands practically white from the grip you have on the blanket. Your body quakes as you feel your body reach its peak. Yoongi slows his pace but doesn’t stop until your legs collapse from exhaustion.

He removes his fingers and mouth from you, standing to his feet. You open your eyes just as Yoongi pulls his fingers from his mouth. Sitting up, you reach for his once again hardened shaft. “I need you,” you tell him, stroking him.

He groans, taking your hand away from him. You scoot back as he climbs on the bed. You lie down as he claims your lips once again. You can’t help but bring your hand back down between you two and take a hold of his member again. He moans, breaking the kiss. “If you keep doing that I won’t make it,” he says against your lips.

“Did you bring any protection?” you ask him, your fingers brushing along his throb.

He hisses in bliss. “No, but I saw that note and box on the nightstand when we first came in.” He looks to the side of the bed closest to the bathroom door. You follow his gaze and see the nightstand with a white folded paper and a box of condoms. Yoongi reaches for both and hands you the note. Opening it, you read:

Enjoy your first night, you two! Hoseok and I made sure you got the soundproof room ;)

You never once saw the note or box.

“I’ll be giving Hoseok a hard time for providing me with these,” he begins, already having opened the box and wrapper, unrolling it on his penis, “but for now I’ll thank him for it.” He slides his wrapped organ against your folds, causing you to gasp, the paper falling to the side somewhere. “I can’t wait anymore, Y/N.”

Neither can you. You’ve waited for so long. Grabbing his penis, you guide him towards your entrance. Yoongi leans forward, pressing his lips to your as he pushes himself inside. You inhale a short breath, feeling him push himself deeper until he no longer can. You’re both still for a moment, breaths mixing with one another as you wait.

“Tell me when to move,” he whispers. You wait a moment, letting your body adjust. Finally, you give a nod, and he slowly pulls out. Yoongi moans as he pushes back in. “You’re so tight. Fuck, Y/N. I don’t know how long I can last.”

No words leave your open mouth as you enjoy this sensation he’s giving you. You feel as if this is your first time. As if he’s taking this precious piece of you, and is so careful with it. He’s gentle and kind, but you want something more. You want him to not be so gentle. You want him to pin your hands above your head, put your legs on his shoulders, or even pin them wide open for him to just take complete control. You want him to treat you the way he’s treated all those women you’ve heard from your room.

“Yoongi,” you moan. He looks at you. “Be rougher,” you whisper, feeling the heat in your cheeks from embarrassment. “Please.”

He gives you one more kiss before sitting up. Taking a hold of your waist, Yoongi takes complete control. He thrust roughly into you, your breath leaving your lungs. He doesn’t slow down, but goes harder as the sound of skin slapping fills the already moan filled room. He grinds his hips against yours, his fingers digging into your skin as he grunts.

“You feel so good, baby. Keep moaning for me.” One of his hands travels up from your waist to around your neck, tightening around it just a bit. Your hands wrap around his wrist, holding onto it tight and making sure he doesn’t remove his hand from around your neck.

You remember the first time he had his hand wrapped around your neck. The two of you were in the bathroom at a party. You’ve never felt so much pleasure back then, but what happened many months ago can never compare to what is happening right now.

“Yoongi,” you whimper, feeling your high coming way too quickly. He releases his grip around your neck and leans forward, kissing you. You’re getting closer, and as much as you don’t want to finish, you’re tired. After sitting in a car for so many hours, exhaustion is finally kicking in. “I’m close,” you groan, hands clutching onto his back as your high builds.

You feel Yoongi’s pace no longer has a rhythm to it. He kisses you again and tells you, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you cry, your orgasm following after.

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maehara-san · 4 years ago

Text

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 || 𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

TW: !!This work covers some negative self talk if it's something that triggers you please do not click!!

Pairing: Keigo Takami x F!Reader

Summary: It's easy to think someone is forever. Then one day you encounter a stranger who changes your life for the worse. Or was it for the better? Pain doesn't always give you the obvious answers.

A/N: Inspire by Heather || Conan Gray

Warning(s): negative self talk, angst, cursing,

Words: 1.8k

"Keigo!" you exclaimed as your boyfriend of three years kept ruffling your hair. "I'm going to look ugly!"

He chuckled as his laughter made your heart flutter with happiness. "But you look adorable."

"No!" you swatted his hand away "Now I won't come out pretty in the photos."

"Darling." he took your hand and placed a kiss on top of your knuckles "You always look beautiful, you never have to worry about a thing."

Turning away, you hid your flustered face. " K-Keigo..."

"Don't hide it, when you can flaunt your gorgeous self." he smirked looking at you with a loving look.

Your smile grew as you squeezed his hand. "We should pick up the pace or else we'll be late."

He rolled his eyes "I'm sure Endeavor and the rest of the heroes won't care if we're late."

"A huh." you teased him "Last time your eyes almost jumped out of their sockets when you arrived last at the meeting. Not to mention you were sweating buckets."

"I was not!" he exclaimed defensively "Everyone was just... too early."

"Right." his grip held you closer to his side as he protected you from the oncoming traffic on your left side. Crossing the street, the tall building came into your view.

"See? We made it just in time." you were about to say something when he halted.

"Do you know anyone who can help me?" a young woman called out to you both. "Anything will help."

Keigo paused, not being able to take his eyes off of her. It wasn't a look of pity or sadness. His eyes showed the same look as when he first saw you. She held a poster board you paid little attention to, only focused on the interaction between them both.

What a sight for sore eyes.

Brighter than the blue sky.

She's got you mesmerised while I die

"Here." he softly smiled and gave her his sweater that he loved to give to you. "Use this to keep warm." Taking some money from his pocket, he placed it inside the box.

"Thank you, sir." She shyly spoke, making him smile wider than he was a couple of minutes ago.

His kindness was getting to you. It felt ridiculous. Shaking your head, you gave her some money as well, not knowing what she needed it for. When you got close, it was no wonder he was so hypnotized. Her eyes were such a rare color. The way her skin glowed in the sunlight made her stand out, even the way the wind blew her hair was breath-taking.

"We should get going." you whisper.

Keigo nodded, "Right... right." he said, "Good luck, okay?"

"Thank you both for your kindness." she wrapped her arms around her body as the sweater hugged her curves.

A minute after, he finally tore his eyesight away from the female and started walking again. You saw through the corner of your left eye how his head kept turning back casually. It was just a simple interaction and yet it hurt a dozen times more.

'He'll probably not see her again. He loves me. I shouldn't be insecure when I'm the one he's sharing his life with.' you thought 'He loves me and that's all that matters.'

Yet a women's intuition never fails and you were a fool to not have believed the first flag.

As the days turned into months, things changed..

Your day was quite boring and there wasn't anything left to do. A smile then formed on your lips as you thought about visiting your bird at work with some lunch from his favorite restaurant.

"I'm sure he'll be happy to see a familiar face." you said and grabbed your purse, making your way out the door.

When you arrived you greeted Tokoyami, who was currently interning under him. "Good morning Miss (last name)." he spoke.

"I told you to call me y/n, Tokoyami." you said "I'm not that much older than you."

"Right... but you are Hawk's partner and he said to show respect."

"And that's very sweet, but again call me by my first name. Don't worry about him." you insisted.

"Okay...um y/n are you here to see Hawks?" he asked.

"Yeah." you chuckled lightly "Is he in his office?"

Tokoyami nodded "He's looking over something's with his new assistant, should be already done since Endeavor is asking for them."

"I see. I didn't know he had gotten an assistant." you added "Since he's not one for having other people telling him what to do."

"I thought so too." his phone then rang "I have to go, excuse me y/n."

You waved goodbye at him and then made your way up to the elevator. "Hopefully he'll have time to eat, I hate when he goes an entire day without eating." you muttered.

Upon arriving at his office you opened the door greeting him "Hey, I know you're busy, but I thought you might-" you cut your sentence short when you saw the same woman from the street sitting in his chair.

"Y/n." he cleared his throat and his smile dimmed down as he saw you. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to bring you some food, but I didn't know I'd be interrupting something." you answered, "You must be his new assistant."

She then got up and offered you her hand, "I'm Maiko Takahashi." her smile reached her eyes as she spoke about your boyfriend "If it hadn't been for Mr. Takami I wouldn't have been able to get this wonderful opportunity. I also wanted to thank you too, miss."

You looked at her confused "Thank me?..."

"Of course!" she exclaimed "Mr. Takami told me you were on board with donating more money. He contacted me and I was over the moon. I can't thank you enough."

'He contacted her personally?...' you thought, trying to cover the pain in the smile you displayed.

"R-right..." you mumbled "I-I'm glad we could help."

"Did you bring me something?" Keigo asked, eyeing the large bento in your hands.

You nodded weakly as you placed it down on his desk, not being able to look at him in the eyes. "Y-yeah... I thought you might like something homemade."

"Wow!" Takahashi exclaimed as he took off the cloth and opened the bento. "That looks delicious! He's really lucky to have you miss (last name)!"

Keigo looked at her with adoring eyes. "You know..." he began, knowing the next words that were going to come out "...we can share, it's a lot of food."

Put your arm 'round her shoulder, now I'm getting colder

But how could I hate her, she's such an angel

Her eyes lit up "Really?" she slightly blushed "Is it alright with you, miss (last name)?"

Swallowing down the heavy lump in your throat you looked at them both "Sure. I'm sure he won't mind sharing the food someone made him... he never cares anyway."

He caught your choice of words but ignored it. "I'll probably be home late y/n." he said "Thanks for the lunch." then turned his attention to her not looking at the door if you had left or not.

'I can't even force myself to hate her." you thought 'She's beautiful, perfect in everything. An innocent sweetheart who doesn't know what's going on... why does she have to be perfect?' the tears escaped one by one as your thoughts turned worse.

A love is as strong as it can be, but when the love disappears, it's harder to continue by yourself.

"You gave her your sweater for crying out loud Takami!" you yelled, not bothering to wipe away the tears that fell back in your eyes as you blinked. "That was the same sweater you used to say looked better on me!"

"It's just a stupid sweater." He said, not feeling bothered "It's a piece of fabric put together with string y/n! Let it go."

You ran your fingers through your hair as your emotions kept switching from anger to sadness. "You want me to let it go?" your eyes looked deep into his. "Just like you let go of what we had and trade it for the first girl you laid your eyes on?!"

He rubbed his face "Why do you keep bothering me about it?!" his voice became louder "Are we going to have this stupid fight every single night just because you're fucking insecure?!"

Your body backed away "I knew it..." a dry chuckle escaped "I fucking knew it." As his eyes looked at you, you noticed there was no love or regret in them, as they once did. Like it didn't bother him. He was lying to you.

Keigo stood quietly as his body leaned against the kitchen counter. "I don't see the point in bringing this up every night." he said "We can't even get through one simple meal."

"Because you don't care to see what the hell is bothering me and it doesn't help that you do not have the balls to admit it."

"I have nothing to admit y/n." he walked passed you "Call me when you've finally come back to your senses."

Before he could get away, you gripped his wrist, being afraid of seeing him leave, stopping him. "You're going with her, aren't you..." you whispered. "Just admit it! Admit it! You love her Keigo! Admit it!" you cried out.

A sigh escaped his lips. "I am..." he admitted after so many fights he finally came clean, without regret.

There were no tears left for you to spill. Everything dried up. "I hate you..." you muttered "because you broke my heart."

"It's for the best..." he said, taking your hand away from him. "There's no point in ignoring it. The longer we stay together the harder it'll be to stay here." grabbing his keys he turned back to look at you "I'll come back when you've found a place to stay."

"Don't worry." you looked at him "I'd rather be far away the sooner the better." the door then opened and closed, only leaving you alone in the middle of an empty cold room.

'Why couldn't I have been just like her?' you thought.

You gave her your sweater, it's just polyester

But you like her better

'I wish I were her...'

#keigo takami x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks x reader #hawks mha #bnha hawks #bnha fluff #bnha angst #bnha fanfiction #hawks fanfic #mha masterlist #bnha masterlist #mha fanfic recs #mha fanfiction #hawks x y/n #bnha

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stylesluxx · 4 years ago

Text

9:41pm – p.lahote

[warnings: angst but eh and like two swears and horrible writing]

summary: in which y/n distances herself from paul in an attempt to protect him | requested!

word count: 4,539

masterlist

Being best friends with Bella Swan meant you were always in a state of worry. You were worried she'd trip over air and fall into the middle of oncoming traffic, or she'd stab herself with a plastic spoon and Jasper Hale would cause a scene in the middle of the lunchroom. And it's not like you had anything against the Cullens, you were all good friends, but you knew how Jasper could get. And it also didn't help that your boyfriend, Paul's, words were always in the back of your mind about the "leeches." But you knew the Cullens first and knew not to judge them too harshly.

Bella Swan shook up the town of Forks, whether she recognized it or not. You grew up in Forks, loved the quietness and scenery. You weren't too excited to have to leave for college but figured you'd find somewhere that was similar to your hometown. You were pretty quiet and kept to yourself and maybe that's why you and Bella got along so well. But once she befriended you and introduced you to the Cullens, you figured you were entering the new normal.

It had slipped out when Bella was talking in her sleep during a sleepover that the Cullens were supernatural beings and it was a well-known fact that your friend wasn't a good liar. So when you confronted her about it and she was stammering, not giving you a real answer, you just gave her a knowing look.

"I won't tell anyone. I mean, you'd be the only person I tell," You shrugged and she nodded.

"It's a complicated thing, but I trust you. Just... don't think about it around Edward."

You looked at her warily before just nodding your head in agreement.

Of course, Edward already knew thanks to Alice and both you and Bella had to deal with Rosalie's death stare, which bumped her down to being your least favorite Cullen.

And when they left town and left a hole in your best friend, you and Jacob picked her back up and put the pieces together as best as you could, but deep down, you knew only Edward would be able to fix her completely.

And then, Jacob left. You were hurt by this since you two had grown closer. He was like yours and Bella's little brother and him disappearing like how your vampire friends did was painful.

The second time Bella went to confront the boy, you went for moral support. Your arms crossed over your chest as you stood behind Bella, who patiently greeted Billy Black.

"I can't believe this brat is sleeping," You scoffed, but Bella was already out the room, ready to confront the group of guys that just walked on the Black property.

"Bella, no," You called out while following her onto the grass.

"What did you do?"

You reached to grab her arm, ready to go home, but she yanked it out of your grip.

"What did you do? What did you do to him?" She angrily questioned who you assumed to be Sam Uley, pushing him roughly.

He looked exactly how Jacob described; aged beyond his years. He had copper skin, brown eyes, and was about 6'6". Almost as tall as Jacob. And he had the same tattoo Bella said Jacob had.

You looked at the other three boys and they had the same one in the same spot. You recognized Embry, giving him a weird look before turning your attention back to the raging girl in front of you.

"What did we do? What did he do? What'd he tell you?" The boy that spoke was menacing and looked at Bella as if she were below him. He was intriguing despite his demeanor, but deep down you knew he was just bad luck.

"Bella-" You started but were ignored.

"Nothing! He tells us nothing because he's scared of you," She responds, making the boys in front of you laugh.

You had enough at this point. It was already enough Bella was ignoring you but now being laughed at, you were over it. They weren't necessarily laughing at you but what Bella said was exactly how you felt as well. It felt as if they were invalidating your worry.

"Oh fuck off!" You scoffed, though you weren't spared a glance from the boy. You went to reach for the keys in Bella's coat pocket but were taken aback by her swinging her arm back and slapping the menacing boy.

The muscular, six-foot boy went from shaking with laughter to shaking with anger, causing your eyes to widen.

"It's too late now!" Laughed the boy to your left but his comment and Sam's warning fell on deaf ears.

"Isabella!" You spoke sternly, grabbing her arm and slowly backing away from the group.

The boy in front of you disappeared and in his spot, a huge, dark silver wolf stood. If you knew nothing about the supernatural world, you could've sworn this was a nightmare but once you saw his eyes, you knew it was the same boy.

You and Bella turned around, facing the Black house as you started running, losing your hold on her.

"Bella! Y/N!" The brat, as you called him, shouted, jumping off his porch and running toward you.

"Run! Jake run!" Bella screamed, attempting to warn him, but he kept running ahead with no intention of slowing down.

She jumped over Bella as she clumsily tumbled to the ground, making you groan and turn to pull her up. But in the midst of trying to rescue your friend, you see the other turn into a russet brown wolf, standing taller than the silver one.

"It's always something when I'm with you, I'll give you that," You mumbled and watched the two wolves go at each other, breaking Billy's boat and tumbling into the woods.

"Take them back to Emily's place," Sam directed the remaining two before running into the woods.

"Guess the wolf's out of the bag."

You rolled your eyes at the corny joke as you pulled Bella to her feet.

"The next time I say we leave, let's just leave, yeah?" You huffed and started toward the big red truck.

You arrived at the small brown home in the middle of the woods and you sighed, still trying to take in the events that happened less than 10 minutes ago.

Embry and the other boy jumped out of the truck, leaving you and Bella in the two-seat truck, her on your lap.

"Hey, I think we should go back and see if Jacob's okay," Bella suggested as she rolled down the window.

Honestly, you weren't thinking about the well-being of either of the boys. But instead, you replayed the whole interaction with the silver wolf before he changed. You have to ask Jacob what his name was, but casually so he wouldn't try to tease you about a crush.

"Have Paul sink some teeth in him. Serves him right!"

So the menacing one's name was Paul. You nodded as you took the information and set up a folder for him in your head.

They were talking about some bet before stopping and turning to look at the two of you in the truck.

"Come on in guys, we won't bite!" Embry called, giving you two a boyish smile making you chuckle. You always thought he was adorable, like a little baby you wanted to squish.

"I know we're a bit shaken up, but come on Bells, with the other people we hang out with, we really aren't in the position to hesitate," You said, patting her thigh as encouragement.

She got out of the car and you followed behind, giving Embry a small smile.

"You know, I liked you better with long hair," You teased the lanky boy as you walked up the steps to the house.

"Gotta keep it short so my fur isn't too long," He answered with a grin on his face, walking behind you. "Oh hey, about Emily, Sam's fiancée: don't stare. It bugs Sam."

"Why would we stare?" You questioned before walking inside the house, immediately met with warmth and the smell of muffins.

"You guys hungry? Like I have to ask," You heard the melodic voice tease the boys.

"Who's this?" She asked after looking up and giving both you and Bella a smile.

"Y/N Y/L/N and Bella Swan. Who else?" Jared introduced you two as he sat at the table.

"Hm, so you're the vampire girls?" Emily teased.

"Ehhh, I'm more neutral territory," You chuckled, hoping to help ease Bella so she could take over talking for now.

"So you're... the wolf girl?" Bella added on, after thinking a bit for a comeback. "Guess so- well, I'm engaged to one."

You watched as Embry sat and Emily brought the fresh muffins over to the table. The boys immediately reached out for them.

"Save some for your brothers. And ladies first. Muffin?"

You looked over at Bella and nodded as she mumbled a quick "sure."

You grabbed a muffin hesitantly (you didn't want to overstep even though you were offered one).

You zoned out as Bella talked to Emily and the boys, and you settled on thinking about "Paul." You replayed the interaction and how he kept his fierce brown eyes on Bella, his target. Why was he so defensive about whatever Jacob did or didn't say? The way his emotions changed so quickly gave you whiplash. He went from being defensive to laughing and then pissed (which you don't blame him for, Bella shouldn't have slapped him). You knew this wasn't someone that you would necessarily enjoy being around. He just seems loud and like he can never just have a relaxed moment; he's fueled off of his emotions. But you couldn't help but think about his brown eyes, tanned skin, and toned body. You couldn't stop yourself from picturing a quiet day in with him, staying on the couch and watching movies all day. In this dream, you had tamed him and he was relaxed and just wanted to be up under you all day.

You were taken away by your thoughts when Sam walked in, though you were hoping it was Paul. You frowned when you realized who it was and just watched as he walked over to Emily and started kissing her.

You put your head down, not wanting to watch their intimate moment, but your cheeks began to flush because only moments ago you wished it was you and Paul. You looked over at Bella and saw she was looking down too, causing you to grab her hand and squeeze. That was your small attempt at pushing Edward out of her mind.

Yours and Bella's heads both snapped toward the door as your heard footsteps move toward the house. You watched Jacob playfully shove Paul and laugh before they came up the stairs and into the house.

Paul walked by the two of you and sat at the table, grabbing a muffin.

He turned to look at Bella and said, "sorry" with a cocky smirk on his face.

He turned back to eat his muffin but Jacob cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest while he leaned on the doorway.

"To Y/N too," He told Paul sternly, making the boy sigh.

"Oh that's alright-" You started but you were cut off by the sound of Paul inhaling sharply.

He was looking in your eyes, getting really to apologize before he inhaled and his eyes widened in shock.

You blinked uncomfortably as he sat there silently eyeing you. It wasn't how he was looking at Bella earlier, you weren't a target, but you were all he could focus on. You chuckled shyly and used one hand to scratch the back of your neck and used the other to squeeze Bella's hand tightly.

It was then that you noticed that the whole room went silent, making you even more flustered.

"Um, can we talk, Jake?" Bella initiated the conversation, giving you an exit, which you were thankful for.

He hesitantly nodded, tearing his eyes from Paul and focusing on the two of you looking at him, practically begging for an escape route.

"Thank you so much for the muffin," You softly smiled at Emily as you and Bella walked toward the door. You gave everyone a wave and gave Paul one last glance before shutting the door behind you.

The three of you started walking, but it was a while before anyone said anything. You were still flustered by Paul freezing up at the sight of you. It was weird, but still, not the weirdest thing to happen today.

"So... what the fuck was that?" You blurted out, pulling yourself out of your thoughts.

"So, you're a werewolf," Bella said at the same time, hands in her pockets as if this were a normal conversation.

"Last time I checked," He sighed, avoiding your question. "Few lucky members from the tribe have the gene. A bloodsucker moves into town... and the fever sets in."

"Mono," Bella raised her eyebrows, chuckling at his pathetic lie.

"Yeah, I wish."

"Well, can't you find a way to just stop? I mean... it's wrong."

Oh, here we go, the morality police.

"It's not a lifestyle choice, Bella."

"Bella, he literally said it was in his genes," You interjected, giving her a weird look.

You three had stopped walking, and you and Jacob turned to look at the girl who wanted to play God.

You loved Bella, you really did, but she was dating a vampire. You thought it was weird she was trying to police Jacob.

"I was born this way; I can't help it," Jacob continued. "You're such a hypocrite! What, I'm not the right kind of monster for you?"

You silently agreed with Jacob, nodding your head.

"It's not what you are... it's what you do," Bella attempted to argue. "They never hurt anybody. You've killed people, Jake."

"Mmh, but didn't- never mind," You shook your head, deciding not to get involved.

"Bella, we're not killing anyone."

"Then who is?"

"What we're trying to protect you people from. The only thing we do kill. Vampires."

"No, Jake, you can't-"

"Don't worry, we can't touch your little precious Cullens unless they violate the treaty."

You were bored of the conversation and tuned out, trying to kick around a rock that was stuck in the sand.

Had this been any other time, you would've been intrigued but you only wanted answers to your question. What happened the fuck happened with Paul?

"So... you're not gonna answer my question?" You asked once the two sorted everything out.

"That's something you have to talk to Paul about," Jacob answered, making you roll your eyes.

"Okay, well, you know how I get weird around new people. I was weird with you for like a month," You frowned.

"I don't think it's gonna be anything like that. It'll feel natural to be around him."

"Right."

You sat at the lunch table between Bella and Mike Newton as Alice talked about throwing a graduation party at the Cullen residence.

"Another party, Alice?"

"It'll be fun," She spoke optimistically, making her smile.

"Yeah, that's what you said last time," Bella huffed, making you nudge her.

"Well, I'm excited, Alice," You spoke up, giving her a small smile that she returned.

But the smile was quickly wiped off her face as she zoned out and sat back in the chair. Edward turned his head, seemingly zoning out as well, causing you and Bella to turn toward the regular teens next to you, hoping to distract them.

"Hey, Angela?"

"Yeah?”

"Do you need some help with those?" Bella asked as you both reached over to look at whatever she was working on.

You and Bella both shared a look of concern before turning back and helping your friend.

At the end of the school day, you and Bella walked out of the school together, you looking for Paul's truck and her looking for Edward.

You spotted your boyfriend pulling in, and you turned to face Bella, gripping onto the straps of your backpack.

"When Edward spills, fill me in," You told her, making her nod.

"Definitely. I think you're the only one that can communicate with the pack right now. Jacob isn't talking to me so... if anything were to happen, only you could tell them."

You nodded sullenly, hoping it wasn't something that needed the pack's attention. You were hoping it wasn't something big.

Paul pulled up right in front of you, greeting Bella politely, making you smile.

"See you tomorrow, Bells," You promised as you opened the truck door and got in.

"Hi Lover," You greeted your boyfriend and leaned over to peck his lips.

"Hi Little Wolf," He smiled and helped you take your backpack off. He set it in the backseat next to his before pulling out of the parking lot.

He drove from the school to Emily's house, grabbing your bags out of the backseat once you arrived.

You two would do this every day after school: go to Emily's and do homework with the news playing in the background just in case.

"Hi, Em!" You greeted the woman that seemed to be making a bunch of pasta for dinner. "Would you like some help?"

"No, I'm okay. Go get some work done," Emily assured you, and you nodded, going into the living room.

You greeted the boys and wrapped Jacob in your arms. "Hi Brat," You teased and pinched his back.

"Hey," He chuckled and pulled you into a headlock. "Missed me?"

"I saw you yesterday. You better stop before I get Paul to beat you up," You said and pushed him away. "I hate you."

"You don't."

You playfully rolled your eyes before sitting next to Paul on the couch and pulling your homework out of your bag.

"He's so annoying," You mumbled to your boyfriend and rested your head on his shoulders.

"Tuh, I already knew that," He scoffed and kissed the top of your head.

You sighed and started working on your biology homework, tuning everything out until you felt Paul tightly grip your hand.

"What?" You asked, looking up at him before turning to the tv.

The news anchor was talking about all the disappearances in Seattle, and because you knew what you knew, you knew it was something that the pack and the Cullens would have to get involved in.

You frowned and returned Paul's squeeze, quickly growing worried. Is this was Alice's vision was about earlier? Did they know about this? Did they have a plan?

Once the news transitioned to the weather forecast, nobody moved a muscle. You figured they were in shock or were trying to figure out a plan

"Alice had a vision today, at lunch. We're just waiting for Edward to spill," You spoke up and turned to look up at Paul, examining his face.

His face was serious but scrunched with determination until he turned to look back at you. He let the tenseness fall away and gave you a small smile to try to get you to relax.

"I don't want more people getting hurt," You mumbled.

"We're gonna do what we can to protect Forks. Hopefully, it stays in Seattle, but until this dies down we're going to do more patrolling. We can't afford to slack off," Sam spoke sternly.

Paul turned and nodded at his alpha's words but pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly, as if you were to vanish.

The next day, you were walking to the cafeteria with Bella and Edward, and you knew you had to say something before you got to the table.

"It was about the Seattle thing, wasn't it?" You asked the two, clutching onto the books in your hands. "The pack plans on doing more strict patrols."

It was silent for a moment, both of them hesitating to speak.

"What is it?" You sighed, prepared to hear the worst.

"It was about you, Y/N," Bella said then but her lip tentatively.

"What about me?"

"We didn't want to tell you because we didn't want you to worry-"

"But it was only right," Bella cut off her boyfriend, making your eyes furrow in confusion.

You stopped walking, and so did they. You guys let the hallway clear out before Bella continued talking.

"I've told you about Victoria."

"Yeah, and Jacob told us the pack killed her friend with the dreads," You nodded, but you still didn't understand where this was going and what it had to do with you. "What does she have to do with me, or anything for that matter?"

"For some reason, she has her eyes set on you. I was able to talk to Paul when he left your house after dropping you off last night. We agreed to take turns watching you," Edward broke the news to you as calmly and gently as he could.

From the corner of your eye, you could see both Alice and Jasper waiting outside of the cafeteria. It explained why you weren't freaking out, but you wondered what it would be like once you weren't around him. You knew you'd try to stay calm for Paul's sake, but what happens when you get home and you're alone in your room? Will it all hit you then, or will it already be bottled by then?

"Well, what's new, I guess? Forks is in mortal danger, and the supernatural has come together to save the town," You huffed and slapped your hands on your thighs before blowing a raspberry in the air. "Can we grab lunch now?"

Bella and Edward shared a look while you walked ahead, going into the cafeteria.

The day dragged on longer than it usually did, but you were one of the first people out of the building. You didn't even wait for Bella at her locker like you usually do. But you concluded because of what was happening that Paul was waiting outside for you. You figured he was sitting there at least 10 minutes before you got out of class.

Once you were out the school doors, you felt yourself growing tenser. You were out of Jasper's reach, and your emotions were finally starting to hit you.

"Hi, Little Wolf," Paul greeted you, trying to act like everything was normal. He hated making you worry, and you knew that.

"Hey," Your response was short, and you didn't even look in his direction. You kept your eyes on your lap.

"I'm not your Lover?" He teased, pulling out of the school parking lot.

"I just wanna go straight home today," You mumbled.

"The leech told you-"

"Bella told me. I don't want to argue, Paul. I think it's best if I go home."

He wanted to argue, you could tell by the way he was gripping the steering wheel that he disagreed with your decision, but just like you, he didn't want to argue. So, he took you home, no questions asked.

And when you were getting out of the car, you told him you'd drive yourself to and from school tomorrow.

"Y/N-"

"Just until this whole situation dies down. I don't want anyone getting hurt because of me, especially you," You said, and shut the door behind you once you got out of the car, leaving no space for him to argue.

You gave him one last smile before walking inside your house and locking the door once you shut it.

In the evening, you were at your desk completing homework, but you were still so paranoid. Your eyes looked out the window, searching for anything in the trees that might be a threat to you. But there was no threat, just a dark silver wolf laying in between the trees, keeping watch.

You frowned, feeling bad that you were pushing him away, but you didn't want him to get mixed up in your mess. You felt ten times safer with him watching you, but you knew he had to be exhausted; after a long day of school and patrol, who would want to stay up all night being a guard dog?

You moved away from your desk, deciding it was time for bed. You took a shower and did your night routine before laying in bed, pulling the covers over your body.

You didn't get much sleep that night. You didn't get much sleep for the next two weeks. It was hard being without Paul and your friends. You were so scared about something happening in your sleep that you were barely getting any. And the fact that you haven't been face-to-face with Paul in weeks put a real strain on you. Your physical and mental health was all messed up. The separation was difficult, but not being able to explain any of this to your parents made it much harder. You had no one to talk to, and you know you did it to yourself, but the well-being of your friends and family always came first, so you wanted to stick it out despite how you felt.

For two weeks, you stayed alert, listening to every noise, watching every shadow, though your paranoia made most of it up.

But this time, you knew you heard a sound and it made you shoot out of bed. Not hesitating, you reached for your phone and called Paul. You didn't see him resting by the trees when you got up to go shower. You assumed that he was finally getting some rest and now you felt even worse about calling him; the day he decided to get some rest, you were interrupting him.

He didn't answer the phone, which you expected, but you still opened the window in your bedroom, letting the cold air blow through. He'd let himself in once he got there.

You didn't expect him to get there as quickly as he did. It had only been three minutes of you biting your nails anxiously and staying far away from your door.

He came through your door fully clothed and immediately pulled you into his arms, warming up your freezing body and calming your nerves.

"Were you asleep? Where were you? You weren't here," You bombarded him with questions as you dug your face into his chest.

"I was just running a bit late. I was already on my way when you called. Why did you call?" He asked, rubbing your back soothingly.

"I'm sorry, I just- it's already so hard being away from you, and I've been scared, and I thought I heard something downstairs. I don't know," You rambled and held onto your boyfriend's waist tightly.

"If it were a leech, you probably wouldn't have even heard them coming. It was probably just your dad grabbing a snack or something. You know he's always up for a snack," He assured you before kissing the top of your head.

"Yeah, that's true," You quietly giggled and let all your worry dissipate. You kept your head resting on his chest as he rocked your two back and forth. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too. Let's never separate again."

"Agreed."

[AN: hey so, I didn't know what to name this so I just named it off of the time it was requested. anyway, I kinda don't like this so uh yeah]

#stylesluxx #paul lahote #twilight #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote x reader #twilight x reader #twilight imagine #wolf pack imagine #paul lahote angst #Paul Lahote blurb #paul lahote fluff #twilight blurb

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theguidetocryptids · 3 years ago

Text

Guess who forgot to post their latest works!!

Anyway, prefacing this one with a trigger warning: it borders on themes of suicide, so please don’t read on if you’re sensitive to this sort of thing.

—————————————

I’ve been walking the edge of this cliff for hours.

Just idling.

I’ve been thinking about the moments leading up to this for hours, too. And how to record my last thoughts.

I think I’ll start at the beginning.

I was driving to work one day. Normal traffic, going five over the speed limit like everyone else. Music playing a bit louder than it probably should have been. Daydreaming a bit more than I needed to.

And I wondered, just for a moment, what would happen if I swerved into the oncoming traffic. No brakes, no last minute changes of my mind, just a quick turn into the next car before they could react. I’d surely die. My family would grieve. My pets would never see their owner again.

And nearly as soon as it appeared, the thought was gone. Normal, I thought. Everyone thinks dark things from time to time, even if they don’t really plan to act on them.

The next time was when I was hunting with my father. We have a tough time talking, especially considering I’ve lived in the city for six years and he’s never left our two-thousand something people hometown. But I remember how to hunt, and we get along well in the quiet hours before morning.

We didn’t get anything that day. No boars appeared, and we only saw a doe and a yearling. Nothing deserving of being shot. So, we packed up our rifles and headed back to his old pickup truck, the type that seems as if it can rust infinitely without ever really breaking down.

For a moment, I thought—just for half an instant—about shooting my old man in the back, and then taking myself out with him. The gun was already loaded. All I’d have to do was flip the safety and pull the trigger. Aiming wouldn’t even be a problem.

And I must have zoned out. I thought I did. But when I snapped out of it, blinking away a black mental fog, my hand was on the safety, about to release it.

I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye, but I chalked it up to a bug. I was more concerned about what had happened to me than anything.

I need whoever reads this to know, I’ve never been depressed. Never even been properly sad. No family deaths. No lack of positive feelings. I have a good job, and a nice house. I was lucky enough to get good parents.

I need you to understand that, when you find my body, that this isn’t—wasn’t—a suicide. I don’t want to die. But I’m walking closer to the edge, still, and it’s getting hard to concentrate. That inky blackness is lurking on the edge of my vision.

God, I don’t want to die.

It happened for the third time when I was home alone, making myself breakfast. I considered turning the gas stove on without lighting it, and seeing if I suffocated or blew up first. I had already turned the knob for the burner before I came back again, but I was able to turn it off before anything bad happened. But the gap in my memory seemed longer. I had to struggle to remember who I was, and where I was. That fog cleared more slowly.

I tried to contact a therapist, set up an appointment, but my fingers couldn’t dial the number. I, physically, could not press them. The strength left me as soon as they got close to the screen. Anything else was fine, but I couldn’t ask for help.

I called a friend instead, to get my mind off of things.

“Hey,” I said, my voice already tense.

“What’s up? You usually just text,” They responded, sounding concerned.

I wanted to tell them about everything. The car, the hunting trip, the stove, but my tongue felt leaden. My jaw clenched up tight enough to grate my teeth, and my finger hovered over the button to hang up without my permission. Just from the thought of trying to explain what was happening to me.

“Oh, nothing,” I said, lying through my teeth, surprising myself with how genuine I sounded. “I was just wondering when the last time me, you, and Hailey hung out. I was thinking we could all meet up for dinner?”

And then we talked, and talked, and every time I tried to be genuine, to beg for help, I couldn’t. The words shriveled up and died when I tried to speak..

I started to black out more frequently, unrelated to any dark thoughts.

Washing the dishes, and I’d suddenly find myself with a knife pressed against my neck.

Mowing the lawn, and my foot was nearly under the blades before I was able to yank it away.

Taking a bath, and I half-scalded myself with the hot water before managing to turn it down.

It was around this point that I started to hear a voice.

Think of it as dark. Think of it as heavy. As something beyond what the human ear should ever hear. Something low, and bassy, and earth-shaking. Think of the voice that a crag leading to the heart of the earth would have. That Hades himself would use to command his subjects.

It whispered comforts to me, of how things would be better. How I’d be taken care of. How paradise awaited a brave explorer, someone eager enough to take that last grand step, even as it forced me to raise a fork to my eye, and tried to convince me to drive it home.

And it whispered threats, of fire and brimstone, of the torture laying in plain sight for me. Of how I was condemned, and this was my punishment, as it tried to force me out in front of traffic, the only thing stopping me being the throng of people in front of me.

And it soothed, as I drove seventy miles away from home, to the nearest national park.

And it disturbed, as I almost lit myself on fire instead of the campfire I had built overnight.

And it smoothed, as it forced me to hike hours to the deepest gorge in the area.

And it broke me down.

I must be crazy.

I know that the void doesn’t talk.

I know that devils aren’t real.

That there are no ghosts laying behind the veil, and that no vampire is waiting to drain my blood.

But, god. I can hear the void calling.

Murmuring my name like a chant,

Urging me to take the final step,

The last piece of the puzzle, my death, making it whole..

My death, a sacrifice to the dark and the unknown,

To the boogeymen hiding under beds,

To the things that go bump in the night,

To the deep, cold, cruel earth, and the things burrowing beneath.

To Hades, and Satan, and Tartarus itself.

Oh how they thirst for blood, and bone, and sinew. How they want the taste of flesh. How they want to see that spark of life snuffed out against its will. How they want the world to burn, and blacken, and die. How they urge you to take that final step. That jump over the edge. The final leap to join their kingdom, their land of the damned.

They want to hear the crunch of my bones. The drip drop of my blood running over stone. They want to see the lights behind my eyes fading out. To see my skin turn gray and dead and lifeless.

I don’t feel like myself.

I’m looking at my phone, and seeing things I didn’t type, or didn’t want to type.

My feet are betraying me.

I’m walking closer to the edge.

I don’t want to do this.

I don’t want to die.

Please, don’t let me die.

Don’t let my death be in vain.

If you hear the void call your name,

Cover your ears, and avert your eyes.

You don’t want this.

I think

that my time might be up

the darks creeping in

my fingers feel heavy and my legs are still moving and the canyons yawning wider

tell my family i didnt want this

tell the void to shut up god please shut it up

please dont forget what ive said

i wonder if itll hurt when i hit the grou

#fiction #my writing #reading #short story #writers on tumblr #writing #potentially triggering #horror writing

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kjack89 · 4 years ago

Text

Determination of Death (pt. 1/2)

Extremely self-indulgent, and the kind of angst I haven’t written in a long while. Because I was having a bad week and figured, hey, why not make it worse :)

I split it in two because it was getting long; second part should be posted sometime later this week.

Former E/R, modern AU. CW: car accident, major injuries, discussion of end of life care, referenced major character death. Y’know. The good stuff.

Joly sighed, staring longingly up at the clock in the emergency room as if he could somehow force it to jump ahead four hours to the end of his shift. Not that he would ever voice the thought out loud, since doing so was the surest way to jinx it, but it had been a quiet night, and this was his last scheduled overnight shift in the E/R for at least a few weeks.

He tapped his pen against the counter, idly wondering if he could maybe sneak out a few minutes early and surprise Bossuet with breakfast in bed. Suddenly, another doctor ran past, donning a trauma gown, and Joly immediately straightened. “What do we got?” he asked urgently.

“MVC,” the other doctor called over her shoulder, using the acronym to indicate a car crash. “Multiple victims incoming.”

So much for a quiet night.

Joly grabbed a trauma gown and followed her out into the ambulance bay to meet the ambulance that screeched to a halt, its lights blaring. “Unrestrained driver,” one of the paramedics reported. “Lost control of the vehicle and crashed head first into oncoming traffic. Nonresponsive at the scene, and we’re gonna need a tox screen – we think she might have been drinking.”

“I got this one,” his colleague told him. “Go deal with the second ambulance.”

Joly nodded and jogged over to the second ambulance. “What do we—” he started as the paramedic shoved a clipboard at him, but his question died in his throat as he saw who was strapped down on the gurney.

It was Enjolras.

The paramedic was telling him something but it was as if Joly had gone temporarily deaf as he stared down at Enjolras, barely recognizable from the injuries he had sustained. Joly catalogued all the injuries he could see with a sort of vague detachment as if he was seeing them on someone other than one of his closest friends, the man he had vowed to walk through fire for.

Penetrating head trauma. Multiple facial lacerations. Chest and pelvis crush injuries. Open tibia fracture. Almost guaranteed massive internal injuries.

It was a miracle Enjolras was still alive, and Joly’s hands started shaking so badly that he dropped the clipboard the paramedic had handed him. “Dr. Joly?” someone was asking, and Joly just shook his head violently and turned away to empty his stomach on the pavement of the ambulance bay.

Christ, he hadn’t puked at the hospital since he was an intern.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his still-shaking hand and straightened to find his colleague gripping his arm and staring at him with clear concern in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” Joly whispered. “I just...he’s a friend.”

Understanding crossed her expression, and she nodded. “Ok,” she told him, her voice calm, soothing. It was the voice they used for hysterical family members, and Joly hated her a little bit for using it on him. “Get in touch with his emergency contact, get them to the hospital. You can brief them when they get here, ok?”

“I want to help—” Joly started, but she shook her head before he could even finish his sentence.

“You’re not a doctor right now. You’re a loved one.” She hesitated for just a moment before adding, with genuine sympathy, “I’m so sorry.”

He hated her even more for that.

Then she was gone, she and the paramedics whisking Enjolras inside to do what they could – if there was even anything that they would be able to do.

And Joly had nothing left to do but to call Combeferre and tell him the worst news he had ever had to deliver.

----------

It was now four hours past when Joly had been supposed to get off of work, and there was no indication that he would get to go home anytime soon. All of Les Amis had trickled in during the night and were now all camped out in the waiting room, eager for whatever news Joly could tell them.

But unfortunately, he had nothing that he could tell.

He pulled his scrub cap off as he slowly made his way over to where they were all waiting, trying to school his expression to something less grim, but judging by the way Courfeyrac’s smile slid off his face as soon as he saw him, he hadn’t succeeded. “How is he?” Combeferre asked, scrambling to his feet.

Joly swallowed. “He’s alive,” he said shortly. “That’s all that I can tell you right now.”

Combeferre and Courfeyrac exchanged glances. “What the hell are you talking about?” Courfeyrac asked, uncharacteristically blunt. “What do you mean, that’s all you can tell us?”

“I mean that I am required to tell Enjolras’s family first before I can share any details.”

Combeferre’s expression was ashen but Courfeyrac’s eyes flashed. “We are his family,” he started hotly, but Combeferre shook his head and squeezed Courfeyrac’s arm.

“Pontmercy,” he said, a little hoarsely. “We need to call Marius. He’s everyone’s power of attorney, remember? He can authorize them to share medical details with us.”

Courfeyrac quickly dug his cellphone out his jeans pocket, dialing Marius’s number from memory. “Come on, come on,” he muttered urgently as he waited for Marius to pick up. “Come on, damnit.”

A pile of coats that had been tossed onto a chair suddenly seemed to stand up of its own accord, and Marius emerged from under them, blinking owlishly as he clearly had just woken up. “Sorry, m’here,” he said between a yawn, and Courfeyrac looked like he was torn between wanting to hug him or throttle him.

Combeferre didn’t let him do either. “You’re Enjolras’s power of attorney, right?” he said in clipped tones.

Marius ran a hand over his face and blinked once more before nodding. “Yes,” he said.

“Then tell Joly that he can share medical details about Enjolras with all of us.”

Marius winced. “Ah,” he said. “Um, there’s a bit of a problem with that. I’m Enjolras’s power of attorney for certain things, mainly related to his estate and his trust fund, but I’m not designated as Enjolras’s medical proxy.”

Courfeyrac looked between Marius and Combeferre, his eyes wide. “What does mean?” he asked, a little faintly. “Who would make the decisions if Enjolras didn’t designate a medical proxy?”

“Well, generally speaking, the closest blood relative would—”

“His parents?” Courfeyrac interrupted, horrified. “He hates his parents!”

Marius shook his head. “No, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “The problem isn’t that Enjolras didn’t designate a medical proxy, so we don’t have to worry about that.” He winced again. “The, uh, the problem is that he did. And the designation is still legally binding.”

“Who?” Combeferre asked, his brow furrowed.

Marius just gave him a look. “You know who.”

Realization crossed Combeferre’s face, followed by something like rage. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

----------

Grantaire had been, up until that moment at least, thoroughly enjoying his evening. He had been hit on not once but twice at the bar, and had decided to take the second one, a thin, blond man (because Grantaire had always had a type, damn it), home for the night. They were right in the middle of making out like teenages on Grantaire’s couch when his phone rang.

Grantaire groaned and pulled away to reach for his cell, but the blond – Shane? Brendan? something? – pushed him back against the couch. “Ignore it,” he whispered before sucking on Grantaire’s earlobe.

He was only too happy to comply, but unfortunately, his phone had other ideas, ringing repeatedly until the best makeout session in the world wouldn’t have been able to hold his attention. “Let me just get rid of whomever this is,” he said, holding the man on his lap in place with one arm while reaching for his phone with the other. “Someone better be dying,” he said in lieu of a greeting, followed by a very confused, “Pontmercy?”

His brow furrowed as he listened to Marius, and he abruptly pushed the man off his lap, standing up and looking wildly around his apartment. “Yeah, ok,” he said. “Yeah, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He hung up and threw his phone down on his couch. “You need to go,” he told the guy he’d brought him, unusually brusque. “I have to get to the hospital.”

“Oh no, is everyone alright?” the guy asked, reaching out for him, but Grantaire brushed him aside, grabbing his shirt from where he had tossed it earlier.

“No,” he said shortly. “It’s my husband. He was in a car accident.”

“You’re married?” the guy asked, sounding almost offended by the thought.

Grantaire closed his eyes for a brief moment, wondering how he had got himself in the position of needing to explain this to a one-night stand. “No, I mean my ex-husband,” he said with a sigh.

“You’re divorced?” the guy asked, sounding even more disgusted by that.

“You know what, I don’t really have time to debate this with you, so while I’m sure you would have been a great lay—” Sudden pounding on Grantaire’s door cut him off and he groaned. “Great,” he sighed, hurrying over to open his door.

He was only a little surprised to see Combeferre standing there. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering Marius’s phonecall,” Combeferre said shortly.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, I did, and I’m getting ready to go to the hospital, so you can just—”

Before he could finish telling Combeferre exactly where he could go, the guy he’d brought home snuck past him, pausing to kiss his cheek and tell him breathlessly, “Call me when you’re back from dealing with your ex.”

Combeferre watched him leave, his expression stony. “Nice,” he told Grantaire, who rolled his eyes again.

“You have no right to judge me,” he snapped. “Enjolras and I have been divorced for longer than we were married, so I’m allowed to do whatever and whomever the fuck I want.”

“Yeah, well, about that,” Combeferre started, and Grantaire frowned.

“What?”

----------

“What?” Grantaire said, his voice cracking. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Marius quailed slightly under his glare. “Well, see, the thing about it is—”

“Enjolras and I got divorced!” Grantaire interrupted loudly. “I signed the damned paper!”

“You did,” Marius told him. “But Enjolras didn’t.” Grantaire’s mouth opened but no sound came out, and Marius continued, “He didn’t sign them, and he didn’t file them, so legally, you two are still married. And legally, you’re still his next of kin.”

Grantaire shook his head, but he still couldn’t seem to manage any words, and Marius reached out to grasp his shoulder. “We can talk through this more later but for now, Joly needs to talk to you.”

Without waiting for Grantaire to reply, Marius spun him around to face Joly, who looked exhausted. “C’mon,” Joly muttered, glancing at all their friends, who were staring expectantly at them. “Let’s talk over here.”

He jerked his head towards a meeting room off of the waiting room, and Grantaire numbly followed. Joly pulled the door open and stepped back to let Grantaire walk in first before following him in, closing the door after them. “So,” Joly started, but Grantaire shook his head.

“No, before you start, I just want to say…” He trailed off, then took a deep breath. “Despite the circumstances, it is really good to see you. I know Enjolras got you and Bossuet in the divorce, but—”

Joly let out what might have been a wordless sob, surging forward to wrap Grantaire in a fierce hug. Grantaire froze before slowly patting Joly on the back. Then, abruptly, his hand froze. “Wait,” he said, his chest tight. “This isn’t a good hug, is it.”

He didn’t say it like a question but Joly still shook his head as he pulled back, his eyes wet and red. “No,” he said hoarsely. “No, it’s not a good thing. It’s—” He broke off and shook his head, his tone turning professional. “It’s not good, R. Enjolras suffered severe internal injuries, but those—”

Again he broke off, but this time, he didn’t seem able to start again. Grantaire swallowed and nudged him gently. “But those?” he prompted softly.

Joly shook his head once as if to clear it. “The internal injuries were severe but probably not fatal,” he said tonelessly. “But he suffered massive head trauma. Part of his skull was broken in the crash and his brain swelled drastically, and likely irrevocably.”

Grantaire reached out wordlessly to grasp the back of a chair, his entire body shaking uncontrollably. “Oh,” he managed finally as he stared unseeingly at the wall in front of him.

Joly quickly wiped a tear off his cheek and cleared his throat. “I know that this isn’t what you expected to be dealing with, but as Enjolras’s next of kin, you have some decisions to make.”

“He’s an organ donor,” Grantaire said hollowly. “I don’t– I don’t know if, in his condition, any of his organs are—” His voice cracked. “—are viable, but if any of them are, he would want to donate that.”

“His heart, his lungs, maybe a kidney and part of his liver,” Joly said, giving Grantaire a watery smile. “He could probably donate those.”

Grantaire jerked a nod. “So then do it,” he said, more harshly than he intended.

Joly’s smile disappeared. “Unfortunately, it’s not that simple,” he said. “It’s...I mean, it’s complicated.”

Grantaire couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up from his chest. “No shit, Sherlock.”

“No, I don’t just mean because of you and him,” Joly said impatiently. “I mean, it’s complicated medically.”

Grantaire blinked. “How so?”

Joly wet his lips. “In order to donate organs, a patient must meet one of two conditions. The easiest one is brain death. But unfortunately, we don’t know if Enjolras is brain dead yet.”

“How do you not know that?” Grantaire demanded. “Aren’t there tests?”

“Yes, and we’ve run all of them, but the tests revealed limited functioning. It could just have been an artifact of previous brain activity, so we’ll run the test again in a few hours.” Joly took a deep breath. “But if the repeat tests should even just the slightest amount of functioning, we legally can’t declare him brain dead.”

Grantaire shook his head slowly. “Ok, so what does that mean?”

“It means that him signing up to be an organ donor won’t be enough.” Joly met his eyes. “It means we would need your consent to withdraw life-sustaining measures and allow cardiac death if you wanted to donate his organs.”

Grantaire’s eyelids fluttered closed, and a muscle worked in his jaw for a long moment before he finally managed, his voice sharp, “Fine, whatever, I consent.” He opened his eyes to stare fiercely at Joly as if daring him to say anything. “Do you need me to sign something, or—?”

Joly just shook his head. “Again, it’s unfortunately not that simple.”

“Why not?” Grantaire asked tiredly, feeling older than he ever had before.

“Because no matter how small a chance it is, if he isn’t brain dead, then there is still a chance—”

“That he could wake up,” Grantaire finished with sudden realization, and he hated himself for the way his heart leapt in his chest, hated that after all this time, the only person in the damn world who could still make him feel something like hope was Enjolras.

Joly nodded. “Yes,” he said. “He could live in a comatose state for...well, technically indefinitely. And there have been cases where someone has woken up after a month, or six months, or a year, or—”

“But what are the chances of that actually happening here?” Grantaire asked, harsher than he intended, trying desperately to quash the hope he could still feel rising in his chest, that there might still be time left with Enjolras, time to at least say goodbye and tell him he was sorry, time to tell him he still – that he never stopped—

“In my medical opinion…” Joly hesitated. “Not high. The trauma that his brain has suffered...and even if he woke up, I don’t think he would be Enjolras anymore.”

Joly’s words hit Grantaire like a punch to the gut, and he sagged, still gripping the chair with all his strength to keep himself upright. “So then that’s that,” he said, his voice trembling, just slightly.

Joly just nodded once. “Like I said,” he said quietly, “you have a choice to make. Not even just in regards to donating his organs, but in regards to if you think he would want to live like this.”

A laugh burst unbidden in Grantaire’s throat, an almost hysterical sound, because that had been one of the last things Enjolras had said to him before telling him he wanted a divorce – “I just can’t live like this anymore,” Enjolras had said, sounding tired, and sad, and more defeated than Grantaire could possibly bear. “And I don’t think you can either. Or maybe you can, but that doesn’t mean we should.”

So Grantaire had signed the papers to dissolve his marriage to the only man he had ever loved and moved out, leaving Enjolras, and Les Amis, and his entire life behind. He had thought that chapter was over, but now—

He realized a moment too late that Joly had asked him something and was waiting for his answer, and shook his head once to clear it. “Sorry, what?” he asked.

“Do you want to see him?” Joly repeated.

Again, the words were like a dagger in him. “Until about three hours ago, my answer to that question would have unequivocally been yes,” Grantaire said, his voice low. “But now, like this…” He shook his head again. “But I have to, though, don’t I?”

He meant it more rhetorically than anything, but Joly shook his head, sympathy clear in his expression. “You don’t have to,” he told Grantaire. “Not if you don’t want to.”

“I should though,” Grantaire said with a sigh, scrubbing a hand across his face. “I can’t make this decision without seeing him – without it being real.”

He couldn’t, because no matter how things ended between them, he would never be able to picture Enjolras as anything other than alive, and perfect, and the thought of making a decision about ending his life when that was how he envisioned Enjolras still was frankly laughable. Absurd. Like the world’s sickest joke.

So he needed to see him. No matter how much it would break what was left of him in the process.

“Ok,” Joly said softly. “Then I’ll take you back to him.”

#enjolras x grantaire #exr #enjoltaire #grantaire #enjolras #joly #combeferre #courfeyrac #marius pontmercy #fanfiction #part 1 of 2 #les miserables #former relationship #car accident cw #major injury cw #end of life care cw #major character death cw #angst #all the angst

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maydaygirl-save-our-ships · 4 years ago

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Home Again (Amphibia Fic)

Spoilers for True Colors.

Summary:

Anne stared at her shaking and confused frog family and couldn’t help but think back to the first day she landed in Amphibia. She had been terrified, especially after she learned of the blood thirsty, giant creatures that inhabited the world. Nothing about the urban city in which she grew up was familiar to the Plantar family. She recognized their overwhelmed and distraught faces and her resolve hardened. “Don’t worry, guys,” Anne said. “I won’t let anything happen to you. You took care of me when I was lost in your world, and now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

<Previous

Chapter 2: Another Starting Point

“My home is a few miles from here,” Anne said as she got to her feet. “We can walk, but we will be out in the open. I wish we could take a bus, but I don’t have any money.”

“We’re fine with walking. Just tell us what kind of monsters might be out there, and we’ll be prepared,” Hop Pop said matter-of-factly.

Anne shook her head and shouldered her backpack. It was much heavier with Frobo’s head inside. “There's no monsters in my world. Why do you think I was so freaked out by the huge monsters in your world and the piles of bones everywhere? This world isn’t dangerous in the same way as Amphibia is dangerous.”

“Then why can’t we go out in the open?” Sprig asked.

“Because if people see a bunch of frog people they are going to freak out,” Anne said bluntly.

Sprig chuckled. “Come on Anne, we don’t look that weird!”

Anne shot him a tired look. “As weird as I looked in Amphibia, that's how weird you guys look here.”

“Are they going to send a mob after us?” Polly asked. She sounded almost hopeful.

“I doubt it, but the government might try and capture you or something…” Anne mused and she looked around the small clearing for anything that she could use.

“Why would the monarchy want to capture us?” Hop Pop asked. “We’re not a threat.”

“What? No, there’s no monarchy- you know what, I’ll explain that another time,” Anne said as she spotted exactly what she was looking for. Anne ran over and grabbed a large, blue blanket that was hanging over a fence. It was probably left there by the homeless encampment that often set up in the area.

“Here,” Anne said as she wrapped the blanket around her frog family. “Stay hidden under this until we get to my house.”

Hop Pop let out a long hearty cough. “If you think that’s best, Anne.”

“Whoa. You okay dude?” Anne asked worriedly.

“I’m fine. The air in your world is just… different from ours.”

Anne knew what he meant immediately. The way the polluted air filled up her lungs made her chest feel heavy. It wasn’t until she came back to her world that she appreciated the fresh and unpolluted air of Amphibia.

“It’s just pollution from the cars in the city. It will clear up more in the suburbs,” Anne promised. “Come on, let’s get going.”

She led them to the sidewalk and instructed them to stay close. They seemed hesitant to go near the street and it’s rushing cars, but trusted her enough to follow her anyway.

They walked in mostly silence with a few murmurs from her frog family as they took in the sights of her world. Every once in a while they would recognize something they had seen in one of her movies or shows, but most of the time they looked both amazed and overwhelmed.

Eventually the scenery changed and they found themselves walking next to fresh cut lawns, picket fences, and the occasional garbage can that was left out on the curb. The buzz of the highway traffic and bustle of the city was muted in the distance. They turned down a street and Anne suddenly stopped. She felt as if someone had reached into her chest and squeezed her lungs, forcing all of her air to leave in a rush.

Why? Why had she turned down this street? Was she trying to torture herself?

She stared at the outside of the Wu residents across the street, unable to move. Marcy’s parents must be devastated at their child’s disappearance. Would she have to tell Marcy’s parents about what happened to her? Explain to them that Marcy was never coming home? No, she wouldn’t do that, couldn’t do that, not until she was sure Marcy was really… gone. There was still some hope, wasn’t there?

“Anne? Anne?” She heard voices calling her name behind her but she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

Something light, but solid landed on her shoulder. It was a familiar feeling as one of Sprig’s cool hands touched the skin at the base of her neck as he sat on her shoulder, peering at her in concern. The first time Srig had jumped on her shoulder back in Amphibia, Anne hadn’t been used to frog skin yet and she had felt like he was invading her personal space. Now, she found the gesture familiar and comforting. It was nice to have Sprig sitting on her shoulder, just the perfect height to talk to, or hug, depending on what she needed.

“Anne?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

She really wasn’t, but her first priority was to make sure they were okay.

“I’m fine,” she said, quickly wiping away her tears and wishing he couldn’t see, but knowing he could. Suddenly, the reality of the situation caught up with her. “Wait, Sprig! Get back under the blanket before someone sees you!” She glanced around the neighborhood to see if anyone had noticed them.

“Don’t worry,” Sprig said as he jumped off her shoulders onto the pavement. “I don’t think there’s anyone around right now.”

He did have a point. It was in the middle of the day and most people were probably at work or at school… Was there school? Or would it be summer time by now?

“Maybe not right now, but someone could drive down the road any second,” she warned.

“Oooh hey, what’s that?” Sprig asked, and to Anne’s horror, he bounded off into the street.

“Sprig! What are you doing?”

“Whoa, there are some coppers here just lying in the road!” Sprig said as he picked up one and began to study it.

“Those are just pennies,” Anne said. “They aren’t worth- Sprig, look out!”

People were always blowing past stop signs in the neighborhood, and the car that was currently driving down the street was completely ignoring the 25 mph speed limit.

Sprig’s eyes widened as he looked up to see the mental machine bearing down at him with no intention of slowing.

Sprig was quick, he could probably jump out of the way in time, but Anne couldn’t risk it. She had already lost one friend today.

The car clearly hadn’t seen the tiny pink frog in the middle of the road, but it would be able to see her. She jumped out into the middle of the road, blocking Sprig from the oncoming vehicle as she held her arms out wide. The driver immediately slammed on his breaks, much to Anne’s relief. The car came to a complete stop and the driver rolled down his window.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, kid? I could’ve hit you!”

“Sorry!” Anne called. “It’s just my…” She searched for the right word. What kind of pets did they even have in this world again? Not caterpillars, or baby snails... that wouldn’t make any sense. “My… cat ran into the road.” She did her best to block Sprig from the driver's view. She felt him jump onto her back and duck his head so he wouldn’t be seen. “I think he ran off though.”

The driver grumbled something before rolling up his window.

Anne quickly stepped out of the road, doing her best to keep the driver from seeing the little pink frog clinging to her back.

When the car drove away, Anne let out a sigh.

“Heh… sorry, Anne,” Sprig apologized as he jumped off her back.

“I thought you said this world isn’t dangerous?” Polly asked skeptically as Sprig joined her underneath the blanket again.

“It’s not dangerous in the same way your world is. It’s not like there are monsters in the bushes, but if you don’t follow the rules of the road and jump into the middle of the street-” She made sure to give Sprig a meaningful glare. “Then it can be dangerous. Just stick close to me, okay?”

“You got it, Anne! Hey, can we use these coppers to buy anything?” Sprig asked. From underneath the blanket he held out his hand to reveal three pennies.

“Not really. I was trying to tell you, dude, those are just pennies and they’re barely worth anything.”

“Oh.” Sprig looked disappointed. “Well, I’m still keeping them,” he said as he shoved them into his pocket. “They have a cool human on them.”

Anne rolled her eyes affectionately. Sprig had always been interested in the Earth stuff she brought with her. She had actually given him a lot of the stuff she didn’t need, like pens and old key chains. She was going to have a hard time convincing him not to fill up his pockets with junk from her world.

“What kind of monetary system do you have that copper isn’t worth anything?” Hop Pop asked, appalled. “Don’t tell me you have so much gold that you're lining your garbage cans with it? Talk about inflation!”

Anne made a face. “I don’t know! I don’t even know if pennies are real copper or what inflation is. If you really want to know, you should ask Mar-” she stopped herself, the pit in her stomach tightening.

Hop Pop went silent as he reached out from under the blanket and patted her arm comfortingly.

They didn’t say much as they continued to walk down the sidewalk together. Marcy’s house was only a few blocks away from her own. That was actually how they met. Both of their parents had taken them to the same park when they were young and then they attended the same elementary school together.

Anne shook her head again. She had to stop thinking about Marcy. She had to focus on getting home and finding a way to get back to Amphibia. There was a war going on without her and her frog family couldn’t stay on Earth forever. She would get them back home, just like they got her home.

She finally stopped, taking in the sight before her. It had felt like an eternity but the house in front of her remained completely unchanged. Her family home was one of the older houses in the neighborhood. It needed a new coat of paint and the basketball hoop above the garage was one basket away from falling off, but her mother’s touch had always made the place feel homey, with light pink curtains in the windows and flowers on the front railings. It had always been comfortable, familiar. Home.

However, at this moment, her childhood home was strangely cold to her. In Wartwood, the streets were always bustling with people. The houses were often small and welcoming; doors were left open and neighbors visited each other often. Grass and weeds were always overgrown in Wartwood and it was a stark contrast to the perfectly manicured lawns of her house and neighbors. Standing in front of the house, her world felt silent and empty.

The minivan wasn’t in the driveway so her parents weren’t home. The lights were off, further driving home the point that no one was there. She didn’t know why she expected her parents to be home waiting for her. It had been months since her disappearance, and at this time of day they would be at the restaurant finishing up the lunch rush, not waiting for her to show up out of a portal from another world.

Looking at her home now, Anne had to wonder, had anything changed without her? Would her parents even care that she came back? Were they happier without her making a mess they would then yell at her to clean up? Did they have more free time now that they didn’t have to bug her to do her homework or take her to tennis practice?

Anne knew this line of thought was stupid and fed by her own insecurities. Of course her parents loved her and missed her. But had her disappearance really not changed anything? She couldn’t help but selfishly wish that her parents had been sitting at home for the past few months waiting for her to come back. She had worried and missed them every single day, even spent nights crying over pictures of them in her phone. They had felt the same, hadn't they?

“Is this your home, Anne?” Sprig asked. “It’s nice.”

“It’s fancy,” Polly said. “Kind of like the homes in Newtopia.”

“Yeah, this is it guys. My home.” Why did that word seem so hollow on her tongue? She had been so urgent to get back home before now. It was her entire goal; the reason she and the Plantars had gone on such a huge journey together. They had given up everything just to get her here.

Now, it was just another starting point.

“Anne, are you sure your parents are going to be okay with us?” Hop Pop asked worriedly. “It’s not polite for us to just show up unannounced.”

That caused Anne to laugh. “You mean like how I showed up in Wartwood unannounced and you took me in? You guys are my family, I would never leave you without a place to stay. Besides, my parents aren’t even home right now. They’re at the restaurant.”

“Yes, but when they get home, they might be a bit overwhelmed to see us, since we aren’t from this world.”

“You guys have no idea,” Anne said. “But don’t worry about it. We’re Thai. Thai people are some of the most hospitable people you’ll ever meet. After my parents get over their initial shock, they will insist that you stay. My mom will probably cook a bunch of food for you that she won’t let you refuse.”

Hop Pop chuckled. “In that case, lead the way, kiddo.”

Anne smiled and turned back to the door. She wasn’t even sure if she still had her house keys, and with Frobo’s head in her backpack, she didn’t want to go digging for it. Instead, she approached the side of the house to search under the only bush. She finally found the fake rock and took out the spare key.

She made her way up to the front door and turned the key in the lock. With one turn of the door handle, and a softer push than the Plantar’s front door required, the door opened.

Let me know what you think of this one! ! I know you are all looking forward to the Plantar's meeting Anne's parents and I promise we will get there!

Check out my kofi if you are interested.

#amphibia #amphibia spoilers #true colors spoilers #amphibia home again #amphibia fanfic

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fellulahh · 5 years ago

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Simeon saves MC in the human realm

Here it is - the short drabble! Simeon’s a little bit of a naughty angel in this but oh boy he’s passionate.

Since MC returned home from Devildom, she still felt an unknown presence with her. Even when she’d take a walk through her neighbourhood by herself, she never felt like she was alone. It may have been because the demons and angels she’d grown to love were always on her mind.

Nevertheless, as she began to settle into her old life, the feeling that she was being watched grew stronger. She’d often find herself smiling at nothing in particular, reminiscing on her time in Devildom. However, that time had come to an end and now she was left with no option but to return to the real world.

As time went on, her mind began to torment her. Constantly thinking she’d spotted someone familiar, her head would whip back and forth as she stared at what always turned about to be nothing at all.

But one day her suspicions were all proven to be true. For as she was walking through the car park to the shopping mall one day, her foot caught on an uneven surface. Her descent to the concrete floor all happened at once. Squeezing her eyes shut as she accepted that she was about to fall into oncoming traffic, MC never expected somebody to grab her.

Opening her eyes after not feeling the harsh impact of the floor or the nearby car hitting her body, MC quickly turned her head. Her wide eyes couldn’t believe who was holding her by the arm. She instantly recognised his perfect complexion and white attire.

Breathing heavily, she studied the worried face of the angel in front of her.

“Simeon?” She whispered, unable to believe the sight before her.

He had a disappointed look on his face - his sadness wasn’t directed at her though. Simeon was angry at himself for allowing MC to see him after hiding for so long. She was never supposed to discover that he was in her realm. After seeing her in danger though, she left him with very little choice.

“MC.” He spoke softly with a nod, pulling her up. She stumbled a little on her feet as he supported her body.

“I knew it...” she breathed, narrowing her eyes at him. “You’ve been watching me haven’t you? You’re the presence I’ve felt ever since leaving Devildom!”

“I had to see you.” He admitted with a sunken expression as he turned his face away from her, ashamed of himself. “I’ve missed you, MC. I had to know you were safe.”

“Then why didn’t you just talk to me? Why did you always hide?” She asked a little hurt. Her eyebrows were knitted as she gazed into his troubled eyes.

“I shouldn’t even be here now...” he admitted, “Just visiting your realm is already rebelling.”

MC was surprised at his antics. It wasn’t like Simeon to go against his nobles. “How long have you watched over me?” She asked quietly. His arms were still wrapped around her body despite MC regaining her balance.

Simeon’s face fell. Shame filled his body as he struggled to meet her eyes.

“Since the day we left.”

MC smiled sadly at him as her heartbeat raced. She lifted one of her small hands and caressed his cheek. “I can’t believe it...” she whispered.

“I’m truly sorry, MC. I never intended for you to see me but when I saw you lose your footing and the car coming your way...” he sighed, “there was nothing else I could do.”

Suddenly returning to Earth, MC glanced over her shoulder noticing the cars that were passing behind her. ‘He saved me...’

Turning her head back to him, she bit on her lip as she grew nervous. He was every bit of gorgeous as she’d remembered. If anything, he looked even more mesmerising than before. Perhaps it was his willingness to rebel for her that made MC more intrigued by him.

Something had definitely changed about him...something good.

“D—do you have to go?” She asked quietly as she felt herself growing flustered.

“I should.” He nodded making her heart sink in her chest. “But not if you tell me to stay.”

He’d already spent weeks going against his nobles to be there and MC had already caught him so what’s the point in turning back now? He was past the point of no return.

MC’s mind was racing. She was still trying to accept that Simeon was stood in front of her in all of his glory, let alone think about whether she was ready to confess her need for him. She’d gotten used to life out of Devildom, was she ready to spiral back into her seemingly lucid dream filled with demons and angels?

Able to sense her contemplating, Simeon took her hand in his as he looked deep into her eyes. “Come back with me.” He whispered.

“To the celestial realm?” She questioned with furrowed eyebrows.

“No, to Devildom.” He shook his head, “Our home is there now.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me simeon

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vrednic · 4 years ago

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favors | collateral damage (pt.3)

Teen Wolf x Vampire Diaries AU

Prompt: Teen Wolf, but with a twist. Scott McCall has a twin sister… and she falls in love with Derek Hale.

Summary: Derek finds himself in trouble, and Scott is nowhere to be found. Will Serena be the one to save the day?

Word Count: 3,026

Author’s Note: I hope you all enjoy part 3! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading :)

*PART ONE*

*PART TWO*

-----------------------------------------------------

Two weeks had passed since my first full moon. Scott and I still weren’t on speaking terms, and we both seemed to prefer it that way. On school days, he’d leave the house early to avoid running into me. We didn’t have any classes together, so that made it easy to stay out of each other’s way at school. He had lacrosse practice most days, and they usually ran late, so by the time he got home, I was already in bed. He had also made things official with Allison, so naturally she consumed every other spare second of his life. Part of me felt immense relief because I was able to delay the inevitable confrontation that we would have to have at some point. However, the other part of me also longed for her best friend. I wanted to blame the full moon for the harsh words I said and the dismissive manner that I treated him, but I couldn’t. It was all me.

Scott was the “It” boy when it came to the supernatural. Someway, somehow, he always found himself in the middle of whatever supernatural crisis threatened Beacon Hills. He was a reliable friend and a fantastic leader in-the-making. I recognized that Scott now held the responsibility to save and protect those who were oblivious to our world, as well as those who were a part of it, but my jealousy obstructed all rational thought. I wanted my brother to be there for me the way he was there for complete strangers; the way he meddled in situations that didn’t even concern him. When he didn’t show up the one time I needed him, the disappointment was simply too much to bear.

-----------------------------------------------------------

I was sitting in biology, filling in the bubble for the second to last question of the test we were taking. The room was completely silent except for the swift sound of pencil on paper. I looked up at the clock above the chalkboard, and the hands indicated that there were forty-five minutes remaining in class. I flipped back through the booklet and revised all of my answers. When I was content with all of my responses, I pushed up from my desk and walked towards the front to turn in my test. As I neared the front of the classroom, the smell of blood invaded my nostrils. The scent was too faint to be coming from within the room, so that meant that its source was somewhere on the other side of the classroom door. I finally reached the teacher’s desk and placed my booklet on top of the thin pile of completed tests that were already there. I grabbed a copy of tonight’s homework located on the podium next to the desk, and made my way back to my seat.

As I tucked the homework sheet into my biology notebook, my supernatural hearing picked up the sound of two distinct voices coming from the hallway.

“Where’s Scott McCall?” asked the first voice.

The second person shut their locker, the sound of metal on metal ringing in my ears. They spoke gruffly. “Why should I tell you?”

“Because I asked you politely, and I only do that once.” This time I was able to identify the first voice immediately. It was Derek.

“Hm. Okay, tough guy,” responded the second voice. It was low and laced with arrogance, just like Jackson’s. “How about I help you find him if you tell me what you’re selling him?

There was a pause. Then, “Well? What is it? Is it Dianabol? HGH?”

“Steroids?” responded Derek, his tone unimpressed.

“No, Girl Scout cookies,” scoffed Jackson. “What the hell do you think I’m talking about? Oh, and, by the way, whatever it is that you’re selling, I’d probably stop sampling the merchandise. You look wrecked.”

There were a few counts of silence. I closed my eyes and focused my hearing, not wanting to miss a single word.

“I’ll find him myself,” said Derek at last.

“No, we’re not done here!” growled Jackson. There was a sound of movement, and then I heard a body slam up against the lockers. I heard Jackson’s soft groans of discomfort as Derek walked away, his feet dragging slightly as he did.

I knew that it was none of my business, but curiosity got the best of me. I got up from my seat and walked swiftly, but subtly, towards the teacher’s desk.

“Can I use the bathroom?”

Mrs. Grey stopped typing at her computer long enough to peer up at me through her glasses. “Sure, just take the--”

“Great, thanks!” I said, wasting no time to rush out into the hall. Jackson was leaning against a row of lockers on the opposite side of the hall, clutching the back of his neck. I smelled blood on him, but the scent didn’t match up with the one from earlier. We made eye contact for just a moment.

“What the hell are you looking at?” he snapped at me.

I shrugged.

I looked down both ends of the hall, but Derek was already gone. Luckily for me, he left a trail of blood in his wake. I followed the scent past the double doors that led to the soccer and lacrosse fields. I walked onto the middle of the grass and scanned my surroundings. At first glance, both fields seemed empty, but the scent was still present. The only problem was that I could no longer pinpoint which direction it was coming from. The wind had picked up, so now the scent seemed to be coming from everywhere. I decided to move my search onto the perimeter of the field. I checked under the bleachers, by the concession stands, and in the bathrooms, but there was still no sign of Derek. I let out a sigh of frustration and began walking back to the school.

I stopped mid stride when I thought I saw movement from the corner of my eye. I turned, and my breath caught in my throat. Derek was slumped against the side of the storage shed, thick black blood dripping down his left arm. There was a pool of it right beside him growing by the minute. His face was pale and slicked with sweat, and there were dark grey bags under his eyes. If I didn’t know he was a werewolf with supernatural healing abilities, I’d probably think he was dead. I ran over to him and crouched down to his eye level. His eyes found mine; they were no longer cold, but pleading.

“Scott,” he mumbled. “Find Scott.”

I ignored him and instead examined the bullet wound in his arm. The bullet itself seemed to have melted into his skin, glowing a sickly silver-green color. The area around it was swollen and his veins were turning black, a clear sign of a fast-spreading infection.

“I’m gonna get you out of here,” I told him matter-of-factly. “Whatever it is you were shot with, it doesn’t look good. I need to get you someplace safe so we can find a way to fix this.”

“You need to find Scott,” he repeated, breathless.

“I’ll find Scott,” I assured him. “But after I get you out of here. There’s no way I’m leaving for dead here.”

He looked up at me with those beautiful, tired eyes. He knew there was no point in protesting, so he mobilized every ounce of strength within him and tried to slide up to a standing position. I came over next to him, positioning his good arm around my shoulders, wrapped my arm around his torso, and attempted to begin walking. We made it a few steps before I felt him leaning out of my grasp. I stopped and gazed up at him.

“Okay, big guy. I know I’m a werewolf and all, but I’m still only 5’4. You’re almost an entire foot taller than me, so I’m gonna need you to help me out as much as you can.”

He nodded and we resumed walking. I led him across the field into the student parking lot. I found my car in the maze of vehicles and unlocked the passenger side door. As soon as Derek eased into the seat, I shut the door and came around to the other side. I started the car and pulled out of the parking lot onto the road, heading towards Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. If we were lucky, traffic would be light at this hour, and we’d arrive in a matter of minutes. Derek looked around alarmingly and reached for the steering wheel. I stomped on the brake to stop us from veering into oncoming traffic.

“Are you crazy?” I screamed at him. “Are you trying to get us killed?”

“You can’t take me to the hospital. Anything they give me could potentially speed up the infection and kill me,” he said. He sounded exhausted, but his tone was firm nonetheless. “That, and the Argents are probably looking for me. I’m sure they’d love to finish me off before the infection gets the chance to.”

I blew out a sigh. “Where am I supposed to take you, then?”

“The animal clinic. Hopefully Deaton hasn’t left for the day. Maybe he knows about something that’ll help.”

I did as I was told and quickly made a U-turn in the opposite direction. I drove frantically, stealing glances at Derek here and there to make sure he was still breathing. His eyes remained closed the entire way, but I found comfort in the steady rise and fall of his chest.

---------------------------------------------------------

Once we arrived at the clinic, my heart sunk. Deaton’s car wasn’t in the lot, which meant we were alone and running out of time. I retrieved the spare key from behind the dumpster and hauled Derek inside, leading him to one of the nearest chairs so he could sit while I called Scott. I patted my back pocket for my phone, but it wasn’t there. I ran out to my car and searched the floor and seats for its location, but it was futile. I must have dropped it in the field while I was carrying Derek to my car. I sprinted back inside, where Derek was clutching his arm in agony. I brushed the hair from his forehead gently, which caused him to open his eyes.

“I lost my phone,” I admitted nervously. “Do you have yours?”

He shook his head. “I lost it last night after I was shot.”

Great, just great.

I stopped for a moment to collect myself. After my moment was up, I left the room to find Deaton’s office. I turned on the light and waited a moment so my eyes could adjust. When they did, I found the office phone sitting right by his computer. I picked up the phone and dialed Scott’s number. It rang for several seconds, and just when I thought the voicemail was going to cut the call short, I heard someone pick up on the other end.

“Hey, Doc,” Scott answered. “Is everything okay?”

“Scott,” I said. “You need to get to the animal clinic now. Derek’s dying.”

There was a momentary pause of confusion. “Serena? Why are you calling me from the clinic? What’s going on?”

I walked back over to Derek and handed him the phone. “It’s Scott.”

“Listen to me carefully,” said Derek. “You need to get me the bullet, or I’m as good as dead.”

“What are you talking about? What bullet?” I heard Scott say.

I paced around the room, trying to keep my anxiety in check. I wasn’t entirely sure why I felt so affected. It’s not like Derek and I were friends. So why did the thought of him dying suddenly seem so unbearable? I could no longer stand to look at Derek. The infection was running its course, eating him from the inside out. He had begun to resemble a rotting corpse. I turned my back to him and focused my attention to the desolate road outside the window, trying to flush out any and all thoughts of death from my mind. I bit my lip, hoping that Scott would walk through the door any second now and save the day, just like he always did.

“Last night when I was looking for Peter… the Argents were there,” Derek explained. “Kate shot me with a bullet laced with wolfsbane. It’s causing some sort of infection that’ll kill me once it reaches my heart. That bullet is the only antidote.”

“Okay, I’m on it. But, uh, do you happen to know what it looks like?” asked Scott.

Derek didn’t reply. I turned around just as he fell sideways onto the floor. The phone slid out of his grasp and across the room. I heard Scott begin to panic over the line.

“Scott, hurry!” I yelled, loud enough so he could hear.

I dropped down on my knees next to Derek and gently patted him on the cheek, urging him to wake up, but he remained unconscious. I pressed my ear against his chest, listening for his heartbeat, but I heard nothing but silence. My own heart hammered in my ribcage and tears threatened to spill from my eyes.

“You’re not dying on me, you bastard,” I whispered, wiping away the tears that had managed to escape from the corner of my eyes.

I placed the heel of my hand in the center of his chest and began doing chest compressions. After thirty compressions, I lowered my lips down onto his, giving him two rescue breaths. I was surprised by how soft and warm his lips felt against mine. I continued administering steady compressions, but there was no sign of resuscitation.

I stopped and stared at his lifeless body. I refused to let him fade away just like that, but I had no idea what else to do. Scott would have figured something out; he always did. But I wasn’t Scott.

I felt so small, so useless.

So defeated.

Derek jerked abruptly, gasping for air. His eyes fluttered open and scanned the room until they met mine. I flashed a small smile and gave his hand a small squeeze of reassurance. I helped him up to a sitting position on the floor.

He tipped his head back against the wall and gave a low groan. “I know you thought you lost me there for a minute, but trust me. I don’t go so easily.”

I managed a soft laugh. “I know.”

--------------------------------------------------------

What seemed like an eternity later, Scott finally strolled through the front door of the clinic with Stiles in tow, holding a small golden bullet in his hand. He crouched down next to Derek, who took the bullet immediately and screwed off the tip to release its contents. He pulled out a lighter from his pocket and lit the wolfsbane on fire. Ignited, it emitted a dark blue smoke, which irritated my nasal passages. I set my discomfort aside and focused my attention on Derek, who gathered the ashes into his hand and rubbed them onto his wound. He let out a sharp roar of pain that lasted several seconds, but he healed almost instantaneously. I let out an audible sigh of relief which seemed to go unnoticed by all the boys in the room.

Scott extended his hand and helped Derek up. He still looked a little worse for wear, but the rosy hue of his cheeks was starting to return. The eyebags were gone, leaving behind the olive green eyes that were once again fixed into a hard stare.

“Glad you’re okay, man. I’ll see you around,” Scott told Derek.

Stiles mumbled under his breath. “Hopefully not anytime soon.”

Derek shook Scott’s hand firmly-- an expression of silent gratitude.

Scott and Stiles walked past me toward the front door. Just when I thought Scott was about to walk out, he turned and walked back, stopping in front of me. He gave me a bear hug and kissed my right temple.

“I’ll see you at home.” He pulled away and walked outside to Stiles’ Jeep. I was about to walk out myself when I heard Derek call my name. I whipped my head around to face him and found him looking at me with those sharp, penetrating eyes. There was an unreadable expression on his face.

“Why did you do it?�� He asked me softly.

“Do what?” But I knew exactly what he meant.

“Save me.”

I felt my pulse quicken and my cheeks heat up. I looked down at my feet and cleared my throat. I hated the thought of potentially stumbling over my words after one small sign of attention from Derek Hale. After a few counts I finally mustered up the courage to look up again. He was still staring.

“I never got the chance to say thank you,” I told him. “For risking your life on the night of my first full moon. You saved me.”

He took this into consideration. “Well, I didn’t do it--”

“For me?” I asked. “I know.” I recognized deep down why Derek did what he did that night, but it hurt much more to admit it out loud. “I know that you did it for Scott, and that’s okay. I know his alliance is important to you.”

He opened his mouth to protest. “That’s not what I was--”

I suddenly felt hyper aware of how ridiculous I sounded trying to explain myself to him. The warm, fuzzy feeling of attraction was gone. Instead, it was replaced by a hollow emptiness and a fiery desire to get the hell away from here-- from him.

“A life for a life, Derek,” I stated bluntly. “You saved my life, and now I’ve saved yours. Don’t read too much into it. I was simply returning the favor.”

Without so much as a goodbye, I turned on my heel and walked out into the cold autumn night. Every fiber of my body wanted to look back, to fetch for some sort of reaction, but I couldn’t go down that path. Not with Derek. I knew better than that.

I needed to be better than that.

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@broco8��

@slytherinrising

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shakespeareanwannabe · 5 years ago

Text

Protective Instincts

Santiago Pope Garcia x F!OC

Summary: After everything he’s done, Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia can’t fathom the idea of bringing a child into the world. But sometimes, life doesn’t work out exactly as you’ve planned. *Based off of some wonderful headcanons written by @darksideofclarke*

Warnings: Pregnancy fic (so if you’re not into that, please don’t read), swearing, reference to smut (but it’s only like one line), references to blood, death (of adults and children), and PTSD

A/N: Hi everyone! So this is my first fanfic post on Tumblr (I have an active account on ff.net, and if anyone is interested in reading that, I can send you my account name). I really enjoyed writing for Pope, it was really nice to spread my wings outside of the Supernatural fandom, so please let me know if you enjoyed this, because I’ve got so many ideas for how to turn it into a series. Hope you enjoy! And let me know if you want to be tagged in any future chapters that come out.

15 steps to the left.

Stop.

Turn.

15 steps to the left.

Stop.

Turn.

Repeat until the worries of the mind and the heaviness of the heart disappears.

“Hey, baby, I’m home!” Pope’s voice calls out, causing Rebecca’s steady steps to stumble.

“How can I face him? How can I tell him?” her mind anguished.

She found herself stopped in front of their large bay window, staring out into the street as her wonderful, loving boyfriend walked up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her, not noticing how she flinched as he hands come to rest on top of her still soft stomach and planted a gentle kiss on her neck.

“How was your day?” he questioned, seemingly content with the picture of domestic bliss that they undoubtedly made, as he nuzzled his nose in between her shoulder blades.

“It was fine,” she murmured quietly, folding her arms around her chest.

Pope shifted, his nose gently brushing her ear as he twisted to look at her profile.

“What happened?”

What had happened? How could she answer that when every molecule in her body was seemingly at war with each other? When her heart was rejoicing but the tiniest voice in the back of her mind was throwing up red flags because they had never talked about this before and she had no clue how he was going to react? When every instinct inside of her was screaming ‘protect’ and every emotion was yelling ‘share’?

“I…I think we should sit.”

Pope felt his heart stutter but nodded as he gently led her to the couch. Was this the moment he had been dreading? Was this when karma kicked in and took away the best thing that had ever happened to him?

“Bex, please…” he kept his hand on her thigh as they settled next to each other on the leather couch. “Are you okay?” Hesitantly, she nodded, and Pope sighed with relief. “What’s going on, baby?”

She shifted slightly, pulling away from his hand and playing with her fingers in her lap. “Umm…you know how I haven’t been feeling great the past week or so?”

He nodded, leaning forward. “Yeah, did you go to the doctor today like I asked?”

He had had to beg her to go. She had insisted that it was just the flu, probably coupled with her oncoming period in the next couple of days. She usually felt like shit when that time of the month rolled around, but the constant vomiting had been new, so he had pleaded with her daily for the last four days to go to the doctor. In hindsight, she had been resistant because she had a sneaking suspicion, but, again, her instincts had been at war with each other.

“Yeah, I went…” It wasn’t until her breathing hitched and Santiago lifted his hand to brush away a tear that she even realized she was crying.

“Baby…” Rebecca looked up and met Santi’s dark eyes. She could read the fear reflected in them and it only made her feel worse. Her sweet, burdened man had fought a war, lost friends, and here she was, scaring him in the comfort of his own home.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted, wanting to see that worry washed away from his expression.

Instead, she saw the walls slam up in his eyes.

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

Pope had the unfortunate experience of being too close to an explosive as it detonated. He’d felt the shrapnel dig itself into his body, felt the heat burn his skin, but, for Pope, the worst part was the ringing in his ears. When the dull sound of tinnitus overtook everything. He’d had men, friends, best friends, screaming in his face but had been unable to hear them. The roar of the fire and the scream of bullets flying sounded like he was hearing them from deep underwater, Catfish could be hollering in his ear that they had to move, but he couldn’t make out the words.

“I’m pregnant…” Rebecca blurted, hesitantly glancing back and forth between his face and her lap.

Now, he was sure that she kept talking. Hell, he could see her lips moving. But the words…they weren’t reaching him. Everything was white noise, he was moving through water, the scar on the back of his neck started to burn.

One thing the military had taught Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia was how to listen to his instincts. He was a damn good leader, he had a loyal crew of men who depended on him and had his back, and that was partially because his instincts were usually pretty spot on. If that feeling in his gut told him to stop, they stopped. If it told him to run, he was dragging his team alongside him at a dead sprint. If it told him to shoot, he shot.

Now, his fight or flight was telling him one thing.

Pope rose from the couch, his eyes just skating past Rebecca’s panicked expression, his brain not really absorbing any new information, like how her lips were moving in a repetitive pattern.

“Santi…Pope…Santiago…Please…Santi…Pope…Santiago…Please…”

His ears were ringing, but his eyes knew her lips well enough to understand, even if that information wasn’t making it to his brain.

Wordlessly, emotionlessly, almost lifelessly, Pope paced to the front door, shrugged on his leather jacket, donned his sunglasses, pulled his keys out of his pocket.

Open the door. One step over the doorframe.

Turn.

Close the door. Lock it.

Five stairs. Fifteen paces.

Unlock car. Get in. Key in ignition. Seatbelt on.

Start car. Shift gears. Peddle on the right.

Drive.

Santiago had no destination in mind, no plan. For once, the man with a plan had no plan.

“I’m pregnant…”

He felt the whizz of a bullet flying by his cheek.

“I’m pregnant…”

The blood of a civilian spurted through his fingers as he tried to put pressure on the wound.

“I’m pregnant…”

The bodies of kids lined up outside of a village that had just been bombed, that they hadn’t gotten there in time to save.

“I’m pregnant…”

Every echo of Bex’s voice brought a new memory.

Car bombs exploding in Afghanistan.

The numerous deaths of innocent civilians in Iraq.

The countless executions of sicarios in Colombia by the police force.

Tom and the complete fuck up that he had led his friends into.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

Pope looked down for a split second and saw Rebecca’s photo lighting up his screen.

It was a photo they had taken on the Fourth of July. He had taken her out to Will’s cabin out in the middle of the woods, deep enough that none of the seasoned veterans would be able to hear the fireworks exploding overhead. She had spider-monkeyed her way around him as he sat on a log next to the campfire, arms wrapped around his shoulders, legs around his waist, and chest pressed tightly up against his back, and when Benny had seen the way he had smiled at her over his shoulder, he had snapped the photo with his phone.

For a split second, Pope was torn. Did he cave to the guilt that was starting to gnaw at his gut and answer the phone? Did he shut his phone off so he wouldn’t have to hear the rattling sound in his cupholder? In the end, he did neither.

His instincts were driving him to continue down the road, and his heart wouldn’t let him shut off his phone, so he ignored it. He knew she would begin to panic if his phone sent her straight to voicemail but leaving it on allowed her the peace of mind to know that he would answer…eventually. When he was ready.

Pope didn’t pay any attention to his dashboard clock, nor did he pay any mind to the sun that was slowly crawling its way across the sky. He knew hours had passed, he knew that Bex was calling him every ten minutes or so, and he knew that the emptiness of the road and the repetitive hum of the tires below him was soothing his mind.

When his truck dinged, alerting him to the news that his truck had about ten miles left before it ran out of gas, he pulled over, stopped, and refilled the tank with what was left in his gas can before continuing.

He paid attention to the traffic and to the periodic buzzing of his phone, that was it.

Hours passed, his phone buzzing every ten minutes like clockwork until the sun hung low in the sky. Until his phone stopped buzzing.

At the first ten minute mark when his phone didn’t buzz and his and Bex’s smiling faces didn’t appear on his screen, approximately six hours into his drive and approximately around the time when Pope realized he had been driving in circles for at least the last four, he glanced down to make sure that his phone hadn’t died.

Ten minutes after that, he pulled onto a farm road, slowing to a stop on the side of the dirt road. His heart was racing as though he had been running for the past six hours, and he couldn’t understand why.

13 minutes after that, his phone came to life again, a pixelated likeness of Catfish’s face appearing in the dimming light of the sunset. Bex was in that photo too, Frankie pressing a kiss to her cheek while winking at Pope behind the camera.

Pope sighed and cleared his throat, hoping to convey a lightheartedness when he greeted, “Hey Fish, what’s goin’ on?”

Pope heard a screen door slam shut as Frankie growled, “Estúpido hijo de puta.”

Pope pulled the phone away from his ear, making sure it was actually Catfish calling and not some crank call. “Frankie?”

“Santi, do you want to tell me why I’m here with your hysterical girlfriend and you’re not?”

Pope felt his heart sink in his chest. “Fish, I—”

“Bex nearly gave me a goddamn heart attack when she called,” Frankie talked over him. “Sobbing so hard she couldn’t get the words out. I gunned it over to your place thinking you had been kidnapped or something, man. Had an SOS text ready to send to Benny and Will, only to find out that you had just left and you weren’t answering her calls. What the fuck, Pope?”

Pope stepped out of his truck and leaned back against the door, staring out at the reds and purples and golds of the sunset.

“…she’s pregnant, man.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And?” Pope wrenched himself away from the truck and began pacing up and down the abandoned stretch of road. “And I don’t know how the fuck to be a father! I don’t know how to raise a kid to be a benefit to society and not a colossal fuck up! After all the shit I’ve done, all the blood on my hands?” Pope took a shaky, shuddery breath, pressing the phone up to his forehead as he wished he could keep it together. He shouldn’t be saying anything. He should bury all the shit so deep down it never sees the light of day. He should, but it was also Frankie Morales he was talking to. His ride or die since day one. The guy who, no matter what was happening, always gave it to him straight. The brain behind Pope’s brawn.

“What gives me the right, Frankie?” Pope mumbled as he brought the phone back to his ear. “I’ve killed people…I’ve gotten people killed…I’ve let people die…That kid is gonna come into the world all innocent, take one look at me, and see a killer. H—How am I supposed to raise a kid when I can barely keep my own shit together half the time?”

The line was silent for a long time, and Pope helplessly dashed at the water that had pooled in his eyes.

“No sé cómo hacer esto, hermano,” he whispered.

Finally, he heard the telltale rasp of Frankie running his hand over his face. “Chill the fuck out, bro,” Frankie told him in a voice that somehow managed to be both soothing and commanding. “Holding that kid will be the best thing you ever do in your life. The only thing that makes all of the shit worth it.”

“But—”

“No buts, Pope. You wanna know how you’re gonna raise that kid? You’re not,” he said simply. “You and Bex are gonna raise that kid together. You’re gonna make mistakes, and screw up, and so will she, but as long as you’re there, and you love that kid hard, and you actually give a shit, then you’re gonna be leaps and bounds above half the dickheads out there that call themselves dads.” Pope squeezed his eyes shut to stop the tears that were threatening to roll down his cheeks. He didn’t know if Frankie knew that his partner and friend was tearing up in the middle of nowhere, but he also knew that Frankie (and Bex) were probably the only two people on the planet who wouldn’t give him shit for it.

He just couldn’t help it. Six hours ago, his world had exploded, and now Frankie was helping him put it together piece by painful piece. Worst of all was how badly Pope wanted to believe him. He wanted to believe that the kid would make all the bullshit he had gone through worth it, but he didn’t dare imagine it. It was too good to be true. He was too broken, too beaten down to make a good father.

“Listen man,” Frankie grunted, and Pope’s keen ears picked up a shuffle in the background that told him Frankie had sat down somewhere. “I’ve got the same blood and shit on my hands that you do. Worse, even, if you consider that mess I got myself into without you. Does that make me a bad dad?”

Pope was already shaking his head. After the mess in Colombia, after Yovanna had decided that he wasn’t worth her time, Pope had come home and settled a few blocks over from where Frankie and his fiancée at the time (now his wife), Charlotte, had settled down. Pope had seen Frankie with his son, Mateo, more times than he could count.

“Frankie—”

“Exactly. And considering where my head was at when Charlie told me she had a bun in the oven, I shoulda been. I could’ve messed that kid up bad…I thought I would, but I didn’t.” Frankie sighed again, and Pope could visualize him scratching at his facial hair. “Santi, bringing that kid into the world is the only thing that’ll make up for all of the shit. Believe me.”

Because it was Frankie, his right-hand man, his best friend, Pope allowed himself to hope. He allowed himself to close his eyes and imagine it. A little baby nestled in his arms, curling up against his chest like he hadn’t killed countless people. Dark eyes looking up at him the way their mother looked at him, with love and kindness, like he didn’t have blood on his hands. A chance to do some good in the world, to bring some light into his life. A chance to raise a kid who could be better than he ever was. Who wouldn’t tear the world down in a storm of bullets and bombs, but maybe, just maybe, build it back up with smiles and love.

Pope choked back a sob. “Frankie, I fucked up.”

“Nah, hermano,” Frankie chuckled. “Your girl loves you. The only way you can fuck up now is if you don’t come home. Then, I’m morally obligated to hunt you down and castrate you.”

Pope chuckled a watery laugh as he climbed back into the cab of his truck. “I’m on my way now.”

“Good, my ass is getting cold from sitting on your front steps,” Frankie laughed.

Pope laughed again, a real laugh this time. “Go home, cabrón.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who has some major ass kissing to do, jackass.”

Pope waited as he could hear Frankie getting into his car. “Seriously, man. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it, bro,” Pope heard Frankie’s car start in the background. “Just fix it.”

“I will.”

“Oh, and I call godfather!”

Pope laughed as he hung up and sped down the road. If he kept on this road and obeyed the speed limit, he could make it home in half an hour. He was determined to make it home in twenty.

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

It may have been the worst parking job Pope had ever done, with half the car parked on the grass, half on the asphalt, the back end blocking most of the sidewalk, and a few inches between his rear, driver’s side tire and the back end of Rebecca’s car, but he didn’t care. The jovial spirit that had overtaken him at the tail-end of his chat with Frankie had vanished as he got closer and closer to home. He needed to see his girl. He needed to make things right.

He waved as the lights on Frankie’s minivan flashed twice before pulling away from the curb across the street, grateful that his friend had stayed until he had gotten home, and jogged up to the front door, quietly unlocking it and stepping into the silent house.

The lights in the living room were off. As Pope stumbled over the jumble of shoes at the front door, he caught sight of the pile of tissues sitting on the coffee table and felt his heart sink and those tears he had been choking back fight their way up his throat again.

A dull light shone from behind the kitchen door, and Pope tentatively approached it, pressing gently at the swinging door to take a peek inside.

When he caught sight of her, his heart shattered inside his chest.

He’d always thought Rebecca was beautiful, from the second he had caught sight of her at the physiotherapy clinic. Drenched in sweat and red-faced, that had been his first impression of her, but her smile and the playful glint in her eyes had bewitched him in an instant.

He’d seen her dressed to the nines, looking like she’d stepped out of one of those fashion magazines that she kept in her bedside table. He’d seen her in sweats after a day of cleaning house. He’d seen her naked as the day she was born, whimpering and moaning as he painted her chest with his cum. She’d always been beautiful. Stunning, gorgeous.

Even now, Pope had to acknowledge the melancholic beauty that surrounded her. The remnants of tears that clung to her eyelashes, the blotchy red patches that stained her skin, the weariness that tugged her whole body down until she was slumped in her seat at the kitchen table, feet propped up in his seat, her phone just barely visible from where he stood, propped up against her bent legs, one elbow laid across her knees while the other arm was bearing the weight of her head, hand cushioned in the sleeve of her oversized white sweater.

“Baby…” he murmured, pushing his way into the kitchen and standing in the low light cast by the lamp in the center of the table.

It took her a moment, but she finally looked up, tears welling back up in her red-rimmed eyes as she gasped out a sob at the very sight of him.

Whatever had been holding Pope up until that point – call it stubbornness, call it pride, call it resolution – dissolved at that sob.

One step.

Two steps.

His knees hit the hardwood floor as he choked out a sob, tears finally spilling down his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he cried as he buried his face into Rebecca’s thighs. “I’m so, so sorry…”

He didn’t know how long he knelt there, tears turning her pale blue jeans dark, pain radiating from his knees, up to his neck and throughout his limbs, voice growing hoarse as he repeated the words again and again and again.

Finally, finally, Pope felt that touch of grace as she slowly, gingerly raised her hand and began to carefully card it through his thick salt-and-pepper curls. Her touch of kindness only served to make him cry harder as he raised his head and gazed upon her tear-stained face.

“I’m so sorry, mi alma,” he rasped, shuffling forward until his forehead was pressed into her lower belly, where the life they had created together was just beginning to grow. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered into the small band of skin that was revealed where her sweater had ridden up.

After what felt like hours, Pope stirred, slowly peeling himself off the floor to stand in front of her. With a hopeful look in his eyes, he extended his hand to her and prayed to a god he wasn’t sure he believed in that she would take it.

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

Rebecca eyed his extended hand suspiciously. Part of her wanted to slap it away, scream at him for the anguish he had put her through the past few hours, and make him sleep on the couch until the baby was born. But the other part of her, the part that could see the tremor in his arms and legs as he stood there and the pleading look in his eyes and the deep lines that were etched in his forehead, that part of her coaxed her into gently unfolding from her curled up position and taking his hand.

Gently, Santiago helped her to her feet and led her out of the kitchen, down the hall and into their bedroom. She stood there in the doorway as he moved around the room, dropping his black t-shirt and dark jeans into the hamper, placing his watch on his nightstand, and plugging his phone into the charger, until he stopped by her side of the bed, tugging the covers down and looking at her with that same pleading gaze.

Slowly, hesitantly, she followed his lead, stripping down to her bra and panties and sliding under the covers that he was holding up for her. In a flash, Santiago slid into his side of the bed and pulled her tightly to him, her back to his chest with one of his hands gently cradling her still flat belly.

As he pressed a gentle kiss to her bare shoulder, she couldn’t help the shuddery, teary gasp of that one word that had been at the forefront of her mind since he had shut the door in her face and locked it behind him: “Why?”

Rebecca heard him sigh, a long, weary breath out that spoke of exhaustion and trauma.

“When you told me…everything just kind of shut down. All I could think of was to protect.”

“Protect who?”

She felt him shrug. “Protect myself. Protect you from me and all my bullshit. Protect the baby from the fuck up they have as a father.”

“Santi…” she whispered mournfully. “You know I don’t—”

“I know,” he interjected before clearing his throat. “It’s just…I’ve done some really bad things in my life, Bex. I’m not a good person,” he continued in a whisper. “You know some of the stuff that I’ve done, but most of it is so classified I doubt I’ll ever be allowed to talk about it. And I don’t want to. I don’t want you to ever hear about it. So, when you told me we were having a baby, my mind just kind of shut down. All I could think of was how many people I’ve killed; how much blood is on my hands.”

He trailed off as a dark silence loomed over the room.

“You scared me…” she finally whispered.

He chuckled darkly as he rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “I scared myself,” he admitted. “I just…I couldn’t imagine how any good could come out of this. I…” he paused, and Rebecca rolled over to face him, watching his Adam’s apple work in his throat. “I don’t deserve to be a dad, Bex.”

She nodded, tears springing to her eyes again at his admittance. She wished he could see what she saw. He was good with kids. So good with them. Watching him with Frankie’s son Mateo was one of the most adorable sights she had ever seen. He would be such a good father. But…she couldn’t force it on him. She knew he had baggage, knew it when she met him, but things had been so good between them that she had hoped they would be okay.

“I…uh, I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to do, Santi,” she murmured, desperately trying to keep the tears out of her voice. “You can be as involved or—”

“Oh baby, no. No, no, shh…” he pulled her into his chest, banding his arms tightly around her back until her head was nestled into his shoulder and his face was buried in her hair. “I’m gonna be better, okay? I swear to god, I’m gonna be better for you and this kid. I called Will on the drive home, and he’s gonna help me find a group to talk to about all this. I can’t promise it won’t happen again but I’m gonna fight as hard as I can to be there for you one hundred percent.” He peeled his face away from her neck and angled himself to look directly into her eyes, their noses almost touching. “I’ll read all the parenting books and go to any and all classes you sign us up for. I’m gonna be there for every appointment. I’ll learn how to give massages if you need me to rub your feet or your back, and I’ll go out for any cravings you might have, even if I have to drive all the way across town at 3 o’clock in the morning.” Tears began pooling in her eyes again, except this time there was a small smile on her face. “When the baby comes, I’ll do whatever you want me to do. You can break my hand if you need to during labor. If you want it to just be us, it’ll just be us. If you want a whole damn camera crew there to document the whole thing, I’ll make it happen.” He pulled her closer and cupped her face in his hands. “I’m gonna get a good job, baby. No more side jobs, no more private sector. I’ll take whatever 9 to 5 I can find to help take care of us. Hell, I’ll take two jobs if you want to be a stay at home mom. Or, if you want, I’ll stay at home with the kid. Whatever you want to do, we’ll do it.”

Finally, Rebecca laughed as happy tears streamed down her face. “You’re rambling, babe.”

Pope laughed too, a happy, relieved sound as he pressed his lips to hers for the first time that evening. “I know, I know,” he whispered, wiping her tears away with his fingertips. “I just need you to know that I’m all in. Whatever you want, whatever you need. Whatever this kid needs. I’m here. I’m gonna be a dick sometimes, and I’m gonna make mistakes, and I’m gonna be so far out of my league between you and this kid, but I’m gonna be here. I swear to god.”

Rebecca giggled, pulling her hand from his chest to play with the grey baby curls at the back of his neck. “That’s all we need,” she whispered as she pulled him closer to plant a sweet, loving kiss on his lips. She pulled back and ran a fond hand over his cheek. “Just promise me, next time this happens, you let me know. Just a word or a gesture or something?”

Pope nodded, ashamed of his actions. He was always the first to go in, guns blazing, no thought to his own safety if it meant protecting his team. But the second he found out about the baby, he had left his most important teammate behind to fend for herself.

“I promise, baby. And I’m so sorry…” he nuzzled into her cheek and pressed a gentle kiss to her dimple.

She smiled at him as she rolled over and rested her head on his bicep. “We’re gonna be okay, babe,” she yawned, her eyes drifting closed after the emotional day she had had.

Pope nestled in behind her, not leaving an inch of space between them. Lying there, happy with the woman he loved in his arms, Pope took a deep breath and allowed himself to drift off, her words echoing in his mind. They would be okay. He’d make sure of it.

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

Tags List: @darksideofclarke, @writefightandflightclub, @eternallyvenus, @rae-rae-patcha

#santiago pope garcia x oc #santiago pope garcia #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #oscar issac #fanfic

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ryttu3k · 4 years ago

Note

could you post the ending where you side with the SI and Julian gets pissed off by your decision? I also noticed that Julian never really introduces himself to anyone or says a simple goodbye to the courier, like, ever. I mean even after ten years or so he just resumes the conversation as if nothing happened. Not even the courier calls him out on this. I wonder why that is lol

Heh, regarding Julian’s conversational patterns, there’s a really interesting post here on friendship degradation mechanisms with ADHD! And Julian absolutely has ADHD.

And for the SI ending, ooh, I haven't got that one written down. I do want it handy for reference, so time for a speedrun with my SI-affiliated Toreador! Here's all the dialogue from the SI attack onwards.

Before you can speak, Lettow jumps up.

"What?" Julian says.

Your phone chimes. You run, throwing yourself out the door just as the missile hits.

Fragments of stone and metal fly over your head. You get clear, reaching your Escalade, and look back at the blown-apart warehouse.

Flames are everywhere. Your Beast screams in wild terror and only the greatest exercise of Willpower keeps you under control, but your body shakes uncontrollably. You have only one clear thought—run! Still, you grit your teeth and force yourself to look around.

Only the vampires survived the blast, and they look badly hurt. Prince Lettow took a direct hit; his clothes hang in tatters, like a shroud, and his skin is blackened. Julian and his helmeted assistant, Z, are burned and stunned. Julian's servants are gone.

Hunters are inbound. You see Bearcats and Humvees, police cruisers and Buick Avenirs. The floodlights turn on, illuminating the burning warehouse and hiding almost a hundred hunters in the glare as they advance.

A bullet zips past your head as a hunter in militia gear opens fire. An FBI agent waves for him to stop—it looks like there are orders for you not to be harmed—but that's hardly a perfect defense. You duck behind the Sprinter van. It might be time to get out of here.

There's just one problem: Julian is standing between you and your Escalade, a karambit in both hands. He spins the little blades.

"You did this," he says. "You betrayed us all."

[The sight of so much fire means that you are now in a fear frenzy and cannot think clearly unless you focus your Willpower or escape.]

> "I tried to warn you! I told you we were monsters, and I told you I would stop you."

Another explosion obliterates the computer shop. Bricks and pieces of rebar rain down.

Julian screams and rushes you, quick as the wind. Then he breaks away before he gets into karambit range. Even as he moves, his silhouette breaks up, becoming a pixelated gray blur as he fades from sight and circles you, looking for a chance to strike.

> I need to talk him down. "You can still escape, Julian. Don't let them kill you here." [CHA/MAN+Persuasion]

"How could you do this?" Julian cries.

"To save people!" you say. "And I'm trying to save you. Run, before it's too late!"

He looks at the raging inferno all around him, the ruins of his project, then back at you. Then he fades away.

That's the last time you see him.

More gunfire arcs around you and hammers the Sprinter van. You duck, then get into your Escalade and get away from the burning warehouse.

So I thought that was it, but hey! Apparently Lettow wanted his say, too!

You slide into heavy traffic, scanning the late-night vehicles for signs of pursuit. No hunters, no cops. Good. You have a moment to think as you scan the streets.

Front, back, left, right. Nothing. If you breathed, you'd be breathing a little easier. You're just turning your thoughts to the next step of this desperate plan when a shadow passes over you.

You look up. Riga.

Then you crane your head out of your window.

Something like Riga, but with a wingspan like a light aircraft.

Lettow is following you, and it looks like he cares more about revenge for your "betrayal" than about preserving the Masquerade.

And here come the hunters: Buick SUVs close in on your location. Others are on a nearby bridge. They're tracking Lettow, trying to get close enough to open fire with rifles or even heavier munitions. You're not sure Donati cares about collateral damage anymore. The SI will blow holes in Tucson to take down its Prince.

This is it, you realize. The Eagle Prince plans to destroy you here and now. But with so many hunters around him, he'll only have one shot at you. If you can buy yourself a few seconds and slip out of his sight, he won't be able to try again.

But how?

> My supernaturally keen eyes will let me spot alleys, vacant lots, and other places where I can hide my SUV from Lettow. [Auspex]

You drive slowly, looking for little-used routes that Lettow won't be able to track from above.

Tucson is a low, flat city, but finally you spot a messy construction site next to a parking garage.

You turn hard, cutting off oncoming traffic and racing into the construction site as Lettow dives for you.

But just as you planned, he has to back off. Tarps cover most of the site, and he'd get tangled if he dove. You keep moving, weaving through narrow alleys, then blowing through a Chevron station—the covering over the pumps prevents Lettow from reaching you easily.

Then you reverse right into an unfinished apartment complex that you saw last week, going straight through the building itself.

And he's lost you.

You roll out with your lights off and look up. Lettow is on a nearby building, scanning the darkness with his golden eyes.

That's when the SI lights him up. Heedless that they're operating in the middle of Tucson, dozens of agents and soldiers open fire with rifles and truck-mounted weapons.

Lettow lurches in midair. But he's still an elder vampire. The huge eagle dives, scythes through a truck full of agents, killing five in a single pass, and then rises into the air, higher, higher, until he and Riga disappear into the clouds.

The last you see of Prince Lettow, he's flying east, away from Tucson, out of his fallen domain.

You disappear into traffic, getting away from the SI as quickly as you can.

An inescapable element of existing as a vampire is ignorance. The Masquerade is a shadow that swallows clarity and understanding. People suspect and imply, but they rarely know for certain.

Your final nights in Tucson are frightening but uninteresting. You check the news, divest from your real estate holdings, and listen to word on the street.

Over the next few nights, during which time the news reports a few strange acts of violence, a terrorist attack, and a zoo escape, you learn that Prince Lettow was almost certainly destroyed. Dove perished in a midday raid on her haven, and nothing remains of the Viper but a gutted heap.

The city's Kindred are scattered and leaderless, easy pickings for hunters that are now free to operate during the day, dragging vampires out of their havens and destroying them.

Despite the chaos in the shadow-world you inhabit, Tucson looks the same. The city's downtown is not ablaze, the national guard hasn't been mobilized. It's just another shadow-war for vampires to fight.

And it's time to leave.

Your plans to escape Tucson run into surprisingly little red tape as you sell your bungalow and liquidate your other assets.

You got what you could out of your deal with the SI, but now it's time to go.

Go where? Tucson never felt like home, but it was, at least, a base of operations. You can't just stick to the road forever; the highways are too dangerous right now, with the SI active and your bridges with the Camarilla burned. You see a few possible futures.

From what you hear, Seattle is a key city for the Camarilla's blood trade. You could head up north and, if you have enough venture capital, try to strike it rich, really establish yourself.

But maybe money isn't everything. Could you work with hunters to stop more Cainite depredations? From what you hear, Dallas/Fort Worth is now completely out of control, with open fighting in the streets among different vampire factions. If the SI trusts you enough, you could return there and try to protect humanity from the predators in their midst.

But you still feel the alien vitae inside of you: the 2100 Formula. You've heard that a scholar of the Blood dwells in Denver, someone who could answer a lot of your questions. With the briefcase full of Julian's Program research, you should be able to make inroads there. The only difficulty will be finding this scholar, and avoiding the hunters who suspect what kind of power you carry in your Blood. If you head for Denver, you'll have to hope that you've left the Masquerade intact enough here that you can reach Colorado without an army of hunters following you.

Finally…maybe you could just try to live a life. You're dead, of course, but you could try existing as a person, if only for a few years. You've heard that San Francisco is a good place for that sort of thing ever since the old Prince left for LA. Maybe you could cultivate your Humanity and try to live, instead of simply exist.

> I drive east to Dallas/Fort Worth. I'll use my Inquisition contacts to fight the vampires there. [Second Inquisition Hostility]

One month later...

Dallas is burning.

Not literally, not really. From your vantage atop this parking garage, you can't see any fires. But you know that the Inquisition has torn through the city, scattered its warring factions, dragged predators screaming into sunlight every day for the past two weeks. You know all this because you've commanded them from the shadows.

You finish your work tonight.

"We're the masters of this city," one of D'Espine's beautiful ghouls says through bloody teeth. "Even if you kill me, we'll always be here. Feeding and taking and ruling from the shadows. We are immortal! We—"

The other hunters have heard enough. They toss him off the roof and head to their van.

You get back in your SUV because your final target is on the move. D'Espine—the last Cainite of any real power in Dallas—has left the Cinderblock.

This is how you've succeeded in Dallas: not just through your network of hunters, but because you know how to move through a city. As the Cainites have crawled into their holes, believing themselves safe, you've never stopped moving, never stopped striking. And now you're almost done.

You roll out of the parking garage and point your Escalade at the Cinderblock. By tomorrow night you'll be done here, and you'll hit the road.

RIP Lettow and Dove. Julian did get out, though!

#vampire the masquerade #vtm night road #vtmnr spoilers #baron of 2100

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 5 years ago

Text

Unbreak my heart, pt. 1/2 (G.D.)

Summary: One fight the night before their wedding ends in tragedy when Y/N steps into oncoming traffic and is hit by a speeding car. She survives, leaving her with a rather big gap in her memory that includes the entire time she’s spent with Grayson. While he’s hoping her memories come back, Y/N isn’t quite as keen on being with a man she sees as a stranger while she struggles to reconnect her past with her present.

Based on the movie The Vow

Warnings: blood, ANGST, talk of death, fluff, sexual references, swearing, alcohol consumption

Word count: 9000

Part 2

“I wish we never met.” The words left his lips so effortlessly, so much that they knocked the very breath from her lungs. She never thought he felt like that, especially after everything they’ve been through. Y/N truly believed Grayson loved her and to hear those words felt like knives to her heart, despite what she had just told him, despite this fight they’ve started.

His eyes widen once his spoken words resonated in his mind, lips parting right after. But he knew it was too late by the bitterly hurt look in her eyes; the same eyes he could never get out of his dreams.

Y/N shook her head at him, swallowing tears with a wince escaping her as if he had physically brought her pain with what he had said. She takes a step back, her body trembling, her heart shaking violently inside her chest, numb to the world and her surroundings...completely unaware she stepped off the sidewalk.

“Y/N, wait!” Grayson noticed that step too far, reaching out to grab her and pull her by his side, wanting talk to her about things he said he truly meant and things he never, ever meant; especially things he never meant in his heart or mind.

But he was too late.

His hand didn’t reach her in time as a car knocked her over and into the windshield and the sound of shattered glass echoed in the half-empty street. Her body rolled over the top, falling with a sickening crack on the road, blood splashing on his face in the process; her blood. The warm droplets had made his mind stop working, the scene before him unwinding in slow motion as the horror sets in.

The sound of her body breaking disintegrating his very soul as his legs bring him toward her motionless figure on instinct.

His hands tremble, his throat choked up. He couldn’t even call out her name from shock, desperate to feel her pulse. That quick, barely palpable pulse on her wrist had given him a splinter of hope, some sort of rope to keep himself afloat.

Grayson fumbles with his own fingers, his vision turning blurry and his focus erratic. It’s as if every time he blinks, he only sees bits and pieces; the blood pooling from her head onto the fresh snow – white being more crimson with each passing second, her unnaturally bent elbow visible through the sweater his mother bought her as her coat remained inside the restaurant they were dining at minutes ago, the large piece of glass stuck in her left thigh, her right hand’s fingers moving in a spasm.

He doesn’t even know how or when, but the next time he blinks, the very fingers that moved in a shock pattern are now intertwined with a different set of fingers - big, beefy ones and with a large ring on the index finger, his fingers he realizes. He’s holding her hand now.

Sounds around him are muffled, his heartbeat and faint screaming being the only thing he hears. The screaming just won’t stop, bringing about a sense of anger and irritation that bubbles to the surface until Grayson is finally able to engage with the world.

He looks around with his bewildered eyes, trying to pinpoint the source, but everyone’s standing in silence, awaiting the ambulance. His throat begins to hurts, turning scratchy and raw. That’s when he realizes the truth - he’s the one that’s been screaming all along.

Closing his eyes, Grayson wishes nothing more than to black out. To trade places with her would be his greatest wish come true. If he could make a deal with God and get him to swap their places, he’d do it in a heartbeat. But his silent prayer goes unanswered as he’s been yanked backward by his shoulders.

Snapping his eyes open, it’s like the world is back into focus and the sounds are deafening, the flashing lights blinding him.

“Step aside sir! We can’t help her if you don’t let go!” A voice of reason forces Grayson to focus, realizing it’s the paramedics that are pulling him away from her, trying to take care of her.

Against the wishes of every cell in his body, every damn atom and molecule, Grayson’s hand opens and his fingers untangle themselves from hers. Her hand remains on the wet concrete, alone and no longer twitching. It’s as if she too had let go and it makes his legs weak, cracking under the pressure of his weight - both physical and the one that’s on his heart, growing by the minute.

“SIR! Were you injured as well?” The paramedic rushes to Grayson, shining a bright light in his eyes as Grayson shakes his head meekly.

“She’s the love of my life. I…I…I can’t...” Grayson’s words are moving, but not what puts him as a priority next to Y/N and the driver who stumbled out of his car to get some help too.

“He’s in shock.” The paramedic turns to the pair working on Y/N, joining them to make it faster.

“Take him with us.” One of them orders as they move Y/N to the gurney in one swift, well-coordinated move.

They strap her body in and move her into the ambulance before the paramedic returns and grabs onto Grayson’s elbow, helping him to his feet. Moving quickly, Grayson is all but pushed into the vehicle and into the seat beside Y/N. He can barely look at the damage done to her once perfect body. She always fought him on that opinion, but he never budged. Now her skin is tainted with blood and dirt, cracked open with tubes and wires and bandages covering more skin than Grayson believed she had. Her beautiful neck is hidden with a neck brace, no longer his to kiss or touch.

“Do you know if she has any allergies?” They ask him, snapping him back to reality once more.

“Ibuprofen. It gives her a rash.” Grayson responds, looking back at the hand that twitched before and the diamond ring that still remained on her finger. She wasn’t a big fan of diamonds, but Grayson always thought an engagement ring should be a diamond. She liked flowers, so he made sure it was a flower-themed ring and the surrounding jewels weren’t those hateful diamonds but sapphire.

“Any chance she could be pregnant?” The question itself makes Grayson stiffen and the ever-growing lump in his throat closes his airway for a split second.

“No.” His answer is unwavering, confident and without a doubt. After all, it’s a part of the reason they fought.

“Any medication she’s currently using?” Grayson shakes his head, looking to his hand only to see it tainted with the blood of the one he holds closest to his heart. His hand is so cold without hers to keep, shaking like they too are scared they won’t ever have peace.

“Name?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” That’s all they ask before the ambulance comes to a stop and they usher her out and toward the emergency room.

Grayson runs after them, unsure how his led legs are even moving let alone running, but he does. His tunnel vision is focused only on the gurney, his mind unable to let her go. However, once she’s passed those double doors, he finds himself held back from her for the second time this night and the only thing he can’t think of is to call his brother.

“Ethan, it’s me...Fuck, it’s bad. Ethan, it’s really fucking bad and I don’t know what to do.” Grayson feels himself crumble, his sanity along with it. He’s got no more strength left in him anymore when the tears push for their release. He just lets them flow, not breaking their trail.

“I messed up and now she...I’m scared she’ll die.” His chest constricts painfully and for the first time in month he felt like he was trying to breathe through a plastic bag and Grayson is forced to grab his inhaler to clear his airway.

Keeping up a conversation with Ethan who clearly already got in his car and started his road to him, Grayson managed to keep his heart beating for a while longer. It strained with each pump of blood in his chest, ached as if it carried toxins instead of oxygen. When he started to cry, there was a rawness to it, like the pain was an open wound and no one in the waiting room was left untouched by his emotion. He clasped onto his knees, his face hidden in the space between his knees and chest, rocking himself as a way to comfort his soul.

There was nothing he could do but wait. Wait and remember what his life became when she took him by the hand.

“Need some help?” Grayson closed the door of his Porsche, stopping for a girl who had her head stuck inside the hood of an old car he wasn’t sure even worked anymore - with or without the help of a mechanic, that thing seemed dead. It’s the last thing he thought he’d be doing on his way to Las Vegas where his brother and friends await, but he couldn’t bring himself to just drive by.

“More like a new car.” The girl giggled, ducking back out for fresh air with a genuine smile on her lips. She faced Grayson and for a moment breathing became difficult. His heart reacted to her like jumping from a cliff head first and he knew then and there he’d always seek that thrill.

“I’m joking, big guy.” She rolled her eyes playfully at the dumbfounded look on Grayson’s face, noticing he froze and struggled to speak. Part of her couldn’t believe it’s her who caused a man like HIM to forget his name, but another felt oddly at ease with the possibility. He looked like a snack and she was sure he’d taste just as well. If she knew her spur of the moment trip to Las Vegas would end with having her cheap rental break down in the middle of the desert only for a hottie like him to show up as her knight in shiny armor, Y/N would have at least dressed up a little better.

“You good?” She stepped closer, her smile turning into a smirk. Grayson took her in, using the proximity as an advantage. He could drown in her beautiful Y/E/C eyes, go blind with her pearly whites flashing him with a smile, but most of all, he was sure he would completely and utterly fall for her with that speck of grease on her left cheek that had reddened in a span of seconds after his staring begun.

“Perfect.” Grayson breathes out. Saying it felt just as right as he ever thought it would. The Psychic twins told him he hadn’t met his soulmate yet, but he’d know when he did for his heart will finally be whole again. It wouldn’t have doubts, his mind would surrender to the heart’s desire and nothing else will matter.

That’s how he feels now.

“I’m gonna call road service then.” She pursed her lips, a little confused with his reactions because there wasn’t a single deduction to be made from his actions.

“Mind if I wait with you?” Grayson walked after her, clicking his car to lock over his shoulder.

“Um, not to be rude, but why? I’m just a stranger.” With a raised brow, Y/N turned to see the handsome man who was too eager to stand in the desert sun with a girl he didn’t even know.

“I’m Grayson Dolan.” He took out his wallet and his ID, showing it to her until she chuckled.

“Not strangers anymore.” He points out, smiling widely until she gives him a short nod in response.

“Guess not. You’re welcome to join me in the scorch.” She gave him the ID back, sitting on the hood of her car with a sigh.

“Oh, I’m Y/N. In case you’re wondering.” She told him, making him facepalm at the realization that he hadn’t asked her about it. She held out her hand for him to shake, feeling the spark once he took it without a second to waste.

“A name to remember.”

“Grayson?” Nudged to reality, Grayson lets his head go free and his hands fall to his stomach. Looking up, he finds his brother and a doctor next to him.

“Y-yeah.” Taking a hand Ethan offered him, Grayson stands up, feeling as if his legs would collapse any moment now.

“Y/N’s out of surgery. We’ve had to do a lot of damage control, but she was very lucky.” The doctor begins to explain, alleviating some of the pain that crushed Grayson into a ball of hurt.

“She suffered major head trauma and although there’s no more bleeding, the swelling is minimal but present. We purposely keep patients with traumatic brain injuries in a comatose state in order to calm their system and allow the brain time to heal itself while the swelling subsides. And then we slowly wean them off it. She might have some neurological difficulties at first, amnesia even. I’m confident the issues can be resolved with time and support. I hope you can provide that.” The doctor’s statement makes Grayson nod vehemently, his hands subconsciously wiping away tears that broke free with the relief.

“We had to remove her spleen as well, readjust her elbow fracture, stitch up the cut on her leg, but everything else looks fine.”

Y/N’s alive. He would have done anything to hear the words. Anything. No matter what the consequence may be, he promised himself he’d stay and fight for her, with her.

“You and me against the world? I like the sound of that.” Grayson whispered against her cheek, pecking her between each and every word. He loved touching her, always, even if it was as innocently as a kiss on her cheek.

“Yeah. I don’t think there’s anything in this world that would make me quit you. I don’t ever want to be away from you.” Y/N nuzzled into the crook of his neck, her cold nose making his chest tighter as his heart jumped with the sudden iciness on his warm skin. But he liked being her human heater, knowing there was always comfort he could provide her.

“I know the feeling. From the moment we met, I just knew. I knew you were mine and I’d be yours until my heart no longer beats and my lungs no longer work. Even dead, my soul would search for you.” Grayson wraps his arms around her, pulling her in, closer; as close as possible.

“Cheesy.” Y/N chuckles, letting him form a protective cocoon around her body. She liked him touching her, even if it was just to embrace her when she’s cold. Even if it was as simple as hooking their pinkies together.

“Only for you.” Grayson’s smile could be heard, not just seen. He craned his neck, enough to peck the tip of her cold nose and brush his against it for friction as friction meant warmth.

Little things, they always mattered more to her than anything else.

Little things, Grayson reminded himself as he tried to keep himself awake by her side. He sat in the uncomfortable chair by her bed, holding her no longer twitching fingers in the palm of his hand for warmth. He’d change sides, making sure both hands were warm and she could feel him. He needed her to know she’s not alone and he’s right beside her as he promised. That he’s waiting. That he’ll always be waiting.

Hours passed and nothing changed. Y/N’s eyes remained closed and her lips still haven’t moved in an effort to speak. She had wires coming in and out her skin, the machines she’s hooked up to are rather loud with their continuous beeping. He thought she might wake by now, if not for him then to rant about how loud those machines are. She always liked her sleep more than anything in the world.

“Gray, if that alarm rings a third time, I swear I’ll smash your phone with a hammer.” She grunted, pushing Grayson blindly with one hand, pulling the duvet over her head with the other.

“You can’t seriously already be pissed,” Grayson mumbled, sighing as he sat up in a daze, looking toward his phone that remained forgotten on the dresser instead of his nightstand.

“It’s not even seven, Grayson!” She replied bitterly, proving just how much mornings annoy her and waking up too early because of an alarm that wasn’t even hers? She was ready to set the house ablaze.

“Yeah, well, you’re missing out on some bomb-ass morning sex here!” Grayson teased, rushing to shut the alarm off when it started up again only to hear her mumble under the blanket.

“You’ll still rock my world at eleven when I know breakfast is waiting!”

Chuckling to himself, Grayson thought he might be going mad. He’s barely slept and his worries for Y/N have played tricks on his mind. He was supposed to be putting on his suit, sweat profusely as he panicked about forgetting his vows. He was supposed to be in a church where their family would wait to see the vision in white she’d be, to wait for her to walk down the aisle as he teared up inevitably.

Today was supposed to be a happy day, not this! Not him being half out of his mind, wondering if his fiancé will ever wake up.

Hours turned into days and days into weeks. Two weeks – that’s how long Grayson waited for them to lower her medication enough for her to wake up. They said it could happen in a few hours or a few days, but one thing he knew, there was no way he’d move until she opened her eyes.

“You know…I’ve been thinking about how insignificant it really is…what we fought about. Nothing really matters to me without you. There are always options we could explore, but this? Not having you roll your eyes at me when I’m saying something as dumb as I did last night, or chuckling when I make a complete fool out of myself to make you smile…this is the worst thing. And I love you. I do. I never regretted meeting you or being with you and I hate myself because that’s the last you’ve heard me say.”

Eyes raw and blind, a warmth weighed on her chest, her lungs buttery soft. How soft and meaningless everything seemed now. Without reins, without direction, she felt like a ghost. But his voice was silver, a flame of white and frost. Her body wanted to follow, but something else got involved. A searing pain gripped her throat, ripped her from the light she so desperately craved and wrenched her back into the distortion of an eternal night. Her mind turned as she struggled to move forward, her soul still bound to her body as long as she’s alive. She could only ever listen in the past hours, but now? She couldn’t wait to properly pull on her heavy eyelids and see who this silver flame belonged to.

Almost instantly, Grayson noticed her eyelids fluttering. He noticed the slight spike in her previously steady heartbeat and her fingers began twitching in his hand.

“Y/N, love? It’s okay, I’m here. I’m with you.” Grayson’s voice is shaky, undeniably mirroring his chest as it fought a sob from forming. He couldn’t cry now. He couldn’t worry her now. She needed to see he didn’t give up on her and that he’d be there – holding her hand, just as she held his.

But nothing could prepare Grayson for the moment Y/N truly opened her eyes and looked at him without any emotion, void of all he loved about her eyes. In fact, he could have sworn she looked fearful in her confusion.

“Y/N? Babe, are you in pain? Should I get the doctor?”

Her chest became a little tighter, breathing more difficult and she craved solitude and familiarity. But when she spoke, that’s when he felt his heart split into two.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

Outside, looking in. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling for Grayson. He watched his fiancé interact with her parents and doctors. She was warm with them. She touched them. She let them touch her.

When she’d look at Grayson and Ethan, there was nothing there but mild curiosity and slight awkwardness. She didn’t seem to recognize him, truly. She was court with him, but nothing more than that. Hell, she was warmer, charming, and more open the day they met for the first time than now and Grayson couldn’t pretend he wasn’t hurt by it. She didn’t touch him. She’d retract when he tried to touch her. He felt like he’s the one harming her now. He felt like a complete stranger before her and the feeling left him desolate.

“Not gonna lie, if it sucks this much for me, I can’t even imagine how you feel,” Ethan spoke, saddened when his partner in crime didn’t go for their usual greeting upon seeing him. She politely introduced herself and asked if he was important to her. Ethan laughed at her question. He genuinely laughed for he assumed it was an elaborate prank to get back at him for bringing a stripper to Grayson’s bachelor party. Shaking his head before leaving, hoping to hide a few tears that slipped past his defenses, Ethan left the room and hasn’t been back inside since. In many ways, she was his best friend and now? She would forget him without sparing him a second glance.

“What am I supposed to think about this, E? She happens to forget the past three years and up to a month before she met me? She forgot every moment of her life where I mattered. It feels like her brain just erased me.” Grayson dragged his palm across his face, unaware of the lost girl who stole a glance at the disheveled, sad-looking man she woke up to. She remembers him as the silvery voice, the man who brought her to the light. But that’s all she can remember and it frustrates her beyond belief.

And he wasn’t the only one she seemed to have lost. At least ten other people she saw in the past few hours have all been strangers to her. Strangers who know her, care for her, even love her. She was scared of those who loved her, unable to deal with the intensity of their emotions. How is she supposed to just sit there and smile when she had no emotional attachment to any of them at all?

Emotions are created with memories. What are we if not a reflection of all we’ve lived and felt? Of all those little moments and big moments that we reminisce about as time passes? Doesn’t it take the very essence of who someone is? That’s what Y/N questioned as she looked back at the man who was meant to be her fiancé. Wasn’t he supposed to be a part of who she is? The very part she no longer possesses? Who is he to become without the support of who she was for him?

“I think you need to give her time. Take her home when the time is right and until then…just be the guy she fell in love with. Bring pictures, dig around for that diary she’s been writing, movies you’ve seen together. Talk to her like you did when you met her. Use whatever you did to win her over again – just until she remembers. Although, if I were you, I’d pray she doesn’t remember that fight.” Ethan patted Grayson’s shoulder, leaving him for he too was desperate and heavy and he too needed to rest his mind and body.

“Pictures…movies…sure…as if I know why the fuck she ever decided to love me. Easy….FUCK.”

“Hey.” Grayson walked into the guest bedroom with a small smile on his face, hoping his charm would work and she’d feel more at ease. While he can’t help but admit it hurt him terribly, he agreed with Y/N and her request to take the guest bedroom for now. She didn’t feel comfortable sharing a bed with him and he had to respect that. While he knew her for years, she only knew him for a month.

“I brought you some clothes.” He placed the folded clothes on her bed – her favorite sweats and her favorite hoodie he owned. She loved to take his hoodies, as cliché as it seems. But when no amount of pictures and videos or movies help your fiancé get her memories back and a month has passed, a man turns desperate enough to give his hoodies instead of teasing her when she steals them.

“Why do you always steal my hoodies? We live together? I don’t mind!” Grayson laughed as she pulled at the cotton fabric he tried to hold onto while she wanted to rip it from his hands.

“It’s just not the same! Okay? Feels much comfier when I steal it from you!”

“Oh? Thanks.” She plastered on a smile on her lips as well, trying not to make things more awkward than they already are. She tried to remember him. She really did. She hoped she’d manage to pull at any memory from the past three years, but she got nothing in return but a horrible headache in return and that discouraged her from trying as much.

When she first realized her condition, especially that her family didn’t seem too fond of Grayson, Y/N wondered why the hell she remained with him. When the doctor told her to go back to her normal life, she thought of college and Archer and her old, very pink room. But when Grayson reminded everyone her normal life and routine was with him, she had to agree to give it a try. The doctors told her that in time, her memory would improve.

But then she’d look at this huge hunk of a man and wonder why he wanted her. She’d wonder what happened for her to be with someone who seemed to be a celebrity of sorts – a man who was not only famous and rich, but incredibly handsome and charming. Yet, she didn’t see the connection they could have made. Sure, she never wanted for anything in her life, but when she was old enough to understand the concept of money, she always hoped to make her own way in the world. But a part of her didn’t understand why she ended up dating a man who looked fit for models instead of college students. And then she’d remember she’s no longer a college student. She’s no longer dating Archer Bradford and she’s no longer living in a dorm in New York City.

“I’m kind of hungry.” She pressed her lips together as his smile grew, beckoning her to stand up and follow him.

“I can fix that.” The moment she walked into the kitchen, she felt overwhelmed by the smell of food Grayson clearly prepared beforehand. And judging by the way her eyes widened at the sight of a pot roast, Grayson knew her favorite meal certainly didn’t change.

“My mom made this for you. She remembered it’s your favorite.” Grayson smirked at her, giving her a full plate. It took a lot of convincing to stop his mother or siblings or any of their friends from organizing a party for her. After all, she didn’t remember them now and to bring her into a house she can’t remember with a dozen strangers all crying and hugging her? Grayson knew better than that.

“So, can I run a few things by you? I’ve committed some of them to memory.” Once he gave her a nod of approval, Y/N started with questions. Some of the things she knew, some she assumed.

“We were supposed to get married the day after I had the accident?” She questioned and his smile fell.

“Yeah. Had the dress and tux, a venue…the whole thing. I even wrote my vows.” Grayson swallowed thickly, feeling the vows he had written burn a hole in his wallet. He hid them behind her picture, the one Ethan took when she agreed to marry his brother.

“And I’m a nurse practitioner, right?” However, his silence made her frown.

“I didn’t get my nursing degree?!” She exclaimed, upset over the fact. She had promised her parents she’ll get her nursing degree first and then, once she got a proper scholarship, she’d aim higher – for a medical degree but one that wasn’t paid by them.

“You had a few classes left before you decided to travel the world with me. You said you needed more adventure in your life, a new perspective after you cut ties with your old life and you left everything behind for a year abroad with me and Ethan. You worked as our assistant because you didn’t want to feel like a financial burden.” Grayson filled her in, but she didn’t understand. She couldn’t understand how the responsible person she feels she is, could have ever walked away from education to follow a hot guy around the world.

“Oh.” She fell silent after that, eating the food before retreating to her room. Each person is a summary of all their memories – but what happens when those memories are gone and you’re lost?

“She’s still not remembering anything?” Ethan asked, getting a backhanded slap on his shoulder from Cameron.

“Look, it’s a win. She doesn’t remember the reason why she was in that accident or that you two probably would have broken up. I’m just worried that she might not fall back in love with you again.” She stated, raising her arms in mock surrender when both brothers decided to glare daggers her way.

“What? It’s true! I have no fucking clue how you won her over the first time and this was like…years ago. You’re not getting any younger or cuter, bro. Just saying.” Cameron took a shot, downing the negativity with the burning liquor, seeing Grayson is seriously losing hope.

“She brought a cat home the other day. She left to register for college again, and she brought a cat home.” Grayson let his head fall on the bar, groaning. “Do you know how it felt to see the light in her eyes die when I told her I was allergic and she couldn’t keep it?”

“Broooo”, Ethan slapped his back. “Wake up and stop feeling fucking sorry for yourself. Just…stop trying so fucking hard and be yourself. She’ll love you again.”

“What if she never remembers me?” Grayson retorted, genuine fear laced in his voice. It feels as if he had already lost her and a big part of him believes he doesn’t deserve to have her back. He doesn’t think he should be with someone as amazing as she is…not when he had brought this all upon them. He had done this to her and the guilt of his words and actions that night…that’s going to destroy him.

“She’s going to remember you. She’ll remember all of us. We’re her family.”

Grayson nodded, looking down at the bottom of his glass, hoping this amnesia thing doesn’t last. But if it does, he was aware it was karmic justice. He had the world, the rarest of loves, he lost it all in a single night of careless anger. He always had issues controlling his anger and the things he’d do or as when his temper flared up. Grayson knew early on his blinding rage had to be bound by something – it’s when he started waking up early, doing yoga or boxing, sometimes when he felt himself on edge, he’d train twice a day to get the excess energy out, making himself a calm port for not only her, but himself.

But that night emotions were running high despite it all, call it wedding jitters, but Grayson was on edge and he let his mouth run wild and it cost him everything. He had a lot more to work on in hopes of controlling his temper.

“Why don’t my parents like you?” She broke the silence between them, her eyebrows furrowed as she pulled the sleeves of her jumper over her hands. She didn’t wear his hoodie…any of them. Not in front of him.

“You told me they think I’m not worthy of you. Your father said YouTube isn’t a real job and your mother said I look like a cheater.” Grayson shrugged. “I never cheated on you, though.” He added for good measure. “To be honest, we never even met. You said the only time I’d see them is when we get married and that was supposed to be…you know.”

Chewing on her lower lip, her frown deepened. She was always daddy’s little princess and mommy’s smart little girl, so what changed?

“But I must have been on bad terms with them? I can’t believe I haven’t seen my parents in years.”

“You told me they had very different views on your life choices and that you stopped talking to them a few weeks before you met me. You also moved to New York full time and broke it off with your boyfriend who seemed to have the seal of parental approval.” Casually, Grayson let himself put an arm around her. He felt her tense immediately, retracting it upon the knowledge that his touch was unwanted.

“I left Archer? But why fuck would I do that? That’s blurry for me too. And now I’m here in this strange house with a man I barely know who looks at me like I’m why the stars shine and I can’t for the life of me figure out how I got here!” She shouted in frustration, hiding her face in her hands when she suddenly heard a sound – her voice.

“Gray-bear! I’m running a little late tonight, but when I get home I want my vitamin G, okay? I want to eat that delicious dinner you’ve made for me and I want to eat dessert of your body.”

“Wow, that was…graphic.” She turned to Grayson, wiping a stray tear off her cheek, chuckling in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry. I just…I wanted to show you that you and I weren’t together on a fucking whim.” Grayson tossed his phone aside, the voicemail cut off in the middle, hiding the really graphic part of it. He felt like her calling him a stranger had opened a new wound on his heart, making sure he’s not ever going to heal properly.

Y/N knew she wasn’t with him on a whim. She was never casual with her heart, giving it rarely but with good cause. It means she had trusted him, completely. She didn’t doubt that nor that she once loved him. In fact, she harbored a crush on him even now, but everything in her life felt like a mess – a big mess of tangled feelings and big gaps in her memory that confused her and she couldn’t find a way around that. But then she smiled softly, looking at the phone with teary eyes. “No, it’s okay. I sound…happy.”

Nodding, Grayson’s hand moved closer to hers, stopping just inches short of actual touch. He wanted to hold her hand and help her get through this, but he couldn’t. As she said it, he was still just a stranger to her.

Holding nothing but a towel, Y/N set her sights on the beautiful, expensive-looking shower in the main bathroom. She’s been enjoying the bathtub in the guest bathroom, but she missed the shower…and the showerhead.

The moment she walked into the bathroom, Y/N knew it would be a mistake. The steam was her first red flag, lights on the second. She wanted to look away, to walk out and pretend nothing is happening, but she couldn’t. It’s like looking at a sculpture, art, and she loved art. Her eyes widen as she tilts her head slightly to the left, looking over a naked Grayson and his many, many tattoos – especially the one he had on his collarbone – a swallow tattoo, the one she always wanted to get.

“Jesus, Y/N!” Grayson nearly slipped in his fright, his hand flying to his chest instead of his dick and while she’d love to say she looked away and left him alone, Y/N couldn’t help her wandering gaze as she took him in – all of him…and there was a lot to see.

“Fuck, is everything okay?” Grayson rushed out of the shower, his worried face reflecting his inner turmoil.

Y/N found herself dumbfounded, unable to understand why is this man walking around so casually without covering himself up…and then it hit her – it wasn’t the first time she had seen him naked, not for him.

Cupping her face, Grayson angled it left to right to get a proper look, his eyes set ablaze with an undeniable ache in his chest when she not only relaxed in his arms but also accepted his touch. He had become far too acquainted with her refusal that his heart didn’t know how to brave the thunders that shot electricity from his chest throughout his body.

“You look really flushed and you’re…in a towel?” Grayson’s brain finally caught up, his brown eyes widening as she chuckled at him.

“I’m just enjoying the view.” For a moment there, Grayson could have sworn it was Y/N – his Y/N and not the girl who couldn’t even remember his middle name.

“What’s your middle name?” She asked sweetly, wanting to add that to her tiny little file on people she forgot existed. She wanted a cheat sheet to remember all the details she lost and Grayson was the biggest detail of them all.

“Not gonna tell you. That’s a little something I’ll keep for myself because when you do remember me, you’ll tell me yourself. It’s how I’ll know you got your memories back.” Grayson smiled at her narrowed eyes, knowing the curiosity is killing her.

“What makes you think I won’t ask someone else or find your documents?” She remarked, raising her eyebrows with a smirk.

“You won’t because you will want to know your memories are real when they return. My middle name will be a signal.”

“And I’d love to enjoy it too, but I don’t know if this is right.” Grayson sighed heavily as she placed her left palm on his right shoulder, her thumb grazing the swallow tattoo wistfully.

“I’m why you have this. Right?” Nodding, Grayson singlehandedly confirmed her suspicion and she sighed too, adding weight to her already heavy heart. If she cared for him enough to tell him about the meaning of the swallow, then she truly must have loved him. And he didn’t know of the turmoil inside her head when he spoke softly, his voice tender and sweet, an airy touch of emotions she felt in her very soul.

‘’You said a swallow represents soulmates, that for you – birds fly away, but in the end, after their travel, they always make their way back to each other….people who are meant to be, always find their way to each other. You have one on the back of your neck too."

Tapping his shoulder, Y/N averted her eyes to the ground for a split moment, forgetting Grayson is still naked and oddly enough, she didn’t feel like she wanted him to take his hands off her. She wanted him to use them to look more closely at her, help her remember him better.

“Your penis is excited to see me.” She stated, noticing his member brushing against her towel, embarrassing Grayson enough to take a step back and grab a towel.

“This never happened.” He mumbled as he ran past her, unaware of her running after him, screaming, “HE JUST WANTED TO SAY HI!!”

By the time she was done with her shower and curled up in her favorite hoodie…Grayson’s hoodie, Grayson had gotten over his embarrassment and he was more than ready to get going. He had stopped in his tracks when he noticed her wear his orange hoodie, his heart nearly stopping from the oncoming tidal wave of undescribed emotion. It was a small win, but meaningful for him.

“You do realize you don’t have to babysit me all the time, right? I’m not going to just…vanish into thin air. You have a life too and I’m sure staring at me was only a part-time gig before all of this.” She spoke with resolution, certain she didn’t want Grayson skipping out on work anymore. She was very well aware he and his brother owned a production company on one hand and a few gyms on the other – one for men and one for women, and his pride – a gym for disabled, or generally people in need of medical rehabilitation. It’s a little something Y/N had been visiting three times a week as well since she left the hospital.

“You say that, but every time I walk out that door, I’m worried you’ll be gone when I come back.” Grayson didn’t mean to sound so much like a kidnapper who was interested in keeping her under lock and key, but he did fear she’d use the chance to disappear on him. He needed a shot at getting his girl back and it was abundantly clear that if she left their home, he’d lose her for good.

“I can promise I’ll be here today. Is that good enough?” And Grayson knew she’d never break a promise, shedding a little bit of weight off his heart. At least for the day.

Pecking her temple on instinct, he smiled when she didn’t pull away instantly. She gave him a look of slight confusion, but that’s all. In his mind, that was seen as progress.

“I’m just uh…going to see my parents today. Thought you should know.” She warned him and for some reason even he couldn’t fathom, his stomach turned to knots and he felt nauseous.

“Want me to drive you?” He offered, his mouth a little dry as his mind keeps telling him that she’s making a mistake, but he always wanted her to reunite with her folks and he couldn’t stand in her way now when they too got a clean slate and a chance at redemption.

“I’ll get a cab or something. No need. I’ll call you if I need you, ‘kay?” She craned her neck up, completely unaware of what she’s doing until her lips press against his jawline and her mind just blanks.

“Why did I just do that?” She covers her mouth in horror, wanting to both cry and scream at herself for being so free with someone she still had some doubts about.

“Muscle memory. You did that every time I had to leave.” Grayson explained, his lips twitching as he tried to keep a smile at bay. He had seen a few glimpses of her in the past few hours and Grayson couldn’t be happier…but Y/N? She couldn’t be more scared.

“Why the club?” Y/N groaned at her mother like a child, sending dirty looks to every old man who dares to check her out. She never liked the club her family belonged to. Y/N never like a lot of things her family did or believed in, but she never disliked it to the point of wanting to jump out of her skin like she did now. Something wasn’t right and a part of her thought back to that morning when Grayson called it muscle memory…she couldn’t help but think there was a reason why she felt so uneasy here.

“Because that Gayton couldn’t follow us here. He’s not a member. Besides, someone wanted to see you.” Before she even had a chance to question any of it or correct her mother on Grayson’s name, Y/N saw him.

He had tousled dark brown hair which was thick and lustrous. His face was strong and defined, his features molded from granite. He had dark eyebrows, which sloped downwards in a serious expression, framing his eyes. He has the most wonderful eyes – they are blue, mostly, but darken to grey in correspondence to his mood. He seldom smiles with his lips, but it is his eyes that shine instead, and it is this radiance that makes every man and woman who see it feel the irresistible impulse to smile, too. But his usually playful smile had drawn into a hard line across his face as he downed a glass of whiskey in a single sip.

“Why is Archer here, mom?” Y/N spoke, breathless and out of touch with reality. All she could see is the man she was supposed to marry, the guy who promised her the stars, who held her hand since she knew what hand-holding is. He was her first love, first kiss, and first time. He was the guy she would have sworn by, depended on, held close to. He was supposed to be her forever and while she pushed him to the back of her mind in the past few months, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder what could have happened for her to leave Archer behind.

“He’s always here in the afternoon. You know, he became a lawyer.” Her mother gave her a gentle push, Y/N’s heel clicking against the marble floors, attracting attention in the lounge usually occupied by men at this time – his attention most of all.

“Y/N?!”

Not blinking, or breathing, or moving, Y/N just stared at her once upon a time with guilt in her heart. She felt it gnaw on her insides, Grayson’s words about his fear of her leaving him haunting her.

“I didn’t expect to…What are you doing here?” Archer walked closer, his smile back on and his charm evidently turning her cheeks darker. She didn’t know what to say or do, especially since she still had no clue on what happened between them.

“I heard you were out, but I didn’t want to intrude. I’m so happy to see you.” Without holding back, Archer wrapped his arms around Y/N, tightly enough to provoke her ribs into aching despite them being healed now. At her yelp, Archer quickly lets go, apologizing.

While her mother had disappeared into thin air and left her a text about having to leave early, Y/N remained in the club with Archer a lot longer than she anticipated. She forgot how easy it was to get lost in Archer and his world, just how well he understood her and how good of a fit they truly are. She forgot how his touch made her heart jump and how his chuckle made her laugh because out of all possible character flaws he could have had, Archer managed to get a horrible, cartoon-like laugh.

“Today was great, but I really should get going.” Y/N stood up abruptly once she realized just how late she stayed, hoping Grayson didn’t come home on time to find her promise broken. She truly lost track of time and while she’d like to tell herself it was all innocent and just old friends catching up, she couldn’t lie. Her body had aged, but her mind still only knew of the love and devotion she held for Archer. While she had become accustomed to Grayson, grew to like him and enjoy his company, she certainly never forgot that her first love was out there, somewhere. Being with Archer had impacted her more than she’d like to admit.

“Do you need a ride home?” And that was a mistake, she knew it. She found herself agreeing to his offer without a second thought, forgetting that her home was in New York City with her handsome fiancé she felt an undeniable attraction to.

But she spent that day wishing she could have some courage to ask Archer why they ended things, to learn of that part of her past she couldn’t untangle in her mind. She needed answers and he had them, but asking him? Saying the words and actually hearing his response? She didn’t know if she was that brave.

Sitting in the car in front of her home, Y/N didn’t gather the courage she needed. She couldn’t handle the truth just yet and while she hated herself for being so cowardly, she felt a lot worse about her personality when she noticed Grayson walk out of their home, bewildered and teary-eyed, stopping in front of their front door instead of making a scene. Y/N was thankful for that.

“I should really go.” Y/N said sweetly, her eyes taking one good look at Archer before turning to leave, finding Archer’s hand grabbing hers.

“Call me. I’d really like to see you again.”

Nodding, Y/N smiled at him before getting out of his fancy car, waving at him as he drove down the street.

“I’m really sorry I was late. My mum had abandoned me at the club and I ran into Archer and he offered me a ride.” She didn’t tell him about spending the day with him. She didn’t want to burden Grayson with her what-ifs and she definitely didn’t want to hurt him. Looking into the murky waters his brown eyes turned into, it felt like she already did. She’s been hurting him for a while now and she realized that months have passed and her memories aren’t getting any better. In fact, she believed they would never return and she was doomed to live a cycle where she keeps breaking Grayson’s heart over and over again.

Reluctantly, Y/N stood on her tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss on Grayson’s jawline. Unmoving, he stared at her, his heart feeling like it would explode. A part of him knows she’s only doing it because she sees the pain in his eyes. He knows it meant nothing at all to her, but it meant the world to him, despite the motivation. She’s doing it to distract him from the fact that her ex-boyfriend had driven her home.

“I just wanted to know how it feels to do that when I’m in control of my mind.” She whispered, her hand resting on his cheek gently, remaining there for a few seconds as she walked inside, heavier than she was when she left the house earlier that day.

“What movie do I put on?” Grayson mumbled, still phased and still hurt and still so damn in love with her even if he felt her slip away. He’s not a fool. If anything, Grayson could read her better now when she didn’t know he knew her tells. She was an open book and while he saw tremendous progress between them, it wasn’t fooling him.

He had heard of Archer and their relationship quite extensively, but she kept the reason of their break up to herself. She kept it hidden from him, claiming it was about her turning a new page in her life, but Grayson knew better. He was aware what he meant to her and he knew she was still stuck at a time where she loved him dearly and Grayson was just the skipping stone they needed to send down the river. That’s why he wished he knew why she broke things off…for a connection that big, something bad must have happened for them to end things and if it worked the first time around, he was sure it would work again.

“Not sure. Maybe something scary?” Y/N sat in her corner of the couch, her legs tucked to her chest as she watched Grayson intently. Friday night was always movie night, before and after the accident. She enjoyed those nights filled with laughter and casual touches that would leave her tingling for hours. She loved to watch him as he immersed himself in the movie and she immersed herself in him.

Something felt different that night – a change was on the horizon and Y/N knew what she must do. Grayson Dolan is undoubtedly a beautiful man with a good soul and she could understand why she fell in love with him in the first place. But, Y/N was haunted by memories she did remember, more than those she forgot. She had a need to solve problems she did once before and Grayson would only stand in her way. He’d only get hurt worse and longer and she couldn’t do that to him anymore. She cared too much to dim his light any longer. She not only cared…she found that she maybe did love him after all, enough to let him go.

After Grayson fell asleep, Y/N had covered him with her blanket, tucking him in before leaving a lingering kiss on his forehead. Yes, he slept with his mouth open and yes, he drooled and yes, he snored, but Y/N found it inexplicably hard to walk away from him. She felt every cell in her body demand her to stay and see things through. She found herself fighting off sobs that threatened to sound so loudly in such a devastating way and she couldn’t understand why. She knew it might be a part of her that loved him that fought her on her decision, but Y/N had to leave.

“I can love you and still let you go.” She whispered to herself, closing her eyes.

She had to let him go before she damaged him any further. With a whisper, she left him sleeping on the sofa.

“Goodbye…my almost lover.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ~ * ~ * ~ *

Tags: @dolandolll @beinscorpio @godlydolans @peacedolantwins @dolanstwintuesday @heyits-claire

#grayson dolan #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan angst #dolan twins #ethan dolan #cameron dolan #grayson dolan fluff #grayson dolan au #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan x you #grayson dolan x y/n

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pocket-clown · 5 years ago

Text

A Mutual Confession | Arthur Fleck x reader // pure fluff

// original request: Hi!!! I have request that Arthur and Reader met before when he was younger and they fall in love but don’t say that to each other and she needs to move from Gotham. When she came back, they met again for accident and they say everything to theirself!!! This will be pleasure to read! Thank you!!! 😇🥰

Thank you, @pomozmi-zamknacoczy for the request! and I cannot stress it enough how appreciative I am of your patience. This took me much longer than it should’ve to get done, and I cannot thank everyone enough for being patient with me. I’m sorry for the recent lack of content.

Summary: Regardless of how long you spent thinking it wouldn’t happen, a move back to Gotham was inevitable. An onslaught of new employees at your place of work led to hours being cut and positions lost, and so you needed to take a transfer back to Gotham save your only means of income, and had it not been for the meager hope that Arthur was still somewhere in the city, you would’ve lacked much drive at all to return. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they’ve always said - so when you manage to accidentally run into him on the street one day, within the following days you waste no time in making your feelings known.

Words: 5,458

Eight days had passed since you ran into Arthur, and each day that passed without him felt excruciating.

You were only a week into the third month of your move back to Gotham, and readjusting was hard. What was once the city that you used to consider something akin to home had changed so much that you couldn’t help but bemusedly wonder if you should consider yourself a total newcomer to it, as opposed to someone who was returning after some time away. Sections of the city had been so affected by the economic unrest that they were left almost unrecognizable because of it; with the ongoing garbage strike that resulted in piles of trash littering the streets, how many of the shops and markets you used to frequent had closed down, and the frequency at which you were awoken almost nightly by a cacophony of gunshots, shouting, and sirens, it was almost as if you were in an entirely different environment than the one you had grown up in.

Your move from Gotham all those years ago was majorly due to this impending decline; opportunity had risen elsewhere, and your family had been so desperate to escape Gotham’s downward spiral that they seized it the second it reared its head, and you were given less than a week to prepare for the move. Said week was spent packing your belongings and tying up any loose ends with school and work, but the inconveniences of that paled in comparison to how much it hurt having to say goodbye to Arthur. It was a hasty and melancholic goodbye, and since your last words spoken to him had you sworn to yourself that you’d return to Gotham someday - though the more you heard about how poorly it was doing and then actually experiencing it yourself, the more you almost began to doubt that decision.

Soon, though, did you realize that had it not been for making the very decision you were beginning to regret, then you would’ve missed the opportunity at reconnecting with Arthur.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they’ve always said - and in your time away from the city did you grow to miss him and his presence more and more, and the hollow they once filled now had an ache that grew as time went on and you were left without any sort of contact with him. He’d been your only legitimate friend all those years ago, and dare you say that you had developed a crush on the older man. The slight age gap meant very little to you as he’d never been anything but kind to you in all the time that you’d known him, and the warmth of his presence alone had made you feel safe and at home in a city that was, more often than not, the exact opposite. He made you feel like you had a place - and that feeling was hard to come by in the world, especially in a city such as Gotham.

A portion of your younger years with him had been spent sharing your hopes, dreams, fears, and desires for the future with each other; both of you working on figuring out just where your respective places in the world were, and Arthur had let you in on his belief that he was destined for a life outside of Gotham, far away in sunny California. While whatever it was in California that Arthur longed for you were unsure of, you knew that it had to be better than what even the best of Gotham had to offer, and so you had encouraged him to chase his faraway dreams - but deep down, then and now, you knew it wasn’t really realistic. Money had always, always been tight for him and his mother (and, really, everyone in Gotham), and so you knew that the probability of him still being in the city was much higher than it was for anything else.

- And, as guilty as it made you feel to admit, part of you hoped that he never left. Had it not been for the meager hope that you may run into him one day, you might’ve just rolled up into a ball and died by the second week of being back.

Initially, your return to Gotham was greeted with nothing but the cold apathy that the city was infamous for, and very quickly did what little liveliness you had left in you get beaten into the ground. Not only were you fed up with how rude people were, but as time went on, your mind became far too preoccupied with matters regarding work and other responsibilities to have room for much else, and in that did Arthur go from dominating the majority of your attention to dwindling to only fleeting thoughts that came late at night when trying to fall asleep, or when something reminded you of him in one way or another. It was a reality that you hated to accept given the fact that the thought of his name alone brought so much comfort to you - but you knew that the chances of ever running into him were one in a literal ten million.

In a way, you felt pathetic because of how much you hoped - how much you almost expected - to just coincidentally run into him one day, and by the beginning of the third month that hope began to falter, and soon you began trying to forget about the whole thing.

Or, you tried to forget about it until it actually happened one evening while you were on your way home from an appointment.

You had been so preoccupied with fiddling with the zipper of your jacket that you failed to realize how quickly you were approaching a crosswalk, and had it not been for a stranger literally sticking their arm out in front of you to stop you, you would’ve walked right into the oncoming traffic.

It was an action that initially scared you, and at first you thought that someone was trying to get handsy with you or mug you - but when you heard the blaring of a car horn and your eyes looked up to meet those of the angry driver as they sped off did you realize what had happened, and immediately you felt the heat of shame fill you, embarrassed of how oblivious you had been.

Though it took you a moment to regain yourself, once you turned your attention to the stranger to thank them did you realize that they weren’t actually a stranger; the beige hoodie that hung from him, the way his dark eyebrows were knit with concern, and how he uneasy he seemed under your gaze - it hit you like that taxi would’ve, had it not been for him.

“Wait - Arthur?”

Rather than give any sort of answer or confirm your inquiry, he instead opted to stare at you; his eyes unblinking as you could almost see the gears turning in his head as he tried to decipher what exactly it was that was going on, evidently confused by how someone on the street knew his name.

“It’s me - Y/N. You know, from…?” You gestured vaguely as you spoke, hoping you’d be able to prompt any sort of recollection that may help him remember. You also hoped that you weren’t making a fool out of yourself by talking to a complete stranger and assuming that they knew who you were, based solely on the fact they just so happened to look exactly like an aged version of your friend from long ago.

Though it took a moment for what you said to sink in, like a light bulb switching on did you see his eyes brighten, the smile that slowly spread across his face lighting up his fatigued features. “Yeah - Yes! It’s been -”

“Way too long - like seven years, I think?”

The conversation began to flow so easily from there that It felt as if you had never even left in the first place. As you walked with him, with what time you had before your eventual split up did you catch each other up on any and all happenings in your lives that were worth mentioning; you learned that he still lived with his mother (something he admitted quite sheepishly, though you were quick to assure him that if anything, it was sweet that he made that sacrifice to take care of her), and you told him about how the entire reason you were even back in Gotham was because of a mess at your old job, needing to take a transfer or else you’d risk losing your only means of income - choosing to omit the part about how half of why you came back was based on the hope that you’d find him again.

Each time he spoke your name, each time your arm accidentally brushed against his, each and every little action from him - the more the two of you spoke, the more did those feelings that had been lying dormant for all those years wake up; how happy even just hearing his voice made you, the way his occasional, brief glances at you made it feel as if someone set fireworks off inside of you, how your heart skipped a beat each and every time he said your name, how good it felt to hear him laugh - you’d forgotten how at peace he made you feel.

Not only that, but you’d forgotten how much you loved him.

The realization of your feelings was one that flustered you enough that you almost tripped over a bump in the sidewalk, though luckily you were able to catch yourself and brush off Arthur’s concern with an awkward laugh of “Oh, looks like I almost fell for you, haha!”, a statement you immediately regret due to how unintentionally bold it was. Fortunately though, his concern regarding your stumble seemed to keep him distracted from how flirtatious your statement was, and the incident was forgotten within a matter of seconds, after he asked you once more if you were sure you were okay.

It wasn’t until you were about halfway to your apartment that Arthur pulled out a pack of cigarettes, signaling that your chat would be coming to an end soon as the two of you needed to go your separate ways. You used to always chastise him - playfully, of course - for his habit of smoking, and the fact that even all these years later he remembered your dislike of it and so waited until you wouldn’t be near to smoke made your heart melt. He’d always been one of the most considerate people you’d ever known, always putting the comfort of you or his mother over that of his own and while it was a fact that while broke your heart, it warmed the broken pieces nonetheless.

You had to insist about four times that it wasn’t necessary for him to walk you all the way back to your apartment (an offer that hurt to refuse, given that you wanted nothing more to spend every second possible with him), and as the two of you were about to say your goodbyes did you remember that you had stuffed a scrap of receipt in your pocket days ago. With what was most likely all of the luck that you’d be allowed for the rest of the month did you also find a pen shoved in the opposite pocket, and so by hitching your leg up just enough so you could use your thigh as a solid surface, you scribbled your phone number down onto the receipt - triple checking that you got it right, lest you accidentally manage to give him the wrong number and then never hear from him.

“Hey, Art,” You said, the nickname you’d given him all those years ago catching his full attention. “I work every day this week, but I’m always home by 6 - would you maybe want to give me a call sometime? -”

Arthur practically snatched the note from you, his shout of “YES!” earning some sharp glares from those around you, but his eagerness was endearing enough that neither of you minded, and you found yourself actually laughing at how he so happily accepted your invitation. It was evident, at least now, that the excitement of the reunion was shared, and while the relief it left you with was calming, you couldn’t help but feel a bit uncertain - how were things going to progress between the two of you? Would you be able to be friends just like you had been all those years ago, or now that you were adults with separate lives and responsibilities would you be limited to only brief, occasional meetups? Of course the latter was better than nothing at all, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t disappointing.

“You’re sure you don’t need me to walk you home…?” He asked as he tucked your number away into the pocket of his trousers, his eyes not leaving yours. “I wouldn’t mind - just so you get back safely.”

“I promise, cross my heart, that I’ll be alright, okay? And besides, the morning news said it was going to rain tonight, and you’d have to walk all the way back to your apartment in it.” Though you could tell that your reassurance really didn’t do much, Arthur seemed to accept it with a solemn nod. “I promise I’ll be alright - and please, use my number whenever! I’ll see you around, okay?”

And with a wave you were off, and had it not been for you looking both ways before crossing the intersection would you have seen how intently Arthur watched you as you left, before he turned and went off in his direction, his posture a bit straighter, a smile on his face.

And so, a routine started.

Each day, after work, you would forgo any and all other plans you may have had in favor of making sure you were home by 6 the latest so there was no risk of missing a call from Arthur. Your days were practically planned around the anticipated phone call, and you found yourself unable to keep your mind off of it nor him regardless of how swamped you were at work. It was very much like the expectancy you had prior in regards to meeting him again, and it was exciting.

… But days passed, and a call never came.

It had been over a week since you’d run into him - eight days exactly - and while you told yourself that he was probably just busy with work, with his mother, with errands, with whatever it was that Arthur Fleck had going on in his life - the doubt always managed to creep in, and you were left wondering if maybe he forgot to call - or if he even had the intention of following through at all. You felt guilty for worrying about such a thing, and so you’d try to keep yourself preoccupied; tidying up your small apartment, doing the dishes, watching television, reading, anything at all to keep your mind off of how much time was passing by without your phone ringing.

But the longer it went without doing so, the more did the question of whether you’d ever hear from him grow, and a nagging voice in the back of your mind spoke up, saying that maybe he did forget, or maybe he just didn’t want to talk to you, or he might not want to be friends anymore -

And you flew off the couch the second you heard your phone ring at about 6:43pm one Tuesday evening. You barely managed to keep yourself from tripping over the frayed edge of your carpet as you rushed to the kitchenette, trying to steady your breathing as you picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

…

Silence.

Nothing.

No speaking, not even any breathing could be heard on the other end - nothing but a complete, deafening silence.

Go figure. Telemarketer? Prank call, maybe?

“Hello?” Now you were annoyed, and after a few seconds without a response you were about to slam the phone back down, but then you heard it.

“H-Hey..” A timid, quiet response.

“Arthur? I could barely hear you!” With a sigh of relief did it feel as if a weight lifted off of your shoulders, and you couldn’t help but smile at your own so silly stupidness for getting so worked up over not getting a call from him immediately. You knew that in time, at his own pace, would he call, and that you just needed to be patient. “How’ve you been? I was wondering when you’d call.”

Arthur, apparently, was having a hard time getting over the fact that not only did you two run into each other for the first time in almost a decade, but that you wanted to talk and gave him your number, and as a result of his disbelief he became far too shy to call you immediately. It made sense now, given how you knew what Arthur was like, just like you knew a good deal about what he’s been through; his need for reassurance was just a part of him, and if insisting that yes, you did, in fact, mean to give him your number and that yes, you did, in fact, want to talk to him was needed to calm him down, then you had absolutely no problem with giving it to him as much as he needed, so important was his comfort to you.

It became increasingly difficult for you to contain your nerves and bite your tongue to keep yourself from accidentally outing yourself and your feelings as the conversation went on; each time he laughed, each time he expressed any sort of interest in what you were doing, wanted to know how you were, caught you up on any matters pertaining to his life that he felt comfortable with sharing - even just the cadence of his voice as he spoke and how softly he hummed your name made your heart flutter and your stomach fill with the restless frenzy of butterflies as those feelings that had been lying dormant for so long awoke. You could listen to him speak for hours - he could read a phone book aloud to you, and it would capture your attention for however long it took for him to finish.

He’d asked you about your job as a bank teller as you’d told him a bit about it during your walk, and despite your joking remark about how glamorous it was, he listened to intently as you spoke about the ups and downs of it; asking you to elaborate on odd aspects of it and expressing sympathy when you went into how you almost lost it due to an onslaught of new employees and had to transfer back to Gotham. The topic involving employment piqued your curiosity regarding Arthur, and so you asked him about it - smiling to yourself as he went on about how he was actually a party clown, who one day most definitely would make it as a stand up comedian. Arthur had always, always expressed a desire to make others happy, to spread joy and laughter to a world that so needed it, so just hearing that he was still pursuing at least one of his dreams filled you with such giddiness that the smile that grew on your face made your cheeks ache.

The more he went on though, through his tone and the way he spoke about certain things was enough to clue you in that he was still struggling with finding his footing, finding his place in the world. He’d always felt, always had been, somewhat out of step with the rest of the world, and you knew that he so desperately sought connection with others, but rarely ever found it - at least, nothing positive. You knew that more than anything, Arthur needed someone there for him, and you had a feeling that he really didn’t have many resources at his disposal. Funding was being cut all across the city, and so many people had begun to lose their only means of help, and while he had his mother, she had never actually been there for him, never really physically, nor mentally. You saw it every now and then when you were younger, and just judging by how he still lived with her because she was too unwell to live on her own told you that he probably never had been able to escape and pursue any of what he really wanted to.

More than anything, regardless of what relationship the two of you would end up having, did you want to be there for him in any way that you possibly could, and the longer the conversation went on the more melancholic and regretful for not keeping contact with him for all those years did you become.

It wasn’t until it was nearly 8pm that you realized how tired you had become, and with a lull in the conversation did you find yourself feeling a bit more bold than you had previously, your fatigue causing you to let your walls down ever so slightly.

“Hey, Arthur?”

He must’ve been tired as well, his fatigue given away by the languid “Hm?” he hummed in response, and before you could stop yourself, you blurt out a question - one asking him not if he missed you, but rather how much he had.

It was something you felt silly and almost a bit selfish for asking - part of you even felt stupid for assuming that he had at all - but then again, hadn’t he already said that he did? Surely there was no harm in asking, and you could only assume that he had missed you given how eager he was to accept your invitation for a call, but it was your turn for needing some of that reassurance that you had given him prior.

“How… much did you miss me?” You tried to play your question off nonchalantly as if it were just a teasing, playful musing, but seconds after asking it did you find yourself worrying your bottom lip as you waited for his response. You knew it was a dumb question that was foolish to ask, but the part of you that so longed to feel needed by the same man you spent so long missing completely overrode the part of you that told you to stay hushed about it.

The other line went dead silent in response to your question, and mentally did you berate yourself for asking such a fucking stupid thing. How was he even supposed to answer that? You put him on the spot without any warning, and you knew that he wasn’t good with that sort of thing -

“A lot…” Arthur said after a moment, his voice so hushed that for a second you thought that in your hope for your feelings to be mutual that you imagined it. “A lot - and when I saw you on the street, I honestly didn’t think you were even real,” He laughed dryly at this, though it was void of any humor. “Why did you move back to such an awful city?”

“To find you, Art,” Though you felt that that admission was a bit trite with how cliche it was, it was true. Had it not been for the possibility of meeting up with him, you would’ve lacked much, if any at all, motivation to make the move back, even with the threat of losing your job. “I’ve spent so long - so long missing you, and then I started remembering everything about how I felt about you back then, I got excited and happy to see you, and then I just -”

You paused, taking a deep breath.

“God, Arthur - I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I’m in love with you.” There was no going back after this, and so not even giving him a chance to respond did you continue your rambling; “I don’t even know, I felt it back then, and then I thought I was over it, but then we met again and it all came back so quickly and now I just - want you to know about it.”

Your voice trailed off, and you felt yourself holding your breath. You knew you had said too much too fast for him - and to be entirely honest, if you were in his spot then you probably would’ve slammed the phone down because of how absolutely overwhelming the sudden barrage of information and feelings that were poured out undoubtedly was, but deep down you hypocritically prayed that he wouldn’t respond that way. Arthur could be a particularly complex person to read, and while that was something you liked about him to a degree, it made situations like this tougher at the same time.

Your feelings were so incredibly conflicted, as a handful of actions from him gave the indication that he might’ve felt the same way; that soft hum his voice had every time he spoke your name, how when you were walking with him the other night he always smiled at you when you even so much as glanced at him, the fact that he had been so eager to accept your number - but at the same time, you knew that Arthur spent most of his time alone or with his mother, having little, if any at all, genuine contact with others. There was a very good chance that he had platonic - and only platonic feelings for you - and that each and every sign that you thought carried the connotation that he liked you more than such was just him being excited to just have a friend again.

Of course, you prayed that your admittance of feelings for him didn’t sully your friendship, as well. Humiliating as it would be, you could deal with the rejection and still feel nothing but fondness for the man and the desire to remain friends - but did he feel the same way, too? Would knowing that you were in love with him, as you had put it, make him uncomfortable with you? Would it be far too awkward to continue speaking? He was a grown man, so surely he’s had his eye on someone after all of this time - but the thought of it being anyone but you made your heart sink into your stomach where it settled into a sour pit of dejection. It hurt, but the more you thought about it did you accept it - as long as he was happy, could you live with whatever the outcome was - and with that acceptance did you patiently await his response.

After a moment, what sounded like a sniffle came from him first, and then the words that could’ve broken your heart;

“I don’t think you really mean that, Y/N - you can’t, there’s no way -”

He sounded heartbroken as he spoke, his voice so unsure that it sounded as if he expected this to be nothing but some sort of cruel, absurd prank being played on him.

“Arthur, what? No - I do mean it, and I mean that. What would I gain from lying? - No, why would I do that to you? You’re the only good thing about this damn city, and I have no reason to lie about this.” Whether or not your statement was any reassurance to him you had no clue, but you couldn’t help but regret how completely inappropriate it was for you to suddenly blurt out such a heavy confession to him at such random notice. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have -”

“No! No, don’t apologize, please,” His voice had a sort of hushed, yet frantic undertone to it - Penny was probably near, and the last thing either of you needed was for her to overhear. “I just don’t get it - why me of all people?”

“Because you’re you, Art,” You whispered, hopefully loud enough for him to hear. “I’ve kind of always had a feeling ever since we first met, but I don’t know. I guess I was just scared back then and I knew you didn’t - and probably still don’t - feel the same way, so I just… never thought I should mention it.”

Once again did he go silent, and you debated on just bidding him a quick goodnight so you could hang up and sulk in the utter humiliation of what was undoubtedly a rejection, but you respected both Arthur and yourself too much to do such a thing. You were fully prepared to apologize once again, your mind running a million miles for each second that ticked by without any sort of response, and just as you were about to ask if he was still there did you hear him take a short breath.

“What if…,” He paused for a second, taking another shaky breath. “I said that I did feel the same way…?”

What?

Your breath hitched, and had it not been for feeling its pulse as it pounded away in your chest, you would’ve thought that your heart had stopped from the shock.

“Wait - What. What do you mean?”

“You know, Y/N… That I like you - too, in that way.”

“Arthur - do you actually mean that?”

“Y/N, what would I get from lying?” His voice was teasing, yet gentle as he tried to reassure you the same way you had done for him when he asked you the same thing prior.

You knew that Arthur wouldn’t be bold enough to outright say it if he loved you like you did him at the moment, and part of you didn’t even believe that your feelings were reciprocated, so full of self doubt and insecurities were you. That part of you thought that he just didn’t know how to let you down without hurting you, but at the same time, the other part of you so desperately wanted to believe that it was true - and that was the part you were inclined to go along with.

“Hey, Art - I have this weekend off, and if you do too, maybe just you and I could… go do something…?”

“Yes - yes! What would you -? ”

“There’s a discount theater about halfway between my place and where we split up, so we could go see whatever’s playing there - I think it’s a Chaplin film, and you still like those, right?”

One of Arthur’s long time favorites; he’d always had a soft spot in his heart for Charlie Chaplin, and so it made sense that your first date (if you could be so bold as to call it that) would be seeing one - one that, ironically enough, was City Lights as you saw the marquee above the doors advertising on your way home from work earlier that day.

He didn’t even need to actually answer your invitation for you to know that it was a resounding yes, the smile that was undoubtedly on his face audible through his voice as he confirmed that he did, in fact, still like them. With a plan in place - Saturday, 6:30pm, 9th Ave - did you bid each other goodnight, the giddiness in your voices not going unnoticed by the other.

From the kitchen to the couch did it feel as if you were floating on whatever the earthly equivalent to cloud nine was, and with a lack of grace did you flop down into the spot you had been sitting previously. The television drawled on in the background, and the grin that spread across your face showed no signs of letting up any time soon, but you cared little for how much your face was beginning to ache from it. Instead, as you tipped your head back did tears of pure happiness flood your eyes, threatening to spill over and blur your vision.

How nice it felt to be liked, to be wanted, to maybe even be loved in return by the same person that you had spent so long longing for. You couldn’t help but wonder how long exactly Arthur had gone feeling the same way; had he always felt it, like you had? Or was it a recent realization, one that sprung up when you two spoke again the other day? You’d have to ask him about it whenever the opportunity came up, but until your weekend rendezvous could you subsist on just your ponderings and fantasies about what the two of you could get up to, knowing that regardless of how it went, as long as you had Arthur by your side, would you be okay.

You would be okay - because while Gotham was different, it was home, especially now that you had Arthur again.

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