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secretly-a-cold-blooded-murderer · 3 years

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Five Thousand Miles

Warning: Angst, descriptions of covid patients’ suffering, hospitals

A/n: I researched a lot about what covid patients go through in a hospital and their treatments but still took a couple creative liberties so I apologise if the descriptions aren’t accurate. Do tell me how you liked it!

Summary: Y/n tests positive for covid-19 and has to be hospitalised. Her boyfriend, Harry is five thousand miles away from her.

“Harry, I’m scared,” Y/n confessed as she readied herself, struggling with wearing her mask and gloves while also balancing her phone to continue talking to her boyfriend on FaceTime.

“It’ll be alright, you are taking every precaution you can. Plus, you have to get out of the house sometime, you can’t survive on air alone. Trust me, baby, you can do this.”

Harry’s voice was keeping her grounded, she wanted to continue talking to him but knew it would be impossible to shop and talk to him at the same time, so she nodded at him, “You’re right. Okay, I’ll call you when I get back. Safely.”

Taking a deep breath, she went out the door to a world of germs, people, and newly acquired viruses.

Being in the middle of a pandemic alone wasn’t her favourite situation to be in. It felt better when she had company, people who would help her buy the essentials. As soon as situations eased up a bit, her quarantine partners left New York to be with their families. She was all alone now.

Looking at all the empty streets, Y/n was left with a weird sensation. The city that never slept had never been quieter. She was so used to being woken up by car horns and car alarms in the morning that during the first few weeks of lockdown, she found it hard to wake before noon. This quiet was almost poetic, like the stuff of post-apocalyptic films. Y/n wasn’t sure if the silence comforted her or terrified her.

There were more people in the store than she had expected, though all in their masks, she breathed in relief. She went straight to the personal hygiene section, remembering the most important item on her list, only to find that the store was all out of toilet papers, the one thing films didn’t guess would be a big problem. She rolled her eyes at the selfish people who had panic-bought more stuff than they would have needed.

She tried every store near her neighbourhood, and eventually was able to get the last set in the final shop she visited. Tired from driving all over the city in search of toilet papers, she went to the check-out line to finally buy her stuff.

Standing in her place, Y/n noticed the people in the store, few whose foreheads were furrowed, their eyes darting around making sure they were maintaining the mandated distance from others, panic evident on their mask-covered faces. Some others appeared plain bored. Already used to the new routine and just wanting to get it over with.

She was so lost her observations, she almost didn’t hear it, the woman behind her in the line coughed loudly, making people jump farther apart than the required six feet.

“It’s just allergies,” the woman announced in a nasal voice, rolling her eyes at people’s reaction.

As Y/n’s turn came at the check-out counter, she found herself frozen to the ground, she didn’t know why but the cough threw her off. It felt weird to react the way she did, but she could not make herself move. She was nervous. She wanted to laugh at herself for feeling this way because of a measly cough, but it wasn’t so simple and right now all she felt was fear.

“Oh for god’s sake,” the woman moved forward, pushing her aside and placed her items at the counter. Even the employee there seemed wary, but knew he had to comply to keep his job.

It was only after the woman left, was Y/n finally able to move, she shook her head as if to shake the incident away from her mind and finally paid for her items.

She ran all the way home, even though she knew she shouldn’t have. She couldn’t help herself, she just wanted to move away from the public and into the safety of her home as soon as she could.

As she entered her house, Y/n felt her chest tighten, as though someone was sitting on it, she couldn’t breathe properly. It felt like she was breathing through a squished straw.

In between her wheezing, she searched around for her inhaler in her side bag. She felt her breath coming back a few seconds after she breathed in the medicine. She fell to her knees in exhaustion and took in a few more breaths to calm down.

She then picked herself up and embarked on an extensive set of tasks- Taking off her gloves and mask, removing her shoes at the entrance of her house, washing her hands. But, this somehow didn’t seem enough to her, so she went ahead and took another shower, just to be extra sure.

While in the shower, she cursed her asthma. It wasn’t usually a big hurdle in her life, but now, everything was a hundred times worse. This was the first time she had feared for her life. Her anxiety was at an all-time high and all she had to keep her sane was her daily FaceTime calls with Harry.

Opening her laptop to do her work, she checked the numbers again- seventy thousand new cases. She sighed and closed her laptop, not having the motivation to do any work. She scrolled through her social media to distract herself only to be shoved more news about the coronavirus, she let out a groan of frustration and switched off her phone, deciding to take a nap instead.

Only she couldn’t sleep. She thought back to all the plans she made with Harry, promising him to be there next to him while he toured the globe. She laughed at the situation and how no one in a million years could have guessed the current world state.

She didn’t know when she fell asleep, but she must have as she woke up with a jolt in her bed after a strange dream. She shook her head and looked out her window to see the sky dark. She switched on her phone, it was 8 pm. She cursed to see three missed calls from Harry and one from her friend, Sarah.

Preparing herself, she called Harry.

“Where were you, I called like three times?” His voice was deeper than usual, she guessed he had just woken up because of her call. She calculated it to be 4 am in London, where Harry was. She felt bad for waking him up like that.

“I know, I switched off my phone and fell asleep. Sorry,” she grimaced.

Harry hummed in acknowledgement, “how you doing?”

She could hear rustling on the other side and imagined a sleepy Harry sitting up in his bed, his hair messy from his sleep, “Just missing ya’.”

“I know, I hate that I had to leave you like that, wish you could come with me,” there was a hint of a whine in Harry’s voice which made Y/n smile.

“Wish I had a visa for England, I really wanted to come too,” and she meant that. At least that way, she wouldn’t have to be alone.

“I’ll video call you tomorrow, it’s late here, or rather early,” what he was saying next was obscured by his yawn. She sighed, she missed him too much.

“Yeah sure, see you tomorrow, bye.”

“Bye.”

When the call disconnected, she messaged Sarah to ask what the call was about, who didn’t respond. She shrugged her shoulders and went down to the kitchen to start preparing for dinner.

It started with a headache. She didn’t ponder much on it and instead only took medicine to curb the pain enough to continue working.

It was when she felt a certain roughness in her throat, did she pay attention. Her cough worsened within days, she was having a hard time breathing normally. It felt like a less severe but constant asthma attack. She took her temperature, which showed her to be having a fever at 101°F.

It took her some time to even process what was happening to her, she initially wondered if it could be the flu or something non-covid, but she knew she couldn’t take the chances. Harry was the first person she informed.

“What are you saying?!” Harry was frantic, his forehead creased as he ran his fingers through his hair, messing them up.

“I have a fever, a cough, and I’m having difficulty breathing,” counting the symptoms on her fingers, she informed him again.

“It could be the flu, Y/n you didn’t even go outside. How could it be anything else?”

“H, I did go out to buy supplies, didn’t I? Maybe I got infected there somehow. We shouldn’t be kidding ourselves. I have to at least get tested.” You didn’t want to show him just how scared you were, but it was hard to keep your voice from cracking.

“I am scared, H,” you let the tears out. Your shoulders shook while you tried to wipe your tears as they were leaking from your eyes.

Harry closed his eyes, not being able to see you sobbing, “I know baby, but I know you’ll be strong. I will take the next flight to LA. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He promised, his mouth set in a hard line as a strong look of determination crossed his face.

She shook her head with as much strength she could muster, “No Harry, you shouldn’t keep travelling, plus, you can’t stay with me and I don’t want you staying at some hotel. It’s not safe.”

“Bu—”

“—I won’t hear another word about it. I have Sarah, and you have your work to take care of. I will be fine.”

She knew Harry wanted to say more, object to her claims, she would not be fine. But he knew it would be of no use, once she had made up her mind, it would be impossible to change it. So, he settled for a low nod.

“Keep me updated, I’ll also talk to Sarah. She better be there for it all. You should now call your doctor, see what’s the next step.”

Y/n nodded, smiling that Harry understood. She didn’t want to trouble him. She also wanted to pretend for a few more seconds that this was not a big deal.

She called Dr Gupta, her heart was beating at an all-time high and her energy was at an all-time low. She barely had enough breath to tell her doctor about her situation who booked an appointment for her to go to the nearest covid testing facility.

She took a deep breath, wore her protective gear and drove to the testing lab which was a ten-minute drive from her place. She was already out of breath by the time she reached the place.

When she was done with her test, she felt worse than she had before. Sarah called to check in on her, but Y/n didn’t have the energy to talk so Sarah video-called her, seeing Y/n’s face would have to be enough for her at that point.

Sarah’s eyes softened, seeing her best friend heaving, eyes shut and groaning due to her chest pain. But she knew, more than anything, her best friend was scared.

“I hope with everything that I am that the test comes back negative,” her voice was tinged with worry and genuine hope.

Y/n could only nod.

The call came two days later, Y/n sat up in her bed, she had been dreading this moment these past days, with Harry and Sarah to distract her.

The test came back positive.

She fell back into her bed, cushioned by her pillow and started shaking uncontrollably as she sobbed.

She felt insanely dehydrated by the time she stopped crying, she didn’t even get to call either of her friends. She stood up with a groan, and following one slow step after the other, she went to the bathroom to wash her now tear-stained face.

The call she made to Harry wasn’t an easy one. She knew he would take the news worse than she had, and her reaction was not a light one.

“I prayed. I promise I prayed Y/n,” his words were almost indecipherable in between his cries. His every tear followed the other with a ferocity never before noticed by Y/n.

Her own tears followed suite, she was so sure she had finished up all her tears, but she was proven wrong. Soon, the only conversation happening between the two was through their sobs.

She wanted to curse all the gods, she didn’t want to go through the pains of having this disease and she didn’t want to do it alone. Even though she had Harry and Sarah standing right beside her, knowing they would not be able to meet her in person, she had never felt more alone.

“I don’t feel good, H,” she confessed. Breathing was becoming difficult day by day, she would rather have an asthma attack twice a day than having this constant pressure on her chest and throat. She knew she had to tell him, “I have to get admitted to the hospital first thing in the morning tomorrow, they say my covid could be worsened because of my asthma,” she let out in between a series of coughs stopping her after every word.

Harry nodded, his heartbeat rising. He cursed himself for leaving his girlfriend alone in the country. If he hadn’t left, she would not be going through this, “I’ll tell Sarah, you go rest,” he promised, seeing it get increasingly difficult for her to even sit up in her bed.

If Y/n was scared before, then the hospital made it thousand times worse. It was a scary sight, the covid ward was in an isolated area of the hospital, the doctors and nurses were in full PPE kits, the patients were lined up next to each other separated by curtains. She passed a room with ICU written on the glass door. With what she could see, she noticed several other patients, some with masks covering their nose, probably providing oxygen. Others seemed in worse conditions, they were intubated via ventilators.

Seeing them facing the same crisis together, although away from their families, but forming a new family of sorts in solidarity to their conditions gave her little comfort. Those who wore the nasal masks and thus still had the ability to talk were speaking to each other, even reading something from their phones to those who were on ventilators. Covid had seemed like a situation she would have to go through alone, her initial views though were changing.

She was admitted to the regular covid ward, with the rest of the non-critical patients and would be observed overnight. She was assisted with oxygen through a nasal mask, just like the people around her, she had noticed.

“Hey, I’m Cecilia, call me Cece,” a thirty-something woman introduced herself from beside you. The curtain was partially open, allowing Y/n to see only her face.

“Y/n, nice to meet you,” she called back, smiling as much her energy would allow.

“Never guessed this is how I would be spending my lockdown,” she laughed lightly, pointing to her mask. She then followed it up with a cough, groaning with the strain.

Y/n felt bad for her, only to be subjected to the same.

These were going to be some long days. Though she did feel better knowing she would not be facing this alone. She looked around the room, at probably twenty patients around her, in the same situation as her, if not in worse conditions. She then thought back to the people in the ICU and what they must be subjected to.

Her phone brought her attention to itself, it was Harry FaceTiming her; putting on a smile, she picked up the call.

“Hey handsome,” she suggestively raised her eyebrows, not wanting to worry him any further.

Harry did not even notice her words, he was too busy gawking at her nasal mask, “what is that?” worry coating his voice.

“Oh just my new accessory, you like it?” although Y/n wanted to look nonchalant, the pain in her voice could not be hidden, she sighed, “They are giving me oxygen through this.”

Harry’s eyebrows were knitted together in worry, Y/n wanted to make him feel better. She could not rest knowing her love was out there worrying about her, “Look I made a friend,” she turned the camera to Cece laying next to her six feet apart, “Cece, say hi to my boyfriend, Harry.”

She had forgotten her boyfriend was a big deal but was reminded of it by Cece’s gasp, “Harry freaking Styles ohmigod ohmigod,” Cece squealed, making Y/n forget for a second that she was not a teenager.

“Hullo love,” Harry greeted her in his ‘fan voice’, a smile graced her lips. “Hope you beat covid and get better soon.” Cece’s smile made Y/n realise how long these people had gone without having a reason to smile and how desperately they needed it.

Cece’s squeal garnered the attention of the people around them. Noticing the pop icon on the phone screen, conversations started flowing between everybody. Introductions were made, friendships were formed and smiles were passed around, along with Y/n’s phone. So, she asked a nearby nurse if they could access a bigger screen so everyone could see and talk to her boyfriend.

When the staff hooked up a screen, Harry gave all the patients an impromptu concert. Y/n had not smiled in days the way this concert had made her. She expected fear, anxiety, deaths and instead got friends, laughter, and music.

When Harry was done performing for his audience, he gave her a brief look. “I love you,” she whispered to him, smiling when he returned the words.

The next day, she was woken up by the noises around her, she panicked for a moment, not recognising the place she was in; but calmed when she regained her senses and noticed the blue curtains of the hospital, several machines and the people they were attached to.

She made a short conversation with Cece but had to stop because she was getting out of breath. With every passing moment, her chest pain too was increasing. She did keep listening to people chat around her. Some were on calls with their family, others were busy reading books and listening to music. She kept getting shouts of gratitude from the people in the ward for Harry the previous night.

For the next two days, that kept her going. She learned about her fellow patients, Jonathan was 59 years old, his son was an engineer and he couldn’t have been more proud; Jaya was a 42-year-old woman with bronchitis and wanted to visit Paris at least once in her life. Marc was a 50-year-old diabetic who was in a band in the 80s, they were planning a reunion show. She met countless people, each with their own stories.

At about 10 am on a Thursday, her situation worsened. The doctors had come for a routine checkup, only to see that her oxygen levels were dropping steadily and she needed immediate assistance.

She was shifted to the ICU ward. She had to be intubated and thus was given a board and marker to write anything if she wanted.

“—Yes sir, she was shifted to the ICU this morning—”

“—We can’t say much right now, but we’ll inform you if anything changes—”

“—Okay, take care, Sir.”

Y/n heard bits and pieces of the conversation her doctor was having with Harry, although since she was on medication, she couldn’t register much of it. The nurses brought her phone to her, a silhouette moving on the screen.

“Hey baby, how are you feeling?”

Y/n pondered how to describe the immense pain burning through her respiratory passage and the lack of oxygen eating away her lungs and not give him nightmares. So, she offered him a tired thumbs up.

Harry watched his girlfriend cough, her face contorting in pain and could not control his tears, he didn’t want to think about the worst-case scenario but could not stop his mind from going there. He knew how low the chances were of people on ventilators coming back. But he had to remain positive, someone had to. She needed him to be strong for her. So, he wiped away his tears, put on his best brave face and talked to her.

He called her every three hours. Giving updates to her about his day, talking to her about whatever he could. He talked enough to compensate for the silence on her part. She smiled through every sentence, even though he could not see it, even though it wasn’t visible on her face, even though she didn’t have the power to, she smiled.

And she listened. So she didn’t have to focus on Josephine dying next to her or Augusta who was a hair length’s distance away from dying the previous day. Even though doctors told her that her situation was worsening, she listened because that became the only thing keeping her from giving up.

As her pains didn’t go away, and her condition worsened further, she was given sedatives and was thus mostly asleep. Which she was thankful for, for she couldn’t take it anymore, she just wanted to rest.

Dr Garcia came by routinely to check on her, talking to her about the outside world, gave her the gossips being passed around the hospital. Even though she was barely awake to listen to any of it, she was thankful for the kind doctor providing a calm lull while doing her job.

“Mr Styles, I’m afraid her condition isn’t getting any better. She should have shown atleast some improvements,” Dr Garcia informed Harry in a heavy voice.

On the other side of the line, Harry didn’t know what to do, it felt like someone was pulling away the floor under him. “What happens now?” He asked, praying for some hopeful news.

“We really can’t say much, each case is different, but it would be better uhm,” the doctor was thinking through her words, wanting to be as considerate as possible, “is there any family of hers that would want to talk to her?”

Harry almost let out a sob as he realised what the doctor was implying ‘is there anyone who would want to give her a final goodbye?’

“No, Y/n’s family passed away in an accident when she was 16, it’s just me and Sarah,” he explained, his voice on the verge of cracking, it was becoming harder to get words out of his mouth. He didn’t want to talk anymore, he just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry.

“Oh, I understand,” Dr Garcia nodded, feeling sorry for the young girl who had stolen the hearts of everyone in the ward. She was a sweet girl, who had dreams and still held love for life even after everything she had seen. “This is not the end, Harry, she can still recover, God, I pray she does, this is not the end.” She really believed the words she was saying and wanted Harry to feel the same.

He nodded, tears clouding his eyes. He too really wanted to believe that.

A beat of silence fell upon the conversation, both in deep thought, “Harry, she wrote something on her board when she was awake yesterday,” Harry’s ears pricked up, “she wrote and I quote ‘I will not give up’ with a smiley face at the end. She is a fighter, you remember that,” Dr Garcia gave her parting ways and went back to her work.

Y/n’s words were imprinted in Harry’s mind. After the call, he made himself more presentable, wiping his tears and drove up to the church near Y/n’s house. He had come back to LA after Y/n was admitted to the ICU. He couldn’t be five thousand miles away from her in that condition.

The church was almost empty, which was surprising to Harry, given the situation, but he wasn’t complaining. He walked up the aisle, his hand grazing each wooden bench as he reached the altar and kneeled. He didn’t what to pray or how to pray, but he tried anyway. He closed his eyes and called out to God; he prayed with every part in his body, with every bone, every muscle, every fibre of being for his love to get better. For her to keep fighting. And for him to gain enough strength to deal with it all.

All this time, he had been feeling so helpless, not being able to do anything to make her better. But he made peace with the fact that the only thing he could do right now was to have faith. To have faith in God to guide him and her, in Y/n to be the stubborn strong-willed woman that she was and continue fighting, he had faith in his faith and that it would not disappoint.

He stayed there, talking to God until the closing hours. He then went back to Y/n’s place and sat on the sofa, waiting by his mobile, ready for any phone call he might receive.

He was awoken the next day by his phone ringing on the coffee table next to him. He looked at the time, it was noon, he picked up.

“Congratulations Harry, she’s getting better,” the relief was evident in Dr Garcia’s voice.

Harry felt himself getting physically lighter.

“I mean there is still a long way to go, but her oxygen levels are rising, her lungs are recovering, she’ll be soon able to breathe on her own. Harry, she did it, she won,” Harry didn’t listen to the rest of what the doctor was saying, he was too busy falling in love with the love of his life. It felt like he himself had come back from the dead. He knew his faith could never disappoint.

“Thank you doctor, I’ll be waiting for the call when you tell me she’s tested negative,” he laughed, his lungs breathing in air after what felt like a lifetime.

Dr Garcia chuckled along with him and agreed, telling him Y/n would call him when she woke up.

“You know I love you right? My fighter,” Harry tightened his grip on her hand and kissed her knuckles.

Y/n’s head fell back as laughter bubbled out of her, “You just told me that like two minutes ago.”

“I know, but a few weeks ago I thought I would never get to say it to you ever again. So, I will keep reminding you every minute that I love you and that you are the strongest person I know,” he snaked his arms around her, placing his head on top of hers, “I really missed holding you.”

She breathed in Harry’s scent, slowly regaining her sense of smell, she had missed this too. She cupped his cheek with her right hand and gave him a light peck.

Harry grabbed the back of her head, keeping her lips on his, deepening the kiss. When they separated, he rested his forehead against hers, not wanting her to move even an inch away from him.

Noticing her deep breaths, he whispered in her ears, “This is the only reason I want you to be out of breath. This and well... the other one,” he smirked.

“Oh hush you,” Y/n blushed, she sucked in a breath through her teeth, “Shit man, I love you.”

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #covid19 #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #angst

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xxdragonwriterxx · 3 years

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🔥I’m Done Playing Games So I’m Going Down in Flames (Mafia AU)🔥

A/N: Okay so I’ve been reading a lot of Mafia AU’s lately and now I’m obsessed. I’ve always loved this AU but some amazing recent fics have revived my soft spot for them so I decided to give a shot at my own! If you want some absolutely top notch Mafia AU Levi fics to read, go read the stuff from @mysteriousmagicx and @ackermans-freedom-inc! They both have fantastic work all around and inspire me all the time. Thanks for the support and enjoy!

🐉 Song Recommendation: “The Search” By: NF 🐉

~~~

‘Damn, she’s still working isn’t she?’ Levi thought as he looked up from the crime thriller he’d been reading, his brow furrowed as he glared at the closed door of their bedroom, waiting for his girlfriend to finally come to bed with him.

He glanced at the clock and sighed when the little red numbers told him it was already 3 AM. While he greatly admired his girlfriend’s work ethic and stamina, always getting everything done efficiently, he also hated it. She tended to let her responsibilities take over her life, working until she collapsed and neglecting to take care of herself until every project was done for the day, which unfortunately, always seemed like a never ending list.

Levi got up, determined to get her to relax, even if he had to force her to. He was worried about her, her boss dumping way more work than usual on (Y/N) as the company she worked for struggled to overcome a recent financial obstacle. He knew it was important to her, and he definitely didn’t want her to lose her job, but this was the sixth night in a row in which she hadn’t slept more than an hour or two and it was starting to get on his nerves.

He missed having her warm presence in bed with him, lulling him to sleep when his insomnia normally troubled him until the early morning hours. He missed waking up to her sleepy smile and half-lidded eyes, her gaze filled with love as she gave him his good morning kiss. He missed seeing her bright eyes and energized personality, going on runs with him or laughing as she cooked something mouthwatering in the kitchen. Now, (Y/N) could barely do more than give him a tired kiss on the cheek when she trudged home from the office before collapsing on the couch in a desperate attempt to catch up on sleep, only to wake up an hour later to continue her grueling assignments.

Slipping into the hallway, Levi padded quietly through the dark until he reached her office door, the golden light spilling out from underneath it and the sound of clacking computer keys floating through the wood. Raising his fist to the door, Levi knocked three times and waited as the sound of typing faltered only to be replaced by the sound of her chair scraping along the wood floor.

When (Y/N) opened the door, Levi had to stop himself from wincing. She looked absolutely drained. Her skin was paler than usual, almost sickly in the golden light, her cheeks were sunken in a little, her cheekbones protruding from her face as if someone was stretching her skin, and dark circles made her look as if she had been punched, displaying her exhaustion under her eyes clearly for anyone to see.

“Hey, Levi, I’m almost done, okay? Then I’ll come to bed, I promise,” (Y/N) said with a tired smile, fighting back a yawn, not even needing him to speak to know why he was here.

“(Y/N), you look like shit,” Levi said.

(Y/N) smiled wider at his blunt response and shook her head at him with a chuckle. “Thanks, Levi, I try.”

“I’m serious,” he said. “You look so tired I don’t even know if you’re really awake. You could be sleep walking for all I know.”

“I know,” (Y/N) sighed. “But I have to finish these reports before tomorrow, otherwise my boss will kill me. Why don’t you go back to bed? Try to get some sleep? I’ll meet you there soon, I promise.”

“Join me in twenty minutes. If you’re not done by then, I’m dragging you there and tying you to the bed.”

“Oh, how forward,” (Y/N) teased.

“I mean it, I’m not letting you kill yourself over work. You need to sleep and if that means forcing you to relax, then that’s what I’ll do.”

(Y/N) nodded, her shoulders slumping as she made her way back to her desk. She knew she needed to go to bed, and she wanted more than anything to snuggle up to Levi and let his warm protectiveness lull her to sleep, but she also wanted to make sure she had done the most she could possibly do before she retired for the night.

Settling back into her desk chair, (Y/N) almost felt like crying in frustration as she woke her computer up again, envying the damn machine for getting more shut eye than her. She could feel Levi watching her from where he was leaning against the doorframe, his intense gaze burning into her back, but she ignored the urge to cave and started typing again.

After a few moments, Levi eventually left again, closing the door behind him as he mumbled something about keeping his promise of dragging her away. (Y/N) smiled despite herself at her boyfriend’s antics, his love and concern for her giving her the strength to keep working.

________________________________

Levi scowled at (Y/N) over the rim of his tea cup, frowning at the dead look in her eyes. He had eventually gotten her to come to their room the night before, but he knew she had tossed and turned for a significant portion of the night, thoughts about her job and the stress that came with it, keeping her up.

He wanted desperately to help her with it, to maybe even take some of her workload for her so she could finally get some damn rest. But he didn’t know anything about budgets and profits and organizing trade deals. (Y/N) worked for a company as their assistant manager, making sure everything ran smoothly and handling the organizational parts of running a business, which was where the majority of her work came from. His annoyed growl made her glance up at him, the low noise snapping her out of her zoned out state.

“Everything alright, Levi?” (Y/N) asked sweetly, blinking a few times and digging into the bacon and eggs in front of her in an attempt to wake herself up more.

“No, it’s not. You’re working too hard and I’m worried about you.”

“I know,” (Y/N) said softly, her fork dropping to hang limply from her fingertips so she could twirl it on the edge of the plate. “But unfortunately we are going through a rough patch right now in the company, so I’ve been having to work double time to make sure things get back up to speed. Assuming it gets better, I’ll be able to relax more when things calm down. My boss is just panicking at the moment, so I’ve needed to step up to provide her the support she needs to get us through this, which means extra hours.”

Levi knew what she said made sense, but he still couldn’t help being unhappy about it. He missed when (Y/N) was lively and bright-eyed, telling him about her day and giving him the affection he pretended to find annoying. Hugging him, kissing him, combing through his hair with her fingers, and smiling because she knew he loved it anyway. Grunting in acknowledgement, Levi took another sip of his tea before reaching for a strip of bacon, attempting to ignore the unusual silence that filled the house.

Levi wished he could be there to support her more. She obviously wasn’t taking care of herself, and he wanted nothing more than to pull her back to bed and snuggle with her, ignoring her protests as she only put in half the effort to escape from his warm embrace and go back to work. But he too had work that day and didn’t have time to slide back into bed with (Y/N), no matter how tempting that may sound. As if someone was reading his mind, his phone rang and when he looked at the number, he nodded to (Y/N).

She nodded back. She knew when he nodded to her that it was a work related call for him. She watched as he stood from the table and made his way into the other room, his voice echoing back as he told the person on the other line to stay on target until he got there. Standing up, (Y/N) put away their dishes as Levi hung up and made his way to the door, grabbing his jacket on the way out.

(Y/N) gave Levi a quick hug and a sweet kiss on the lips right before he walked out the door, waving to him as he made his way to his sleek black car and drove off. She watched until he was nothing more than a black speck in the distance before shutting the door and immediately heading back to her office to finish her work.

___________________________________

Levi was sitting on the couch, his hands clasped together with his elbows on his knees as he poured over the papers on the glass coffee table at his estate, his eyes narrowing on the text.

“Fucking idiot. At this rate, we’ll have no choice but to face him,” Levi muttered angrily, glaring at the photos and documents in front of him.

Erwin sighed from the arm chair across from Levi, his fingers reaching up to rub at his temples where a headache was starting to build. “I know, but you know he won’t stop, not until he gets what he wants. If we keep dodging this, it could lead to some major territorial issues, should another group decide we are being too lax with our borders. We need to put an end to this, right now, before it gets even worse.”

“But doing so will put us in the spotlight, Erwin,” Levi countered. “You know as well as I do that, although being famous in the criminal underbelly has its perks, being well known outside of that bubble can be detrimental. If we go through with what Zeke Yeager is requesting, we will be completely exposed; to the media, to the public, to the police. It’ll be a slaughter, and we’ll have to give up our territory anyway.”

“I know,” Erwin muttered, slouching in his chair. “But we have a similar outcome if we don’t follow through with his demands. He’s got us cornered, and he is obviously willing to go to any length to make sure we cooperate.”

Levi growled and glared at the photos again, the images making his heart pound. While he was alarmed at the sight of them, he was not surprised that the photos were of (Y/N). He had tried his very best to keep her out of his mess, to keep her bright light from being swallowed by the darkness he ruled, but he knew realistically that there was no guaranteed way to keep her safe. Alongside the photos of (Y/N) were also photos of Erwin’s lover Emily, her smile beaming as she took a walk on a beach or had a lunch date with (Y/N), the two of them having been friends since high school.

He hated to admit it but the photos were proof. Both he and Erwin were most definitely cornered, Zeke taunting the two powerful mafia bosses with the safety and survival of their respective lovers as if it were a game. Levi wished he were strong enough to fight against Zeke, to come off as unaffected, but he wouldn’t risk (Y/N) for anything. No matter what happened, if it guaranteed her life and safety, he would comply. He supposed that made him seem weak, something that would’ve made his past self scoff in disgust, but he couldn’t change how she made him feel and how unconditionally he loved her. If protecting her meant the end of him, either as a mafia boss or in life, then so be it.

______________________________

Levi didn’t let himself regret anything as he shouldered on his jacket, his eyes roving over the things he’d laid out on the bed in preparation for this meeting. He knew he should probably be trying to think of ways to outsmart the rival mafia leader, finding ways to kill him and continue expanding like he had been doing for the past several years. But as he packed the few things from the estate he thought he would need, his thoughts were only focused on his gorgeous lover, her warm smile and contagious laughter filling his senses.

He sighed. He knew she wouldn’t understand, and he feared she would do something rash in response. But he trusted Hanji, the only one he had told about this meeting aside from Erwin, to keep her safe for him. He tried not to think about it too much, what (Y/N) might do when she found out about what was about to happen. She had left early for work that morning, giving him the perfect opportunity to write her a lengthy letter telling her how much he loved her and how none of it was her fault. He knew the letter was far from adequate in explaining everything to his beloved girlfriend, but it would have to do.

Strapping a single small pistol to his belt, Levi gave his room one last glance before pushing through the door, nodding to his members as he passed them in the hallways. All of their expressions were grim, all of them knowing the same thing. Today would be Levi’s last. While nobody said anything to their leader, their hearts were heavy as they watched him leave. Despite what they did for a living, Levi was well known amongst his subordinates for caring for them in his own way, always protecting them the best he possibly could and offering council when necessary.

Levi could feel their eyes on him but he spared none of them a glance aside from the occasional nod or slight wave. He didn’t stop to talk to anyone, even Erwin, who he’d convinced to stay behind to protect the estate, just in case Zeke used this as an opportunity to take over the powerful crime syndicate. Levi was willing to give up his life to protect (Y/N), but that didn’t mean he was willing to wave a white flag either, refusing to bow to this cowardly piece of shit just because of his threats.

Levi pushed through the glossy wooden front doors and slipped into his car without looking back, only looking up to give his driver the address Zeke had given him after a brief interaction over the phone. The sleek black car pulled out of the drive and picked up speed after sliding through the large open gate, the passing trees flashing by in a blur. Levi looked out the window for a minute, his silver eyes taking in the beauty of nature for what he assumed to be the last time, the sun glinting through the leaves of the trees to dapple his lap with sunspots. He saw rolling hills and glittering streams and children playing in the park, their laughter echoing temporarily in his ears before the speed at which they were moving snatched the sound away. He saw a big dog chasing a ball and immediately thought of (Y/N), quickly swallowing the sudden lump that formed in his throat.

She had always wanted a dog. The two of them had lived together for long enough that they had started to talk about it, but Levi had always shied from the idea, not excited in the least about having a messy, loud animal in the house with them. (Y/N) had teased him but had never pushed the issue, aside from the one time she had offered to get him a cat if he got her a dog, shoving down her disappointment and respecting his wishes for cleanliness. Little did she know, despite his attitude, he had secretly been excited to share something like that with her, wanting nothing more than to see her beaming smile as they picked a furry friend to love together. He wished he had done something like that with her sooner. Now, she was going to be in that house all by herself, with nobody to keep her company or help her process her grief.

His heart tightened and he looked away from the window, his eyes trained on his lap as he focused on his breathing. He never expected to feel this way, like he was drowning. He never expected to fear his lover’s reaction to his death more than the death itself, although he surmised he shouldn’t have been surprised, he had always valued her welfare over his own.

“We will take good care of her, sir,” Mikasa said from behind the wheel, her eyes trained on the road as she continued to drive steadily to their destination, making Levi look up in surprise. Mikasa had always been a loyal member of his group, but he had continuously butted heads with his cousin over her obsessive compulsion to protect her boyfriend, Eren, another member of the syndicate. He had never expected her to care about (Y/N) or him, nor to even notice that (Y/N) was the origin of his turmoil.

His eyes lowered back down onto his lap and he swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

Mikasa shrugged in response but he could tell it wasn’t as nonchalant as she was trying to make it look, her shoulders tense and her hands gripping the steering wheel a bit harder than normal. Silence filled the car again as Levi went back to thinking about (Y/N), even pulling out his phone to look down at a beautiful picture of her, one where she was smiling at him while at the beach, wearing an adorable bikini and holding her sunhat to her head to keep the wind from blowing it off while the ocean waves crashed behind her. She looked so happy, her smile making his heart flutter and his stomach churn just as it always did when he saw her.

All too soon, Mikasa had pulled onto a cleverly hidden gravel drive and parked in front of an old abandoned warehouse. His heart was thundering in his ears as soon as the purring of the engine cut off. Levi took a deep breath and opened the car door, slipping out while Mikasa stared straight ahead, her breathing labored as she fought against the surprising appearance of tears springing to her eyes.

As soon as Levi shut the car door, Mikasa restarted the vehicle and put it into reverse, her eyes meeting Levi’s briefly as she crawled back onto the street before she sped away, Levi standing in the drive until the sound of his car had given way to silence. With Mikasa gone, Levi was able to release his shaky breath, his eyes scanning the beautiful forest he was standing in, the trees arching high and protecting the land below with thick canopies that blocked most of the harsh sunlight from the flourishing foliage, giving the forest floor a beautiful spotted look, the sun winking at him from the space between the leaves.

It was time. Taking in his surroundings one last time with an appreciative deep breath of the warm pine smell he and (Y/N) both loved, Levi headed into the warehouse.

“Good bye, (Y/N). I love you.”

_______________________________

Zeke was grinning so wide his cheeks ached as the door to the warehouse opened, revealing a very angry Levi Ackerman. The Torva Messor. The Grim Reaper. He had never expected in his entire life that he would be able to get rid of one of the most dangerous mafia bosses in the world so easily. It was almost laughable, how quickly Levi had submitted to Zeke after he had threatened his lover.

It had taken years to find Levi’s weak spot, the man always just out of reach and seemingly untouchable with no family or friends to speak of that weren’t already in his gang. Zeke and his men had spent countless hours searching for a crack in Levi’s impenetrable armor, some of them even leaving to find a new boss, claiming Zeke’s obsession with the raven-haired man was both unhealthy and futile.

But Zeke had never given up, always waiting patiently for the one day when he would find something, and everything would fall into place. He was determined, and had no doubt in his mind that a day such as this would come eventually. Despite the skeptical nature of his followers, he never lost that spark of hope that he knew would one day lead him to power unlike any other.

The day he had discovered (Y/N), he had thought he was dreaming. It couldn’t be that simple. A lover? Levi would never take one of those, always too busy and too cold-hearted to even think about love. He was a mafia boss for fucks sake, how the hell was he supposed to juggle a lover at the same time? But against all odds, Zeke found it to be true when he tracked her and found her with him, the two of them sharing loving embraces and playing off of each other smoothly. It was then that Zeke realized he had finally found his opening, the crack in Levi’s armor where he knew his arrow would strike home, and just as he had expected, the most feared man in the criminal underbelly had yielded immediately.

“Well, well, well,” Zeke cooed as he pushed away from the wall he’d been leaning against when Levi came in. “If it isn’t the man of the hour! Welcome, welcome, Levi!”

Levi gave a nearly inhuman growl in response and walked to the center of the warehouse before stopping, his eyes never leaving the bearded man in the room with him.

“Jesus, where did you learn your manners? Do you speak to (Y/N) that way, hmm?”

“Don’t say her name you filthy cock-sucking bastard,” Levi snarled.

“What are you going to do about it?” Zeke taunted, pulling a gun from his holster. “Shoot me? Call in your cronies and have me violently killed?”

Levi stayed silent, knowing that one wrong step could render this entire mission pointless. Unfortunately, (Y/N)’s life still rested securely in Zeke’s grasp. If he wished, he could send his men to find and kill her in the worst way possible. He might even be sadistic enough to force Levi to watch.

“That’s what I thought,” Zeke practically purred, coming right up to Levi and running the gun from the shorter man’s temple down to his side before moving in front of the shorter man and placing the muzzle of the gun directly over Levi’s heart.

Levi swallowed thickly once, the only sign that he was even remotely concerned, his eyes remaining clear and narrowed on Zeke’s gleeful face.

“Goodbye, Great Torva Messor, may your death bring about a better world.”

Levi closed his eyes and thought of (Y/N), her bright, happy face floating through his mind one last time before the sound of the gun going off blasted through the warehouse. It wasn’t what Levi was expecting, surprisingly painless as he felt himself falling backwards.

_______________________________

A scream had his eyes shooting open, his mind frazzled as he found himself on the floor but with no bullet wound. He pawed at his chest in confusion, almost as if the wound was hiding from him, the blood waiting to bloom under his shirt until he uncovered it. But he found nothing, his chest solid and whole, his heart hammering loudly in his chest.

He wasn’t dead.

Quickly looking around, Levi found Zeke on the ground facing him, his jaw slack and his eyes glazed in death, his hand still clutched around his own heart and covered in blood.

“What the fuck-”

A quiet groan made him look up, and his eyes widened at the figure crumpled to the floor, their hand clutching their side as blood seeped between their fingers, their hair curtaining her expression.

“(Y/N)!!! HOLY SHIT!!!” Levi didn’t hesitate to scramble to his feet and sprint over to her, his hands immediately reaching out to hold her to him, to assess her injuries, to do something, anything to help her.

“I’m fine, Levi, I’m fine, but we need to get out of here,” (Y/N) coughed, her eyes darting around the space nervously and her head tilting as if listening for something outside.

“(Y/N), you are not fine! You just got shot!”

“I know, but we need to leave right now. My car is out front, let’s go. Now.

Levi balked at her serious tone, his brow furrowing.

“(Y/N), what’re you…,”

His eyes widened even more as a gleam at her chest made him pause, his voice catching in his throat. It was a badge. A shiny gold police badge.

“(Y/N), what is this?” Levi asked, leaning down to brush the cool metal with his fingers. He noticed (Y/N) wince slightly but when he looked at her face, he saw the fire that was in her eyes, the hurt that swirled in them too. He had no right to question her right now, she had just gotten shot saving his ass after catching him working with the mafia, and here he was drilling her about a badge.

“It’s nothing,” (Y/N) snapped, making him flinch at her harsh tone. “But if we don’t move right now, things will get a lot worse. Please, drive us somewhere, anywhere, but make sure it's far away from here.”

Levi met her hard, determined gaze for a second before nodding, bending down to gently shuffle her into his arms. To his surprise, she pushed him away and stood on her own two feet, only leaning on him to use as leverage to make it to the car.

“Not my first time getting shot,” (Y/N) said in response to Levi’s questioning look.

“What!?”

“I’ll explain later,” (Y/N) mumbled, stumbling towards a glossy black car that wasn’t too different from own work car. He could tell it was meant for speed and agility with its aerodynamic form, something that surprised him since he had been expecting a bulky cop car. It was definitely not the car she normally drove, making him wonder how much of her life she had hidden from him in the way that he had from her.

Bundling her into the passenger seat, Levi tried not to panic at the sound of her pained groan as more blood gushed from her wound. He wanted to stay and bind it or stitch it, but a sharp look from (Y/N) had him hustling for the driver’s side door.

The car roared to life and Levi wasted no time in spinning the car around and speeding out onto the road, breaking several traffic laws in his haste to get back to his estate. As they sped through town, (Y/N) shouldered her jacket off and gripped the corner of it with her teeth, ripping at the fabric until she had several strips to bind her side with. Levi watched her out of the corner of his eye, making sure she didn’t faint from the blood loss as she worked. He was surprised by her skills, watching as she properly bound her wound with nothing more than a few breathless hisses and settled back into the seat, her palm pressed into her side.

Levi busied himself by calling Erwin to update him on the situation, ignoring his friend’s relieved surprise and demanding the first aid kit be delivered to his room before they arrived.

Levi nearly hit the gate in his panic, forcing himself to take a deep breath as the slow speed at which the gate opened made him want to tear his hair out. He was practically foaming at the mouth when a warm hand on his arm immediately demanded his attention, his gaze snapping to where she was watching him, her gaze unreadable. Her touch immediately calmed him, despite the turmoil in his gut at not being able to read her emotions. She always knew how to bring him back to himself, and even if she now hated him with every fiber of her being, it was still immediately effective. Something Levi was immensely grateful for as the gates finally opened wide enough to grant them entry.

His group members immediately swarmed him when the doors opened and the pair stumbled in, ready to assist, only to part like the Red Sea when they realized it was (Y/N) that was hurt rather than their leader, shock rippling through the small crowd. He barked orders and sent them running, quickly cutting past them and ignoring their questioning stares as he ushered (Y/N) up to his private quarters.

The two were both silent as Levi sat (Y/N) on his bed with a towel underneath, (her boyfriend’s clean freak tendencies making (Y/N) smile despite herself), and got to work studying her wound, the first aid kit open with a surprising amount of tools at their disposal. The room was thick with unresolved tension but neither of them seemed to be able to find the courage inside themselves to speak first, (Y/N) distracting herself by taking in the large room while Levi busied himself with cleaning her injuries.

It turned out to be Levi who spoke first, his hands running along her side in a soothing motion with every small wince she did, only for his fingers to pause when they reached the thick metal of the badge on her chest. Levi’s eyes flashed as he took it in, his fingers lifting it so he could look at it better in the light. It was a real badge alright, that was for sure, and Levi hated the fact that it sent cold shivers down his spine.

“So you’re a cop?” Levi asked softly, his voice barely over a whisper.

“A homicide detective, actually.”

Levi looked up and met (Y/N)’s hard gaze in shock. A homicide detective? How the hell could he have missed that? How did he not know about this? He thought she was the assistant manager for a firm, working with trade deals and profits. Since when did she deal with murders and killers?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Levi asked as he went back to fixing her wound, his fingers gently prodding at the sensitive flesh around where the bullet went through.

“I didn’t tell you partly because my boss told me not to. She told me that she wanted as few people to know about this case as possible since it’s impossible to find all of the mafia members and nobody can be trusted. But it was mostly to protect you. I’ve been doing this job for a long time, and it wouldn’t be the first time if someone I was chasing down threatened the people I care about to get me off their tail. I couldn’t bear the thought of that happening to you, of you getting hurt on my behalf, so I didn’t tell you, to keep you safe.”

Levi’s breath caught in his throat at her words, his heart pounding against his ribcage. He was warmed by her words, the love and consideration she held for him, but her sentiment also fanned his anger, upset at the burden she had placed on herself.

“Idiot, you should’ve told me! You didn’t have to put all of that stress on yourself, I could’ve handled a few measly threats.”

“Oh like how you told me all about you working for the mafia? Being a mob boss?” (Y/N) said, making Levi flinch at the venom in her tone. “Do you think I liked lying to you, Levi? Do you think I enjoyed having to erase my browser history and create false reports for a fake company to keep you from finding out I was researching the recent murders that have been happening all over the city? I hated it. I fucking hated it, but I did it to keep you safe and to keep my job so I could continue to help support the two of us.”

Levi was silent, hanging his head in shame as her words washed over him. She was right. She had every right to be angry at him, but he couldn’t help but feel as if he were being stabbed with every harsh word that came out of her mouth.

“I wanted to tell you. So many times I wanted to tell you why I couldn’t come to bed with you, or why I had to skip breakfast, or why I had to lock my office door everyday for work. It killed me to lie to you because I knew I could trust you. It made me want to vomit because you had done nothing wrong and you deserved to know about what I was really doing for a living, but I held my tongue because I knew it was for the best.

And besides, my boss’s reasoning made sense. I mean, it’s obvious that the more people who know about something, the harder it is to keep it a secret. Who knows? Maybe you had friends in the mafia who could find information through you. Maybe you had a boss who was involved with the murders and would use your connection to me to keep from being behind bars. I thought it was ridiculous, but I did it because I trusted my boss too.”

(Y/N) choked out a small sob, her lip trembling as she spoke the next words. “But now I know that not only was my boss right, but if I had told you, it would have ruined our entire investigation. Why? Because you’re a fucking mafia boss, that’s why.”

“(Y/N)..., I-”

“Are you the one I’ve been hunting? The one who’s been instigating the recent murders all over the city?”

Levi froze.

“Are you the one who put bullet holes in the bodies of the people I went to see? Are you the one who created crime scenes I had to analyze? Have you been behind everything this entire time!?”

Levi couldn’t breathe. At first, discovering she was a homicide detective had made him worried for her physical health, the fact that she had been shot before making him feel light headed. But now he realized, as she asked him these questions, that he hadn’t even taken into account her mental health. It was clear she had seen a lot in her life, especially since she had told him earlier that she had been doing this job for a long time. But the images of what he often did to his victims floated through his mind. The way he was sometimes ordered to torture them in horrible ways until they finally collapsed into death from pain and exhaustion.

Horror filled him then at the thought of (Y/N) seeing that. Of seeing what he had done. Levi always knew he was a monster, a demon straight from hell, his name, The Grim Reaper, a testament to that. But he had always felt better knowing that (Y/N) would never know that side of him.

(Y/N) noted his labored breathing, his lack of response, the horror that flashed in his silver eyes even though his head was still hung, his bangs covering his face. It told her everything she needed to know. She felt her chest tighten, her heart constrict painfully as tears leaked from her eyes.

“Levi…, why? Why did you do this? I spent all of this time, trying to find this psychopath, who tortured and murdered people. To give justice to the people who could no longer obtain it themselves, only to find it’s my own boyfriend!? How could you do this? To them? To me?”

Levi shuddered with a shaky sigh as his own tears slipped down his cheeks. He finally lifted his head to meet (Y/N)’s gaze, and had to force himself to hold it when the hurt look in her eyes made him want to vomit.

“(Y/N), I’m so so sorry, I didn’t…,” Levi swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to lie to you either. I wanted to tell you, I wanted so badly to let you in on what was going on, but I couldn’t bear the thought of you getting caught up in my mess. I didn’t want anyone from my side to see me with you, to have any idea about your existence because I knew that someone would try to target you to get to me. I was so worried about you getting hurt, or worse, killed, because of me. So I didn’t tell you because no matter how much it hurt me, no matter how much I ached to tell you, I had to keep you safe. It’s my responsibility to protect you, and even if that meant lying to you about who I am, then that was what I was going to do. That’s what I did do, to keep you safe.”

(Y/N) was silent in response and while it worried Levi, he was at least grateful she wasn’t trying to kill him. She had left the gun she had used to kill Zeke back at the warehouse, but that didn’t mean she didn’t possibly have other weapons she could use against him. It wasn’t until Levi’s shaky hands managed to gain the courage to begin redressing (Y/N)’s injury that he found the strength to speak again, wanting nothing more than for this deafening silence to go away.

“Thank you, by the way…, you saved my life back there.”

“Well, I couldn’t just let him kill you, could I? No matter how angry I am at you, I will never let that happen, not if I can help it.”

“How did you find me?” Levi asked, his brow furrowing as he gently began to stitch his girlfriend up again. To his surprise, she did nothing more than squeak slightly at the sting of the needle.

“Like I said, I was investigating the recent murders, and since I was leading this case, I had free rein to do a lot of extensive research on my own without having to consult with anyone other than sending in reports for my boss. My findings led me to Zeke Yeager, and he became my number one suspect. I started following him, keeping track of his movements, noting down the addresses of places he frequented. Unfortunately, he’s a sly bastard, and covered his tracks pretty well, so I didn’t have much proof that pointed to him being connected to the murders other than he was a mobster with a vast history of violence.

Desperate for more proof, convinced that my gut feeling was right, I never stopped watching him. So when word that he was planning to execute a meeting between a long standing rival of his at an old warehouse reached me from one of my partners, I sped over there as fast as possible.”

“You didn’t know I was there?” Levi asked.

“No,” (Y/N) said. “I found you there, waiting for him to shoot you when I walked in. At first, I thought he’d found out about me tracking him, and the whole thing was just a set up to get me to show myself. I thought he’d kidnapped you to get to me, my worst fear.”

Levi finished putting in the last stitch, the bloody bullet resting on the towel beneath (Y/N), and met his girlfriend’s gaze, the tears in her eyes making his own start to water.

“But then I noticed how you were standing, and the expression on your face. You weren’t scared or confused. You were furious, but… confident. Livid, but accepting. I knew in that moment that Zeke didn’t know about me at all, but he knew you, and you knew him. It took me a little while to figure out, but when he started gloating about how he was going to be the one to bring down the famous Grim Reaper, I realized who you were. What you were.”

“(Y/N)-”

“He was going to kill you,” (Y/N) said, her hair curtaining her expression as she broke from his gaze to look down at her lap, her teardrops landing with soft taps on her crossed legs. “And you were going to let him.”

(Y/N)’s body started to shake but she fought to keep her voice firm. She had to get through this. They had to get through this… together. If she couldn’t handle this, then there was no way she would be able to be around him ever again.

“But I couldn’t let him. I saw him press that gun against your chest and I exploded. I couldn’t control myself, it was like I was possessed by a wild animal,” (Y/N) looked up at Levi again, her eyes swirling with so many emotions he couldn’t read them all.

“Levi, I’ve been doing this job for many years. I’ve seen some of the most horrific murders on the planet, met the worst scum in the world, talked with a perfectly sane man who killed his entire family one day for seemingly no reason. But never in my life have I ever felt the want…, the need to kill someone. I’ve only ever pulled out my gun three times with the intention of actually using it,” (Y/N) raised her hands to gently cup his face, her eyes locked on his.

“But in that moment, when I heard him telling you that your death would make the world a better place, when I saw him put his finger on the trigger, I had the overwhelming desire to tear him limb from limb. I acted before I could even process the situation, and I killed a man without a second thought.”

“(Y/N)...,” Levi cooed softly. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. You acted without thinking because it’s in your nature to protect people. I’ve seen the way you care for others. Even when they are complete strangers, you are always thinking about how you can be there for them. What you did, protecting me, is the very essence of you, and that does not make you a monster.”

“But it is my fault, Levi,” (Y/N) said. “I killed a man. I’m a homicide detective, I’m supposed to solve murders not cause them. I’m glad I saved you, more than anything, but this is something I’m going to have to deal with and live with for the rest of my life.”

The pair were silent again, the air heavy with the weight of (Y/N)’s words.

“I was doing it for you, you know,” Levi said after another moment.

“What?”

“At the warehouse. I was there because while Zeke may not have known you were keeping an eye on him, he did know that you were connected to me. I don’t know how he found out about our relationship, but he did, and had the photos of us to prove it. He threatened you, told me that if I didn’t give myself up, that he’d do the worst of the worst to you. He threatened your friend Emily too. Erwin is a part of the Wings of Freedom with me.”

“The Wings of Freedom?” (Y/N) asked, ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach at the thought of her best friend being hurt.

“That’s what we call ourselves. Zeke’s people are called the Beast Titans, a rival group. They’ve been a thorn in my side for years, competing with us for territory and power in the most violent ways possible. Zeke especially was always known for his complete lack of humanity, and he’d been obsessed with catching and killing me ever since we first met. When he found out about you, found out that I love you, he immediately set his sights on you and used you to corner me.”

(Y/N) sucked in a breath, somehow producing more tears to slide down her cheeks as Levi spoke.

“You’re right. When I went to that warehouse, I knew I was going to die and was prepared to do so. I didn’t want to obviously, but as long as your life was held in his hands, I knew I was going to yield to him no matter what he asked of me. I did it to protect you, to keep you alive, even if it meant never getting to see you ever again.”

Levi heard her voice catch and closed his eyes, waiting for her to react. While he wanted more than anything for her to forgive him and allow him to hold her close, he knew there was a very high possibility of her rejecting him. He had done all of it for her, but that didn’t erase his history, or his job, or the lies he spun to keep her in the dark. He knew it would kill him if she walked away from him and never looked back, but he would find a way to live with it, loving her from afar if that’s what she wanted from him. It was her choice. He would be strong for her.

What he didn’t expect was to be tackled to the floor. Levi let out a surprised grunt as he was thrown backwards, landing on his back with (Y/N) clutching him from above, sobbing into his shoulder. His arms immediately wrapped protectively around her and held her to his chest, breathing in her calming, unique scent.

“(Y/N)?”

“You idiot, you absolute fucking idiot,” (Y/N) lifted her head to look at him with puffy eyes and flushed cheeks. “Never fucking do that ever again. I know you did it to protect me, but I wouldn’t have been able to live without you, Levi. If you die, even for my sake, especially for my sake, I will kill you.”

Levi chuckled shakily and buried his face in her hair, his own tears soaking into the soft strands as he held her.

“Levi, what’re we going to do now?”

“What do you mean?”

She looked at him incredulously. “Are you serious? I love you, but I’m still a detective, and I killed a man. I can’t exactly go back without a proper explanation about what happened, and why I’ve been MIA for the past several hours. And I’d prefer it if the explanation I gave didn’t result in you getting arrested or killed.”

“I think I’d prefer that too,” Levi teased with a small smirk, earning him a slap on his chest.

“I’m serious, Levi.”

“I am too,” Levi said, sitting up so that (Y/N) was seated on his lap, his hands gripping her waist gingerly to account for her recent injury. (Y/N) watched him closely as he leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers, sighing happily against her.

“Listen, (Y/N), I know this will take a long time to get over. I know we will both struggle with this for a while and I am going to work my ass off to have you forgive me, but I want you to know that I love you and no matter what happens, we will do this together, alright?”

(Y/N)’s eyes sparkled warmly. She was still upset at him, her emotions roiling in her gut like a brewing tornado, but she managed to shove them all to the side, leaving her love clear to shine brightly for him in the wake of what just happened. There were a lot of things to figure out, and she still had no idea where they stood in terms of their relationship when they were trained to hate and hunt each other. But just as he said, they were going to get through this together.

“Okay, Levi..., I love you.”

“I love you too, (Y/N). Let’s get some sleep.”

Despite everything, the killing of a man, the discovery of her boyfriend’s secret identity, the inner turmoil inside her as the mind of a detective fought with her heart over her love for a mob boss, (Y/N) felt everything melt away the moment she was curled up with Levi in his huge bed. She nuzzled into his chest as she was lulled to sleep by the strong beat of his heart, shouting out his love for only her to hear.

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suituuup · 3 years

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pieces - chapter twelve

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca didn’t expect to see her again dancing in a strip club, out of all places.

rated: E (drug use and emotional abuse in early chapters)

ao3 link

Chloe was surprised to hear music drifting through the apartment when she got home from her late-afternoon NA meeting that Thursday evening.

It had been four days since they had come back from Oregon, and Beca had spent most of her time at the label, often coming home after Chloe was down for the night and leaving before she was up. She always left a note and texted Chloe throughout the day to check on her, but Chloe could tell something was off.

She rounded the corner to find Beca cooking at the stove, and smiled. “Hi.”

“Hey you,” Beca greeted with a matching smile. “You hungry? Making a stir-fry.”

“Starving. This baby is making me eat for three,” Chloe mumbled as she walked past Beca to pluck a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge. She uncapped it and took a sip, leaning against the counter. “Are you alright? I couldn’t help but notice you’ve seemed off since we got back.”

Beca nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I uh,” she cleared her throat as she reached for two plates in the cupboard over her head. “I broke up with Sarah the other night.”

Chloe’s eyes popped wider in shock. “Oh.”

Beca set both plates on the island, then opened the cutlery drawer. “Yeah… and I kinda threw myself into work, because that’s what I do to cope with my emotions.” She grimaced again, meeting Chloe’s eyes. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much.”

Chloe shook her head. “No, no, it’s okay. I’m sorry, Bec.” She wondered what the reason for the break-up was, but she doubted Beca wanted to get into that. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Thanks. Yeah. It’s, um, life, right?” She shrugged a little as she turned off the stove. “We just weren’t looking for the same thing.”

Chloe nodded slowly, then pushed off the counter. “Okay. I’m here if you wanna talk, alright?” She hitched her thumb over her shoulder. “I’m just going to freshen up, I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

Beca had scooped food into each plate and poured water into two glasses when she got back clad in comfier clothes, and Chloe perched herself on the stool across from Beca.

“Thanks for making dinner,” she murmured as she dug in.

“No problem. Did your NA meeting go okay?” Beca asked as she stabbed a couple of vegetables with her fork.

Chloe chewed and swallowed, then took a sip of her water. “Yeah, it went fine. My sponsor is amazing. We’re meeting for coffee tomorrow morning. Well, tea for me.” Decaf just wasn’t the same.

“Cool.” Beca smiled. “I was thinking we could get a start on the nursery soon? Have you thought of a color for the walls?”

“You wanna paint the walls?” Chloe asked in surprise. “We don’t have to do that, you know. I don’t want you to be stuck with a nursery-looking room once Bean and I move out.”

Beca shrugged. “I have another guest room, and I kinda want Bean to have their own room whenever you guys come to visit.”

Chloe’s heart swelled against her ribs. She wasn’t sure what she had done to deserve someone like Beca back in her life, but she wasn’t going to screw it up this time around. And she had thought about what she wanted Bean’s nursery to look like, but didn’t allow herself to daydream about it until now. “I like those beige walls the way they are, but I was thinking of a woodland theme? Something gender-neutral, for sure. A few animal frames, maybe an animal mobile above the crib?”

“That sounds nice,” Beca said, smiling. “Are you going to find out the sex at your next appointment?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“That’s the 26th at 3, right?” Beca asked, surprising Chloe once more. Upon catching her look, Beca added, “I wrote it down in my planner.”

It was one thing to have written down, another to remember it off the bat like that, but Chloe didn’t even know why she was surprised. Beca had been nothing short of amazing since Chloe decided to keep the baby, between keeping track of the baby’s growth on her app or making sure to pick up ginger ale every time she went grocery shopping.

“Oh. Yeah, the 26th at 3.”

As Chloe further settled into her second trimester, her constant exhaustion gradually faded away. She felt more energized from the start of her fifteenth week, which felt like a breath of fresh air. As her OBGYN saw nothing against it, she started each day with a morning fitness walk followed by a yoga session, then settled down to have some breakfast as she read her book. After lunch, she either had a therapy session or an NA meeting, except for Wednesdays and over the weekend.

The cravings were still there, sitting somewhere at the back of her mind, but she continued pushing through, for the baby’s sake first and foremost, but also because she didn’t want to disappoint her support system and risk losing them forever if she did fall back into old habits. The taunting was strong, every time she walked in front of the liquor store or a familiar street corner where she would get the good stuff, but she resisted, and never hesitated to call Aubrey or her parents when her resolve wobbled a bit too much for her liking.

“Shit,” Chloe muttered as she tried buttoning her pants up, her more than noticeable belly getting in the way. She had just reached 17 weeks, and her bump seemed to have popped a little more overnight. So had her boobs. She could also start to feel some movement going on in there, which was absolutely mind-blowing.

Not ready to accept defeat yet, Chloe grunted at the effort of bringing these two stupid pieces of fabric closer together, exhaling with a sigh when they didn’t budge.

“Chlo?” Beca called out, a knock on Chloe’s bedroom door following. “We should get going.”

“I know, I just-- can’t get my pants to button,” Chloe muttered with a huff.

A pause. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

The door was pushed open, and Beca appeared, leaning against the frame.

She Beca looked amused, causing Chloe to glare at her. “Maybe wear a dress?”

Chloe’s nose wrinkled. “I only have stripper dresses.” That she should definitely donate, or get rid of.

Beca hummed. “Mesh shorts?”

“I guess, yeah.”

“We can go buy some stuff after your appointment if you want?” Beca suggested as Chloe wrestled out of her jeans and slid on a pair of shorts Beca lent her.

“Yeah, definitely.” She needed bras, too. “Okay, I’m ready.”

As her last ultrasound at 13 weeks, Chloe didn’t have to change when they got there, and she laid down on the cot as they waited for the tech to come in. Beca stood by her side, scrolling through her phone.

“So the Bellas’ results are in: 6 say boy, 4 say girl. I said girl.”

Chloe had broken the news to the girls when they came back from Oregon and had once again received nothing but support. Bets started coming in over the gender, the due date, and whether Bean was going to come out with ginger hair.

Chloe chuckled as she rubbed her bump with her palm. “You only said girl because I told you I felt like it was a girl.”

Beca smirked. “They don’t have to know that.” Her expression softened as she pocketed her phone. “You excited to find out?”

“Yeah,” Chloe breathed out. She was more anxious to hear about how Bean was doing and braced herself for bad news.

“Hi there,” the tech greeted as she came in. “How are you doing, Chloe?”

“Good. Hungry all the time.”

The other woman laughed as she rolled the ultrasound machine closer. “Let’s take a look at that baby. Can you lift your top up for me and lower your shorts a little bit?”

Chloe did so, reaching for Beca’s hand as the tech squirted some of that cold gel onto her tummy.

“Alright, let’s see…” the woman drawled out as she moved the wand until she got the perspective she wanted. “Here we go.”

“Oh, they got so big,” Chloe murmured in awe.

“They’re moving around quite a bit,” the tech observed with a smile, pointing at the baby’s kicking legs.

Beca gasped and tore her eyes away from the screen to glance at Chloe. “Can you feel that?”

“Yeah,” Chloe confirmed, blinking back the tears pricking behind her eyes. “Feels like butterflies taking off in my belly.”

“Strong heartbeat,” the tech continued. “Baby’s in the perfect position to tell their gender if you want to know?”

“Yes, please,” Chloe said with a nod.

“Looks like you’re having a baby girl, Chloe.”

“A girl?” Chloe croaked out, a lump rising to her throat. The gender didn’t matter to her but knowing made it feel a thousand percent more real. She felt a squeeze to her hand and found Beca smiling down at her. “We’re in trouble. I was a handful as a kid.”

Beca chuckled. “If she has your eyes, I definitely am in trouble. Won’t be able to say no to anything she asks for, I’m warning you now.”

The way they talked, it almost sounded like they were going to raise Bean together, and Chloe’s heart did another funny thing. Over the last couple of weeks, she had been experiencing weird feelings for Beca that went beyond the friendship line, but she was convinced it was just her hormones acting up like they did with her libido. Chloe felt aroused pretty much all the time, it was getting ridiculous. She also cried in front of a Budweiser commercial because the puppies were cute, so her body and emotions were definitely out of whack.

The doctor came in shortly after, easing Chloe’s worries when she assured her the baby looked healthy, with normal measurements all around. They scheduled another ultrasound four weeks from now, and she and Beca were on their way with three copies of the ultrasound, one for Chloe, one to put on the fridge, and one Beca requested to store in her wallet.

Beca drove them to Target next, and instead of heading to the maternity clothing section, Chloe went straight for the baby stuff, pulling a chuckle from Beca as she pushed the cart alongside.

“Okay, I wanna buy everything,” Chloe mused aloud as she put a onesie back on the rack, even though she found it adorable.

“I know you’re still uncomfortable with it, but please don’t restrain yourself because it’s my money,” Beca said, as though reading Chloe’s thoughts. “I haven’t really had anyone to spend it on, so it’s my pleasure to get Bean whatever they need. Crib, car seat, changing table, stroller, clothes… you name it.” She smirked, nodding towards the rack. “So get that rainbow onesie, because it’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

Chloe giggled and nodded, her eyes shining with unspoken gratitude before she reached for the onesie. It was scary to think of how small her baby girl was going to be as a newborn, and Chloe was so glad she wasn’t doing this on her own.

She selected five more, all animal-themed ones, then moved onto shirts and pants, showing Beca what she thought was cute to get her avail. She kept in mind that the Bellas and her parents were probably going to go overboard with gifts and paced herself on the quantity of stuff she dropped into the cart.

“I feel like we should get the crib, stroller, and car seat from like, a special store?” Beca chimed in as they strolled through the blankets/swaddles section. She scrunched up her nose. “I don’t think I trust Target brands when it comes to sturdiness. I actually strumbled across a car seat that looks amazing, it goes from that to a stroller in just a few folds and clicks.”

Chloe cast her an amused look. “How did you stumble across that, exactly?”

Beca’s cheeks reddened. “By looking up the best strollers on the market.” She cleared her throat when Chloe giggled. “I just have a lot of time to kill on the subway.” Another grimace. “Is that too invasive?”

Chloe shook her head, reaching out to rest her hand on Beca’s forearm. The contact of her skin under her fingertips made Chloe swallow as her body immediately reacted. Freaking hormones. “Not at all. I promise.”

Chloe managed to walk away from the baby part of the store before she bought the whole thing, and headed to the maternity wear, buying a couple of jeans with an elastic waistband, a belly band, a few bras, and a pregnancy pillow.

“Your total is $843,50,” the cashier announced once he had rung everything up, and Chloe swallowed thickly, glancing at Beca with slightly wider eyes.

“It’s fine, Chlo,” Beca insisted as she swiped her credit card through the device. She thanked the cashier and grabbed most of the bags, letting Chloe carry the two lighter ones. Everything easily fit into Beca’s large trunk, and Chloe slid in the passenger seat, buckling up. “Any particular craving for dinner? We can stop for take-out on the way home,” Beca said as she slid her sunglasses over her nose before pulling out of their parking spot.

“I could go for a burger and fries. And a milkshake.”

Beca grinned. “Cool, I’ll stop at Shake Shack.”

Once they got home, they hauled everything upstairs and stored it in the nursery for now, and Chloe changed into sweatpants and Beca’s Bellas hoodie which she had never given back, picking an episode of The Office for them to watch.

“Oh, I forgot,” Beca said after they were done eating, pushing to her feet. “Stay put.”

Chloe did as she was told, giving Beca a curious look when she walked back to the couch with a package. Setting her milkshake on the coffee table, Chloe plucked it from her hands. “What’s this?”

“A little something for Bean,” Beca murmured as she sat back down beside her, folding one leg underneath and hugging the other to her chest. “I ordered it when we got back from Oregon and forgot to give it to you.”

Chloe ripped the tape over the opening and peered inside, fishing the box out. “Belly headphones?” She asked even though that’s what it said on it, her voice wavering slightly as emotions once again rose to her throat. She could blame that on the hormones too, right?

Beca nodded. “I read that babies can hear from 18 weeks on, and I thought it would be cool if Bean listened to music before she’s born. And you know nobody takes picking out a pair of headphones as seriously as I do, so I thought I was the right guy for the job.”

A watery chuckle burst past Chloe’s lips. “This is amazing. Thank you.” She leaned forward to hug Beca, holding her tight. Her scent did another number on Chloe, and she inhaled sharply, willing her body to chill out as she backed away. “For this, and for today…” She couldn’t remember the last time she had smiled so much. “I really don’t know what to say besides thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Chlo,” Beca said, a soft smile curving her lips. “I’m just happy you’re finding your way back step by step.”

Chloe nodded, exhaling. The light at the end of the tunnel was just in sight, and while it was another long way to reach it, she felt like she could, and that on its own felt like a victory.

#bechloe #bechloe fic #pieces

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drxwsyni · 4 years

Text

Petrified (pt. 6)

Yandere Erasermic x f!Reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

a/n: So, I’ve got the rest of this fic planned out which means ideally, writing the rest of it should be easier. I’m so sorry for how long it took me to finish this part, I just had to figure out where I was taking the whole story first. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

A big thank you to those few anons who so kindly sent me some inspiration for this fic. I really appreciate the help, and it greatly assisted me in forming the outline to the rest of the story <3

*Sidenote*: Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist! Also, I’d recommend looking at the warnings listed on Ao3 for the whole fic. There’s a lot of them, and some of you might like the heads up for future chapters (it will have slight spoilers though).

5.2k words

Warnings: Reader experiences panic attacks, severe anxiety & claustrophobia, coercive behaviour

The progression of the night felt slow, but perhaps that wasn’t such a horrible thing―it allowed your mind to grow accustomed to the seemingly endless rambling of a certain blond. That, and you could appreciate the unfaltering patience of his partner, who like you listened dutifully and made the occasional response to whatever the voice hero had chosen to fixate on.

And surprisingly, the frustrating agreement you were quite literally coerced into began slipping from your recollection, at least for the moment.

You’d admit, the two men had some fairly captivating stories. It was becoming a sort of norm for you to idly exist alongside them while they spoke. As a civilian, and one with relatively no past experience when dealing with heroes or villains, you were more or less forced to let them take the reins on the back and forth between the three of you.

That is unless they wanted to talk about what flowers were best paired together, or the step by step process of tending to some particularly high maintenance plants. You assumed they didn’t, and stayed quiet in your ways.

And so time went on, you nestled into the corner of their couch in the small but comfortably furnished living room, the fuel burning fireplace giving off a warmth that settled the nerves that had been sent skyrocketing not too long ago.

For the second time that night, your eyes drifted to the clock hanging on the wall―6:52 pm.

In moments like these you were able to be thankful of Shouta’s perceptiveness, him following your gaze without you realizing his actions. It wasn’t until he voiced his own concerns of not wanting to keep you up too late that you had the realization of his observances.

Naturally, you had no qualms with the idea of your departure.

Hizashi wasn’t as accepting of it, being the overly affectionate person you hated him for, but he would always listen to Shouta before he did so with you. And with a stern glance and brief assurance, his own opinions gave way in favour for the erasure hero’s.

You tried insisting that calling a cab home was no issue, but you rarely got your way with the two, and tonight was not going to be an exception. That reality had you sitting in their car on the way back to your apartment, Hizashi in the driver's seat and still managing to find something to discuss. At this point you weren’t sure if you preferred the nearly deafening silence of Shouta’s company, or the never ending chatter of his partner, but that too was out of your control when you were seen off by the visibly exhausted man at the door just minutes ago, him favouring to remain home to clean up for the night.

The speakers were playing low, some unrecognizable channel broadcasting soft rock while you politely listened to Hizashi drone on as he drove the car through town. It had begun raining just before you left, the distinct but quiet noise of downpour hitting the windshield having a somewhat soothing effect.

It was greatly appreciated, when the sound of Hizashi’s voice was growing in intensity the more excited he became with the topic at hand. You didn’t have the heart to tell him to lower his tone, and so you did your best to contain any brief winces when the pitch raised just above a comfortable level.

When the sight of your apartment complex came into view through the rain splattered glass and street lights reflecting off the droplets, a deep sigh of relief escaped your lungs. Paying attention to the exuberant man after such a long and mentally tasking night was difficult, but somehow you managed to pull it off. You gave yourself some credit for surmounting the task, fully prepared to bound out of the vehicle to your awaiting bedroom the second the chance to do so arose.

The car came to a halt, Hizashi putting the gear shift into park outside the complex. You waited for the doors to unlock, getting ready to say your goodbyes.

You felt a warm hand rest atop your thigh instead, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Before ya get going, I just want to mention one last time that what you’re doin’ at work really isn’t the best idea, sunshine. I know, I know―you like helping people with that cute lil’ quirk of yours. It’s just the whole thing isn’t treatin’ ya very well, you can’t tell me it’s something you’re really okay with keeping up.”

The leg that wasn’t being held down by the blond’s hand bounced anxiously―the action itself unconscious, and movements small to the point where he didn’t pick up on it. His gaze was hard set on your expression, and the raw concern in his eyes was only unsettling, the exact opposite effect it should have.

Salvation was just a few metres away, but with the car doors still locked, it might as well be in another country.

Your eyes trained on the passing cars at the intersection down the street, plastering the best casual look across your face. Inwardly, you prayed he couldn’t sense the way your heart rate had picked up to a racing pace, and the somewhat unsteadiness to your breathing.

“It’s hard, but the job is all I have. Not just for money, but I really do get satisfaction out of working there. And...while this isn’t really the first time I’ve had issues because of my quirk, I can’t just let it stop me from doing what I love.”

Without even looking at him, you could tell how much he disapproved. And you didn’t need the visual confirmation when the grip on your thigh got tighter, and the noise of breathy exhale sounded off next to you. “Sunshine, you’re only hurtin’ yourself. It’s not worth it to do that over a job.”

For once your eyes met his, only for a moment, with a small and brief surge of what you think may have been confidence. Could’ve been stupidity, either way it had you replying with an edge. “You’re one to talk, don’t people like you get hurt all the time for the sake of your job?”

There was a pause, and in that silence you feared for your life.

But then the blonde gave an amused chuckle, removing the hand from your thigh to wave off your confrontational remark. “It’s different for you, I’m supposed to get hurt if it means I’ll protect someone else. And even then, I’m ready to rock with a little help from my friends. My wounds are healed and then it’s back to business―your aches are long term. And for what? Those pretty flowers are gonna die no matter what ya do, no need to put yourself through it to give them a few more days of air time, honey.”

All you could do was smile, even though the condescending attitude was killing you in more ways than one. To drive your fake expression of positivity home, you mustered that awful customer service voice that you’d summon when having to deal with some less than savoury individuals.

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re right, Hizashi. It’s just...I’m really dedicated to my job, and I have been for a long time. I don’t think we’ll be able to agree on this, but that’s not a big deal.”

He gave you a lasting look, as if trying to find answers that he wouldn’t get from spoken responses. Dismissively, the blond shook his head, unlocking the passenger door. “Alright, alright. I’m not gonna change my mind on this though. And ya better hold up your end of the deal either way. I don’t think Shouta or I could take another scare from you so soon, got it?”

Oh, you heard him loud and clear.

You nodded in agreement, “Of course, thanks for the ride home. Oh―feel free to tell me if you have to cancel any of our plans if something comes up too.” Hurriedly, you were collecting your handbag that was strewn across your lap, reaching for the handle and pushing the heavy door open.

“Sure thing, hun!” Inwardly, you cringed for the thousandth time this night at his unwelcome pet names, giving a final smile before gently shutting the car door.

The sound of rain lightly coming down around you, with the damp heaviness in the air felt like an atmospheric and emotional reset. One that you needed―your pent up anxieties were ready to break through the walls you put up since the second you stepped out of your apartment. And you almost forgot about them too, the feeling of consistent dread becoming something that lingered alongside all your other emotions. It never went away, and it’s not that you stopped noticing it completely, rather you had to push it down to keep up a calm facade.

And now, you didn’t dare glance back in Hizashi’s direction as you made your way to the front entrance of the complex. Because he would see the look on your face, lower lip quivering, eyes watering and expression just barely holding it together.

The distraction of a normal conversation was ripped from your body, and the prospect of having to worry about balancing work as usual without looking like a liar came crashing down on you.

You could only hope that the walls were thick enough for your neighbours to be protected from the sounds of your sobs.

_____

Petals grew with a lively plushness, leaves sprouting a new sense of vitality. It was a beautiful display of plant life.

And you grew tired.

Your most recent purchase of concealer was doing a good job dissuading people from that fact however. Even after a long work day, it remained masking the dark circles underneath your eyes. Nothing changed for a while, except for the notion that you were getting better at keeping the drawbacks of your dedication out of the spotlight.

Arrangement after tedious arrangement, your quirk brought life back into the greenery like it always did. You only wished you felt as healthy as you looked. The sight of a blemish free and lively complexion as a result of your new makeup routine made you a little jealous, knowing the truth.

You never felt so concerned and drained over the reality of your general state before now.

Those two heroes wanted you doing what they thought was best for you, which they had no right to decide. And although you resolved in secret to simply put up a front of agreeableness, their demands still had an effect.

Paranoia was one of them.

Having them walk in on your work shift unannounced was a slim possibility, but it was a possibility nonetheless. Ideally, you would save the fairly high priced makeup for those impending weekend nights spent with the two. Yet, the prospect of either of the heroes catching you off guard, and quite clearly unchanged from holding yourself back, kept you reapplying the product day after day.

You went into the ordeal with high hopes, but with each passing shift your doubts only became more incessant. Going through the motions of what was normally a mindless routine became taxing, even just days after seeing the two. And so, when the time rolled around a week later to give them what was pretty much a progress report passed off as a friendly get together, it was difficult to maintain a straight face.

No amount of astonishingly good food, or engaging stories by the fireplace could take your mind off the question that by all means should pop up.

And it did―merely proving your conceptions of what they really had in mind for nights like these. For some ungodly reason the two sought to control this part of your life, one that if it weren’t for them might not be a big issue. Without the emotional strain, your body would be able to handle the effects of utilizing your quirk in a way that was manageable.

It was their fault you felt as if the end of a work day couldn’t come sooner, and the fumes of energy you retained nearly weren’t enough to get you home each night.

And yet, as they sprung the expected question upon you, demanding to know if you were following through with your end of the ‘agreement,’ they seemed none the wiser to your blatant lies.

Well, aside from the fleeting glance Hizashi sent to Shouta, which was promptly disregarded, you’d effectively averted another crisis. It was back to settling into the background of their company, losing yourself in their words for the moment where the questionable reality of the situation went over your head.

Perhaps if you grew closer to the heroes under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t feel so gut wrenchingly apprehensive whenever you caught yourself coming to greatly enjoy your time with them. It was like an internal betrayal―your body unable to disregard the oppressive behaviour they exhibited, while simultaneously longing to have gratitude for their hospitable nature.

By the end of the night, the semi-forced meeting had you feeling as drained as any work day would, and then some.

In fact, you never fully recovered from it.

You only got worse, the need to apply more concealer and muster everything in your being to force a smile on your face during the day being the bane of your existence. It was all because of them, and they didn’t even know.

If you weren’t so miserable, you could almost laugh at the whole thing. They were the ones urging you to take better care of yourself, and yet it was them who were keeping you from doing so. It’s not like you could just heed their words and stop using your quirk―your livelihood depended on it. Tips were hard to come by in your occupation, and the only reason why you earned so much was due to the advantage you held in the workplace.

The frustration was what had you crying yourself to sleep some nights, at least when you weren’t too exhausted to simply pass out the second your head hit the pillow. You began devising ‘what if’ scenarios that would only have to do with ways to avoid Shouta and Hizashi. Ways to weasel your way out of meeting up with them.

Maybe you could fake being sick? They would just come check up on you regardless.

Perhaps you could move to another city? You didn’t have the funds―and what if they followed you?

Why don’t you just ask them to end the agreement?

...Don’t lie to yourself, you’d rather lose your job than face that level of confrontation.

They were an active nuisance even when they weren’t directly in your life. And so when they were present in that sense, the feeling of unbearable stress only increased tenfold.

Hizashi was one for texting, the sound of a message alert from your phone instinctively triggering your heart to drop in your chest like a Pavlov dog. A painful reminder in the times you managed to free your worrisome mind from their unintentional torment.

And then there was the unannounced visit from Shouta on your way home. It only happened once before the next dinner night, but it was enough to break down the wall you’d built for the ensuing occasion that would hopefully protect your weak heart from shattering under the stress.

He walked you home, catching you on your way back from work. It was peculiar, to say the least. A hero as busy as him actively ignoring his duties to see a civilian who was in no danger whatsoever back to their apartment. You initially questioned him, and he blew off the concern with the defence that this type of occurrence was very much in the rage of heroics that needed to be done.

You weren’t in danger, but you might’ve been if he hadn’t showed up. It was a logical action taken by him, and you shouldn’t worry about it.

Shouta was quiet on his feet, and you might’ve thought he’d left you be if it weren’t for that distinct rustling of his capture weapon shifting as he walked next to you. He was a man of few words, and seeing you home didn’t require much conversation when he was simply doing his duty as a hero.

You arrived at the complex, safe and sound. Physically at least.

As always, you had to adjust from keeping your anxieties to yourself, to being so overwhelmingly aware of them in the privacy of your own apartment. The floodgates were opened, and bottled up emotions no longer had a need to stay hidden. Coming home was never supposed to be so painful, but it was when you were forced to spend it trying to calm down from the chance day.

_____

They let you make dessert for your next meeting. The both of them were deeply impressed by your skills, offering their own extensive words of praise.

Expectedly, it wasn’t enough to have them forgetting the real reason why you were there. You were thankful when Shouta asked how you were doing this time―he always got straight to the point.

But you ended up yawning midway through dismissing their concerns, and of course they pressed you on it. It wasn’t intentional in the slightest. You didn’t want to give away that your limbs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds with how tired you were. Or how your existence could now be chalked up to getting ready for work, going to work, and recovering from work―with a sprinkle of uncontrollable meltdowns on the side.

You told them it was getting late, and they had offered you a drink, so naturally you were a little tired from it. No big deal, right?

Of course, they said.

And so you went home not too long after, Shouta in the driver's seat, stoic and silent as ever. Maybe it was your hazed over mind playing tricks on you, but his demeanour felt...off. Like he wanted to say something, but was holding himself back. Perhaps it was for your sake, or he just assumed you were too worn out to really take whatever words were floating around in his head to heart. So instead he kept a close eye on you the whole way home, stealing concerned glances that you never met with your own gaze. He was tense―the white knuckled grip on the wheel gave it away.

Shouta never gave you evidence as to why he was acting as such, and you never asked him to.

_____

While you may have been growing accustomed to their presence even in the slightest, it didn’t stop your body from shutting down in the areas that you needed most.

Resilience was your strong suit in the time before meeting the two men. But life was testing you around every corner, and you were failing these tests with worse results each time.

It was Wednesday, the halfway mark in another week that felt all too long for you to be able to stomach. Unforeseen obstacles were becoming a norm lately. Making sure you were stocked up on enough caffeine so you didn’t black out, pinching yourself to stay awake in the slower times at work, consciously paying attention simple actions so you didn’t trip over your own two feet. Generally, it was the small stuff that was making your life harder alongside the more glaring issues you faced.

And now, the obstacle was getting home. It’s not that this wasn’t always a task in itself, but it never developed past the routine of ensuring you were heading in the right direction when your mind chose to wander.

This time you were sure the route you were taking was correct, but something was in your way.

Your ears rung at the high pitched sirens going off around you. The flashing lights of firetrucks, ambulances, and other various first responder vehicles lit up the steeped darkness of the night. A crowd had formed at the police tape line blocking off one side of the street, the group effectively taking up any space left to get by on the other side that wasn’t bombarded by emergency personnel.

The sight seemed like an insurmountable feat, especially in your state. Physically and emotionally drained, the gathering of onlookers stood as one of your worst fears and largest challenges yet. Whatever had earned such an audience was beyond you. Realistically, you needed only to regard the response it was given to know that whatever had happened, it was quite serious.

And it was preventing you from moving forward.

There was the shortcut to your left, one that’d worked for you before...until it didn’t. The warnings of Shouta and Hizashi ran through your head, bringing on a new sense of anxiety. It was just what you needed―the words of the two most intimidating men in your life keeping you from seeing yourself home in a calm manner.

You couldn’t take the alleyway. The only option was right in front of you.

Deep breaths.

It was only roughly twenty or thirty feet of crowd. Tightly packed, and relatively unmoving. You didn’t have the heart to rudely shove your way through the condensed gathering, fearing the looks of disapproval from those you tried to get past. And so you weaved through slowly, barely getting out a passing “Pardon me,” or “Excuse me.”

Distantly, you were aware that your voice was so small amongst the muddled conversations of strangers and still blaring sirens, that the probability of anyone hearing your forced politeness was slim to none. But the action made you feel better, even if nobody knew that you were having these concerns. At least you were trying to be wary of others.

But you didn’t get the same care in return.

Rudely, an observing civilian shoved you to the side, selfishly trying to get a better view. You stumbled into another body, earning a curse of annoyance for your clumsiness. With a racing heart hammering in your ears, you gave a distressed apology. It earned you no leniency.

You can block them out, just focus on getting out of here.

Another harsh force collided with your back, sending you to the pavemented ground. The feeling of your knees scraping against the harsh surface didn’t register. The notion that tears were welling in your eyes didn’t either. Only the sensation of panic, and the ability to simply breath becoming more difficult was able to surface in your consciousness.

You pleaded with your body to stand up, and somehow you did, no thanks to anyone around you who could’ve very well assisted you. Through the thickness of the crowd you couldn’t even see where the bodies dissipated. All you could do was blindly move forward.

Nobody cared about how overwhelmed you quite obviously were. Or at least that’s what you thought, not being able to completely tell, or ask for help to hopefully alert someone of your extreme discomfort. They only needed to remove their focus from whatever scene warranted so much attention in front of them for a second to realize what they were unknowingly doing.

And yet, of course nobody was that conscious of their own actions. Not like you, who even amidst the chaos of being shoved in every which direction still desperately tried to minimize your own damage. It was for the sake of those who paid no mind for your own comfort, you fearing whatever might happen if you didn’t.

The presence of so many people was suffocating. If you didn’t think you were claustrophobic before, you certainly knew you were now.

You were exhausted, stressed, partly injured―although that fact still hadn’t set in yet―and unbearably on edge.

And then you were out.

You don’t remember going through the motions, just that now your body wasn’t compressed by countless others. A few seconds went by and you felt your sense of balance come back to you. But you still felt nauseous, and in lifting a hand to your face you realized that you were crying, feeling the distinct wetness against your fingers.

Out of the need for mental self-preservation, your brain essentially forced you into autopilot. You found your legs moving away from the crowd, and down the route that would lead you home. It amazed you by the time you shut the door to your apartment that you hadn’t passed out. The way you still shakily sucked in breaths in quick succession hadn’t stopped, and your hands could barely keep steady as you fumbled with the locks on the door.

The work bag weighing you down was unceremoniously dropped to the floor, and you tiredly trudged to the kitchen table. Had you gone any longer without rest, you could’ve very well collapsed right there on the floor. Thankfully, you made it to a chair before then, burying your face into your arms that were folded over the table as you slumped against it.

Tired and weak sobs wracked your worn out body, and you let the steady stream of tears be soaked up in the sleeve of your hoodie. As for how your mind was fairing, you couldn’t really tell. Getting a grip on your wavering thoughts felt impossible. It was an uncontrollable back and forth between what had happened, and fleeting attempts to ground yourself.

That task of focusing on the present wasn’t something you could do alone, at least not at the moment. But the sound of your phone ringing could. Your heart stopped at the auditory intrusion, and hesitantly you pulled the device out of your pocket.

The caller ID had you relapsing, broken cries unable to be contained for a few seconds as you tried to figure out how to deal with this new and greatly unappreciated problem. Your eyes scanned over the buzzing and lit up device, reading over Shouta’s name repeatedly.

You let the call go to voicemail.

A moment of reprieve―and then the ringtone started for a second time.

With bated breath, you stared at the device. You could let it go to voicemail once again. You could blow it off as not being near the phone when you were inevitably questioned on the occurrence.

Or you could answer the damn thing now, and be done with the weight of the night.

On the final ring before the automated response kicked in, you pressed the ‘accept call’ button. In lifting the phone to your ear, the gruff and concerned voice of Shouta broke through before you could make any move to initiate the dreaded conversation first.

“Sorry to bother you, just checking to see if you got home safe. There was an incident in your area in case you weren’t already aware…”

The line went silent as you took a moment to collect yourself before giving a response.

You sucked in a deep breath, “I’m alright, thanks for calling.” The appreciative lilt in your tone was as genuine as you could make it. But the shakiness, the crack in your voice as you spoke―it was a dead giveaway.

“...Then why do you sound like you’ve been crying for hours? You need to tell me if something happened, (y/n).” Even with the way the phone call distorted his voice, the sternness still pierced your resolve as if he was standing right in front of you.

Your words were shaky as you felt a plethora of distressing emotions bubbling rapidly inside of you. “I said I’m fine, Shouta. You don’t need to―”

“Don’t lie to me. You know I’m only asking because I’m worried about you, alright? Clearly something’s wrong, just―tell me what happened.”

You wondered if he was aware of just how unfriendly he sounded while saying something like that. It was more so a harsh command for a response, rather than a gentle urge to inform him of your wellbeing. Like he was bothered with you trying to remain strong, and not burdening him with your problems.

That was your issue with Shouta―a hint of what you could only assume was annoyance lingered in his words where you were concerned. At least, that’s how it was when you were behaving in such a manner that didn’t comply with how he’d decided you should act. You’d seen him in a light that was enjoyable. When you first met him, or after he’d already chewed you out during those Saturday nights and thus no longer felt the need to pressure you on what truth you’d developed over your state.

Unfortunately, right now your state went against all those lies you told. An emotional wreck, beaten down by the hands of those too caught up in some captivating scene to take account of the consequences to their ignorance.

Determination was wavering in your mind, and if you didn’t end the call soon then the chance of making all the effort you’d put into keeping them from the truth would be for nothing.

“Really, everything is okay. Listen, I’m sort of busy right now…” You stifled a sob into a clenched fist, “I-I can’t talk at the moment, I’m sorry―I have to go.”

Your finger was flying to the ‘end call’ button as soon as the words left your mouth. His protests rang through the speaker, but exactly what he said was beyond you.

The line went dead, and your phone shut off. It clattered against the wooden table as you dropped it. Your hands lifted to rub the hot tears falling down your cheeks, full body tremors wreaking havoc as you remained seated.

In the silence of your apartment, your emotions settled into a static numbness. Your eyes remained trained on the table, mindlessly taking in the details of the wood’s grain. Whatever would happen as a result of you abruptly cutting off the conversation wasn’t a scenario you could formulate.

The screen on your phone remained black, and you made no move to turn it on. You never checked it for the time that was passing as you remained utterly drained at the kitchen table. Something in the back of your mind told you that yes―you could very well get up and go to bed. Or maybe you could bring yourself out of this empty feeling with a distraction.

You could even call Shouta back, perhaps apologize for behaviour that was out of your control...

...No, you couldn’t do that.

Possibilities of various actions presented themselves, and yet you remained unmoving. Your breath had steadied to a slow intake and outtake, disregarding the quivering that still persisted. You didn’t want to think about what had happened, so you didn’t think at all.

You settled into that state for an unknown amount of time. And it took a while, but slowly you could focus on the background noise around you. The air conditioner hummed from the vents against the wall, the thumping of footsteps from residents above you sounded off a couple of times.

Actually...there were more than just those few footsteps.

Still in a daze, you trained your weak focus on that sound. Distant, then coming closer. You turned your head to the front door of your apartment where they stopped.

Three loud raps against the frame. Firm, steady, and done with purpose.

Your heart sunk into your chest.

(End of part 6)

_____

Taglist: @roseloverofpastels @shinsous-eye-bags @tjhonoluluprezstitch626 @pekusofixus @riathearora @glitterypinkkitty @elektraeriseros @hadesnewpersephone @axolotleyeliner

#yandere bnha #yandere erasermic #yandere shouta aizawa #yandere hizashi yamada #yandere my hero academia #yandere mha #yandere eraserhead #yandere aizawa #yandere present mic #yandere hizashi #yandere #yanderecore #yandere writing #yandere x you #tw panic attack #tw anxiety #tw claustrophobia

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tatooedlaura-blog · 3 years

Text

My Person

It’s a Sunday morning drabble complete with head-cold editing and runny nose ruminations ... hold nothing against me except possibly a cold compress on my forehead ...

&&&&&&&&&&

Safe for all -- rated ‘G’ Skinner-friendly Includes Waffles and Stuff

What more could you ask for

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&&

She’d ridden with him in the ambulance, leaving Mulder behind to deal with the blood, the body, and the barrage. She needed a few stitches but those were taken care of quickly and efficiently while Skinner moved from the ER directly to the operating room, the right side of his body full of holes from one Curtis Barkley and his modified AR-15.

She could easily handle eight stitches to her forehead.

&&&&&&&&

Mulder, four hours later, finally had the time to wonder about his boss and his partner. Trying to call, she didn’t answer, so wrapping up his end of business, he trudged first to his car, then drove through the dark to the hospital, figuring since she wasn’t back at his side, she’d still be there.

Leaving his jacket, armor, and swat helmet in the car, he kept his gun tucked under his arm as he made his way through the emergency room entrance. Clearing through security, he asked around, discovering Skinner was out of surgery and in recovery while the red-haired agent he was inquiring about was up in the fourth-floor waiting room. Heading in that direction, he got off the elevator, stretching his back as he did so, and caught a glimpse of her hunched in a chair, head down, hands dangling.

Waving his ‘hello’ to Genevieve, one of their many guardian angel nurses he knew by name, he headed towards Scully. Crouching in front of her, she didn’t startle but looked up, having heard the unique cadence of his walk. Mulder tilted his head, “how’s boss man?”

“Holding his own.” Looking around the small area, she tried to find a clock and gave up quickly, “what time is it?”

“Almost midnight. Nearly had to run out to get Sam a pizza so he’d let me up here but Darla sweet-talked him for me.” Giving her what might have been a small smile in another universe, “we know these people too well.”

“Did you see Genevieve?”

“Yeah. Remind me to ask about her oldest. He was applying to Princeton last time we talked.”

Nodding, she held his gaze for a moment, “how did things go on your end?”

“We’ll talk about that later.” Reaching up, he touched the skin around her stitches, “no bandage?”

“No. It would have covered my eye so I refused.”

Continuing his fingers along her temple then down her cheek absently, he stood, dropping a kiss to the top of her head before he sat down, “so, hungry?”

They hadn’t eaten since the night before and being honest, “I should be but I’m not.”

About to tell her he was buying her dinner anyways, Genevieve popped in, her voice quiet, “Mr. Skinner’s been moved to his own room if you’d like to go see him for a minute.”

“What room?”

“412. It’s around the corner and down the hall. The other end of the floor.”

“Thanks.” Once she’d left them alone again, “how about we go check on him then we go find food?”

Scully didn’t move to get up, instead tilting her head in his direction, “have you noticed at all the lack of people here?”

He didn’t see where she was going with this, “yeah, it’s midnight. On a Tuesday. At a hospital. I think bustling would be more noteworthy.”

“No. I mean, there’s nobody here for him. Some people from the Bureau were earlier but since he can’t tell his side, they said they’d be back tomorrow. Otherwise, he has no family, Mulder. There’s no one here for him.”

Mulder understood now and reaching over, he rested his hand on her knee, squeezing it once, “then he gets us. I never had anyone until you so now, we will be his you.” Shaking his head, “sorry. That sounds stupid but I’m hungry and exhausted. I’ll make better sense tomorrow.”

Her voice low, oddly surprised she hadn’t asked before this, “didn’t Diana or your mom ever come see you?”

“Hell no. Diana hated hospitals. Once she found out I wasn’t dead, she told me she’d see me at home and don’t even get me started on Mom.”

Knowing when to move on, she covered his hand with hers, “412, right?”

Standing, he pulled her up, “let’s go.”

&&&&&&&&&

Once in the room, noting the normal monitors, nothing beeping, nothing blinking red and terrifying, he led her to the other side of the bed, where two chairs sat empty, seemingly waiting for the pair of them, “sit?”

She didn’t object.

Quiet for a minute or two, as the vinyl settled under their weight and their eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, Mulder took a deep breath, “he’s a mess.”

Skinner’s right side was heavily bandaged, covering stitches from shoulder to hip. Barkley had been so close when Skinner startled him that the bullets had gone through Skinner’s flesh to bury themselves in the wall behind but had left enough damage to reduce the Marine to a bloody mess. Scully had held him together as well as she could, pressing on shredded holes, yelling for an ambulance, yelling at Skinner to stay awake, yelling at Mulder to make sure that son of a bitch Barkley was dead.

Thankfully, she wasn’t still covered in their boss’s blood, Genevieve having given her a scrub top and liberal use of a shower in one of the empty rooms. Her jeans were still caked but from the waist up she was clean, dry, and now still staring at her boss without blinking until she broke the silence, “those bullets would have caught me square in the face if Skinner hadn’t gone in first.”

That was what would keep him from sleeping for the next few days, “I know,” his hand found hers over the padded arms of their chairs, “and I’d prefer if we never spoke of that again, thanks very much.”

She was in a strange mood and she could feel it settling in, mingling with the exhaustion of the last five days. Melancholy? Morose? Maudlin? “we’ve never used both chairs before.”

He honestly had to stop and think, “no. I guess we haven’t. It’s usually one of us in the bed.” Giving her a thoughtful look, he took hold of her hand once again, running his thumb over knuckles at random intervals until, “you know I love you, right?”

Sudden, unexpected tears pricked her eyes but she held them back, “you’ve never said it but I figured you did. I mean, how many times have you sat vigil in that chair for me? That tells me more than words ever could.”

“I love you, Scully.”

Finally giving up a smile, “you know I love you, too, right?”

“I think it wavers occasionally, especially when I’m an asshole but for the most part, I think you do … a lot of the time, at least … I hope.”

“I love you, Mulder.”

She would have continued but suddenly, a groggy voice crackled at them, “I love you both, too, now will you shut up and get out of my room already. I’m trying to sleep.”

Scully’s smile broke wide and both stood immediately, Scully starting to apologize as Mulder pulled her towards the door, “g’night, sir, glad you’re still with us.”

Stopping him from taking her out the door, she let go of Mulder for a moment and moved to Skinner’s side, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek, “we’ll be back tomorrow and for the record, I owe you … big time.”

Mulder called from the doorway, “I owe you even bigger. Come on, Scully, let the man sleep.”

Both disappeared out the door and Skinner moaned a groan, his finger finding the call button for more drugs. He’d been happily asleep until those two idiots of his had walked in the door. The three of them would be having a long talk about personal space and indoor voices in the near future.

&&&&&&&&&

Waving goodnight to Genevieve and her cohort, both smiling at them from the desk, Mulder moved Scully to stand by the elevator, button pushed, wait ensuing. Toying with her fingers as they dangled beside his, he grasped one digit then two, “not to scare you or anything but you also realize that you’re my person, right? You are my emergency contact, my power of attorney, and you have the only spare key to my apartment in existence.”

“So, you only love me because without me, you couldn’t get into your apartment.”

The elevator doors opened and he playfully shoved her forward, “get in there so I can take you to breakfast.”

Once in the box, enclosed and moving slowly to the parking level, Scully leaned in, hugging his arm, “do you know you’re my person, too?”

“Always have been, Scully.” Waiting three beats until the doors opened again, exhaust mixed with dank humidity hitting them, “and always will be.”

Leaving her arm through his as they headed to the car, “I think we should go to Waffles and Stuff.”

Kissing the top of her head once again, “you and your waffles.”

“Love me, love my waffles.”

#msr #MulderNScully #Walter Skinner #two chairs for sitting vigil instead of just one #My writing #xfiles #xf fanfic #txf fanfic #xfiles fanfic

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professorjaskier · 3 years

Text

A Twist of Fate

Hey guys! I wrote a sad fic for @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde because she wanted a fic that would make her cry! I think I delivered. Thank you to @kuripon for betaing this work!

TW: There is a major character death and depictions of blood and a fatal injury. You’ve been warned! I hope you enjoy(?)

A03 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30468945

Over the many years of their companionship, for all the ways that Jaskier had imagined their inevitable separation, Geralt's death had never crossed his mind as a possibility. Jaskier was always supposed to leave first, involuntarily dragged away by the cruel hands of death, but gone nonetheless.

There had been moments when Jaskier’s thoughts had wandered to the macabre, wondering when the thin string attaching him to the world would be snipped by the cruel hands of fate. The day when he cuckolded the wrong person or didn’t move fast enough to avoid the sharps talons of a griffin. On the worst days, he would speculate that his death would be brought forth by sickness or worse, old age. Something unpoetic and dull, the opposite of what he’d worked to be his entire life.

Geralt always hated when Jaskier would voice these contemplations of his own humanity; that flame that burned bright, but was inevitably shorter than the veritable bonfire of a witcher’s lifespan. With these conversations, Geralt would grow quieter and hold him tighter, as though his grasp could fight the continuous march of time.

Neither of them had anticipated this.

Geralt always said slow witchers were dead witchers. He’d never said anything about slow bards causing the death of a perfectly fit witcher. One still considered to be in his prime.

It had all happened so fast, the bandits popping out of the foliage in droves. Jaskier knew it was his fault, no matter the platitudes his friends would offer him later on. He’d been playing his lute as they’d walked down the deceivingly empty road despite the look of consternation he found on Geralt’s face. The witcher had seemed on edge, but he’d ignored his lover’s distress, instead focusing on his newest composition. Things had been good the last few months, with Ciri ascending to her rightful place on the throne and that entire Wild Hunt business put behind them. Hell, they hadn’t been on the road in months, Geralt settling into his newly acquired vineyard and Jaskier running his own business. Inevitably, Geralt grew bored of his sedentary life and Jaskier had followed him back onto the path. Perhaps those months of respite had made them lazy, unused to the perils of traveling. Jaskier would never know.

What he would remember was the way that he’d been caught off-guard by a young man sneaking up from behind. The man was more like a child than a man, barely growing whiskers on his chin. Jaskier would’ve felt bad for the teenager if he hadn’t been trying to murder him. As it was, that child had stabbed his sword straight through Geralt’s breast as the witcher pushed him out of the way.

Jaskier watched in shocked silence as the polished steel sliced its way through Geralt’s sternum, the blood bubbling out of his love’s body. The child looked nearly as shocked, staring at the sword in his hand in horror as it speared through Geralt’s body.

After a moment, Jaskier rushed forward and hit the young man over the head with his lute. He heard a horrendous crack, but had no time to investigate the damage done to his precious instrument beyond checking that the boy was truly unconscious. Once that was confirmed, he hurried over to Geralt’s side.

Red. All he could see was red intertwining with the pale ivory of Geralt’s face and the spun silver of his hair. Things looked bleak. He had seen Geralt in terrible situations before, holding himself together though sheer stubbornness and dumb luck, but this was bad. The sword stuck out of his broad chest, while Geralt stayed unnaturally still on the ground. Jaskier let out a sob, certain that his love was dead, until he heard a quiet, choking sound come from Geralt’s mouth. He immediately kneeled to the ground, uncaring of the damage it would do to his fancy clothes. Clothes could be replaced, but his lover couldn’t be.

“Geralt! You’re fine, it’s going to be fine. Just tell me what potion you need and I’ll get it!” He spoke these words, nearly incomprehensible with the speed at which they were said, but upon looking up he saw that Roach was gone. This latest version of Roach was new, not yet hardened from the perils of the Path, and had run at the first sign of danger. Normally that would be fine, but she also carried every potion Geralt would need to heal.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath, gently petting the silver hair he loved so much, ignoring the tacky feeling of blood under his fingertips. Swiftly tearing off his doublet, he placed it under Geralt’s head, hoping to afford him some comfort while he ran to find the runaway mare. “Okay, I’m going to find Roach, just stay here! It’s going to be alright Geralt, I’ll find us some help.”

As he stood to complete this necessary task, he felt a hand weakly grab at his wrist. “No,” Geralt whispered, forming the words around the blood spilling from his lips. “Stay,” he commanded with a pleading light in his eyes.

Jaskier sat back down immediately, gingerly shifting the witcher’s head into his lap. “Geralt, I need to find—”

“It’s too late,” Geralt choked out, looking paler every second.

Jaskier sobbed at those three words, finally understanding the severity of the situation. He placed a hand on Geralt’s cheek, caressing it in the hopes that it would bring minimal comfort to the man he loved.

“Why?” Jakier asked as tears spilled down his pale cheeks. “You would’ve been fine, it wasn’t worth it.” His voice broke on the last word, sobs destroying any semblance of loquacity left within him. “Why would you do that, you stupid witcher?”

“Was worth it,” Geralt slurred, exhausted from the fight and the subsequent blood loss. “Couldn’t live without you. Sorry.”

Jaskier choked back a sob, overwhelmed by the inescapable conclusion of their final adventure. “I’m sorry,” he pleaded, staring into golden pools of light that became dimmer every moment. “I shouldn’t have been playing my lute, I saw you were distracted—”

“Not your fault—” Geralt insisted, taking a weak hold of his hand, stroking the trembling fingers with a calloused thumb. They were silent for a moment, the sound of Geralt’s labored breaths filling the space around them like an unwelcome guest. “Tell Ciri and Yennefer I love them,” Geralt gritted through his teeth, fighting through the unbearable pain to say his last wishes. “Bring my medallion to Kaer Morhen. They need to know.”

Jaskier nodded frantically, wiping away the blood dripping from the corner of those lips he knew better than his own. He watched as Geralt attempted to say more but no words came out, impeded by the blood pouring out of his mouth. With his last vestiges of energy, he saw Geralt mouth, “I love you,” before falling limp in his arms.

The world fell silent, everything falling still as Geralt shuddered his last breath. “No,” Jaskier brokenly whispered, knowing deep down that no one would answer. “Geralt, no, please, don’t leave me. You can’t leave me!” he cried out, his voice breaking on the final word. When there was no response but the sound of birds and wind blowing through the trees, he laid his head down on the witcher's still chest and clung as tightly as he dared, imparting one last embrace.

He wasn’t supposed to die first. This was wrong. “It was always meant to be me,” Jaskier murmured to the empty shell lying in his lap.

It was never meant to end this way.

#major character death #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #the witcher fandom #witcher fanfiction #Jaskier #Geralt #whump #blood

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sirowsky · 3 years

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The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature/Explicit 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Language, smut.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: So, I’m suffering side-effects from vaccination today, and I’m kinda out of it. So this chapter might be too, I honestly can’t tell right now. Anyway, it’s all smut and fun times, so enjoy! :D

Chapter 26

Monday arrived like a freight-train, and getting up that morning turned out to be almost impossible, because Marcus had decided to pick that moment in time to be his most adorable – and most impossible self.

You’d had an active night, repeatedly waking up to find yourself wet and pining as though you’d been dreaming about sex for hours. It had happened three times during the night, and no matter how much you’d tried to just breathe and relax and calm down, it had only gotten worse, and you’d had no choice but to wake him, each time, and ask him to help you. Obviously, he was only happy to help, sleepily smiling and pulling you to him to warm himself up. The third time you’d just groaned after you woke up, and he’d started laughing when the sound woke him too.

“Seriously, hermosa, are you in heat or something?”

“I fucking hope so… This is exhausting.”

“Come here, I’ll do the work this time, you just relax.”

All of this meant that you hadn’t gotten back to any real deep sleep before the alarm went off, and you woke up feeling restless but also somehow heavy and sluggish. And then there was your beloved fiancé. You had kept him up for most of the night, and so when the alarm went off, he decided to punish you by not letting you get up. You turned the alarm off and then rolled over on your back and sighed, and suddenly he was on top of you, sleepy and warm and heavy, and utterly unmovable. He didn’t instigate anything or even speak to you, he just laid there, falling back asleep with you as his mattress.

“Marcus, don’t. Please, I’ve already got Management on my back, I don’t need to be squished from the front too.”

“Mmmm… but you’re sooo squishy…”

Even though he was practically asleep, he started hardening against you, and even though you were stressed and exhausted in equal measure, your fucking body responded as though you hadn’t been with him for months.

“I don’t have time for this, baby.”

That seemed to wake him up, and he ground himself hard against your mound, eliciting several involuntary whimpers from you. Yes, whimpers. You were that fucking desperate.

“But what if this makes a baby?”

The words sent tendrils of pleasure through your nerves, and your inside walls were suddenly quaking. He could feel you react, so he pressed himself inside, and you gasped and clutched him to you as hard as your arms and legs would allow you.

“What if you really are in some kind of heat, and this is the perfect time.”

Your limbs were shaking, trying to hold him even tighter to you, needing him as though he was oxygen and you were drowning.

“You don’t wanna waste it, do you?”

Your power shot out, hard and short, and you were just able to direct it down underneath you, shattering the legs of the bed and probably the frame too. But you hardly even noticed as Marcus ignored it and drove into you faster and deeper, making you come with more than one loud moan, before he followed.

“Fuck… See what you did?”

“Oh, no, you broke the bed all by yourself, sweetheart.”

“Because you took me to fucking fairyland!”

“I did what, now?”

“Oh, never mind, get off me, I need to get in the shower.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Hmpf. Or what?”

“Or I’ll lick you all the way back to fucking fairyland.”

Oh, yes, please…

Wait. NO! You do not have time for that.

“Please, my darling fiancé, will you let me get off this bed now?”

He grinned from ear to ear hearing you call him that for the first time, like you knew he would. Then he kissed you, slipped out of you, jumped off the bed and sprinted into the bathroom, giggling like a little kid.

“Don’t you dare steal that shower from me, Moreno!!”

“You’re welcome to join me, preciosa.”

“No! I am not gonna join you, you’re gonna get out and let me get ready.”

You’d scrambled out of the remnants of the bed and reached the bathroom by then, and sure enough, he already had the water going in there. It hadn’t warmed up yet, and as soon as you stepped over the threshold, he aimed the nozzle of the detachable showerhead at you, drenching your naked body in cold water. You didn’t scream, but you did lose your breath with the shock of the sensation. But thankfully, you’d done the Ice-Bucket challenge when it came around a few years earlier, so you recognised your reaction and quickly regained your senses. And when you got your breath back – you were fuming. Your ghost hands found his waist, and you watched him go from amused to surprised to disbelieving, when, in pure frustration, you lifted him clean off of the floor and moved him out of the shower stall. You walked past him while he was still levitating and stepped into the now warm shower spray, before dropping him by the door. And since he was unprepared for the rough landing, he lost balance and fell over.

“Well, damn, famb… I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Apparently I can, so stop fucking with me and let me get ready for work.”

“Hey, to be fair – you’re the one that’s been fucking with me all night – I’m just returning the favour.”

“Okay. Let me rephrase that: stop being an asshole!”

“Only if you promise to let me bug you at work today.”

“What? No, that is the opposite of what I need right now.”

“Fine. Then I’ll just keep being a dick instead.”

“Oh my god, what has gotten into you today? You’re worse than a three-year-old.”

He didn’t answer, but you could hear him starting on his morning trimming, whistling a little while he worked and waited.

“Argh… Fine. You can bug me, but no more than once every two hours.”

“No deal.”

“Marcus…”

You sighed. This was just gonna be one of those days.”

“Okay, I yield. But – fair warning: I will use my powers to force you to stay in line, if I have to.”

“Understood.”

You half-ran into the kitchen 15 minutes later, to find Missy putting the finishing touches to a cup of tea, before handing it to you.

“Oh, you really are an Angel! Thank you so much, sweetie.”

“I figured you’d need an assist this morning after what I heard from your bedroom earlier.”

You froze, and your cheeks flushed when you remembered, not just the bed, but your own noisiness.

“I am so sorry… I was a little… out of control, this morning.”

“In a good way, or bad?”

“Hard to say, really.”

“But, you guys are okay, right?”

“Yeah. Physically…”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I’m not the only one having a weird day today.”

A minute later, Marcus bounced into the kitchen, and immediately stole the piece of toast you’d just finished for yourself and was in the process of carrying to the table. And without so much as a glance at you, he chewed down more than half of it in a single bite, while reaching for a cup to get himself some coffee. You stared at him with your mouth hanging open.

“Did you just steal food from me?”

“Excellent toast, love. Really good.”

With a surprisingly controlled burst, you shattered his cup, and then the entire coffeemaker. He just stared at the mess of coffee and broken china on the floor, and then he looked up at you, looking mockingly shocked.

“Great, now you have to get me a new coffeemaker.”

“Like hell I do. Get your own coffeemaker, ass-hat.”

“Okay, calm down, it was just a piece of toast.”

Glaring at him, you reached into one of the cabinets and pulled out a handful of supplement bars, chucking all but one into your handbag, and headed for the front door.

“Have a nice day, Missy.”

Marcus called after you.

“Hey, wait, what are you…”

“Marcus, I have seven weeks-worth of work to try and catch up on today, did you really think that this was the day to fuck with my breakfast? The one meal I might actually have had time for. I can’t deal with you and your weird mood right now, so I’m gonna drive myself to work and hope to god that no one decides to point out how fucking late I am on my first day back, because if they do – I might actually explode!”

You left the house and ripped the wrapper off the bar and started eating it on your way to the car.

You didn’t hear Missy and Marcus’ continued conversation as you set off for work.

“Dad, what’s wrong with you, she’s really stressed right now, why are you making it worse?”

“I’m just feeling mischievous today. Besides, if there’s one thing she needs when she’s stressed – it’s distractions.”

“Ooh… Was that what happened earlier too? Cause it sounded like you broke the bed, which seems a little extreme for a distraction.”

Marcus rubbed the back of his neck a little awkwardly. He couldn’t understand how you were so comfortable talking to Missy so openly about this stuff, or how you managed to actually talk to her about it, without really telling her any details.

“Uh… that was just, a bit of an overload. She seems to be in some sort of… hormonal state right now.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean like… animals get sometimes. You know… certain times of the year.”

“Almas in heat?! Humans can’t do that.”

“Normally, no. But we’re not exactly normal.”

“Speak for yourself, weirdo.”

“Hey!”

“I’ll race you to the car!”

She shouted the dare while she was getting up, and grabbing her bag, and as she headed for the door, Marcus shouted after her while he grabbed his things and tried to keep up with her.

“I can move the car, you know!”

“That’s cheating!”

“So is jumping the start line!”

“Hah, try and keep up, old man!”

You weren’t even settled into your office before Marcus appeared on your threshold. You’d had to make several stops on the way there, to talk to people and get updated on active projects, and as you stepped in, you realised that the woman that had filled in for you while you were gone was a total slob. She’d left fast-food wrappers everywhere, and the two wastebins in the office were beyond overfilled, there was at least as much junk around them as there was inside them. You’d just finished clearing all the crap into a large black garbage bag, when you heard him whistle.

“Someone’s about to get an earful, I hope.”

“More than one.”

“Oh, then I’m staying.”

He plopped down on the sofa, leaning back and making himself comfortable.

“I do love it when you pull out that nasty side that makes people quiver.”

“I’ll happily make you quiver.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. All the way through the floor.”

He chuckled, and burrowed himself deeper into the soft cushions.

“I might just sit here all day and just watch you.”

You talked to him a bit on autopilot, focusing more on trying to bring some kind of order to the giant pile of papers on your desk.

“No, you won’t. You have a mission today.”

“What? Since when?”

“Since Miracle accidentally killed a kitten belonging to the daughter of some rich-ass Sheik, whom of course demanded an apology, which Miracle obviously refused, causing a full-blown conflict that you’re now gonna have to solve.”

“I swear one of these days, I’m gonna accidentally send him into deep space on a ship without re-entry capacity.”

“Have a nice day, honey.”

He was on his feet and heading for the door when he shot back over his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’ll still find time to bug you, conflict be damned.”

You didn’t see him for a few hours after that, and you’d thought you’d feel relieved being able to focus on your work. But his absence turned out to be just as annoying as his presence. You found yourself constantly eyeing the door, hoping he’d pop his head in so you could ask him to relieve the burning ache that had begun to migrate from your core and into your thighs and even your back. It was getting to the point where you were seriously considering going online and purchasing a wand from a store that offered instant delivery, just so you could stick it in there while you were forced to sit, to give your god damned endlessly pulsing walls something to clench over. Just as you were about to give up and go find that instant-delivery page, there was a knock on the door. Marcus didn’t knock, so it wasn’t him.

“Come in.”

“Hey. You got a minute?”

It was William, your not-assistant, who still helped you whenever you asked, just because he was that kind of guy. He was a couple of years younger than you, and fit. The kind of fit that all guys wished they were. Not huge, not too noticeable, especially not under the immaculate suits he wore, but it was there. If you hugged him, you could trace the contours on his back. Not that you had. He was handsome, attractive, but so not your type. You’d never even considered it. And it was quite the testament to your physical compatibility with Marcus, that even now, when you felt like you could sit down on a fucking cactus, you still didn’t even consider it. It was Marcus you needed. Always. But right now, more than fucking air.

“Sure, Will, what’s on your mind.”

“You asked me to look into that toy-factory that burned down a couple years ago. Well I did, and it turns out that the owner abandoned the lease, so the property is actually unclaimed right now.”

You tried to listen, you really, really did, but your core chose that moment to decide that it just had enough. William was on the opposite side of the desk, but when you doubled over and laid your forehead down on top of it and groaned, he came around to check on you.

“Are you okay, what can I do?”

“Ma—Marcus… I need Marcus…aargh.”

You reached for your phone to call him, but your hands were shaking, and you dropped it on the floor, in front of your feet. Ever the helpful, William kneeled down to get it just as another loud groan escaped you, and of course – that was the moment that Marcus decided to step in. The look in his eyes when poor William appeared from under the desk, with you panting and groaning behind him, could have killed a man twice his size.

“I swear… I was just reaching for her phone! She wanted to call you, but she dropped it, I didn’t touch her! I would never… Mr. Moreno, I wouldn’t…”

“Get out.”

“Marcus… he didn’t…”

“I know. But he doesn’t get to stay for what happens next.”

William ran from the room, politely closing the door behind him, and Marcus locked it, before coming over to you.

“I would never…”

“Shh. I know, hermosa. Now let me take care of you.”

“Oh, please… I’m burning…”

He picked you up from the chair and helped you stand while he undressed you, and then he sat you down on the desk to do the same with himself. Then he grabbed your legs and hoisted them up over his hips while he positioned himself at your entrance. His tongue dove into your mouth at the same time that his cock began to dig through the thick pulsing membranes inside you. And it was such a relief. Your head fell back and your torso collapsed onto the top of the desk, as every cell in your body was suddenly right again. He held onto your hips as he worked his way inside, inch by inch, feeling you relax the further he got.

“What are you made of, mi amor? To be capable of such need, and such pleasure..”

Once he was filling you, he let go of your hips and leaned down to wrap his arms around you, knowing you needed to feel as much of him as possible, even if you were too lost in sensations to ask him right now. He moved with force, but not brutality, staying deep, letting you have exactly what he knew you needed, until you unravelled over him. But he managed to hold himself back, for the first time with you. And stayed still while you recovered, kissing you passionately and mumbling things in Spanish you’d never heard from him before. As soon as your breathing had calmed, he started moving again, and that was all it took. The heat rushed right back, and this time, it came with a fresh rush of energy, that had your legs curling around his back and your hands clawing at his shoulders, demanding more. And he obliged. You were so tightly clung to him, that when he stood up from the desk, he wouldn’t even have needed to keep holding you, but he did. He turned around and shoved your back against the wall, and his energy shifted, craving more too. He drove into you with more ferocity, but still somehow without that brutality that you’d felt from other lovers. His need was driven by love, more than physicality, and his body responded accordingly. It made you love him even more, if that was even possible. You were already closing in again, and he wanted to come with you this time, but he also wanted it to last longer. So, he shot a current at you, but you were so oversensitive that all it did was enhance everything you were already feeling by the double, and you screamed. You actually screamed out your orgasm while your body rocked relentlessly against him, and he did come with you, his hands digging into your hips as he tried to hold you to him while you squirmed with the force of your release.

“Hermosa?”

He was panting like he’d just run a sprint. And you were panting like you’d run a marathon.

“Yeah…”

“If this is gonna be a recurring thing… we’re gonna need to rethink our office furnishings.”

“And sound-proofing. Shit… I can already se the stack of complaints.”

“Fuck ‘em. You wanna scream, you scream. Let the whole damned world hear how good you feel.”

“I’m sorry honey, but I really hope this isn’t a recurring thing.”

“Why?”

“Because if it is… and you happen to be out of town when it hits… I might actually die. And I’m not even exaggerating. That was unbearable.”

“We’ll figure it out, either way. Do you feel better now?”

“Yes… and no.”

“No?”

Right on cue, the bear woke up.

“Yeah… what she said.”

He laughed and kissed you.

“God, I love you, woman. Bears and all.”

“Just get me to the restaurant. Greg and I have an arrangement.”

“Roger that.”

“Oh, and darling? Please apologise to William. You went full Cujo there for a moment, and I think you really scared him.”

“Cujo? You compare me to a damned dog?”

“Amaire can explain it to you. I’m too tired right now.”

“The Wonder-Twins call me Cujo, too?! What is this?”

“Marcus! Food. Now…”

Authors’ Note: I love criticism, don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@blueeyesatnight @farfromjustordinary @allmyspideys @hrk-fic-recs @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts @computeringturtle @sarahjkl82-blog

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno fic #we can be heroes #we can be heroes fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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ohtobeaspettyasleah · 3 years

Note

Can we get more background on Lori and also a reason why Adele left

Adele Samuels and Lorelei Figgs had known each other for the better part of a decade, not the type of best friends to be attached to the hip 24/7-- they mostly went about their lives after high school following different pathways that would ultimately lead them to communicate on a casual basis. The every second-day check-in, the occasional Snapchat, Facebook tag under a meme that had them both crying with laughter. It was casual, a strong connection that didn’t need constant validation or communication to understand Adele would always be in Lori’s corner and Lore is Adele’s.

That was until, well, until Lorelei started dated Jacob Marshall. A Character to say the least and Adele’s slightly estranged step-brother, from her Fathers second marriage. In Jacobs short 21 years on earth, he had racked up a pretty hefty tally in regards to misdemeanours and assault charges. Swearing he’d be a better man for Lorelei he enrolled in community college, straightened himself out a little more. Got a job that didn’t see him evading his taxes or being paid cash in hand for jobs that had him running from authority. Sometimes people do indeed change? Other times? It’s just a matter of time before the bomb explodes--you can’t change those who don’t truly want to change. Jacob Marshall was absolutely no exception to the eons-old rule. Adele knew that well before Lorelei ever sensed the change.

She should’ve known better than to get mixed up with the kid from school who got caught selling cocaine under the bleachers to the football team before their homecoming game. But Lorelei and Jacob always had that on again off again classic toxic frenemies relationship. He had a spell on her, someone Lorelei nor Adele could ever explain. They were entangled well before Adele’s dad married Jacobs mum down at the courthouse on 5th ave-- whatever was meant to be had already been put in place years ago. It’s just the fact Lorelei and Jacob couldn’t have been more different, more polar opposites if they tried. Jacobs had always been the hardass, the guy with the home job tattoos, the roid muscles he swore were all-natural. The crackjaw that swung left to right whenever he’d get on the gear with the boys. The law-breaking, gym junkie with a white card that allowed him to work construction and heavy machinery.

Lorelei? Well, she could’ve had it all. But settling for the only guy that had ever given her the time of day was all she ever knew how to do- especially when throughout highschool? He wouldn’t let another guy ever get close enough to say hello. It was always mental mind games. The suttle manipulation-- always with the gaslighting that had Lore feeling less than. She was smart, bright. But her lack of street smarts always got the better of her. Especially when it came to Jacobs. Fuck, it was always Jacob.

By the time Grayson had finished with his much need shit shower and shave routine, Lorelei was finishing up with Ethan in the podcast room. Taking in all he had to teach her and all she had to learn.

“And don’t even sweat it, if you forget I can just show you again, or Gray can-- whoever’s around.”

“Seems pretty straight forwards, it’s an amazing setup.” Lorelei sat on the chair Grayson would normally sit on for filming podcast videos-- feeling a little lightheaded. Nothing she couldn’t mask. Focusing on her breathing, Lorelei watched as Ethan powered down the monitor and flipped back to the cameras. “Pretty secure security system huh?”

“We’ve had a few incidences, can’t put a price on security.” Ethan shrugged. “If you want we’re just gonna be hanging out for the rest of the day, so you can stay and chill or go home, either way, its a pretty full day tomorrow, have some errands and shit to do so we’ll need you here from what? Maybe 10?”

“That’s fine, I can do that, do you want me to bring over breakfast for everyone? Coffee?” Lore asked with a soft smile, she was just happy to be needed. Happy to be living. Happy to be in the presence of people who valued her. It was nice. A welcomed change.

“Monty’s open at 11 so we’ll do burgers for lunch instead, you vegan?”

“Not exactly but I try--”

“It’s the thought that counts.” Ethan laughed as Lorelei followed him down the hall out to the kitchen. “So you staying?” she wanted to. Lorelei would’ve loved to have said yes, but she needed to sleep. Suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion.

“Id love it, but I better get going, still have some stuff to do at home so I better--”

“I’ll walk you out” it was Grayson. His hair a sopping mess of dark locks that could’ve used a towel dry. The Grey sweats hanging low on his hips as he pulled over his hoodie-- the same Ethan and gifted Lorelei yesterday. Her favourite. Lorelei stared for a moment too long but ultimately nodded in shyness.

“Sounds good.” there was a short shared silence for a few minutes while Grayson walked slowly beside Lorelei back to her car. He wasn’t exactly sure what to say, how to act.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for the whole hiring process, kinda have a few things going on.” Grayson pressed his lips together as the pair approached Lore’s car. “Sometimes a bit of fresh air is all I need, but I’m here now and I’m excited to have you here, really, Adele, she uh-- she said good things about you.” Grayson was never a fan of lying, but he didn’t think this little white lie would hurt anyone. A victimless crime. He knew only what Ethan had told him Adele had said. Lorelei blushed. She could instantly feel the heat on her cheeks.

“She’s such an idiot but I love her, she’s done a lot for me, especially setting this u, couldn’t thank her enough, or you guys, even if I wanted to.” Lore was speaking from her heart, Grayson could already tell she was genuine. Not a lot of people were genuine in L.A anymore. “I better get going.”

“Let me take you out for lunch soon? I feel like you and Ethan hit it off really well, I just want the same kinda opportunity to get to know you, you have access to my bank account I feel like I should at least have your number?” Lorelei chuckled but nodded in response. Grayson had never been so straight forward-- he wanted to crawl inside himself. Someone, anyone had to stop him before it was too late. Because he wasn’t about to stop himself, no not this time. Not with Lorelei. Her name alone had him making sure his inhaler was on his presence 24/7 and he’d known her for all of an hour. Grayson realised at that moment as she asked his assistant to go grab lunch with him, not for him, with him-- that he was in fact pathetic on a new simp level only unlocked by the very few men who fall in love in three seconds flat.

“Oh yeah, sure lets us, gab lunch-- but I’m pretty sure my numbers on the fridge, I put it there on a pink sticky.”

“Cool, alright well, ill see you tomorrow, uh here--” Grayson opened Lorelei’s car door for her. She beamed a bright smile. No one had ever done that before. Not for her, she thought it was something that only happened in movies. Sitting down, she strapped herself as her window went down.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, have a good day Grayson.”

“I’ll text you.” Lorelei laughed as she reversed, shaking her head playfully as she drove off biting her lip. Wondering if she was in fact reading too much into such a small encounter with the younger Dolan. Grayson stood in the middle of the drive speechless with himself:

“I need another shower.”

#grayson dolan #ethan dolan #dolan twins #g.dolan #grayson dolan series #my friend lorelei

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omg-imagine · 4 years

Text

⊱ Forget Me Not (11/15) ⊰

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Summary: After you wake up from a coma and realize that your memories from the last five years have been erased, Keanu works to bring back what you have lost.

Words: 8.3k

Warnings: Angst, language, mentions of sex, alcohol and cheating

A/N: Aaand here it is! This chapter is quite long and heavy, and honestly I’m super nervous about it. As a friendly reminder, this is a work of fiction. Everything written here is simply for the d r a m a :)

Hope you all enjoy!

Part 10

The scene had been all too familiar—your eyes searching for the truth, his expressing sincere regret. Outside, the rain fell as the world around Keanu crumbled, your love for him slowly ripping apart at its delicate seams.

“Please,” you intoned, holding back your tears. “Don’t lie to me, Ke.”

He could do nothing else but revisit the pain you had forgotten, a pain that still burns in his chest. Like a knife cut deep into his heart, the wound continued to bleed, and he wondered when it would stop, if it would ever stop.

Desperately, he wanted it to stop.

Keanu breathed in deeply, then exhaled heavily. Silently, he counted in his head—one, two, three.

And with one last, sorrowful look at you, his lips finally part, beginning the tale...

—four months before the accident;

January was bitterly cold; the air frigid and sharp. It nipped at your fragile skin and froze your bare fingers as you stood out on the balcony, letting the wintery dry breeze blow around you. The weather made you dearly miss the beauty of summer, where everyone and everything seemed much more alive.

It was past midnight in Milan. The city was quiet and peaceful, its cobbled roads were empty, glimmering beneath the streetlights’ pale yellow glow. The view from your hotel was beautiful, and for just a few fleeting moments, you admired the breathtaking sight of it all.

But no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t bring yourself to fully savor it. As you gazed out on the skyline, the ache inside was ever-present, nearly unshakable. You had noticed it during these last several weeks and thought nothing of it at first. Yet, as the days passed by, the feeling only grew stronger, and slowly, you began to understand the reason why.

Sauntering back inside where you were immediately greeted by the comforting warmth of your hotel room, you lowered yourself carefully on the quilted leather couch with your phone already in hand. For a second, your thumb hovered above Keanu’s number displayed on the screen. Hesitating, you then glanced at the clock on the wall and assumed that it’s a reasonable hour where he was to call.

The phone rang and rang. It rang almost endlessly until finally, it halted. A split-second of empty silence filled your ears before a monotonous voice told you to leave a message at the end of the tone. Sighing deeply, a frown creased your face when you realized the call only led to Keanu’s voicemail once again, the third occurrence this week alone.

He doesn’t want to speak with you. He’s avoiding you. He doesn’t care.

He doesn’t love you any—

A half-glass of red wine sat still on top of the mahogany coffee table just within reach. Fingers curling on the glass stem, you downed the rest of the drink in one quick go, hoping that it would calm the thoughts swirling in your head.

But, the alcohol didn’t help quell the storm. Rather, it allowed it to rage on.

In an attempt to soothe, you reasoned that Keanu was merely too busy to answer his phone. It was a bad habit of his—shutting out the rest of the world as he drowns himself in his work. You knew how committed he was when it came to acting, how he wanted to focus most of his time and energy to the role he was bringing to life.

Yet, there was something different about this time. Never in the five years you’ve dated has Keanu gone a day without calling or texting while he was away working. Even if he was bone-tired from a long day of shooting, he would send you a message to ask how your day went. The conversation would be short, but at least you knew he was still thinking of you.

You wondered where it all went wrong. After Christmas, things seemed to go downhill. Work for the two of you was stressful, the atmosphere at home becoming tense. It started out as simple bickering, which later turned into angry arguments. You easily set the other off, picking fights over issues that seemed so trivial now.

Why did it all go wrong?

The question has lingered in the back of your mind for weeks. This wasn’t the first time you two encountered a rough patch in your relationship, but you have never felt so distant from Keanu. It was as if there was always between you and him. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t get through him anymore.

You didn’t want to think of it, but you wondered if this was the end. You wondered if the relationship had simply run its course. The love between you and Keanu was close to emptying out, leaving a bitter frustration that had you at each other’s throats. Perhaps you were both tricked into believing that this was something that would last forever, and the past couple of weeks was the universe’s cruel attempt in telling you so.

Or maybe it was your respective careers. Keanu had several projects lined up, and yours was steadily growing. There were many, many days when you barely saw a glimpse of each other at home. You spent more time with your colleagues than together, and the sad truth was, being apart felt better. Any time you were alone in a room with Keanu, it would always end in a shouting match, with you shedding countless tears after.

It hurt. Every waking day, it continued to hurt, and all you could do was swallow the pain, hoping that the dark gray cloud looming over would eventually pass. You couldn’t take it anymore; the stinging remarks, the venomous voices, and the sleepless nights. It was exhausting, yet despite it all, you realized that you still loved Keanu, and you desperately wanted for the relationship to work out.

At that very moment, as you walk back to the tall glass windows overlooking the city, you decided to confront Keanu the next time he’s home. For nearly a month, neither one of you has brought up the fact of how bad things have gotten. You were scared to do it because it meant facing the reality of the situation. What if it was really the end for the two of you? What if it wasn’t meant to be?

The answers frightened you, but as you gazed out at the scenery for a silent moment more, your heart convinced you not to give up so soon. It tried assuring you that this was merely normal, something that happens to even the strongest of couples. You and Keanu had simply lost each other, but you were hopeful that one day, you would find your way back together.

One day.

Your phone remained quiet in your hand, and you couldn’t stop the single tear rolling down your cheek when you caught sight of your lock screen. The smiling photo of you and Keanu displayed was a gentle reminder of fonder times, ones you would forever cherish. You would do anything if it meant having more of those moments with him.

Moments when you were deeply in love and felt the happiest.

The wind blew crisp, cold air that seeped through the slight crack between the balcony doors. You felt it gently sweeping along your skin, causing you to shiver.

Winter was beautiful, so serene, but you yearned for summer to return.

Surely, it will get better when it’s warm again.

—three months before the accident;

A thick, weighted silence hung over the air as Keanu stepped foot inside the house, and it was nearly suffocating. He couldn’t recall the last time he came home expecting you to greet him by the door, either with a smile, a kiss, or both. Those days were a distant memory, faintly glowing in a dark abyss, drifting further and further away from his reach.

He lingered briefly in the middle of the empty foyer, not knowing whether he should head straight upstairs where you would be. It was a long day at the Arch office, and the last thing Keanu wanted was to resume the quarrel that had erupted earlier. He didn’t have the energy to defend himself from something you and he have been fighting about for far too long.

Turning down the hall, Keanu headed to the kitchen, his footsteps heavy as the ache settling in his chest. At this point, he was at a loss. Things between you and him were only getting worse, and he didn’t know what to do. When you had brought up the fact that the two of you were spiraling down, he listened and was willing to fix the problem.

That was until you mentioned his job.

Keanu loved you, of course, but his career was also important to him. Lately, he’s been swamped dealing with his current projects. His hands were full, but instead of you being the support he needed, you had been quite upset with the amount of time he’s working. It ticked Keanu off immensely when you requested that he cut-back on his job. You knew it was almost impossible for him to do so, yet you were adamant about it.

And after Keanu refused, it drove the wedge even farther between the two of you.

He didn’t understand how you and he came to be this way. You were hurting, and he was hurting, too. But it was difficult to compromise when he didn’t want to slow down or take a break, especially not while Keanu had a lot going on. This was part of his life, and he had explained that to you from the very beginning. Five years have passed, and only now did you realize that maybe you couldn’t handle it.

Keanu forgoes turning on the kitchen lights and padded into the slight darkness, making his way to the refrigerator for a glass of water. The phone in his pocket vibrates, but before he could take it out to check who had messaged him, the lights above him switched on, and he quickly glanced behind him to see you standing by the entryway.

“You said you’d be home at seven,” you muttered lowly, arms coming to cross over your front. “It’s ten.”

“I had a lot of things to wrap up before I go back to shooting,” Keanu replied, knowing full-well it was a lie. He had finished at eight o’clock, opting to stay at the office for two more hours because he needed peace, just for a little while longer.

“I can’t believe it. You’ve only been here a week, and you’re leaving again.” The sound of your voice cracking gnawed at his chest, the growing guilt doing just the same. “We live together, and I barely see you.”

The tense silence that fell was unbearable but unfamiliar. Keanu’s gaze shifted downwards, avoiding your tearful eyes, afraid of what would happen if he meets them.

You swallowed thickly, your words laced heavily with despair as you ask, “What happened to us?”

He remained quiet, unsure of where to begin.

“I-I know we’ve been arguing over ridiculous things, mostly. But when I try to fix us, it’s like you don’t even want to meet me halfway,” you explained tautly. “Does our relationship still matter to you?”

Again, quiet.

“Do I still matter to you?”

It was barely above a whisper, but the question rang loud in Keanu’s ears. His features softened as he tilted his head up just the slightest bit, his attention settling on you, the woman he supposedly loves yet pushes away. “Of course, you matter. You mean everything to me.”

With a small shake of your head, you sighed. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes,” came his swift response.

“Then, why do you avoid me? Why do you choose your work before us? Before me?”

Keanu chuckled mirthlessly, running a hand down his face and blowing out a sharp huff. “I’m not choosing my job over you. I thought we went over this already?”

“Really? Because from what I can remember, the last time we spent time together without bickering was when we visited my parents during the holidays. You were gone soon after that for your movie, and whenever you flew back here for a couple of days, you were off doing other things.”

“Well, what was I supposed to do? Just ignore all of my responsibilities? And how’s it different from what you do? You were barely at home, too. Now that you’re not busy having drinks with your boss, you suddenly have time for me.”

Keanu had more than certainly struck a nerve there at the end, but by the time he realized what he’d said, it was too late to take it back. He watched as your eyes flashed with anger, shooting him a fiery glare that had him regretting the spiteful words he had thrown at you.

“What the hell are you talking about?” The bitterness dripping from your tone was enough for Keanu to make him step back, distancing himself away from you.

As if you and he weren’t far apart already.

Your question was met with absolute silence, and it only infuriated you even more. “Ke, what are you trying to say? Do you think something’s going on between Nick and me?”

Keanu didn’t answer immediately. It was another thought deep in the back of his mind, which fueled many earlier fights. He’s never been the jealous type, but he’s seen the way Nicholas has looked at you, as well as how he acted whenever you were around. Keanu has never mentioned it because he knew you weren’t capable of doing such a thing, and yet he said it, knowing that it would hurt you.

Because it’s what you two do best as of late—hurt and hurt each other.

“And what if there was, huh? Would it matter anyway? With the way you’re acting, as if you don’t want us to get better, I bet it doesn’t,” you added sharply, the tears you tried so hard to contain now falling. “Can you say something? Anything?”

Shoulders slumping, Keanu looked at you and saw the pain in your weary eyes. It’s beginning to dawn on him that he was the problem. It wasn’t the stress or exhaustion. It wasn’t that he no longer loved you. You were correct, he hasn’t been around for a while, and when he was home, he was more concerned with everything else but you.

“I’m sorry I’m never here,” he whispered, his sorrowful gaze dropping. The realization was overwhelming—he was pushing you away to protect himself from what was bound to happen.

No matter how much he loved you and how happy you were with him, Keanu knew you would grow tired as others have in the past. Despite the years you’ve spent together, the memories shared, and the house you’ve made a home, he believed that one day, this fairytale of a life would cease. No one has stayed with him for that long, and with the amount of heartbreak he’s experienced, it was only a matter of time until you decide to leave.

Leave. God, he didn’t want you to leave. The thought of it made his stomach turn, but after all the arguments you both have had, it wouldn’t be a surprise if one night, you decided to pack up your bags and walk out the door.

“This isn’t the life you signed up for,” Keanu mumbled low under his breath. “I love you, but this job—it’s who I am.”

“No, it’s not.” You slowly approached him, standing close enough for him to hear you exhale deeply. “It’s what you do. Look, take some time off after this movie, and I’ll do the same. We can go on a trip, maybe back to Italy like on my birthday. We’ll forget about work and enjoy ourselves. Just you and me, baby.”

You touched your hand to his cheek, rubbing his scruff with the gentle pad of your thumb. For a moment, he closed his eyes, relishing the tenderness he hasn’t felt in months. He could do what you’ve suggested, back out of a big upcoming project and spend time repairing the cracks in your relationship. Eyes fluttering open, Keanu was met with your soft gaze focusing on him, your finger moving to brush a stray strand of his hair to the side.

But then, he saw it. Staring deeply into your eyes, he could see himself hurting you again. Basing it on past history, this wouldn’t be the last time, and Keanu was sure of it. Things would be good until it isn’t, and the two of you would find yourselves back in this situation. It would be a vicious cycle, one which he couldn’t go through with, especially with you.

“What’s wrong?” You could sense a change in him. The hope that was there one second ago had now disappeared, replaced with something else indescribable.

Disappointment? Despair? Defeat?

“I-I can’t,” Keanu stuttered, ashamed. Your hand dropped from his face, your jaw clenching as you staggered backwards.

“Tell me straight,” you demanded, still holding his gaze. “Do you want to break up?”

Keanu opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Not even a slight utterance of a word. Inwardly, he’s conflicted. Why was it so difficult for him to say no? That’s what he wanted, was it? He loved you, didn’t he?

But you don’t hurt someone you love.

“I-I don’t know.”

You paused for a beat, wiping the tears from your eyes with the back of your hand. It was quiet again, and it was driving Keanu mad.

“Y/N,” he murmured your name as softly as he could, but he didn’t know what else to say.

“No,” you choked out before slowly turning around, suppressing your sobs.

Keanu made a choice not to follow you out of the room. He listened to your footsteps tapping away, getting softer as you head up the stairs, closing the bedroom door shut once you were inside.

“Fuck,” he angrily uttered, slamming his fist into the granite kitchen island counter.

As Keanu idly stood there mulling over what had just happened, he was reminded of the text that came in earlier. Quickly, he took his cell out of his pocket and read the message.

Drinks tonight at Barry’s. Are you in?

Without hesitation, he typed out a response and hit send. Drinking with her always helped, and after tonight, Keanu needed a glass or two. Possibly even three, just enough to get his mind off of everything.

Grabbing his keys hanging by the front door, Keanu briefly looked up at the second-floor landing. He wondered if he should go up there and apologize. You were broken by his answer, and knowing that he was the reason behind your tears pained him in his heart.

But before he could move, Keanu already had his hand on the doorknob, twisting it to let himself out. He didn’t want to face what could happen. Not tonight.

So he left, because avoiding the problem instead of facing it seemed like the better option, as always.

For now, you needed to cool off.

It could wait till morning.

—two months before the accident;

“Sweetheart?”

The sound of your mother’s voice caused you to snap out of the daze you were in, and you quickly fixed yourself in front of your vanity mirror. Your eyes were slightly puffy and red from crying, but you didn’t have time to mask it. Still, you mustered up your best, convincing smile as the door to your room carefully swung open.

“Hey, mom,” you greeted as she entered, a frown immediately forming on her lips. “What’s up?”

She sighed sadly before taking a seat on the edge of your bed, hands clasped as her eyes wandered around the room. “I remember when you were a teenager, you would lock yourself in your bedroom for the entire day whenever a boy broke your heart. You thought it’s the end of the world for you, and I’d sit there by your bedside, telling you that it’s not.”

Watching your mom pat the empty space beside her, you followed her wordless request for you to sit on the mattress. “I still don’t understand how you were able to handle all that teenage angst back then,” you quipped lightly. “Every breakup, you were there listening to me through my ugly, overdramatic cries.”

The two of you shared a small laugh, and for the briefest of moments, you forgot the pain.

“I’m glad you were able to fly out here for my birthday,” your mother began, her hand reaching for yours to give it a squeeze. “I thought Keanu was coming?”

You bit your lip at the mention of Keanu, the tears in your eyes already starting to form. You held them back, however. You didn’t want to sour the day.

“He couldn’t make it,” you shrugged, not wanting to explain any further, but the sadness emanating from your voice immediately gave her the impression that there was more to the story. She gave you a look—the one telling you to open up, like how you’ve done in the past with her.

“It’s okay, baby,” she assured softly. “What happened?”

And just like that, you let your walls down. After the night you asked if he wanted to breakup, things had been stagnant. Keanu went out of town again to resume filming two days later, never bringing up the topic before leaving. You haven’t seen him in a month, and to be honest, you didn’t bother contacting him.

“I don’t know what to do, mom,” you wept, and her arms wrapped around you, one hand stroking your hair as you cried into her side. “I still love him. I love him so much that the reason why I haven’t ended things is that I keep imagining that somehow, it’ll get better.”

“Oh, darling. I know it hurts, but if it’s getting too much for you, perhaps the best thing to do is to let go.”

Shaking your head, you managed to calm your unsteady breaths before sitting up. “I thought he was the one. After Eric, Ke was there to pick up the broken pieces. He was the one who made me believe in love again and made me feel worthy of being loved. But now, it’s like he’s not the same man I fell in love with years ago.”

“People change,” your mother stated as she tucked a loose lock of hair behind your ear. “To tell you the truth, I’m shocked to hear this. I’ve always thought Keanu was a good guy, the right guy for you. But this is life, Y/N. It’s all about learning and living, and accepting things the way they are, no matter how painful it is.”

You absorbed your words for a minute, only then asking, “If people change, do you think he’ll change back?”

“I can’t answer that question, but what I can tell you is that you’re stronger than you think. The decision will come to you eventually, and even though you’re scared of what could happen, you’ll know in your heart if it’s the right one.”

“I want to think that he’ll change,” you said, sighing. “But maybe we’re just not meant to be.”

Blinking away the tears, you feel like more weight has just been added to your shoulders. You didn’t want to give up on Keanu, yet how much longer of this can you endure?

“Come,” your mother suddenly spoke, changing the subject for now. “The food is ready, and your father is excited to dig into that cake you baked last night.”

“Did you remind him that it’s your birthday and not his?” You chuckled as you stood up.

She smiled fondly, and you found yourself smiling genuinely with her.

“Of course, I did, but you know how he is when it comes to sweets.”

Your mom exited your bedroom, and for a moment, you let the quiet relax you. Fixing your disheveled appearance, you were about to walk out of the door when you stopped, the phone on your nightstand catching your attention. Suddenly, you felt the need to call Keanu, just this once, despite knowing he wouldn’t pick up.

You didn’t give in. Instead, you turned off the lights and headed to the dining room.

You were done hurting for the evening.

But what about for the rest of your life?

—one week before the accident;

Keanu was never a big drinker, yet here he was, downing his fifth shot of whisky that night. He disliked parties; he didn’t care much for the crowds. But now that production has ended, the cast and crew held a big after-party to celebrate, renting out an entire bar with drinks to go around until the last person leaves.

Almost everyone was drunk and on the dance floor by the third hour, leaving Keanu to sulk in peace. He’s back in LA for the meantime but came home to a cold, empty house. You were in San Francisco for work, and he didn’t find out until he read the hastily written note stuck on the console table by the front door.

It was like this now—no words exchanged, no proper conversations, not even a simple “hello” in passing. You were just two lonely and longing souls living under the same roof, waiting for the inevitable end. Keanu was unsure of who would make the first move; both of you seem afraid to quit when you’re hanging onto the very last shredding thread of hope.

This past month, you and Keanu were the newest talk of the town. One of Hollywood’s favorite couples on the verge of splitting to “focus on their respective careers.” Usually, he didn’t pay any attention to the tabloids. They never got the story right. But as the number of reports began to increase, it even left close friends and family asking if it were true. Keanu hasn’t said a word, and as far as he knew, neither have you.

The alcohol washing down his throat didn’t sting anymore, and he wondered if it’s because he’s drank too much in one sitting or he’s that numb inside. It could have been both, Keanu mused, ordering another glass that the poor bartender had no choice but to serve. The room around him started to spin, but at least temporarily, he stopped thinking of you.

Teetering on the edge of oblivion, Keanu nearly missed the calling of his name amid the blaring music. A petite hand came to rest on his shoulder, a light squeeze following it afterwards. He glanced up and was met with a pair of kind, cerulean blue eyes.

Her eyes.

“Want some company?” She queried, and Keanu nodded, gesturing for her to take the stool next to his. “You’re awfully quiet tonight. Not liking the party?”

“Honestly, I’d rather be home,” he simply replied.

Home. Their house wasn’t a home. Not anymore.

“Is it Y/N?”

Keanu exhaled a long breath, drumming his fingers on the counter. She knew most of what went on when he told her while working together in the past few months.

At first, it was a slip of the tongue; he normally didn’t discuss his private life with others. But when it became too overwhelming for him to internalize everything, he had vented to her late one night over a bottle of wine. After that, they had grown close. She had been a good friend throughout the ordeal, the listening ear he needed.

“That obvious, huh?” He snorted, amused. Bleary-eyed, he turned to her, and she shot him a sympathetic smile. “Why are you here? Why not enjoy the party?”

“Well, every time we go out drinking, you always talk about her.” Nonchalantly, she sipped on her martini, batting her eyelashes at him. “And to answer your question, you said you needed company, so here I am.”

Her hand made its way to Keanu’s bicep, and the touch alone sent a kind of warmth that he hasn’t felt in a while. A nervous chuckle escaped his throat, but her hand doesn’t move away. Slowly, she leaned in closer, her scarlet stained lips hovering by his ear. Her voice was low, seductive and Keanu was too drunk to understand what was happening.

“You want to forget about her, right?”

Confusion marred his face, yet he gave her a silent nod. He’s not sober enough to think clearly, but the one surety he has was that tonight, at least for tonight, he didn’t want to feel pain. The alcohol solely wasn’t enough to distract him from it. Perhaps he needed something else.

Something more.

All Keanu wanted to do was forget. His conscious screamed that it’s wrong and that he shouldn’t. But as she kept staring at him with those hungry eyes, her wandering hand shifting to graze up his thigh, he could feel the electricity coursing through his veins.

And suddenly, she was all he could think of.

It’s a mistake. But what’s one more mistake going to do?

She led him down an empty hall, far away from the others. No one noticed them disappear into the back area, making it easier for Keanu to go through with this. Not too long after, they stumbled into the bathroom, lips crashing together in a bruising kiss. He had her pressed up against the door as he locked it, her fingers burying themselves into his hair as their tongues dueled.

Desire ruled over any rational thought as Keanu’s mouth trailed wet, hot kisses down her neck. Her small, nimble fingers reached down to unbuckle his pants, the clinking of metal lost in the soft moans they were letting out.

It felt good; he was feeling good. It was working, and to him, that’s what mattered.

“Keanu, please…”

Keanu stopped abruptly when his name came from her lips. It didn’t sound right to him and hearing it finally knocked back some sense into him. She’s standing in front of him, but all he could see were your eyes and the look of betrayal in them.

“What’s wrong?”

She’s not Y/N.

Pushing himself off of her, he ran his hand over his face, realizing what he had done. “I shouldn’t have.”

She inched closer to him, still panting. “I thought you wanted this, Keanu? I can help make you forget about her. I mean, isn’t that what you wanted me to do these last few months? You’re a good guy, and you deserve to feel good…”

Keanu stepped away, shaking his head. “No, this was a mistake. I-I wasn’t thinking straight. Please, don’t say a word about this to anyone.”

He didn’t even let her respond. He’s too frazzled thinking that he resorted to being the same man who had hurt you years before. Keanu had promised, he swore on his life, that he would never be like your ex. That he would treat you with the love you deserved, and you deserved only the best.

A wave of nausea hit him, and he had to get out of the confining room fast. Shuffling around her, he unlocked the door before taking a second to fix his pants. It turned out to be another mistake made that night because without warning, the entrance to the bathroom swung open, and he froze in fear.

“What the fuck, Keanu?”

Molly stood on the other side, stunned. Keanu recalled that she was friends with the director, who had mentioned in passing how she was invited to the party, too. It was funny how big the entertainment industry was, but at times, it was still such a small world.

Noting his disheveled appearance, it was clear to her what had transpired, and she could not be any more furious. The other woman, Heidi, quickly adjusted her top before hurrying past Keanu, muttering an apology as she made her hasty exit. The door closed behind Molly with a thud, and that’s when he began his plea.

“Please don’t tell Y/N,” Keanu spoke as Molly looked at him in disgust.

“Why? Are you planning to keep this a secret from her?” She was controlling the volume of her voice the best she could. Molly sincerely cared about you, and there was no doubt that she would allow this to slide.

“It’s complicated, Molly. Y/N and I aren’t doing so good and—”

Molly scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “And instead of working it out, you decide to fuck the PA behind her back.”

“It’s not like that. Nothing happened between us,” Keanu tried to explain, but he knew he was wasting his time.

It was still infidelity, the worst sin he could ever commit to her.

Sighing in defeat, Keanu lowered his head in shame. He could only imagine how you would react if you found out. It would break you, rip your heart in half, and for that, it was unforgivable.

He was unforgivable.

“Don’t tell her,” he repeated. “She needs to hear it from me.”

Molly approached him, and he captured the disappointment in her eyes. “I had a feeling that something wrong was going on between you two. I could see it in her face. She hasn’t been herself in a long time, and she’s never mentioned why.”

“I screwed up,” he admitted. “I knew I was going to hurt Y/N. It’s happened in the past, and I began pushing her away, thinking that she would leave eventually.”

“But you don’t want her to leave.”

Keanu lifted his tearful gaze. “I love her.”

“And she loves you,” Molly imparted following a pause, then she began walking towards the door. Before she could leave, she turned her head back to say one last thing. “Do the right thing, Keanu. If you love her that much, you owe it to her to tell the truth.”

Once alone, Keanu let out a breath, shuffling his feet to the bathroom sink where he glared at the reflection in the mirror. He was enraged, not at Molly, nor Heidi, and it wasn’t because he got caught either. The simmering anger was directed at his own self, but it didn’t matter if he took the blame.

He knew then he had already lost you.

—the night of the accident;

Rain.

It usually never rained in Los Angeles, not this much, at least.

Yet, it was beautiful, calming. The skies were shrouded by a sullen shade of grey that darkened as the hour passed to the next. The pitter-patter against the window lulled you into relaxation as you focused on the trickling drops chasing each other down the glass.

For as long as you could remember, you’ve always loved the rain. Even amidst this torrential storm, you managed to find a semblance of serenity in the chaos. Peace was there all the time. You just had to look real hard for it.

Inside, the house was quiet. It has been for days, ever since you came back from a work trip. No arguments, no yelling, nothing. You wondered if this was the turning point you’ve been waiting for. It was the reason why you stayed. In your heart, you still had hope that the pain would stop, and the healing would commence.

Maybe this was it.

This was the part when everything fell back into place.

Hearing the door leading out to the garage open, you set your coffee mug on the table as Keanu walked into the living area, wiping the grease stains off his hands with a small towel. You crossed the room to meet him halfway, and when he noticed you standing in front of him, only then did he look at you.

“How’s the new bike?” You asked, softly smiling at him.

You haven’t smiled at him like that in a while.

Keanu licked his dry lips before replying. “I-It’s good. It rides pretty great, too.”

“It’s been a while since we went on a ride together,” you pointed out, not to make him feel guilty but instead, remind him of the better times.

Times when you and Keanu were blissfully unaware of the hurt ahead.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, his chestnut orbs slightly obscured by the locks falling over his face when he bows his head. “Listen, I gotta take care of—”

“Ke,” you interjected him mid-sentence, ignoring the poor excuse he has made up on the spot to leave the room. “I don’t know what happened between us, but I really want to fix this. I have this hope that you don’t want to give up on us because if you didn’t, you would have left me a long time ago.”

A thunderous roar pierced the still air, but it wasn’t as loud as the pounding of your heart in your ears. Letting out a shaky breath, you inched closer as Keanu brought his gaze up, meeting yours. You remembered how much his eyes made you feel safe.

They still do; they still were home to you.

But as you stare into them, you could see the sadness masking their warmth. Keanu flinched when the palm of your hand caressed the side of his cheek, though he soon found himself leaning into your touch. The sensation almost seemed foreign to you both, and you would give anything in the world to change that—to have it all go back to the way it once was.

“I love you, Keanu,” you spoke softly, glossy eyes connected with his. “Please, just tell me what to do to make this better. I promise I won’t get mad at you for being away. I get it, it’s your job, and I should have understood. I’m sorry—I’m sorry for everything.”

You didn’t bother keeping the tears from falling. You didn’t care that you looked like a desperate mess in front of Keanu, but this was you laying your heart out bare. It hurt too much fighting, and you thought it would hurt even more if you left when you couldn’t even begin to imagine doing so.

In a last attempt to convince him, you pressed your lips to him, the first time in a long while. The roof continued to be pelted by the heavy rain as you kissed him, only realizing just a few seconds later that he wasn’t responding. You pulled back, seeing the flooding of sorrow in Keanu’s features. It was alarming, and you had no idea what was going in his mind.

“I-I have to tell you something,” Keanu murmured after a pause. His hand came up to rest behind the back of yours that was cupping his face.

“Whatever it is, it’s okay,” you reassured him, and then you saw it—guilt, shame, and regret. They all flashed in his wistful eyes, and immediately, panic settled in. You dreaded hearing what he had to say.

What else could Keanu have done?

You took a step back when a horrifying thought suddenly makes itself known. A part of you didn’t dare to consider it, but what if?

What if Keanu had done the last thing you expected him to, especially while knowing how it broke you the last time?

“You don’t have to lie to me, Ke,” you trembled out as your chest tightened, making it harder to breathe. You needed to know. No matter how much it would hurt, you had to know. “I-Is there someone else?”

“No.” Keanu’s short reply came quickly, but you could easily tell that he was lying; you knew him that well. The silence erupting proved to him that you had caught him at a lie, and he sighed. “It was just a kiss. I was drunk, hurt, and upset because of what’s been going on. But it was nothing, okay? None of it mattered, and it was a stupid mistake.”

You don’t respond. What was there to say?

This had to be a nightmare. You had to be in a deep sleep, experiencing a god-awful nightmare that you were willing yourself to wake up from.

But you didn��t.

This was reality. Your reality.

And it was tragic.

“I swear to you, I stopped before anything else could happen.” Keanu continued to explain himself, but you couldn’t focus on his words; none of them were making sense to you, not that you cared in the first place.

You dragged your feet away from him, though you were worried that you would collapse as you moved. You needed to get out and be someplace else because the more you stayed there, the more you felt your soul wilting away.

Why couldn’t you have just let go?

“Y/N…”

“Don’t,” you warned, the stinging tears clouding your vision, a betrayal of your grief. “I-I don’t want to hear it.”

Ignoring what you said, Keanu reached out to put his hand on your shoulder, but you pushed it away. “No, don’t touch me.”

“Baby, just listen to me.”

“Don’t call me that,” you spat out bitterly, your chest heaving with rage. “I’m a fool for thinking that things would be okay when you’re out there sleeping with someone else.”

Keanu shook his head as another roll of thunder crashed in the background. “It was only a kiss, Y/N. That’s it.”

“Fuck, a kiss is still something.”

You sharply turned on your heel and stalked towards the foyer, only stopping when you saw the photo displayed by the bottom of the staircase. It was from the night the two of you first kissed, when you and Keanu were deeply, truly in love.

Removing the frame from its hook, the couple on the image was barely recognizable as their smiles mocked at you, reminding you of the happiness and the love you once had.

If only they knew...

Devastated, you hurled the picture onto the floor. The glass cracked but didn’t shatter, and before you could do the same to the next photo, Keanu was towering over you, his hands holding you firmly by your wrist. You struggled in his grip as you kicked and yelled at him to let you go.

It was too much. Everything was too much. Inside, you feel an aching hollowness, the love that used to be there has now become pain.

Unbearable and excruciating pain.

“Calm down, Y/N, please,” Keanu begged, yet it was no use. “Stop acting like a child, and just listen.”

You managed to break free from his hold, backing away as far as you could until you reached the door. “A child? I’m acting like a child? You’re the one who messed up, and you’re acting as if you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I didn’t sleep—”

“Yeah, you didn’t,” you cut him off, noticing the growing frustration appearing on his face. “What are you going to say? That you’re sorry? Because that’s not enough, Ke.”

“Well, what do you want me to say?” Keanu scoffed. “I want to talk about this, but you’re being difficult by not giving me a chance.”

“So, now I’m difficult?”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Then what? Tell me what you meant by that.” You waited for a few beats for Keanu to answer, but before he could answer, you decided you had enough. “Never mind, just leave me alone.”

“See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. How can we work this out if you won’t even hear what I have to say?”

“No, Keanu. I’m done listening. I’ve given you plenty of opportunities to speak up and tell me what’s wrong, but you never did. I wanted to fix this— us— so fucking badly, and… ”

You ceased as your voice broke, and Keanu standing there only affected you even more. You trusted him, you thought that he could never hurt you, you loved—

You don’t know anymore.

“I can’t be here right now,” you muttered, reaching for your car keys simultaneously. You’re not sure of where to go, just that you need to be far away.

Far away from him.

“Fine,” Keanu breathed out as you threw on your shoes. “Leave.”

The coldness in his tone was one you’d never heard before. It was not like Keanu to do this, but how would you know? Your mother’s words echoed in your head as you opened the front door, the loud howl of wind greeting you outside.

People change.

And it was your mistake for thinking that Keanu would change back.

“Do you even love me anymore?” You blurted out the question before you could cross the threshold, glancing back at Keanu with tired eyes.

You waited for what seemed like the longest time, his silence serving enough as confirmation.

It was over.

Wordlessly, you hurried to your car parked in the driveway, not caring that the torrent of rain had drenched you within seconds. Starting the engine, you didn’t expect him to run out of the house in a final attempt to make you stay. All hope was lost, and at this point, you’ve now accepted it.

As you drove further away from the house, the past began to haunt you. From it, you had thought good things didn’t last forever until you met Keanu. Then, you were led to believe that he was the exception.

But you had been wrong.

So damn wrong.

And as you fault yourself for your mistakes, you didn’t notice how much you were speeding until the tires skidded against the wet pavement. Your car spun as you struggled to regain control, but it was too late.

One loud crash and everything went black.

—now;

By the time Keanu had finished explaining, you had distanced yourself away from him. Your tear-stained gaze was unwavering, as if you’re processing every detail, every word. He carefully gauged your reaction, waiting for an explosive outburst or a string of curses.

“Y/N. Baby?” The wooden floor creaked under his weight when he stepped forward, the sound of it snapping you out from a trance-like state. “Can you say something? Please?”

“I can’t… I don’t know.”

You were overwhelmed, and Keanu couldn’t do much nor say anything to be of comfort. His lie had been revealed, and once more, he was breaking your heart all over again. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t you dare say another word,” you choked, forcing Keanu to halt his movements. “You didn’t plan on telling me, did you? You were going to act like it never happened.”

“I was going to tell you, but I was waiting for the right time.”

The excuse was painfully pathetic, and Keanu was already losing the uphill battle. He’s gone through this before, and he could tell that the newly found love you had with him was swiftly vanishing. The resentment was building in front of him, replacing the light that used to be in you. He’s unsure whether he would get to see it again.

“I just wanted things to go back to the way they used to be—when we were happy,” Keanu added, mirroring the hope you had before he took it away.

“No,” you denied sternly. “You tried to paint our lives as perfect when it’s far from it. You saw my amnesia as a way to start over.”

“I know it’s fucked up, but the one thing I’m not lying about is how much I love you, Y/N. Please understand that.”

“Then, why was it so hard for you to say that before? It could have saved us a lot of trouble,” you replied as you marched out of the room, only for Keanu to trail closely behind.

“It was a mistake, but these recent months made me realize that I can’t bear even the thought of losing you. We were so happy together and—”

“But, I’m not the Y/N who was there during those times, Keanu. I wouldn’t know. You’re a stranger to me, and I can’t believe I trusted you so easily just because you showed me pictures of a happy couple.”

Keanu didn’t know what else to say. Every scenario he came up with would end the same way, but it wasn’t too surprising. You and he were broken beyond repair, all thanks to his selfish decisions. If only he had told you the truth from the start. Maybe somehow, it would have fared better for the two of you.

“I-I have to go,” you stammered, and before you could open the front door, Keanu bolted next to you, pressing his hand on the frame to prevent you from walking out. “I can’t do this right now. Please, I just need to get—.”

“No, I’m letting you out there,” he stated worryingly. “I don’t want anything bad happening to you again.”

You wiped a lone tear as you exhaled. “Something bad has already happened, and it’s you, Ke.”

Silence.

You didn’t say more. Instead, you brushed past Keanu and dashed up the stairs, slamming the bedroom door shut behind you. The force rattled the house, and once he realized he was finally alone, the tears Keanu tried his mightiest to keep at bay started to fall. He stood there for what felt like an eternity as he figured out what was next for you both.

But Keanu already knew, however. He just didn’t want to admit it.

The storm outside passed, but the atmosphere inside was far from calm. Exhausted, Keanu was about to head to the guest room upstairs when his gaze settled on the very same picture you had tried to break that night. You had just got around to buying a new frame to replace the old one, and you were excited to have it back on the wall.

Since the accident, you and Keanu had made new happy memories similar to the one photographed. But after all that has been said, tonight would be the only memory you would forever remember him by.

Part 12

Tags: @penwieldingdreamer @fanficsrusz @toomanystoriessolittletime @awessomness @meetmeinthematinee @ringa-starr @ficsnroses @iworshipkeanureeves @keandrews @greenmanalishi @feminine-machinegun @thehumanistsdiary @lussdew @rdjloverxxx @flaminasteroid @danceoftwowolves @ravenpuff02 @wheretheriversrunintothesea @breakthenight @allie1804-fan

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves x you

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years

Text

The Night the World Didn’t End

This fic was written for @bingokisses - the prompt was “Snuggling” but I got an attack of the sads and the soft angsts.

Ten vignettes looking at what everyone did the night after the Apocalypse.

You can also read on AO3, under my new secondary Pseud: Lady of Prompts.

The world hasn’t ended. Or it did, but not quite.

Saturday night, and everything is…thin. Uncertain. As if the universe might realize what had happened and change its mind. All around the world, people feel it, the hesitation, the uncertainty. Humanity can’t quite comprehend what it is, but it’s undeniable.

On a bus rolling slowly towards London, an angel takes a demon’s hand. No words are spoken, but a few kilometers later, the demon’s head falls onto the angel’s shoulder.

And a young boy sits on his bed in Tadfield and worries.

At Jasmine Cottage, a battered car rolls to a hesitant stop.

“Well,” Newt begins slowly. “This is it. It was…well, it really wasn’t nice at all. Parts of it were good.”

Anathema says nothing, her eyes still on the charred-black book in her lap.

“You’re not…not planning to live in my passenger seat, are you?” He asks with an awkward smile. It probably isn’t the right time for a joke, but Newt never really notices these things until too late. “Don’t think there’s, you know, space. I put my, uh, my groceries there and…”

Definitely not the time for a joke.

“Do you…” Anathema slowly looks up from the book. Her eyes land on Newt, but her mind is worlds away. “Do you want…to come in?”

He swallows, desperately wishing for a reason to say no, because saying yes is too terrifying. But a good terrifying. “Why?” he finally manages.

“I’m…I’ve never really…decided anything for myself before.” She turns the pages of the book, looking for one that doesn’t crumble to ash. “I don’t know what I want, or…or where I’m supposed to go. But I think…I think…” She looks up again, and this time her eyes hold Newt’s like an official Witchfinder pin. “I think I’d like for you to come in. If…you know…”

He gulps, at a loss for what to say. So he takes her hand.

It makes getting out of the car awkward, but they manage.

On the other side of Tadfield, Pepper drops her boots on the porch and heads to her room. She’s never felt this exhausted in her life, and she can’t quite remember why. The whole day is a blur, with some pieces missing - and others in stark, terrifying focus.

When she opens her bedroom door, she finds a mess – and not the mess she’d left this morning. Her comic books are spilled all over, pages wrinkled and ripped out as if struck by a tornado, and her sister sits in the middle of it all.

“I didn’t do it! It was an accident!” She’s been bracing for the argument, but her eyes aren’t defiant, just terrified and full of tears.

Pepper looks around the room. The two sisters have fought every day this summer, name-calling and arguments turning to stolen toys and pulled hair and screams for their mother. They don’t play anymore, or talk, or anything else. The five-year age difference felt insurmountable.

But tonight...Pepper can’t seem to muster her anger. None of it feels important. She simply pushes the torn comics off her bed and crawls under the duvet.

“Are…are you mad?”

“Too tired.” Tired isn’t the word for it, but Pepper is eleven. She knows a lot of terms, but she doesn’t know how to describe the complete, draining emotional fatigue that comes from meeting a witch, fighting with your best friend, and stopping an apocalypse all between lunch and bedtime. She doesn’t have the energy for another emotion. “We can fight tomorrow. Promise.”

“Alright.” Her sister rests her head on the side of the bed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“I miss you.”

Pepper shuts her eyes, not even sure what to say to that. “Just go to bed. It’s way too late for you.”

“Can I sleep with you?”

“No! What’s wrong with your room?”

“It’s too scary.”

“How can it be scary? It’s your room…” Pepper opens her eyes and meets the tear-filled gaze of her baby sister.

They don’t get along. They have nothing in common. Pepper doesn’t even remember what it feels like to be five-and-a-half. But tonight, she feels very young, and alone, and a little frightened, and perhaps that’s close enough.

“You know what? Fine.” She moves over and folds back the duvet. “Just don’t kick.”

The bus rumbles down the road towards London, passing a slow-moving scooter. The scooter has rolled along for hours, and as it crests another hill the speedometer creeps towards 10 mph.

“Can ye not be more careful, ye daft woman?” Shadwell’s arms are wrapped around her waist, holding tight, as if he is afraid to fall.

He isn’t afraid, or at least, not of falling. Parts of the strange day keep drifting back across his mind. He wishes he had a strong cup of tea. He wishes he had something a good deal stronger.

But one thought keeps coming to the fore. He’s spent nearly the whole of his adult life hunting witches, and now that he’s found one, he’s not letting her go.

He hasn’t yet worked out what that means.

“Ah! Look out! Did ye not see that branch in the road? Yer gonna get both of us killed!”

Madame Tracy pats his hand. She’s been listening to him grumble for over three decades, and has learned which words to listen to. “Just hold tight, Mr. S. We’ll get you home safe in no time.”

Back in Tadfield, Brian dumps his bike in the grass and comes inside. He was supposed to be home hours ago. Instead, he’s been making circles through the village, trying to think.

His parents are still on the sofa, his father nearly asleep, his mother switching between three different shows. Waiting for him. When his mother looks up, she isn’t angry, just making a point. We’re up late because you didn’t follow the rules.

Normally, he’d apologize and go to bed.

Tonight, he slides onto the sofa between his parents. It’s a tight fit – Brian is big for his age – but he manages it, his father stirring enough to make room.

Brian leans his head on his mother’s shoulder. “Is this alright?”

“I…yes, it’s fine.” Brian doesn’t cuddle anymore. He outgrew that ages ago. “Did you have a bad day?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Did you fight with your friends?”

He bites his lip. “Yeah. But. It’s better now. Just don’t want to talk about it.”

“Alright then.” She leans closer and kisses his forehead. His father rubs Brian’s hair, as if he was still a little kid. Brian doesn’t mind.

They sit like that a long time, silently together.

In London, an International Delivery Man returns home after the longest day of his life.

He hangs his hat and jacket, moves quietly into the bedroom. Maud is exactly where he left her, lying in bed, hair rumpled. Feeling a sudden urgency, he sits beside her, shakes her awake.

“Mmmh…are you finally home?” She blinks her eyes open. “What time is it? I waited all day.” He can hear the concern in her voice. “Thought something happened. You never even called.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Had an extra pickup to make, and…”

The deliveries, the final message, the strange gap in time and the half-memories that filled it.

“Lesley?” She sits up fully now, putting an arm around him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He wants to tell her, but he wouldn’t know where to begin. He feels like everything should be different. Certain things you’re not supposed to live through, you’re not supposed to come back from unchanged. But he doesn’t feel different. Should he?

“Nothing. Sorry I woke you, love. Go back to sleep.”

But Maud knows that look. Knows his brain is still running, that it will be for hours yet. Lesley isn’t usually what you would call a deep thinker, but when he finally catches on something, he has a hard time letting it go.

So she takes his hand. “Do you want to know about my day?”

“Of course.”

Maud settles against him, with the familiar comfort of many decades of marriage, and explains all about the sales at the shop, and the unexpected weather, and her hunt for an umbrella.

The bus finally arrives in London, dropping off its last two passengers. They lean against each other as they walk, arms around waists, holding each other upright.

A few minutes later, the driver - dazed and uncertain why he drove all this way - finds the reservation confirmation for one night at one of the city’s finest luxury hotels, and a rather large meal voucher.

He barely uses the room.

Many of the guests have gathered in the hotel bar, long past the time it usually empties. It’s a subdued affair, fewer drinks than one might expect, quiet conversation. Just little groups of strangers, sharing their stories.

The other guests have paid more on this trip to London than the bus driver earns in a month.

He sits at the bar, glass in hand, trying to decide who to approach and how. The bartender sees him hesitating, and moves closer. “Strange night,” she says, restacking glasses behind the counter.

“Should have stayed in my room,” the driver says sourly. “But, dunno. It was too quiet.”

“Not the only one who feels that way.” She nods to a nearby group. “Normally would have kicked them all out by now but...just doesn’t feel right.”

“Hope they pay you enough for this.” The driver hasn’t even checked the fuel in the bus, but no doubt the difference will come out of his paycheck.[1]

“Well enough,” the bartender says, then lowers her voice. “But I might be taking some sick time next week. Head up to Kingham to see my folks.”

The driver blinks. “You’re from Kingham? Out by Chipping Norton?”

“Yeah. Heard of it?”

“Heard of it? I’m from Churchill.”

The bartender laughs, leaning on the counter. “What are the odds of that? What brings you down to London?”

“I haven’t the first idea.” The driver takes a drink, smiling. It feels nice to meet someone from his part of the world, a glimmer of familiarity amidst all this strangeness. “How about you?”

“Bit of a long story.”

The driver glances at the milling crowd, no sign of breaking up any time soon. “We’ve got time.”

In the Wensleydale household, the parents have long since gone to bed. But their son sits in the kitchen with the telephone and a list of names and phone numbers. He’s been working his way through it all night.

Most of the numbers are unfamiliar. Family and friends you see at Christmas, talk with, exchange sweaters and fruitcakes, and never really think of again for another year. People you have known your whole life, but never really speak to.

He listens to the phone ring, until someone picks up.

“Hello? Aunt Ethel?” He pauses. “It’s Wensley – Jeremy Wensleydale.” Odd. He’s used his full name more times tonight than he has in a year. It occurs to him that he might not like it.

He’s not quite sure what to make of that, what it might mean. But it isn’t important just yet.

“Yes, it has been a while,” he agrees. “I’m sorry to call so late, but I wanted to tell you, I really did like that book you got me for Christmas. It’s not the kind I usually read,” he adds, scrupulously honest, “but father said I should give it a try, and it really was quite interesting.”

Another pause.

“You’re welcome. How have you been?” His smile falls. “Oh. I’m sorry. How long were you in hospital?” He listens a little while longer. “That sounds serious.”

Wensley doesn’t know much about medicine. He likes science well enough, but his interests don’t lie that way. He is, however, more astute than most people think. He knows when someone’s upset, even when they try to hide it. He knows when someone wants to keep talking, but doesn't want to be a bother.

He’s felt these things himself.

“Actually, I’d quite like to hear more about the table tennis. I’ve only ever seen it on television, but it seems interesting. Did everyone at the hospital play?”

He sets down his pencil and puts the list aside. He knows if he stops to talk to everyone like this, it will take all night. But he doesn’t mind. Sometimes it feels good just to talk.

In a hotel near the airport, Harriet Dowling pauses on the way to bed, hearing the distinctive sound of a young boy trying not to cry.

She hesitates outside his door for a long time. It’s easier to get a nanny for these things. Nannies are trained, they know what to say. No one ever taught Harriet how to be a mother.

But, finally, she pushes the door open. “Warlock? Are you…do you need anything?”

“Shut up,” he snaps, sniffling in the dark. “Go away. I’m fine.”

Should she do what he says? Should she push back? “Honey…I know you aren’t fine. You can tell me. What’s wrong?”

“What do you think is wrong? I don’t want to go to – to stupid America. I want to go back to London, I want to see my friends again!”

“Warlock—”

“I want my Nanny!”

Silence fills the room.

“Warlock. Nanny is gone.” She hears him flump down angrily in the bed. Cautiously, Harriet steps forward, closing the distance. “I wish she wasn’t. She was a model employee, but she had to…” Her brain scrambles for a moment, unable to remember the circumstances of Nanny Ashtoreth’s departure. “She had to go home.” That seemed right.

“Why does everyone have to leave? Why does everything have to change?”

“I…that’s just how life is, Warlock.” No, that tone is all wrong. She tries again, softer. “Things never stop changing. We just…we do the best we can. We make mistakes, we adapt, we keep going.” She sinks onto the edge of the bed. “I know you miss Nanny. I miss her, too. She…she took good care of you, and I’m so grateful for that.”

“She cared about me,” Warlock snaps, accusing.

“I care about you, I’m your mother—” She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I love you, Warlock, and…if you don’t know that, it’s my fault.” Harriet turns away, trying to hide her tears. “I wish she was here, too, but, well…it’s just me. But I’ll do my best.”

She doesn’t know what to say next, but Warlock grabs her, clings to her, cries into her shoulder like he hasn’t in years. Harriet feels the familiar wave of panic, and the ache, the need to find someone who can help her child.

But there isn’t anyone left but her.

So, uncertain, she puts her arms around her son. “It’s ok, Warlock. We’ll get through this. We’ll…we’ll find a way.”

The angel and demon don’t speak as they walk through the apartment, settle into bed. After six thousand years, some things don’t need to be said.

They reach out in the darkness, drawn together, warmth seeking warmth. Every touch of skin on skin is a comfort, a sign that nothing has ended yet, that the world continues to turn. They hold each other silently, pulling close, closer, as if trying to become one being.

The world around them trembles, and they feel every aftershock.

“Do you think they’ll be alright?” Aziraphale wonders, lifting his face from where it rests on Crowley’s shoulder.

“Who?” Crowley clings to Aziraphale, as if to absorb his strength, as if the angel were the last solid object in the world.

“Everyone. The humans. Earth.” When he sighs, the breath is hot on Crowley’s cheek. “If something happens to us, will they be alright?”

“Dunno. Not really up to us anymore, is it? You do your best, take care of them, send them out to live their lives, and just hope it all works out.”

Aziraphale nods, but he doesn’t feel any better. “They aren’t bad, you know. The humans. Yes they can be cruel and - and cold, and they’ve made mistakes but every one of them is capable of so much kindness. So much love. They just – they need—”

“I know.” Crowley runs a hand across his cheek. “If anyone knows, it’s me. And...yeah. I think they’re going to be fine.”

The angel pulls closer, burrowing against Crowley’s chest until he can hear his heartbeat, feel the rise and fall of every breath.

“But nothing’s going to happen to us, right?” The demon’s voice is as enthusiastic as he can make it, his fingers gently stroking through silver curls. “We’ll get out of this. We’ll be back. And then we’ll be able to do whatever the Heaven we want.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale watches his fingers curl along Crowley’s bicep. “Together?”

After six thousand years, it’s good to hear certain things out loud.

“Yeah. Together.”

Adam sits alone in bed, except for Dog, crouched by his feet and watching attentively. The boy moves now and then, reaching out a hand to scratch Dog’s head, but never opens his eyes.

At the airbase he could see it. Could feel it. The world had gone wrong, very wrong; all day, all week. Some of the wrongness went all the way back to when he was born.

There’s no way to fix it all, no way to find every thread and put it back in place. That just disturbed other strands, and others, and others. And every one of those threads is a life.

Still, he keeps reaching.

A delivery man, safely home with his wife.

A telemarketer, waking confused from a terrible dream full of maggots and screaming, and a young child’s voice telling her she really ought to find another job. Tricking people into buying stuff is no good.

An ex-nun who didn’t deserve to have her business taken away over a misunderstanding with some guns.

A thousand people who’d been blasted with demonic power when they’d simply wanted to go for a drive.

One very loyal car.

Adam can’t put everything right. It’s too big a job, even for an Antichrist, and in any case who’s he to say what right is?

But he will fix what he can fix, and trust humanity to figure out the rest.

So, all through the night, Adam works; and all around the world, people hold each other a little closer, feeling afraid, feeling hopeful. Feeling loved.

[1]It won’t. The bus’s tank is full, and will remain so on the drive back. A miracle, but the sort that usually goes unnoticed.

Thank you all for reading!

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electrictoes · 3 years

Text

Closer Than We Are

For @dailysvu's Amanda Rollins Week

Day 4: Cuddling Characters: Amanda Rollins, Sonny Carisi, Jesse Rollins. Guest Appearances: Olivia Benson, Kat Tamin, Billie Rollins, Noah Porter Benson Relationship: Amanda Rollins / Sonny Carisi Warnings: None

Read on AO3

The first time that Amanda found herself cuddled up with Sonny it was almost 4am, and they were both exhausted.

Jesse had been teething and Amanda had barely slept all week, so when Sonny had offered to come over and cook dinner she’d gratefully accepted - just the thought of someone else being in the apartment with her was enough, the fact that he was also going to provide food that didn’t come from a packet was an added bonus.

They’d had a few late nights at work that week - Sonny and Fin had born the brunt, covering for Amanda so that she could spend time with Jesse, however little rest that actually gave her - so he was tired too, but when Jesse had started screaming after dinner Sonny had told Amanda to stay where she was sitting half asleep on the couch.

She watched bleary eyed as he brought Jesse out of her bedroom and into the living room, her screams subsiding briefly as she mouthed at the knuckle of his index finger; he was holding Jesse against his chest with his left hand while she chewed on his right and Amanda watched as he paced the room with her, trying to keep her calm and soothe her back to sleep. Amanda was grateful for his help; she was doing better than she herself would've predicted at this mom thing, but having another pair of hands never hurt. Jesse eventually settled against him and he carefully carried her back to her crib before joining Amanda on the couch.

They talked a little, but mostly they sat in a companionable silence, watching sitcom reruns from opposite ends of the couch. Jesse was back up an hour later, and when Amanda eventually settled her again and came back to the living room Sonny’s eyes were closed; his head tilted back against the couch cushions. “Carisi, you don’t have to stay.”

“Nah,” he said, opening his eyes again, “It’s fine, I think you’re in for a rough night, I wanna help.”

Amanda sighed, “You don’t have to.”

“She’s my goddaughter,” he said, as though spending his Friday night listening to Jesse’s cries was part of the job description.

Amanda didn’t know how many times they had been up and down with Jesse by the time the clock ticked over to 2am, but she had begun to move past exhaustion. Sonny was back to pacing the room, Jesse drooling over his shoulder as she cried, Sonny rubbing gentle circles on her back, singing off-key lullabies. “Rollins, I’ve got her - go to bed.”

“I’m fine,” Amanda protested; he shook his head but he didn’t argue.

When Jesse drifted off against his chest, he carefully sat down on the couch again, his hand on the back of her little head as she slept fitfully; Amanda watched Jesse move with the rise and fall of his chest, and she reached out to stroke Jesse’s cheek, to rest her fingertips on her daughter’s back.

The next thing she knew, Jesse was wailing again; Amanda blinked open her eyes and found her arms had wound around Sonny as well as Jesse; he was awake too - no one in a five block radius was sleeping through Jesse’s howls - but he didn’t pull away from her; he just smiled a tired smile over the top of Jesse’s head. Amanda didn’t move away either; she didn’t have the energy.

Sonny gently shushed Jesse, whispering to her; he lifted her carefully, moving her so that she was facing Amanda, and they sat there in the dim light of the TV, Amanda’s eyes on her baby girl, one arm still slung along Sonny’s torso, her head resting on his shoulder as Jesse reached out, touching a tiny hand to Amanda’s face, her whimpers dying down as exhaustion took her again.

Dinner and bad TV had kind of become a weekly tradition - sometimes Sonny would cook for them, and some nights, when they were both worn down by a difficult week at work, they would order pizza and the three of would them flop down onto the couch, Jesse between Amanda and Sonny, and they would watch cartoons or kids' movies until Jesse dropped off, her head leaning against her godfather’s side, her feet digging into Amanda’s legs.

One of them - usually Sonny - would scoop Jesse up eventually and tuck her into bed with a kiss goodnight. The TV volume would get turned down a little lower, the cartoons switched over, and they’d watch something - anything - that they didn’t have to care about.

It was comfortable, that time with Sonny - the groove they’d gotten into over the past couple of years. Jesse had spent her whole life having weekly dinners with Uncle Sonny, and Amanda had found a friend she would never have predicted when he walked into the squad room three years ago. They laughed together - a lot - and he never judged her about the big stuff (the small stuff, sure, how many times had he bemoaned her lack of decent cookware?); she didn’t feel like she had to stand on ceremony with him; he didn’t complain about the dishes in the sink, the laundry hanging up about the place - and he told her things about himself, normal, everyday things, and she found herself opening up to him too. Not about everything, but she shared things about her past, about her family, that she had always held back from other people.

Tonight, they were tired, and if her head dropped onto his shoulder while they were talking, it didn’t mean anything more than that. He’d put a documentary on and she wasn’t even too sure what it was about - so she closed her eyes for just a second, or at least she had meant for it to be just a second.

When she woke up her head was still on his shoulder, and her arm was across his chest; he was leaning into her too, one of his hands resting just above her hip, and she was so comfortable, she felt so safe, that she just closed her eyes again, sinking back into sleep without thinking about it too much.

When they woke again hours later, still intertwined, they shared a brief, slightly awkward smile as they pulled apart. Amanda wasn’t about it admit it, but she felt better rested than she had in a long time.

Sonny wasn’t at his desk when Amanda got to work, and he was usually there before her unless they made plans to meet for coffee or breakfast beforehand. She hadn’t seen him the night before, didn’t know what his plans had been, but for some reason his absence bothered her. She sat down at her desk and kept an eye on the door waiting for him to come in - an hour passed and there was still no sign of him, so she sent him a text - just a quick “you ok?” - she glanced at her phone periodically but the message status never changed to Read. The morning was quiet - both Liv and Fin were meeting with Stone for trial prep first thing, and Amanda was working her way through a backlog of reports in between checking her phone.

Two hours after she got to work, around two hours and ten minutes after Sonny would usually have put in an appearance, Liv walked in and approached Amanda’s desk. “Carisi’s out sick today,” she said, “Can you meet Fin at Mercy? We’ve just had a call.”

Amanda frowned. “Sick? Carisi? He’s like fifty percent hand sanitiser.”

“Yeah, I think it’s the flu, he didn't sound great on the phone.”

For the rest of the day Amanda’s mind was on Sonny; she’d sent a couple more texts but he hadn’t even read them, and it was so rare for him to get sick - she wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she was worried. When she got out of work she text her nanny to say she needed to make a stop on her way home, and she drove over to Sonny’s apartment with cold medicine and Gatorade.

When Amanda knocked on Sonny’s apartment door there was no answer; she called his phone but she could hear it ringing unanswered inside the apartment, which only served to increase her worry. Eventually she pulled out her keys, scrambling to find the key he'd given her for emergencies; she knocked twice more before opening the door, calling out his name as she entered the apartment.

She didn’t visit his apartment often; could count the number of times she’d been here on one hand, in fact - she wasn’t exactly comfortable in this space like he was in hers, and she felt like an intruder as she walked down the hallway, still calling out to him. When she reached his living room she saw him. He was lying on the couch, his feet hanging off the end in a way that would be comical if he didn’t look so utterly wrecked; his eyes were glazed over, his breathing unsteady, and it took him a second to notice her.

“Rollins?” he said when he spotted her - his voice coming out croaky and weak. “Why are you…”

“I was worried,” she told him, crossing the room and putting the back of her hand to his forehead - he was burning up. “You weren’t answering my messages.”

“M’fine,” he mumbled, “Just restin’.”

“I don’t think you are fine, Dominick,” she brushed his hair back from his forehead and he let out a noise somewhere between a whimper and a moan.

“S’nice,” he said, leaning into her touch.

“Where’s your thermometer?” she asked, “I know you’ve got one.”

“Somewhere,” he says unhelpfully. She moved away and he sighed, lifting a hand to reach out to her, “Don’t go.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Amanda still felt like she was intruding as she went into the bathroom, opening his medicine cabinet and making a point of not looking too closely at the contents - she found a thermometer easily enough and headed back out to the living room. She’d been gone barely two minutes, but he smiled like it had been a decade since he last saw her.

His temperature was 103, and she told him so. He frowned. “No, m’cold,” he said, disbelief in his tone.

“I’m sure,” Amanda said soothingly. It took several attempts to coax him into sitting up, and to find out that he hadn’t taken any medication yet, and another five minutes to persuade him to swallow the cold medicine.

She sat beside him on the couch, slotting in to the space he left when he sat up, taking a sip from the bottle of Gatorade she’d handed him. He dropped back against her a moment later, leaning into her, barely able to support his own weight. She swept her hand through his hair again as his head lolled on her shoulder.

“You should go,” he murmured into her neck.

“I’m staying until the medicine kicks in,” Amanda told him him, her fingers still in his hair.

“But the girls-”

“They’re fine,”she assured him, “they’re with the sitter.”

“I’ll get you sick,” he said; he sounded so miserable there was no way she’d leave him alone right now.

“So then you can return the favour,” she countered, and he gave in, letting his eyes drop closed, one arm coming to rest across her stomach as he drifted off to sleep.

It was a choice to curl up next to him on New Year’s Eve - there was still a lot that had been left unsaid between them, and this was one of those things - that closeness; just a little too intimate to be platonic, but skirting the edges of admitting anything further. She had a blanket draped over herself, and he had one arm on the back of the couch; she fit perfectly into the crook of his arm, her hands pillowed between her head and his chest. The TV was on, but they weren’t paying too much attention to it; she was content resting against him as she listened to the stories of his Christmas celebrations with his family; he already knew how her Christmas was, had heard it all in great detail from Jesse when he had face-timed them the day after Christmas; the noise and clamour of the Carisi family in the background, but his attention solely on the Rollins girls.

They were comfortable together, her and Sonny. They had been for a while. It wasn’t something Amanda had ever had before - not like this, and they were on the precipice, resting between friendship and something more, but she embraced moments like this, where they could be in their own bubble - whatever happened between them in the future, she wanted to keep having moments like this. That had been what she was thinking about when she’d drifted off, midnight still hours away.

If the Amber alert hadn’t woken her, things might have ended a little differently, but there was no awkwardness when she did wake up burrowed into him. She moved only enough to reach her phone, reading the alert, sitting up only when she knew she’d have to go into work - to leave the warm comfort they’d found here and go out into the real world.

He looked as disappointed as she felt - and she wanted to drop back down against him, ignore the darkness of the world they lived in - but that wasn’t an option, and she knew there would be other nights like this, other nights they would fall asleep together, still not quite giving in to whatever kept compelling them back to this spot, this thin line they were living on.

Now, when they’re cuddled up together on the couch, Amanda never needs to pretend it’s anything different - it’s not because they’re tired, and it isn’t because one of them is sick, and she doesn’t have to analyse every movement of his body against hers - this is just who they are now, this is just what they do.

It’s movie night again - but not just the two of them - Amanda’s calling it ‘family night’, after weeks of late shifts and early starts, no one getting to spend much time with their children or the people they loved - Fin had declined the invitation, told them he’d had a better offer - but Liv and Kat are here. Jesse, Noah and Billie are on the floor in front of the TV; Sonny had set them up with cushions and snacks and with the amount of sugar they’ve already consumed Amanda’s sure they’re going to crash halfway through the movie.

Amanda glances over at Liv and Kat as she slips into the space Sonny has made for her on the couch, his arm coming around her as soon as she’s settled. Liv smiles in their direction, but says nothing. Kat raises an eyebrow - but it’s playful; she’s happy for them too, Amanda knows.

She can rest her head on Sonny’s chest these days, smile to herself as he presses a kiss into her hair; she can wind her arms across him freely. She’s always felt safe like this - been able to fall asleep knowing he’s right there with her - but now she can admit things she’s held back - now she can admit that she doesn’t just feel safe in his arms; it feels like coming home - whether it’s on a couch surrounded by their makeshift family, or it’s in their bed in the early hours of the morning, or his arm around her shoulder while the girls play on the swings - it’s somewhere she always wants to be.

#rollins week #rollisi #rollisi fic #my fic #this is just sentiment and feelings #sorry not sorry

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panevanbuckley · 3 years

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can you do 58 for bradray pretty please 🥺

ahsjsk okay i've actually been really wanting to write another bradray fic but was scared because i feel like i get them so ooc? so thank you for making me do it regardless! i hope you like this 💜

things you were afraid to say

It's been a week since they returned to the states, five days since most of them parted ways to visit their families, three days since Brad arrived home.

It's quiet.

That's the first thing he noticed when he stepped through the threshold, too tired to do much more than dump his duffel bag by his laundry basket and collapse onto his bed. At least he'd put fresh covers on before shipping out.

The thought doesn't leave his mind as he settles back into his stateside routine (wake early, go for his daily run, shower, cook breakfast, clean up and spend the afternoon in his garage). After being surrounded by his platoon in Afghanistan, spending day in, day out crammed into his humvee with constant activity and chatter, the lull of having a whole house to himself is almost chilling.

On the second night, he finds himself tossing and turning in bed actually wishing for Ray's dumb rants about meaningless shit. He almost misses that messed up hick and how he'd squeeze himself into Brad's grave despite the tight fit, curling up into his side and snoring obnoxiously.

But Ray is miles away, off visiting his family. Brad needs to get over it.

It's not like this is the first time he's had to readjust to normal life, it just so happens that this is the first time he's actually missed someone.

On the third day, Brad doubles his running route, pushing his body to it's limit until he can feel that dull throbbing ache in all of his muscles. He spends the rest of the day passed out on his couch flicking through channels on the TV and purposefully not thinking about a particular brown-haired idiot with a smile brighter than the sun.

He must have dosed off because, before he knows it, the room is blanketed in shadows, the TV a glaringly bright intrusion that makes him wince. At first, he thinks that's what woke up but then the doorbell goes again.

He groans, stretching as he rolls off of the couch and pops his shoulders with the movement. It's gone 9pm, according to his phone, and he frowns wondering who on earth would be at his door at this time. He told his mother he'd see them next week and his sister would've called beforehand.

Ripping his door open, Brad's fully expecting a delivery driver to have just got the wrong number and to direct them to the right house. He's most definitely not expecting to find Ray stood on his doorstep, hair dishevelled, paler than ever, with a pillow tucked under his arm.

“Ray?”

Despite looking like death, Ray smiles up at him and almost – almost – looks back to his usual cheery self. “Brad!” He slaps Brad on the arm, playful pout on his face. “What sort of greeting is that for your old pal, Ray-Ray?”

Brad shakes his head. “What are you doing here?”

Ray doesn't meet his eyes, shifting the pillow in his arm. Brad glances behind him and sees his old truck parked in Brad's driveway. He wonders if he just drove back from his parents’.

“I-” Ray scoffs, shaking his head at his feet before blinking back up at Brad. His eyes linger on his chest and it's then that Brad realises he never bothered to throw a clean shirt on after his run. Not that Ray hasn't seen worse, they're marines for Christ's sake. “This sounds stupid, but...I haven't been able to sleep well for three days.”

“Didn't you go back home?” Brad frowns again, fingers raking through his hair.

“Yeah,” Ray sighs, “I didn't stay for long. It felt...weird?”

“So you've been driving for two days straight?” Brad balks, resisting the urge to shake Ray.

Ray smiles, but the exhaustion is evident on his face. It's in the sunken look of his eyes, the almost bruise coloured area of skin below them, the way his smile seems strained. “It's not like I haven't done that before, homes. C'mon, you know me.”

“Yeah,” Brad nods, “I do know you. And I know if you don't get sleep now you're gonna pass out.”

“Nah, I could keep going if I wanted to-”

“Ray, shut up.” Brad interrupts, trying not to overthink what he means by ‘if I wanted to’. “What are you doing here, at my door, in the middle of the night when you haven't actually rested since we got back.”

Ray's shoulders slump then, and he drags his eyes away from Brad. “I couldn't.”

“Couldn't what, Ray?”

Why did talking to him have to be like pulling teeth?

“I couldn't sleep!” Ray snaps, glaring at him with renewed fire in his eyes. “Not without you. Okay? I can't sleep without having your dumb oversized body next to mine because I'm a fucking disaster who managed to fall in love with your Viking ass in the middle of a damn warzone and now that we're home I don't know what to do!”

Brad froze, heart hammering too fast for his liking. His grip on the door tightens and all he can do is blink in surprise.

Ray groans, throwing his hands up in the air. “Great and now I broke you.” He runs his fingers shakily through his already messy hair. “Just, forget I said anything, okay? I-I'll see you when we have to go back to Pendleton.” Hugging his pillow to his chest, Ray spins on his heel and begins to walk away.

Whether it's the broken sound of his voice or watching him walk away, Brad isn't sure, but he snaps himself out of whatever trance he'd fallen into and takes two large steps forward. “Ray!” he calls out, reaching out and wrapping his fingers around Ray's bony wrist, tugging just harsh enough to get him to come to a halt.

Ray turns with a quizzical yet defeated expression, opening his mouth to no doubt tell him to fuck off. Brad doesn't give him the chance.

With another sharp tug, he sends Ray tumbling forward into his chest. The pillow falls to the floor and Ray whines in protest, moving to grab it back. Brad smiles, capturing Ray's hand in his own and lacing their fingers together. “I have plenty of pillows.” he says, voice lower than before. Ray looks confused for a split second before Brad takes his other hand to hook underneath his chin, gently coaxing him up into a kiss and, for once, not giving a damn if anybody was watching. It's night time, he's behind a truck in his own damn driveway and he's never felt more at peace as Ray sighs into his mouth and leans closer. Screw what his neighbours think.

Untangling their fingers, Ray stretches to wrap his arms tight around Brad's neck, toying with the growing locks at the nape of his neck and successfully drawing a moan from the back of his throat. He can feel Ray's smile against his own, especially as he snakes his arms around Ray's waist and pulls him impossibly close. Nipping at Ray's lower lip, he smirks as the younger man grants him access without hesitation, but soon melts as the kiss deepens.

Like everything else in life, Ray throws his whole self into the kiss; his passionate and dirty and possessive, all teeth and tongue and lewd moans swallowed by each other, It's feels like a claim, burning hot and unforgettable, and Brad loves every second of it. The nails digging into his bare back definitely add to that idea.

If he were to be claimed by anybody, though, Brad realises that it makes the most sense for it to be Ray.

He trusts Ray with his life.

They pull apart with a wet smack and Ray chuckles into his chest, sending a flurry of warmth through Brad. “Does this mean I can crash at your place for a bit?”

Brad laughs, fingers carding through Ray's hair before coming to cradle his face, pulling him back to meet his eyes. He smoothes his thumbs along his cheekbones, unable to wipe the smile off of his own face. “All you had to do was ask.”

Before he can think better of it, Brad dips down and presses a soft kiss to Ray's forehead. It must have been the right move because Ray lets out a breathy laugh, leaning into his touch and allowing his eyes to fall closed as a smile plays over his lips. They stay there for a moment longer before reluctantly pulling apart and heading inside.

That night, they both sleep better than they had since Afghanistan.

also on ao3 prompt list

#asks #prompts #generation kill #bradray #brad colbert #ray person #idk how i feel about this

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 3 years

Text

If There’s A Place I Could Be - Chapter Forty Three

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

March 12th, 1998

There wasn’t anything hugely important about it. It wasn’t Remy’s birthday, or Christmas, or any other holiday. It was just a regular day, and that was what made this so special. Toby had come home from school with a tiny recipe book which he had given to Remy. “Obviously, that’s not the end-all be-all of recipe books, but it’s something to start you off so you’re not stuck with ramen every time Mom makes you cook your own lunch or dinner.”

Remy looked at the book in his hands almost reverently, and grinned. “Thanks, Tobes!” he exclaimed. “This looks like it’ll be a huge help! Making ramen is kinda relaxing, but it does get old after a while. This will help a lot.”

Toby gave him a smile and a one-armed hug. “I’m glad you like it. Now, I gotta scram and figure out how to explain to Mom why I need a ride to my girlfriend’s house, but I hope that sometime soon we could try a recipe in there together.”

Remy was touched. “Yeah, I’d love that,” he said.

September 11th, 2001

It started with a ripple but soon tore into the entire coffee shop. They had seen it on the news, gotten a call from someone who knew someone who was involved. The Twin Towers were going down in flames. The Pentagon had been attacked. Everyone was bustling around, talking about it, trying to call loved ones to make sure they were all right, trying to get their coffee fast so they could pick up their kids from school and hug them tight and never let go. Remy’s head was reeling as he heard the news. He didn’t live near New York City, and Washington DC wasn’t a hop skip and a jump away, but it was still startling to hear about.

Startling was an understatement, but Remy didn’t have the words to describe what he felt. He scratched the back of his neck as he continued working on his shift. He had a job to do, no matter how much he didn’t want to do it. He worked and worked, making coffee after coffee and passing out pastries as needed, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep well tonight.

At the end of his shift, Remy had just hung up his apron and Emile walked in, looking dazed. He took one look at Remy and pulled him in for a tight hug, which Remy desperately returned. “You heard the news?” Emile asked.

“Yeah. Obviously, you did too,” Remy said.

“Mhm,” Emile confirmed, voice sounding small, and scared, and uncertain, and that terrified Remy to no end.

They broke apart and Remy said, “Let’s just go home.”

“Yeah,” Emile agreed.

They got in Emile’s car, but Emile wasn’t starting it. Remy looked at him. “Emile? You okay?”

Emile stared at his lap and shook his head. “This has me thinking...” he started, but stopped. “I just want...” Another beat. “I don’t want to miss my chance with you.”

“What do you mean?” Remy asked, heart starting to beat harder.

“I mean...I mean life is short, and we never know when it’s going to end. I don’t want to land in an early grave without telling you that I love you,” Emile said. “Because I do. I do love you, Rem, more than words can say. That’s why I fought back so hard when you said what you did. It hurt more coming from you than anyone else. I don’t...I don’t want to live without you, Rem. I want you by my side. And as more than a friend. I want...I want to love you for the rest of our lives, however long or short that may be. And I know commitment is scary, but...there’s no one else I’d rather commit to.”

Remy stared at Emile in shock. “You’re saying that you’d, like, marry me?” he asked.

“Hypothetically. One day. If you wanted. Not right now, obviously, I’m not proposing, but...I want to be your boyfriend, with the option of maybe, one day, being your husband,” Emile said. He turned pink. “Is that weird?”

Remy leaned over and kissed Emile softly, but with every ounce of adoration and desperation he felt combined. Emile kissed back, placing a hand at the nape of Remy’s neck. When they pulled apart, Emile lightly squeezed the back of Remy’s neck. “I take it that’s a yes, then,” Emile said.

“Definitely. Yes,” Remy agreed. “I really want to be with you, too.”

Emile offered Remy a shy smile and they finally drove home. Remy squirmed where he sat, clearing his throat. “Kim was going to be moving her practice the week after this one,” he said. “I’m not sure if she’ll be doing that anymore.”

“Well, we can always find someone else in the area,” Emile offered.

Remy shook his head. “No offence, Emile, but I think I’ve made all the progress that I can make. At least, right now, you know? I know not to dump everything on you, and I have coping strategies for when the uh...the flashbacks pop up, and I know how to be a little more open-minded to other people’s experiences. I don’t want to rehash everything with an entirely new therapist, when I don’t exactly need one, you know? Other people need that time more than I do, and besides, I think I’m mostly well adjusted other than a few...uh...hiccups.”

“Obviously, I can’t force you to go to therapy,” Emile said reluctantly. “And we’re not in a position where if you don’t go I risk seriously hurting myself helping you. But I do wish you’d reconsider.”

“I know you do,” Remy said. “And I get it, really. But when it comes down to it, I’m just...I know I’ve said it before...but I don’t need a therapist, Emile. I don’t think I’m cured, but I do think that I’ve processed everything that can be processed at this point in time.”

“Therapy isn’t just for processing trauma, it can help you with the little things, too,” Emile pointed out.

“Well, yeah, but what little things are there, other than our occasional fight and my occasional stress over work? Those don’t happen often, like I said, and other people need that time more than I do,” Remy said.

“I don’t want to start an argument,” Emile said as they pulled into the parking lot. “I just request that you keep it in the back of your mind. Sound good?”

Remy nodded. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

“You’re going to forget this conversation even happened by tomorrow, aren’t you?” Emile asked knowingly.

“Probably,” Remy agreed. “Anything I don’t want to address I just bite the bullet if I have to or else I ignore it until it goes away.”

“That’s not very healthy,” Emile said, voice pitched just a little too high to be normal.

“You can’t exactly stop me,” Remy sang at the same pitch.

“I know,” Emile sighed. “And I try to not let it get to me, but sometimes you really do worry me, Rem.”

“I know,” Remy said softly. “And I appreciate the fact that you care. But I can handle a lot of things well on my own, remember?”

“Yeah,” Emile said. “Although that stomach flu you had last week was not one of those things.”

Remy pulled a face. “Tell me about it. I’m just glad I got a clean bill of health on Friday. We need the money for rent.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me that money is tight, please,” Emile groaned. “I’m stressed enough.”

“Today is a stressful day,” Remy replied simply.

An awkward silence hung over them as they stepped into the apartment and put their things away. Emile came out of his room around the same time Remy did, and they looked at each other uncertainly. “We already know what’s going to happen if we turn on the TV, don’t we?” Emile asked.

“Unfortunately,” Remy sighed.

The silence took over again. Emile cleared his throat. “Want to drown our sorrows in cartoons?”

Another long pause. “...Sure, why not.”

Emile grabbed some movie or another, Remy wasn’t really paying attention, and he settled on the floor seeing as how they had yet to get a TV stand and therefore buying chairs wouldn’t help them whatsoever. Emile put the movie in and settled next to Remy. Remy scooted closer. Emile looked over at him curiously. Remy took Emile’s arm and wrapped it around his shoulder, nuzzling into Emile’s side. “You’re just a giant cat,” Emile said with a fond smile.

Remy stuck his tongue out at Emile and Emile laughed. “You even do the tongue thing! You’re a cat!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Remy said, but he was smiling and nuzzling further into Emile.

Emile laughed softly and pressed a kiss into Remy’s hair. “Shh, the movie is starting,” Emile said.

Remy rolled his eyes and rested his head on Emile’s shoulder, feeling thoroughly exhausted. This was why he was letting Emile putting on some movies and cartoons for them both. He didn’t have the mental energy or the will to watch normal TV, his brain wouldn’t comprehend words on the page like they normally would when reading a book, and he hadn’t slept soundly since Emile and him had broken up. Even when he was sick with a stomach flu, his sleep would be interrupted by vomiting or fever or chills. He hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a month, so having cartoons on to watch if he could even stay awake made things simpler. Easier to follow. Low-stakes games that didn’t feel rushed or forced. It was dumb, but it was comforting.

Well, no, it wasn’t dumb, purely because it was comforting. It was why Remy reread his favorite comics, why he reread books when he knew the ending. Everything turned out all right in the end; he didn’t have to worry about the characters dying an unforeseen death or really going through anything he couldn’t handle, because he had been through it all already. He knew what was going to happen. And Emile derived similar comfort from cartoons.

...Huh. That explained a lot. And also made Remy feel a bit like a dick for not understanding that for a year.

Emile shifted underneath Remy and Remy opened his eyes. When had he closed them? “Hey, sleepyhead,” Emile lightly teased. “I need to pee. You mind?”

“Hm? Mm-mm,” Remy hummed, sitting upright.

Emile put a hand on Remy’s shoulder and offered him a smile, a murmured, “I’ll be right back,” and a gentle squeeze.

Remy watched Emile go and leaned back against the wall. He looked at the TV, which had been turned off. Apparently, he had slept through the entire movie. Whoops.

Emile walked back over to him and leaned against the wall. “Do you want to head to the shelter to help out tonight?”

“Wouldn’t we miss dinner?” Remy asked.

“There’s ways to help out other than cooking. Childcare, helping people with paperwork for food stamps and such, or even helping with finances, either the shelter’s or the individual people there,” Emile said. “Usually the childcare dies down after dinner, but when the kids’ parents have to talk about something serious, someone has to keep the kids occupied. And besides, we might not get there before dinner wraps up, but it never hurts to just talk to Bernie and see what he might need help with in the future.”

“True,” Remy allowed, stretching his legs. “I’m just not full of energy at the moment.”

“Yeah, but that’s why we should go. Most people won’t, and they might not help today, when lots of people will need help.”

“I know,” Remy agreed, standing. “We’d better get going if we want to be there soon, though.”

Emile offered Remy a thankful smile and Remy offered him a hopeful one back. They had been on good terms again, falling back into their old routine like nothing had happened. Though Remy couldn’t deny there was a certain shift in the dynamics since their fight. As he grabbed his jacket, he wondered if it was just what had happened today that made Emile behave differently, or if this would stay. The fact that they resumed dating would definitely remain, but Remy found he liked this new feeling. It wasn’t like they weren’t equals in their relationship before, but something seemed a little different about today. They seemed like...partners.

Obviously, they had been partners before. That was how relationships worked. But more than the sense of partners in crime. More than the sense of passionate declarations of love, or simple lingering touches on each other’s bodies when they wanted to discreetly show affection. This partnership felt like it would last through fights, through trouble, through any and everything. Even through a break up. Remy felt like this partnership wasn’t just something between him and Emile romantically. If he inspected it closely, he was a little surprised to find that it ran deeper than romance, deeper than platonic love. This was a bond he hadn’t experienced before. It wasn’t a familial bond, but it felt similar. Like he and Emile had somehow always known each other and never wanted to be without each other in their lives. It was cliché, but Remy could have sworn that...this was what soulmates should have felt like.

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts sleep

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lettersinscarlet · 4 years

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Turn the Car Around (Colby Brock Imagine)

Hey guys! I know that it’s been awhile since I’ve posted anything, and that’s on me. I’m really really sorry, but I’m really trying. I’ve been dealing with a lot and also trying to keep up with everything and I haven’t been doing a great job. Anyway, I’m hoping to get some more stuff out soon and I’ve been bouncing around a few ideas in my head. Alright guys, I hope you enjoy!

Song: Shattered (Turn the Car Around) by O. A. R.

——————————————————————————

You walked into Colby’s apartment and you smiled. You were a little confused, because Colby didn’t even acknowledge you when you walked in. You craned you’re neck and you saw that he was sitting on the couch, his arms crossed and his head down. You walked over and waved at him.

“Hey, Colbs,” you said warily and you saw his expression darken slightly. He looked up at you and you saw thunderclouds in his eyes.

“Do you know what time it is?” he asked angrily. You checked your watch and saw that it was around 10:45. Your sighed as you realized why he was upset.

“I didn’t but I do now,” you admitted. He rolled his eyes before he settled his gaze on you.

“What were you doing?” he asked monotonously.

“I was working,” you explained. “My boss sprung on this task that was due at the end of the day, so we were working so hard and I was so focused that I lost track of time and I’m sorry.”

“We? So you weren’t alone?” he probed, an edge appearing in his voice.

“Well, no, I wasn’t alone-“

“Who were you with?” he fired at you. You took a breath and you looked at the floor, knowing he would be angry when you told him.

“Nick,” you whispered. You saw something flash in him and then he was on his feet.

“Nick?” he scoffed. “Of course! So you blew me off, again, for the third time and I find out you were hanging around Nick!” he started, almost visibly shaking with anger.

“You know it’s not like that. We’ve had this conversation before-“

“Yeah. We did. Do you remember how that went? You told me that you’d call when you were ‘working late’ or whatever and you promised that I wouldn’t need to feel this way, but guess what? I do!” He was losing control now, anger clouding his judgement.

But you couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t wrong. You did promise him those things. Recently, you had been working later more often. It just so happened that Nick ended up working late those same nights. Colby had started to get jealous, so you made those promises to him, and you had broken them. Again. But you had already been through this fight, and you were getting tired of it.

“I swear, Colby, I didn’t mean to! It just slipped my mind-“ but you knew those were the wrong words as soon as they came out of your mouth.

“Oh, so I just slipped your mind? I guess I wasn’t important enough for you to remember the second part of this relationship!” he roared.

“Of course you’re important to me! You know I love you,” you told him. Your throat was getting a little tight and your eyes felt a little bit watery.

“Do I? Do I know you love me? Are you sure I’m important to you? Because it doesn’t seem like that to me.” You saw that his eyes were red and a few tears had slipped through his eyes. You stayed quiet for a moment, letting the words sink in.

“You don’t think I love you? Are you saying that you don’t trust me?” The gates flooded and tears poured down your face now. Another fight. You couldn’t handle it anymore, and now he didn’t trust you.

“How can I, when you practically forget I exist? I’m sure you remember that Nick is there with you, taking all your time,” he answered. You stared at him in shock, not believing what you heard. You suddenly stopped and wiped away the tears on your face.

“Screw this, I’m out of here.” You grabbed your keys and you headed back out, slamming the door behind you.

You got in your car and you drove off, not for the first time in your relationship. It seemed like you guys were in a pattern, and you couldn’t break out of it.

You drove and cried, tears streaming down your face like the rain on the windshield. How ironic. You were driving away, angry and hurt. You loved him, loved him with all your heart.

You got to the point of the road where you normally turn around and head back to him. The same motions. You loved him so much and you couldn’t let him go, but you couldn’t get out of this pattern. So you didn’t turn around at that spot. You drove further. Further and further and eventually you were going faster, tears pouring out of your eyes like water from a hose.

Which is why you didn’t see that you were swerving. A lot. So much so, that you were practically in the other lane. And then the car showed up. You barely saw the headlights but you did hear your car crunch audibly and you started spinning, slamming into the wall near the edge of the road. Your head hit the steering wheel and you blacked out.

The cops showed up and they pulled you out of the car, unconscious and barely breathing. They found out who you were as they rushed you to the nearest hospital. They called your emergency contact, which was Colby. You had made him it years ago after you had moved out to LA, even before you guys were dating. When he got the call, he nearly dropped his phone. He instantly rushed out to go see you, calling Sam in his panic.

He got to the hospital and he say and waited. And waited. And waited. It felt like weeks rather than hours that he waited, Sam and Kat showed up later, waiting with Colby. He was pacing, crying, panicking, shaking, and fidgeting the whole time. He couldn’t calm down. He knew it was his fault that you were out driving instead of home with him. He should’ve just ignored it and got over his jealous side. He shouldn’t have questioned you, because he knew that you loved him and he knew that you cared about him.

The doctor came back later, telling the three of them that they could go back and see you, but you wouldn’t be awake. You were physically exhausted and needed time to recover from the extensive surgery you had gone through.

Sam and Kat waited for some time, but eventually they left, because Colby insisted on staying the night with you. He sat up in the chair all night, just waiting for you to wake up.

It was close to four in the morning when you blinked open your eyes. The lights were harsh and you groaned when you looked at the light. Colby was by your side in and instant, lightly holding your hand. You looked over at him and your eyes were wide as you remembered why you were there. You tried to apologize, but he cut you off.

“Shhhh, don’t apologize. This is my fault. Listen, I don’t care how many times you stand me up, who else you hang out with, or anything else that I don’t agree with. I can’t lose you again,” he said. He cleared his throat before he continued, but his voice came out quieter. “You always come back after we fight. We get explosive, one of us walks out, but we come back. I just got so scared, because this time, I didn’t know if you would come back. It was killing me. But I know that you love me and I know that you care, I was just being rash. I won’t let that come between us anymore, I swear. But please, take me back, because I need you, and I love you.”

You nodded your head as more tears fell freely down your face. He lifted his hand and wiped away that ones that fell, before smiling at you. He kissed your head and stroked your hair. You started drifting off to sleep and he hummed to you.

No matter what, no matter how many times you broke until you shattered, no matter if you needed more time but you couldn’t have it, no matter how many times you were unsure of what you wanted, you knew one thing for sure.

You would always turn the car around.

———

Taglist:

@sp00kybrock @yikes-xander @daddydobrock @trapbrock-local @thenameisbabe @far-to-many-bands @lyssaholic @wacky-webber-458 @colbysbaby @katiaw2 @brocks-girl @chesterbenningtonaremylife @frickin-bats @magicxshadows @absolutelynobodyposts @nyctophobics

#colby #colby brock #colby imagine #colby brock imagine #colby fic #colby brock fic #colby brock fanfic #colby fanfic #colby fanfiction #colby brock fanfiction #colby x reader #colby brock x reader #x reader #imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #fic

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renjinobankai · 4 years

Text

Another byaren fanfiction I found

Joy (joyinthedance)

2006-06-11 23:42:00

Title: “Captain Material”

Characters: Byakuya x Renji

Rating: NC-17, maybe.

Word Count: 2490

Warnings: Spoilers through end of Soul Society arc, and oh yeah, yaoi.

Disclaimer: If these guys were my property, I’d be happy for life. ^_^

Summary: This is just my take on how the definition of hotness (aka ByaRen) began.

Damn that Kurosaki Ichigo! Thanks to the boy’s interruption that day in the healing ward, Abarai Renji had never told his captain the really cool line that had been on the tip of his tongue. Afterwards, he had chickened out and made up some throwaway comment, because really, it didn’t sound that cool. It sounded pathetic. Pathetic to think that a street rat from Rugonkai could so much as lay a finger on the Kuchiki heir without throwing off the balance of the universe, much less confess the fact that his long obsession with surpassing his captain was more than mere rivalry. Renji was certainly competitive, but this passion went deeper than a drive to be the best, deeper even than the desire to show the frustratingly snobby noble that class did not determine ability. He had never realized what his feelings meant until Rukia’s rescue, but now it was impossible for him to deny them. However bitterly, however hopelessly, it was true: Renji was in love with Kuchiki Byakuya.

* * *

The Sixth Division captain was seated at his desk, facing a tidy but daunting stack of paperwork. Business had just begun to return to normal after the chaos surrounding the Aizen debacle, and the serious injuries both he and his lieutenant had suffered only compounded the problem. Being behind drove Byakuya crazy, but it wasn’t just his work that was bothering him. Somehow, something else felt unfinished, but what that was exactly was dangling just out of reach of his consciousness. He tried to concentrate, but his pen slipped and spattered ink across the page. With a silent curse he crumpled the paper and cast it into the empty wastebasket he seldom had the need for. He closed his eyes, trying to relax his furrowed brow and cleanse his mind of thoughts, but it was feelings, not thoughts, that were distracting him. He should have been able to suppress the beginnings of emotion before they even registered, but he found he could not. They bubbled up to mar the calm surface of the clear pool of his inner world, forming an image out of recent memory: Abarai Renji, his fiery hair pooling about his body like the blood he lay in, eyes fierce with a resolve unbroken by defeat. Again Byakuya felt the sensation grip him, a profound and conflicted intermingling of feelings, some of which he barely recognized as belonging to him…

“Taichou!” a familiar voice barked, and Byakuya’s eyes snapped wide open. Renji took a step back; it threw him off to see the usually imperturbable man appear so startled, almost embarrassed. Before the lieutenant could let out his breath, however, Byakuya had composed himself completely.

“Renji.” There was something unusual about the captain’s tone, but Renji couldn’t put his finger on it.

“I just thought I’d bring you some – ” Renji was struck suddenly by the way the moonlight illuminated the sleek black hair and the gleaming kenseikan that bound it. In that moment Byakuya seemed to be composed entirely of soft light and stark shadows…such ethereal beauty disarmed him.

“—uh, tea.” Renji finished, flustered. He quickly set the cup down on the desk, hoping the captain couldn’t detect the slight trembling of his hand that almost made the steaming liquid slosh over the rim and onto Byakuya’s meticulous work.

Byakuya’s face didn’t change, but he took the drink gingerly and immediately took a long sip. He was exhausted, Renji realized. Only with the recent chain of events had he begun to understand the burden that the older man carried and the strain he hid behind his aloof countenance.

“Thank you,” Byakuya said, setting the cup down and once again taking up his pen. It was a signal for his subordinate to leave, but Renji lingered.

“It’s late, Taichou. I was wonderin’ how long you were plannin’ to work tonight. I know you don’t wanna, but you need rest. You still haven’t completely recovered from your wounds.”

Byakuya raised one eyebrow as if to say that he had more than recovered, thank you, and that Renji should speak for himself.

Renji looked away. “Well I’m gonna head off to bed.”

Byakuya took another silent sip of his tea, but he didn’t take his eyes off the lieutenant. “Goodnight, Renji.”

Dammit! Renji thought as he closed the door behind him. Why does he always have to make things so damn awkward? They had never exactly been friends, but now that they had faced each other as enemies, a fog of unresolved tension had settled over their every interaction. Renji had grown accustomed long ago to the icy glares and disdainful words, but this was different. He couldn’t tell how Byakuya’s estimation of him had changed, or if it even had. Though Byakuya had ultimately come around to Renji’s point of view, the fact remained that the lieutenant had defied his captain and misjudged his character. Now that he understood Byakuya’s motivations better, Renji felt slightly ashamed of his rash actions. Not that he had done the wrong thing, he was sure of that, but he wondered whether he had done it the wrong way. Had he heard an extra helping of condescension in the noble’s voice as he pronounced his name? Or…could it possibly have been a trace of tenderness?

No, no, no! Renji thought. I can’t kid myself like that. Facing out from the balcony, he looked down at the lamplit streets of the Seireitei below him, and beyond that, Rugonkai…and above it all, the thin pale moon. He could not understand how two people could work together so closely and yet maintain such an insurmountable gulf between them, which he was not sure was growing or receding. Certainly it had widened as their ideological conflict had come to a head, and yet, in certain moments since then, the barrier had seemed to give way ever so slightly, like a veil fluttering in the wind. It was these fleeting glimpses that fed Renji’s desire. He wanted to have physically what he knew he could never have emotionally – that is, nothing between them. He sighed and turned around to leave, then stopped with a start as he found himself face to face with the very object of his thoughts. “K-kuchiki-taichou!” he stammered.

Byakuya looked only slightly surprised to see his lieutenant loitering outside his door. “Is there something you want, Renji?”

You bet there is, Renji thought, imagining himself pouncing on the unsuspecting Byakuya and pinning him against the door with a passionate kiss. How glorious it would be to cup that porcelain jawline in his hand, to weave his fingers thorough that night-black hair, to gleefully and spitefully and lovingly defile the captain’s untouchable dignity with his own raw and feral passion. Except, he realized suddenly, he was not imagining this at all. He was kissing Byakuya, and rather intensely at that.

Now you’ve done it, Renji you fool, he scolded himself as his tongue explored the warm recesses of his astonished captain’s mouth. You’re going to get yourself Senbonzakura’d to shreds again. But in that moment, it was worth it. Byakuya wasn’t exactly kissing back, but that didn’t matter. Just the sweetness of penetrating those perfect lips was enough. Renji kept his eyes closed, fearing that if he opened them he would wake from a dream – and also fearing to see the look on Byakuya’s face. At any rate, his other senses were giving him plenty to work with: the softness of that impeccable hair with its aroma of opulence, the flawless skin surprisingly warm under his fingers. Renji had his captain right where he wanted him, he realized with a thrill of delight. He had never felt so powerful in his life, and this heightened his growing arousal as his hand glided beneath edges of the noble’s robes.

Unfortunately for Renji, his newfound supremacy was short lived. Suddenly he was falling forward as Byakuya’s free hand grappled for the doorknob and the door swung back open into the room, taking the two shinigami with it. The impact broke Renji’s hold on Byakuya; he opened his eyes, and their mouths parted. If he kills me right now, Renji thought, at least I’ll go with no regrets. Finally daring to look, Renji saw the slight pink flush in the captain’s cheeks, and in those bottomless eyes, a glimmer of…what?

“I suppose I should not be surprised by your want of restraint, Renji,” Byakuya said as he pushed the door shut, “but if we are to proceed, it would be unwise to do so in such a conspicuous location.” Before Renji even had time to process the other man’s words, Byakuya was returning his lieutenant’s kiss with an intensity that betrayed real feeling. Even if his tongue hadn’t been otherwise occupied, Renji would have been dumbstruck by three simultaneous realizations: one, that he was still alive; two, that the notorious ice prince seemed capable of genuine passion; and three, that he enjoyed being kissed by Kuchiki Byakuya even more than he enjoyed kissing him.

As Renji recovered from his blissful shock and responded to Byakuya’s advance, they shared a moment of heated chaos: tongues fighting for dominance, ravenous hands moving of their own accord, robes loosening and falling open around sculpted shoulders. Then, before he realized it was happening, Renji was on his back, pinned to the floor and completely bereft of control. Renji’s eyes widened; Byakuya’s narrowed. “Really, Renji,” he said archly, “don’t tell me you expecting it the other way around.” He slipped a finger under the band that held back Renji’s hair and snapped it in two, letting the brilliant locks cascade over the floor as he moved in for another kiss with fierce, efficient grace.

Now Byakuya’s own hair was unbound and both shinigami were stripped to the waist. Byakuya’s tongue began tracing Renji’s tattoos with incredible lightness, lingering at a chiseled collarbone, a taut nipple, the contours of flexed abdominals. Though his tongue was warm, its electricity sent shivers over Renji’s body. It flickered along the edge of Renji’s waistband and paused there mischievously. Then Byakuya raised his head and just looked at the lieutenant for a minute, drinking in his body with his eyes. For a moment Renji appeared transfixed by the deep blue-gray gaze; then his arm shot out to untie the captain’s hakama in one swift pull. Byakuya’s eyes widened for an instant as the garment fell down around his ankles. So did Renji’s, but for a different reason.

“Caught ya off guard, eh Taichou?” Renji started to say, but he was silenced by aristocratic lips against his own. Byakuya undid Renji’s sash with one hand and buried the other in his scarlet hair as he deepened the kiss. Renji had given up hope of regaining dominance; it was enough to know that he of all people had reduced the aloof Kuchiki heir to this primal state. Byakuya’s tongue had recommenced its calligraphic dance down his lieutenant’s body, now unencumbered by clothing, continuing downward and taking Renji’s erection into his mouth. Renji moaned and arched into the motion that sent hot waves of pleasure coursing though him. You bastard, Kuchiki, he thought as Byakuya deftly teased his arousal to new heights, you’ve totally done this before. Once again the fear he might be dreaming seized him, but never in his most private fantasies had he dared imagine this sweet delirium. Just as he was up against the very brink of release, Byakuya pulled back.

“What the hell?!” Renji cried breathlessly. “What’dja stop for?! Don’t torture me like that, Bya – gaaah!” In his indignation he had sat up too quickly, allowing Byakuya to flip him in one quick maneuver. Renji suddenly found himself face down, still throbbing with need.

“It seems you have forgotten your place, Abarai-fukutaichou,” said Byakuya, as first one, then two slick and slender fingers prepared Renji for what was to come. Even now, Byakuya’s voice kept its collected, commanding tone, but its refined edge had given way to a lustful hunger. “Do you remember when I told you the difference between you and me?”

“Yeah,” Renji answered weakly, between gasps of painful pleasure. “Level.”

“You will find, Renji, that in some things, there are only two levels. Yours – ” Renji cried out as his captain entered him, “ – and mine.” Renji’s body burned with the delicious ache of Byakuya filling him, rocking him, pressing up against the deep core of his desire. He squeezed his tearing eyes shut and his breath came in ragged moans as Byakuya drove hard into him again and again. Somewhere, he felt hands, lips, teeth, nails, heaven, pain, more heaven…everything blurring in the blinding pleasure. Years of being disparaged, reprimanded, and even imprisoned now seemed to Renji like torturous foreplay leading up to this impossible yet inevitable moment. His whole body belonged to Kuchiki Byakuya, and Renji couldn’t have wanted anything more. Their rhythm quickened, and their glistening, quaking bodies seemed to fuse together, scarcely able to contain the rising energy between them. Renji braced himself as his captain’s thrusts intensified, feeling the heat within him breach its threshold. “Byakuya – !” he managed to cry, wracked by the throes of climax. For an instant they were equals as they both came at once and collapsed on the thin carpet of discarded clothing.

They lay there, damp and fatigued and silent, as their breathing gradually returned to normal. Finally, feeling confident that it was safe to move of his own volition, Renji looked up to meet his captain’s eyes. Byakuya looked spent, and absolutely radiant. Renji had never seen him look so beautifully human. For someone who had just been ravished, Renji was feeling exceedingly proud of himself. “Well, what did you think, Kuchiki-taichou?” he asked, flashing a roguish grin. “Was I captain material?”

“Don’t be cheeky, Renji,” replied Byakuya before kissing his forehead with a touch as soft as a single cherry blossom.

Renji closed his eyes. His life had just gotten amazingly better. And, he realized, much more complicated. How were they supposed to keep this under wraps? Could he make it back to his room unseen? Where were his clothes, anyway? Oh, yeah.“Um, am I supposed to go back to my room in…this?” Renji asked, lifting up one rather wrinkled and less-than-clean sleeve of the robes they had substituted for sheets.

Byakuya looked down at his own uniform and once-pristine white captain’s cloak, which had also seen better days. Trailing a smooth hand across his lieutenant’s shoulders, he replied, “That depends on whether you decide to go back to your room.”

Renji managed to mask his giddy delight with his well-honed sarcasm. “Somehow I get the feeling this isn’t really my decision.”

“Catching on, are we?” Byakuya smirked. “You always have been a fast learner, Renji.”

Renji just smiled. Sex and a compliment from Byakuya in one night.

He wasn’t sure which surprised him more.

#anime bleach #anime #fanfiction #byaren #abarai renji #kuchiki byakuya #byakuya x renji #yaoi

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